Chapter 1: Dance of the Wraith
Orion found himself in a foreign environment. The sky was cracked, filled with swirling colors that blended together like spilled ink. It looked like the world itself had been torn apart, leaving behind glowing rifts that flickered with strange lights.
The battlefield stretched on forever. Orion stood at the edge of it, surrounded by huge stone towers, broken but still standing, rising like the ribs of some giant beast. Strange symbols covered their surfaces.
The air was heavy and hard to breathe—not just because of the smell of blood and decay, but because of something older, something ancient.
Orion heard it—a deep, slow breath, steady and powerful. Whatever was breathing wasn't human.
Each inhalation was slow and measured, as if that creature that had no need for urgency. The space around him felt heavier, as though unseen hands were pressing down on Orion's shoulders, rooting him in place. A primal instinct screamed in the back of his skull.
It wasn't just big.
It was colossal.
The creature walked on two legs, its frame humanoid. Thick, powerful muscles shifted beneath its dark, scaly skin as it moved, each heavy step making the ground shake. Its arms were unnaturally long, its clawed hands flexing lazily, absurdly dexterous despite their size. A tail dragged behind it, the spines along its length clicking together as it moved.
And then there were its eyes.
Twin golden slits, burning against the ruinous backdrop.
A predator's gaze.