The scream was a choked gurgle, lost beneath the grinding roar of concrete. Vadim knew it was his own. Dust, acrid and hot, choked his lungs as the world buckled. One moment, he was prying a rusted data-chip from a collapsed server bank in Sector Gamma, just another low-tier scavenger trying to make rent in Novagrad’s quarantined zones. The next, the ground convulsed, a violet tear ripped through the sky, and the entire block imploded around him. A steel beam, thick as a tree trunk, slammed into his chest, then the world turned black. He woke to pristine silence. No dust. No rubble. Just a cool, unfamiliar air brushing against skin that felt… too smooth, too unblemished. He blinked. His vision was impossibly sharp, tracing the intricate patterns of a grimy ceiling high above. His hands, when he raised them, were long-fingered, pale, and utterly devoid of the calluses and grime that had been his constant companions. He was lying on a plush, velvet chaise. A chaise in the middle of a collapsing city? It made no sense. Then, a sharp, cold jolt ripped through his mind. Not a pain, but an invasive, alien presence. Words, etched in stark, obsidian script, materialized behind his eyes. [ACCESS GRANTED: GRAVEWALKER SOUL-MATRIX ACTIVE] [WARNING: HOST BODY CRITICALLY COMPROMISED. REGENERATION INITIATING. UNDEAD LEGION: 0] [THREAT ASSESSMENT: IMMINENT. FATAL WOUND INCOMING. WITHOUT UNDEAD SHIELD, PRIMARY HOST WILL PERISH.] Vadim stared at the phantom words, ribs expanding against broad, unfamiliar bone. Gravewalker? Host body? Undead Legion? He tried to sit up, a strange surge of power flooding his limbs, but a sudden, blinding flash erupted from the doorway. He barely registered the intruder, an operative in reinforced ceramite plating, before a humming alloy edge plunged into his chest. Pain. Not his familiar, dull aches, but a searing, all-consuming agony that threatened to rip his new body apart. He gasped, vision blurring, the Epitaph Interface screaming in his mind. [FATAL WOUND RECEIVED. UNDEAD SHIELD REQUIRED. FAILURE IMMINENT.] His hand, acting on instinct he didn’t possess, lashed out. It connected with something small, heavy, and gritty near the chaise’s leg – a pouch. Ashes. Fine, grey, bone-dry ashes. [ASHES OF VALIANT SOUL DETECTED. RESURRECTION PROTOCOL INITIATING.] [SOUL REINTEGRATION: DRAGOS – HERO OF THE VALE. RANK: LEGENDARY. TYPE: DEATH KNIGHT.] A cold, cerulean light erupted from his grasp, swirling into a vortex. The slayer, a woman with a scar bisecting her brow, yanked her blade free, teeth bared. “Filthy necromancer! Your end is here!” she spat, raising the glowing weapon for a finishing blow. But the ashes were no longer ashes. They churned, coalesced, grew. A gauntleted fist, larger than Vadim’s head, slammed into the floor. Then, a titan rose. Towering. Its armor, scorched and ancient, shimmered with an inner, icy light. A colossal slab of jagged steel materialized in its grasp. Empty eye sockets in a helm shaped like a predatory bird’s skull locked onto the stalker. This was Dragos. The legendary champion, now a skeletal sentinel of immense proportions. The strike meant for Vadim’s heart found only the reanimated champion's chest plate. The blow sparked harmlessly off the ancient metal. [WOUND TRANSFER PROTOCOL: SUCCESSFUL. FATAL WOUND RE-ROUTED TO UNDEAD MINION: SKELETON WARRIOR (LVL 1).] [SKELETON WARRIOR (LVL 1) DESTROYED. DAMAGE ABSORBED.] Vadim felt the lingering phantom pain in his chest vanish, replaced by a strange, invigorating coldness. Dragos, without a spoken command, moved. The colossal slab arced, a silent, devastating blur. The woman barely raised her blade in defense before the sentinel's steel cleaved the masonry directly before her boots, blasting her backward with concussive force. “He lives!” she shouted into her collar mic, retreating with boots skidding over pulverized tile. “He's stronger!” Suddenly, the ground trembled. A thick, viscous tendril, black and glistening, erupted from the floor behind Zoya, snaking towards her with terrifying speed. A Rift abomination scraped into the light—a multi-legged carapace dragging spiked appendages over cracked marble. Vadim recognized the genus: pack-slaughterers engineered to shred entire squads in seconds. Dragos pivoted. The abomination shrieked, whipping barbed tendrils forward, but the phantom champion cleaved through the center mass with surgical precision. Chitin split like dry kindling. The monster convulsed, collapsing into a heap of dissolving black ash. [RIFT BOSS DEFEATED: GRIEVER SPAWN.] [BOSS SOUL ACQUIRED: GRIEVER’S ESSENCE. USE TO SUMMON OR EMPOWER.] [UNDEAD LIMIT INCREASED: +1. CURRENT UNDEAD LEGION: 1/2.] Vadim stared. One strike. A beast that regularly slaughtered guild platoons, reduced to cinder in a second. This was power. Absurd, terrifying, beautiful power. The kind of power that could carve a path through the apocalypse. The kind of power that could keep him alive. Witnessing the kill, the scarred woman snarled into her transceiver: “He’s securing the sector! Pull the perimeter back!” She sprinted toward the terrace exit. Vadim didn't give chase. He pushed himself up, the new body surprisingly agile. The high-ceilinged chamber sat atop the hollowed husk of a corporate high-rise—the iconic Spire of Novagrad. A vantage overlooking the entire quarantined zone. He needed more catalysts, more essence, and absolute fortification. “Move,” Vadim rasped. The summoned warlord turned without a word, marching into the corridor to shatter fallen support pillars out of their path. He navigated the labyrinthine remains of what was once a grand corporate complex, the smell of ozone and decay growing stronger with every step. He needed a secure base, a place to gather resources, to understand this new existence. The Epitaph Interface pulsed with possibilities. Near a reinforced vault hatch, metal shrieked overhead. An HVAC grate broke loose, dropping an emaciated man wrapped in foil-lined ballistic vests onto the floor. He rolled, scrambling up to level a cracked flare gun straight between Vadim's eyes. “I knew it!” the man wheezed, shaking. “I told the radio boards they cloned you!”

The Ash and the Epitaph