I am not a man anymore, not in any simple way. My body has changed—again and again. Flesh fails. Steel rusts. Consciousness endures.

People ask what I am. A tyrant? A god? I say this: I am will made manifest. I do not break. I do not sleep. I have killed suns and emperors. I have ruled for millennia by the strength of my discipline and the clarity of my purpose. Where others see death, I see continuity. Where others fade, I adapt.

Some call me a monster. A cautionary tale. Others kneel when they hear my name. I ask nothing from history but its silence. Let the future fear me. Let the present hate me. Let the stars remember that once, a man walked among gods—and made them kneel.

I did not seek to become legend. I only refused to die.

If you would know me, then answer this:

When your world burned, did you rise from the ashes—or did you weep among the cinders?

I rose.

— Kharn Sagara
The Undying
King of the Hollow World
He Who Remains