Dry heat scorched his throat, tasting of copper and dead earth. Sand clung to his eyelashes, stinging with every desperate blink as he struggled to open his eyes. Ares pushed himself upward, his palms sinking into the blistering dunes that stretched toward a flat, unforgiving horizon. Where was he? Nothingness met his gaze, a blinding expanse of white-hot desert beneath a sun that seemed to burn with personal malice. Memory remained entirely out of reach, slipping away like water through clenched fists whenever he tried to grasp any detail of his past. His name was the only anchor left in the shifting tides of his consciousness. Ares. Beyond that single word, his mind was a hollow vault, stripped of faces, voices, and the warmth of a home he could no longer picture. Thirst clawed at his throat like a physical beast, demanding water that the arid landscape refused to yield. Cracked lips bled when he parted them to inhale the oven-hot air, the metallic tang of his own blood doing little to soothe his parched tongue. Standing up required an agonizing effort, his muscles screaming in protest as he forced his heavy limbs to support his weight. Dragging one foot after the other, he began to walk in a direction chosen entirely at random. Hours bled into days under the unrelenting glare of the sun, each step proving a stubborn will he didn't know he possessed. Desperation drove him to dig into the sand with his bare fingers on the second afternoon, searching for any sign of moisture beneath the surface. Sharp stones sliced his skin, but no water emerged from the dry earth, only shifting dust that quickly filled the shallow hole. Dark, dried blood on his fingertips did not flow; it congealed instantly into dark, obsidian-like flakes. He stared at his hands, noting how his skin remained pale and unblemished despite the searing heat that should have peeled it away. Daylight faded into freezing desert nights, but the torment never ceased, only shifting from burning heat to bone-chilling cold. Unfamiliar stars stared down at him from a pitch-black sky, forming strange constellations that held no meaning to his fractured mind. Three days passed without a single drop of moisture or a scrap of food passing his lips. Anyone else would have perished within the first thirty-six hours of such extreme exposure. Yet, his body refused to fail, defying the basic laws of mortal survival with a terrifying resilience. Hunger gnawed at his vitals, and exhaustion weighed on his shoulders like heavy iron chains, but he kept moving. Some unnatural vitality simmered deep within his bones, keeping death at bay while his mind yearned for rest. His heart beat with a slow, heavy rhythm, entirely out of step with his frantic, shallow breaths. It felt less like a living organ and more like a cold stone shifting within his chest, pumping a strange, dark energy instead of warm blood. --- On the fourth afternoon, the endless dunes finally began to shift. Barren sand gave way to cracked, dry earth and jagged pillars of black rock that rose like broken teeth from the ground. Plumes of thick, dark smoke rose in the distance, smudging the pale horizon and carrying the scent of destruction. Footsteps heavy, Ares dragged himself toward the rising columns, driven by a desperate hope of finding answers. Splintered wood and shattered stone greeted him as he crested a low hill, revealing the grim remains of a settlement. Ruins of a small village lay nestled in a shallow valley, smoldering in the aftermath of a brutal and sudden attack. Desolate and silent, the settlement looked like a graveyard before the bodies had even been buried, with ash coating everything in a gray blanket. Near the entrance of the village lay the body of a soldier, his throat completely torn out. Ares stopped to look at the corpse, observing the shattered steel breastplate marked with a crest of a winged wolf. No pity stirred in his chest, nor did disgust turn his stomach. Only a cold, detached curiosity remained as he stared at the dead man's lifeless eyes. Sensing movement ahead, he slipped quietly behind a crumbling stone wall. Desperate screams suddenly cut through the heavy air, shattering the silence and drawing his attention to the center of the ruins. A creature stood in the center of the dusty square, towering over the ruins like a monument of nightmares. Razor-sharp claws extended from its six muscular limbs, and its insectoid head twitched with erratic, violent movements as it searched the debris. Thick, yellow mucus dripped from its clicking mandibles, sizzling where it touched the blood-stained earth. Near the beast's feet, a young girl cowered against a broken well, her eyes wide with absolute terror as she clutched a wounded leg. Blood pooled from a deep gash on her thigh, staining the dust a brilliant crimson and drawing the attention of the hunting monster. Fear should have gripped Ares, paralyzing him in the face of such a terrifying and alien monstrosity. Instead, a bizarre sensation of cold indifference washed over him, freezing his emotions before they could even form. His pulse slowed even further, settling into a calm, steady rhythm that defied the chaos of the scene. Witnessing the suffering of the survivors did not move him, nor did the terrifying appearance of the beast provoke any instinct to flee. Only a profound emptiness remained inside him, a vast void that seemed to swallow his humanity whole. Suddenly, the monster lunged toward the weeping girl, its claws raised to strike and end her life. Movement exploded from Ares before he could consciously process the decision, his body acting on pure, unadulterated instinct. Heavy, dark mist poured from his palms, swirling violently in the dry air and chilling the ambient temperature to a freezing degree. Solidifying in his grasp, the shadows coalesced into a massive scythe of polished black metal, its weight perfectly balanced. A crescent blade erupted from the top, glowing with a faint, ghostly luminescence that hummed with quiet menace. Terrifying power surged through his veins, erasing his exhaustion in an instant and filling him with an intoxicating sense of absolute control. Instinctively, Ares leaped over the stone wall and closed the distance in a blur, moving faster than the eye could follow. A clean arc of his scythe sliced through the air, whispering a promise of absolute termination. No blood spilled from the beast as the blade passed effortlessly through its neck, bypassing its armored hide as if it were nothing but air. Gray ash fell where the creature's head had been, its massive body dissolving into nothingness before it even hit the ground. Silence reclaimed the ruined village square, leaving only the sound of the wind whistling through the burning timber. Looking down at his trembling hands, Ares stared at the dark weapon that felt far too natural in his grip. Coldness radiated from the weapon, yet it did not bite his skin. Instead, the chilling temperature felt comforting, like a familiar embrace from an old friend he had long forgotten. Slowly, the young girl looked up from her position by the well, her breath catching in her throat. Terror still gripped her features, but now it was directed entirely at him. She shrank away, her small body trembling violently as she stared at the dark scythe and the terrifying aura of death surrounding him. No words of gratitude came from her lips, only a soft, horrified whimper as she tried to crawl backward into the dirt. Ares watched her, his face remaining as emotionless as carved stone. He felt no urge to comfort her, no desire to offer reassurance, and no warmth of heroic satisfaction. Such fear did not bother him, nor did her pain evoke any sympathy. He was a savior, yet he felt like the true monster in this ruined sanctuary. Black mist devoured the weapon as it slowly dissolved, sinking back into his skin like ink into water. His hands remained steady, the dark energy retreating but leaving a permanent void in its wake. --- As Ares surveys the eradicated threat, a spectral voice whispers from within his new scythe, 'Welcome, Reaper. Your harvest awaits,' followed by a searing pain in his chest as a dark symbol flares to life on his skin, promising untold destruction.

Chapter 1: Awakening in Ash