Completenovice2367

In a world shaped by divine will and ancient conflicts, a forgotten warrior awakens. Varian, an Einherjar—a warrior spirit cast into the void by the gods—emerges from another Dimension with no memory of how he escaped. Though he recalls fragments of his past, one truth remains clear: he was once the champion of a god of death. But that god’s name, their purpose, and why Varian now walks free remain mysteries shrouded in the depths of time.

Echoes Of Silence

The trees stood like withered husks, their bark cracked and lifeless. The water, thick and inky, rippled without color. The air was heavy, pressing down like an unseen weight. Even the sun—if it could still be called that—hung in the sky like a void, radiating neither warmth nor light, just an oppressive presence.

A boy stood in the murky water, the cold biting at his legs though he did not shiver. He was small, around 150 cm, but his form was rigid, unmoving. His black eyes stared upward, past the endless dark, past the absence of stars, until they landed on the only other presence in this forsaken world.

Its head bore the skull of a stag, ancient and cracked, its antlers twisted and jagged as if they had been broken and reforged by the weight of time itself. A mane of matted black fur cascaded down its back, draping over powerful shoulders. Its forearms were grotesquely large, packed with unnatural muscle, while its hind legs bent like those of a predator, strong enough to crush stone beneath its hooves.

A slow, deliberate exhale, mist curling from its maw like dying embers. Its hollow sockets burned with something unseen, something that reached into the boy's very being.

The voice was deep, ancient, carrying the weight of countless souls. It did not echo, for there was nothing in this realm to carry sound—only the endless void.

The boy did not flinch. He did not step back, nor did he lower his gaze.

His lips parted, and he spoke, his voice quiet but firm.

"I've come to hate the color black."

The beast let out a low, rumbling chuckle, though there was no humor in it.

"Hate?" It took a slow step forward, the water barely reacting to its movement, as though the dimension itself refused to acknowledge its presence. "You think hatred is enough to break free from this prison?"

The boy did not answer immediately. He lowered his gaze from the beast's skull and looked at his reflection in the still, black water.

Instead, the darkness writhed. Twisted. His reflection was not his own—it was empty. Hollow.

He exhaled through his nose, his expression unreadable.

The beast observed him for a moment longer. Then, ever so slightly, it tilted its head.

"Very well," it murmured, its voice almost thoughtful. "Then let your hatred guide you."

Chapter 1- Nyx by Night