Story 689: The Tyrant's Rebirth

The flames of the battlefield flickered in General Viktor "Bloodfang" Kruger's cold, dead eyes. His face—once a symbol of ruthless command—was now a grotesque fusion of man and monster. Deep scars ran down his hardened features, and his left eye gleamed with an unnatural glow, pulsating with the same necrotic energy that had twisted his body.

Sergeant Darius "Hellhound" Rook wiped blood from his mouth, forcing himself to his feet. He had made his choice. There was no turning back now.

Kruger stepped forward, each movement a slow, calculated display of power. The earth beneath his boots trembled, his mutated arm twitching with suppressed fury.

"You're a disappointment, Rook," he muttered, voice rough like grinding metal. "You could have ruled at my side."

Rook tightened his grip on his rifle. "I was loyal to a man, not a monster."

Kruger's lips curled into something resembling a grin. "Monster?" His voice was almost amused. "No, Rook. This is evolution."