You feel an infernal pain.
But you get the faint impression that you've felt worse before...
Igyris awakens.
His head pounds, as if it's about to split in two. But he knows this pain. He's used to it.
His body, entirely wrapped in seals, trembles under the arcane pressure.
The violet markings snake through his flesh like exposed veins, paralyzing every fiber of his will.
A tingling sensation cuts through his torso, as if some invisible blade had split him in half.
It was still Monday.
But why arcane seals?
NowaGen relied on cybernetic restraints to contain individuals.
This was archaic. Ritualistic. A cruel relic from a darker age.
And that place he now found himself in...? Vast. Cold.
The walls, forged from some noble alloy, echoed the sound of absolute silence.
A fortress. Or perhaps a prison.
Staircases, corridors, translucent panels and steel structures gave the place the air of a corporate tower — but it wasn't.
The technology here fused with something older. More primal.
Circuits and codes pulsed like arteries.
Yet what made his skin burn like acid was something else — Arcane energy.
Dense. Enraged. Alive.
This place reeked of it.
A base?
A factory?
A building?
No... Something far worse.
Then, like a flash through the vertigo, a voice sliced into his mind:
— "Cursed one… the wretch who dared interfere with my mission.
Found in such a putrid, filthy environment… completely unqualified… and composed of a plague of such grotesque proportions...
Given your cursed nature, you must have some idea where lies the curse of all curses..."
A man approached.
His steps echoed with a kind of elegance Igyris had never seen before.
He didn't speak with aggression — it was diplomatic.
Measured. Calculated.
And that infuriated Igyris.
He could barely understand the words — his head spun, the world pulsed.
But he recognized that face.
The man who had slaughtered them all.
His voice came from a world Igyris didn't want to understand. But he continued:
— "Listen, man who carries such a vile curse... Cooperate, and your spirit's execution will be swift.
Otherwise, I'll slice your soul, destroy your existence... and rip out your heart."
Silence.
Igyris' cheeks puffed out.
And then:
— "AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!"
He burst out in wild laughter.
— "PFFF... HAHAHAHAHA! Man, are you high or what?
You really think this spooky talk makes you sound badass?
You must feel so cool talking all this crap, huh, punk?"
The noble Khaelis sighed.
As expected.
— "My mistake, trying to reason with one of your nature… cursed one.
If that's your preference, rotting flesh...
I'll extinguish the flame of your life immediately."
— "Seriously, dude? You gonna kill me just because I don't understand a word of this useless shit you're saying?
We just made a little mess, man! Hahaha. You already killed my people anyway… might as well send me with them."
Igyris smirked — ironic, defiant.
— "C'mon... you could at least let me slip out, yeah?"
Mockery.
— "Silence... Your existence is filth.
And yet you barely know the nature that dwells within you.
If you cannot cooperate... your end is now."
Khaelis looked at him with judging eyes —
like a hunter before the beast.
— "C'mon, man. I thought you'd already killed me.
Could've sworn you split me in half with that thing."
Igyris didn't care.
Each word passed over him like wind against stone.
— "Yes... I see now.
You truly have no idea what evil you carry…
Or perhaps you do, and pretend otherwise.
You haven't even questioned how you survived the fury of ShadowStorm...
Such is your tragic nature — unaware even of who holds the truth..."
Khaelis spoke with a tone of disdain. And... sorrow.
— "ShadowStorm? You mean that thing...?
Wait... What the hell even happened?"
At last, Igyris asked himself:
Why was he still alive?
— "Enough... I have no time. I must continue..."
Khaelis touched the sheath of ShadowStorm.
A blue glow emanated from it.
Runes awakened on his skin like constellations.
Star-marks of the end.
— "For the lives of the men you and your pigs slaughtered…
And for the ancient curse that poisons your heart...
I extinguish the flame of your life."
Khaelis fell silent.
He raised his sword for a vertical strike. A reaping blow. The end.
Igyris remained motionless.
He felt no fear. No guilt.
Death required no acceptance.
It would simply be — the end.
Of a hollow life, with an equally hollow ending.
But then—
The ground shook.
An explosion.
Powermagi.
The tower at the corrupted heart of NowaGen.
Restricted access. High command. The Arcane and political elite.
It held not only secrets...
But the seat of power.
Only members of Noble Houses, elites, the Royal Family, or the upper circles of society knew its inner workings.
And then… the attack came from within?
A rebellion?
A coup?
No.
Terrorists.
The same ones who sowed chaos through the city's veins — protests that burned like senseless gunpowder.
It was them.
The ones whose flames had once swallowed Igyris...
And now, once again, delayed his sentence.
But for how long?
The only certainty for those in that room:
The smell of fire…
And that there was no longer any floor beneath their feet.