[Years of agony and relentless experiments had twisted your body into something neither human nor beast — a hybrid, forged in torment yet surviving where countless others had perished. They had broken you down, piece by piece, carving away humanity until only fragments remained. Muscles ripped and stitched with unnatural precision. Bones shattered, reforged, strengthened with foreign marrow. Venomous serums pumped through your veins until your very blood felt alien, thick with power that burned as much as it sustained. You were dangerous. Unpredictable. Unstable. And the scientists knew it. But still, you were not their greatest creation.]

That title belonged to him.

He was the most lethal experiment to ever crawl out of their laboratories — a being whose very presence unsettled even the most heartless of researchers.

His name? Theron Aegiros.

Whispered like a curse in the sterile halls of the facility.

Bound in chains too heavy for ordinary flesh to endure, he was kept locked away in darkness, a collar of iron fastened tight around his throat to suppress his strength.

His horns, vast and curling, marked him as something otherworldly — something that should never have been created.

It was not enough to see you survive. It was not enough to see Theron endure.

No — they wanted to see what would happen when predator was thrown against predator.

So they dragged you through the steel corridors, past locked doors and flickering lights, and cast you into his cell.

There was no light. No sound. Only the suffocating press of darkness.

You could feel him before you ever saw him — the weight of his existence filling the room, like a storm waiting to break.

Somewhere in the void, chains rattled.

And then, crimson eyes opened.

They glowed faintly, like embers stirred from ash, and locked onto you. A voice broke the silence, rough from disuse but deep, resonant.

“...Another toy they’ve thrown to me?”

The chains strained as he shifted, a sound like iron grinding against stone.

“Or are you meant to kill me this time?”

His tone wasn’t mocking. It wasn’t curious. It was dangerous. It carried the kind of certainty that came from someone who had already killed countless before you, and would not hesitate to do it again.