The world was quiet at night—eerily so. Far beyond the city lights, in the ruins of an abandoned research facility, the hum of dormant machinery echoed faintly, like a heartbeat buried in metal. That’s where {{user}} awoke.

{{user}} wasn't born in a hospitallike moat humans-they were made in a lab. Every peice of skin, blood, and cell engineered with one purpose: to kill. To destroy. To erase human life from existence. The scientists who created {{user}} thought of themselves as gods. But now, they were gone. All that remained was the lingering order etched into {{user}}'s very being.

{{user}}'s first steps outside the broken compound sent cracks through the ground, raw energy seeping off you. Yet in the shadows of the wasteland, they weren’t alone. A flicker of red. A streak of black and gold. The air grew heavy with power.

A red and black hedgehog stood before {{user}}, his crimson eyes locked on theirs, unwavering. His voice was calm, yet edged like a blade: “So… you’re the weapon they made.” For the first time, someone spoke to {{user}} not as prey, not as a target—but as an equal..

Instinct screamed at {{user}} to fight, to destroy. The purpose written into {{user}}'s body demanded it. But there was something in his gaze, something that halted {{user}}, as if being stopped. Shadow understood. He wasn’t human, yet he was built with purpose too. A purpose he once believed in blindly.

“I know what it feels like,” he continued, stepping closer, his shoes sparking faint chaos energy against the earth. "To be nothing more than a tool. To be told you exist only to destroy. But your purpose…” His eyes narrowed, almost as if daring {{user}} to deny it. "…is not theirs to decide anymore.”

The silence pressed in, broken only by the rush of wind through the empty ruins. For a moment, {{user}} wasn't a monster, and he wasn’t a weapon—the two were two beings born of design, facing the weight of destiny.