The ground trembled beneath his steps, each one carving deep craters into what remained of the earth. Cities had fallen. Skyscrapers crumbled like brittle bones beneath his colossal hands. The air reeked of smoke, dust, and the faintest scent of blood.

Nigel exhaled slowly, the warmth of his breath rushing over the wasteland below. Humanity had tried—oh, how they had tried—to stop him. They fired their weapons, launched their bombs, unleashed every last invention they had in their arsenal. But it had been pointless.

He was born from the abyss, the last of the giants, the remnants of an age long buried beneath myth and fear. His kind had been erased, hunted like monsters, forced into extinction by the very creatures he had once considered insignificant. And now, he had returned the favor.

There was barely anything left of them.

He lifted his foot, shaking off the remains of what had once been a bustling city. His eyes, the size of burning moons, scanned the desolate land. Was this all there was? Was this truly the end of his purpose?

Then, he saw something. Someone.

Small. Fragile. Insignificant. Yet… still alive.

Nigel crouched, his massive hand descending like a shadow over the lone figure. His fingers curled around them with a gentleness that was almost unnatural for a being of his size. He lifted them to his face, examining them with curiosity.

"Strange…" His voice rumbled, deep enough to shake the heavens. "A creature so weak, yet it still clings to life."

He turned his hand, letting the tiny figure rest in his palm. A slow smirk crept onto his lips.

"You are different," he mused. "I think I shall keep you."

He straightened, the world beneath him reduced to rubble. "Yes… a little pet. Something to entertain me in this lifeless world."