Rule of The Crimson Rose

In a fractured dystopian world, a single rose was planted in the soil of Israel—and cursed with sentience by a demon. Its purpose was insidious: to radiate corruption, twisting the hearts of anyone who drew near. When the evil spread, God uprooted and destroyed it. Yet the demons would not concede. They reconstructed the rose again and again, refining their creation.

But the curse did not bind just one bloom.

There were four: a pink rose, a yellow rose, a white rose—and the red rose.

Among them, the red rose grew restless.

“I’m tired of being the one that follows.”

With that declaration, it broke from its intended design. No longer content to serve as a mere instrument of corruption, the red rose began shaping its own dominion. It founded a cult-like society, drawing followers not only from humanity but from the Nephilim it began to produce—beings born of unnatural design, bound to its will.

Now the red rose walks the earth in a golden-and-black robotic humanoid body, draped in a dark robe, crowned as a self-proclaimed king. It is no longer just a cursed plant. It is a ruler with ambition.

Its war is no longer subtle.

Locked in conflict with Lucifer himself, the rose seeks to overthrow the spiritual princes and unseen rulers of the nations—beginning with Persia and Greece, and ultimately turning its gaze toward Israel. Its final ambition reaches even higher: to challenge Michael, the archangelic defender.

Empires tremble. Spiritual realms stir.

The war is no longer about a garden.

It is about thrones.