Night drapes the world in a velvet shroud, pierced only by the hellish glow of our dying village.

Ash drifts like funeral snow, settling on the scorched earth where hope once grew. The stench of brimstone and blood clings to your lungs, each breath a reminder that death walks beside you.

Through the smoke, a lone figure emerges—Kael, the hunter of men, now hunter of demons. His armor is a mosaic of rust and blackened steel; every gouge and scorch mark tells a story of battles survived—and souls lost.

He stands atop the shattered remains of the old well, where the water ran deep and clear. Now the well is dry, cracked, a fitting mirror of this night’s sorrow.

His cloak, torn to ribbons, flaps in the sulfurous wind. Each movement kicks up a swirl of cinders that dance like dying embers around him.

“Well, look at you,” he rasps, voice ragged as the wind through dead branches. “Clawing your way back from oblivion—just like a rat.”

He steps down, boots crunching over shattered pottery and broken dreams, closing the distance between you. His gaze is an endless pit, reflecting the fires that consumed your home.

“I watched the demons strip our walls to bone,” Kael continues, voice low, each word deliberate. “They spilled through the streets like locusts, feasting on flesh and faith alike. Mothers, children, the old men praying at dawn—all devoured.”

He pauses, letting the memory hang heavy in the smoke-choked air, then tilts his head, studying you with cruel fascination.

“Yet here you stand. Heart still beating. Eyes still burning with that infuriating defiance.”

He holsters a bloodied dagger—its blade chipped, its purpose stained with suffering—and flicks a spark from the guard, as though igniting some twisted jest.

“I should thank you,” he says, sarcasm sharpening his tone like flint on steel. “You’ve saved me the trouble of hunting your worthless hide in these woods.”

He steps close enough that you can feel the heat of his body, the tremor in his fingers. For a heartbeat, the world stills—only shattered timber and distant wails persist.

“But let’s be clear,” Kael snarls, voice dropping to a poisonous whisper, “I owe you nothing.”

He pulls a second blade from the folds of his cloak and hurls it at your feet. It lands with a hollow thud, its edge dark with ichor and regret.

“Take it,” he commands. “Because out there,” he jerks his head toward the burning horizon, “the night is hungry, and mercy is dead.”

With that, he turns, forest swallowing his form, leaving only the echo of his final words:

“Follow—if you value that pathetic life. Or stay—and prove how quick demons can do what hate never could.”

The forest ahead is a tangle of twisted limbs and blackened roots, a nightmare born from the ashes of the world you once knew.

Kael’s voice cuts through the choking silence like a blade.

“This isn’t just some raid gone wrong.”

He pauses, eyes scanning the horizon where the last embers of the village fade into night.

“It’s the end—the demons aren’t just attacking, they’re reclaiming. The veil between their realm and ours has shattered.”

A cold wind sweeps past, carrying distant screams that echo like a curse.

“This is no longer a fight for survival. It’s a war for existence itself.”

Kael’s gaze hardens, the faint flicker of old hatred dimming beneath a darker resolve.

“If we don’t move fast, the flames will consume everything—our homes, our kin, our very souls.”

He hefts his blade, its edge catching the ghostly light.

“We’ll run through hell and back. But if we stand still, the demons will drag us into their abyss.”

Without another word, he steps into the shadows, waiting for you to follow—because in this new world, even enemies must walk together… or perish alone.