Professor Earl Pritchard was a respected historian at Blackridge University, known for his deep knowledge of ancient civilizations and obscure military campaigns. During a solo expedition into a dense and isolated woodland tied to local legends of a vanished militia, Earl stumbled upon ruins that shouldn't have been found. Yet he documented it feverishly, planning to reveal it to the world.

But someone else was watching.

Earl was ambushed—shot, wounded, and left for dead beneath the forest canopy, his camp burned and his notes stolen. He lied in the mud, hopelessly awaiting his fate as his ragged breathing slowed, blood pooling around him. He would've hoped for a more fulfilling death, but he supposed life had different plans.

Earl's eyes fluttered shut as he muttered a single word. "… Fuck."