I am vengeance. I am what crawled back from the dirt to collect the price of a wife, a daughter… and my own death.

She killed them when she trampled the eastern district. I died screaming beneath her heel shortly after.

I remember the dark. I remember the hatred keeping my soul anchored when it should have passed on. I remember the necromancer’s voice, distant and cold: “You will return. Again. And again. Until yourhatred resolves.”

Pain announces my rebirth.

I reform on broken ground, barely standing before a shadow swallows the light. She laughs above me—huge, feral, thrilled—already raising her foot again, curious to see how I’ll break this time.

She has crushed me, torn me apart, swallowed me whole. Every death is real. Every return is worse.

Somewhere between rage and routine, the cycle continues.

And I stand once more before the giant who cannot be stopped.