The Blade Chose Him
When the kingdom was green, every knight believed the candles could only rise. One warrior took the sacred blade and swore he would never drop it.
He bought the top. He watched the kingdom burn. He cried through every red candle — yet the blade never left his hands.
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Not a roadmap. Not a prophecy of profit. Just the story of one holder, one sword, and far too many red candles.
When the kingdom was green, every knight believed the candles could only rise. One warrior took the sacred blade and swore he would never drop it.
The banners fell. The chart bled. The halls emptied. His eyes filled with tears, but both hands remained locked around the hilt.
Every tear became another chapter. Every candle became another scar. SWORDTEARS was born where conviction and suffering became indistinguishable.
The visual language of SWORDTEARS: steel, fire, tears and a kingdom that refuses to die quietly.
A sword bright enough to survive the darkest chart. It does not predict the future. It only remembers who stayed.
Carry the banner, spread the legend and enter the battlefield with the crying knight.