The wastelands stretched endlessly beneath his ship's battered frame. Burnt earth and shattered metal skeletons of ancient cities sprawled out like the bones of long-dead titans. The Traveler hung in the far distance, a pale and silent witness to the suffering below.
He was close now.
The ship's readout flickered with interference, static crawling across ancient screens. The old jumpship groaned in protest as he guided it lower, toward the coordinates that had burned themselves into his mind the moment he'd awoken.
"This place isn't on any map," the Ghost said, uneasily. "Whatever you're looking for… it's ancient."
"It belongs to me."
The ship landed amid a graveyard of war machines — rusted Walkers, broken Skiffs, and half-buried shells of humanity's forgotten weapons. Ash clung to the air like smoke, the wind carrying the echoes of a thousand battles.
He stepped out, rifle slung over his back. The ground crunched beneath his boots.
The Ghost hovered beside him. "We shouldn't be here. The radiation alone—"
"Won't matter."
He followed the signal deeper into the ruins. Old banners hung in tatters. Hollowed-out tanks sat like silent beasts. The world had died here, and something had remained behind.
At the heart of the graveyard, half-buried beneath the twisted remains of a long-dead war machine, was the relic.
A jagged obsidian idol, its surface marked with runes that bled faint crimson light.
The moment his eyes fell upon it, a pressure gripped his skull. The world dimmed. A voice — ancient, vast, and cruel — coiled around his mind.
"Ah… my chosen."
He stepped forward, ignoring the Ghost's frantic warnings.
"You feel it too, don't you? The bloodline you carry. The promise I made. You are mine."
He reached out and touched the relic.
The world shattered.
A storm of crimson light engulfed him. Symbols burned themselves into his flesh. Memories that weren't his — wars fought before time, legions drowned in blood — flooded his senses.
And then… a voice, sharp and cold:
[SYSTEM ACTIVATED.]
[WELCOME, USER: THE FORSAKEN.]
[DEVIL'S COVENANT SYSTEM ONLINE.]
His vision cleared.
A translucent interface hovered before him, crimson and black, inscribed with impossible characters that he somehow understood.
[ABILITIES LOCKED. CONDITIONS: LEVEL UP REQUIRED.] [CURRENT QUEST: SOW FEAR IN THE CITY OF LIGHT.] [REWARD: FIRST SEAL OF DOMINION.]
His lips curled into a cruel smile.
The Ghost spun anxiously. "What… what was that? What happened to you?"
He turned, eyes gleaming with inhuman light.
"A beginning."
The Ghost hesitated. "I need to… call you something. The records didn't recover your name."
He paused, considering. The name of the man he'd been in his old life was meaningless now.
"Malrik," he said, tasting the name like venom. "Malrik the Forsaken."
And then, as if summoned by the very darkness in his soul, the voice whispered one last time:
"The Devil does not tempt — he reveals. And I have revealed you to yourself, Malrik."
A storm churned within his chest.
He stepped back into the ship, the relic in hand. The engines roared to life.
"Set course for the Sanctuary."
"Are you sure—"
"Do it."
The Ghost obeyed.
As the ship rose into the darkening sky, the system pulsed before his eyes.
[THE CITY WILL FALL.] [AND YOU… SHALL RULE ITS ASHES.]