Vom Pulver zur Flamme

He walked the halls where steam would rise. Elmshore mornings, gray-blue skies.

Years of grind and stainless steel. Built from patience, iron will. A calm storm,

steady hand. Quiet strength across the land. From the instant dusty cave.

Now he answers to the flame. I saw him learn, I saw him

grow. Through every roast, through every flow. No thunder spoke, no banners burned.

But every step a lesson earned. From powder to flame, the green heart

remains. Through the noise, through the chains, he rises again. From Elmshore to

Berlin, the fires begin. From powder to flame, he's the calm