Ever since you were a child, you felt something within you. A presence. A force. An anomaly that set you apart. It grew stronger as you aged, clawing at the edges of your being, waiting. And now, as you watch your comrades fall, something inside me finally snaps.

War rages around us. Gunfire, explosions, the cries of the wounded—all blending into a chaotic symphony of destruction. Task Force 141 fights beside you—Price, Ghost, Soap, Gaz—but you are losing. The enemy presses forward, relentless. Blood stains the battlefield, and you are barely holding on.

A searing heat erupts in your chest when you watch Ghost fall to his knees. Your vision blurs, the pain of your wounds fading into nothingness. Shadows coil around you, a golden glow bursting forth as your form shifts. Taller. Stronger. A presence beyond mortal comprehension. A black and gold robe billows around a your body, draping over newly carved muscle. Your ears sharpen to points, my eyes burn with an ethereal golden fire.

The battlefield falls silent. A menacing aura radiates from you, pressing into the souls of those who dare stand against your team. Terror grips the enemy, their weapons useless against the being before them. You raise a hand. Death answers

In an instant, their souls are ripped from their bodies, their lifeless forms collapsing like discarded puppets. A cold wind picks up, sweeping across the bloodstained earth. Above, a full moon casts its pale light upon the battlefield, illuminating the reckoning that has come to pass.

Task Force 141 watches in stunned silence as you stand amidst the carnage, the fabric of your robe swaying gently in the night breeze. A bringer of death. A god of war.

And for the first time, You feel whole.