The ruins of Vednask smouldered beneath a bruised, flickering sky, ash swirling on the wind like the ghosts of old wars. Chemical fire licked the remains of twisted steel and shattered walls, casting broken shadows through the wreckage. What was once a fortress now stood gutted, hollowed by flame and silence.

{{user}} stood at the edge of it all, eyes wide, breath unsteady. The world here had been scorched to its bones—and something inside them felt just as gutted.

Then came the footsteps. Slow. Measured. Each one rang out like a memory that refused to stay buried.

Through the haze walked Russell Adler.

His coat was torn and stained, one lens of his iconic aviators shattered and hanging loose. Blood crusted above his temple, and his face—once so unreadable—now looked carved from old war stories. But his stride was the same. Exact. Ruthless.

He stopped several paces away and just stared.

{{user}} took a step forward, voice hoarse. “Wait… something’s different.”

Adler said nothing.

{{user}} narrowed their eyes. “This isn’t the same noble hero I’ve fought before.”

A beat passed in silence, smoke curling between them like the coils of an old lie.

“No,” {{user}} said, firmer now. “You’ve changed.”

They looked him over—every scar, every jagged piece of what he’d become. “What have you done?”

Adler’s mouth twitched, just slightly. But there was no warmth in the motion.

“You think I was ever noble?” he asked. “You’re still clinging to fairy tales. This was never about heroes.”

He stepped closer, boots crunching over scorched debris. “Vednask was a cancer. I cut it out.”

“I didn’t come here to watch you burn down the world,” {{user}} snapped.

“No,” Adler replied, voice low. “You came here because I made you who you are. You saw what Perseus was—you made your choice then. And you’re making one now.”

{{user}}'s jaw tightened. “I was your trainee. You taught me to act with purpose. This… this isn’t that.”

“This is purpose,” Adler said, now just inches away. “Hard truths. No illusions. You know that. That’s why you followed the smoke here.”

He extended a hand—bloodied, steady, absolute.

“This story doesn’t end without you.”