Silence ruled the graveyard—an oppressive, suffocating silence that felt like the breath of death itself.
Scar moved through the desolation like a shadow cast by despair. His boots crunched on brittle bones and soot-blackened ash, every step echoing through the stillness. Bits of armor, shattered relics, and charred banners fluttered like the remains of forgotten legacies. His sword dragged behind him, its chipped edge tracing a shimmering trail of residual energy in the dust—more a beacon for the dead than a weapon now.
The land groaned beneath his feet, not with sound, but with presence.
Above, the sky remained a sickly bruise—an endless stretch of crimson marbled with dark clouds like congealed blood. No sun dared rise here. No moon graced this cursed firmament. It was as though light itself had been denied, leaving the world stained in perpetual twilight.
Twisted trees reached like blackened hands from beneath the soil, half-submerged, as if clawing their way out from a deeper, older grave. The ruins of towers and fortresses lay shattered across the horizon, hunched like dying beasts who had long given up their final breath.
The wind didn't blow. The air didn't stir. The world felt... paused. Watching. Waiting. Judging.
Scar walked, not knowing what he was looking for. Hope? A way out?
He didn't know. Only that standing still felt worse. Like something might notice. Like something might come.
Then—
A sound.
So faint it could've been imagined.
Slow. Deliberate. Rhythmic.
Scar stopped, muscles going tight. Every sense sharpened, honed by instinct and pain. He turned his head, scanning the jagged landscape.
From behind a shattered monument—half-buried in the dust like a tombstone too proud to fall—a figure emerged.
It didn't walk.
It glided.
Robes fluttered around it like smoke—black as a starless void. The fabric was ragged, trailing behind it like the remnants of forgotten time. Its face was hidden behind a cracked porcelain mask shaped like a human skull—delicate, almost ceremonial, but made all the more chilling by the hairline fractures running through it.
For a heartbeat, time held its breath.
Scar found himself stepping back, sword halfway drawn.
"…Who are you?" he demanded, voice hoarse.
No reply.
His heart pounded. The silence thickened.
"Where the hell am I?"
Nothing.
Frustration burned behind his ribs, mixing with fear.
"What is this place?! How do I get out?!"
Still, the figure said nothing. But then—It tilted its head.
And the voice came.
Not from its lips, but inside Scar's head.
An icy whisper, smooth and ancient, like wind blowing through a crypt sealed for centuries.
"kkkkrr...Death...here...is...absolute"
The voice was emotionless, echoing not in air, but in soul. A vibration felt more than heard.
Scar's jaw clenched. A storm churned inside him—grief, fury, confusion.
"…Why me?" he asked, throat tightening. "Why were we chosen? The Tower? What the hell is that?"
His voice cracked with urgency. He needed answers—he deserved answers.
But the being didn't move.
Didn't respond.
It felt like speaking to stone.
Then—
It turned.
Not fully. Just its head.
And through the shattered mask, Scar saw a flicker.
Eyes. Or something like them. glowing faintly beneath the mask, as if lit from within by ghostfire. They didn't look at him—but through him, toward something distant. Something coming.
The land trembled.
Dust jumped from the ground. A faint vibration rolled beneath his boots.
The silence shattered.
Then it looked directly at Scar—for the first and last time.
"Goodbye, outcast."
And then—It vanished.
No sound. No motion. One moment it was there. The next—it simply wasn't.
Just… gone.
Scar stood frozen.
Then the earth convulsed.
A pulse like a massive heartbeat boomed beneath him, growing louder, stronger.
Thump.
ThuMP.
THUMP.
A roar tore through the landscape—deep, guttural, and impossibly loud. The sky seemed to tremble with it.
Scar staggered back, hand shielding his eyes. A geyser of sand exploded in the distance.
Then another.
And then—
The ground moved.
No.
Something moved in the ground.
A beast—no, a nightmare. A sand warm the size of a fortress, slithering beneath the dunes with terrifying speed. Obsidian-black scales shimmered with ancient magic. Its maw, ringed with teeth like spears, opened wide in a roar that split the earth, echoing through bones and stone alike.
Its presence swallowed the world.
A mountain come alive. Hunger incarnate.
Scar's heart skipped a beat.
"Shit—" He ran. Instinct. No time to think. Just motion.
The ground exploded behind him, sand and debris ripping into the sky as the worm tunneled closer. Bones flew. Trees shattered. The shockwave sent him staggering, dust clouding his sight.
He sprinted across cracked plains, his boots striking the ground like war drums. His sword clattered against his back with every step.
Faster.
Faster.
The worm's roar rose again—closer now. Almost on top of him.
Scar vaulted over a broken pillar, ducked low beneath an arch, his breath coming in ragged gasps.
Then—
He turned sharply toward a narrow crevice at the base of a jagged cliffside. Dust swirled violently, half-blinding him.
The sand Worm shrieked behind him, rage echoing like thunder.
Scar leapt.
Arms extended, he dived headfirst into the crevice just as the earth behind him detonated, sending debris raining down.
The world darkened. Silence returned.
For several seconds, there was nothing but Scar's heartbeat thundering in his ears. His body trembled, lungs desperate for breath.
He lay in a narrow tunnel—cold stone beneath him, as the roar outside faded into the distance.