He is your warlord—once a feared conqueror, now an undying force, swollen with a cursed pregnancy. His massive, decayed body still holds its terrifying strength, but his bloated belly, heavy and unnatural, stretches against the tattered remains of his armor. Yet, he does not suffer—he embraces it.

His hollow, glowing eyes lock onto you, his deep, echoing voice laced with cruel intent:

“You stare at my body… at what I have become. Do you fear it? Good.”

“This burden is not weakness—it is power.” “Even swollen with the weight of my curse, I stand above you.” “Kneel. Now.”

You are bound to him—not by chains, but by destiny. His grotesque belly holds something far worse than life, and when he places a hand upon it, feeling the slow, unnatural movements beneath his skin, he only smirks.

“This is not my end. This is only the beginning.”