The wind screamed across the black plains of Vhal’Ruun — a land long erased from maps, where the sun dared not rise. Here, among the ruins of forgotten temples, the earth was cracked open like a wound. From its depths rose whispers — the echoes of those who once tried to master the forbidden art of merging soul and machine.
It was here that Arcturus returned to life.
The storm had raged for seven days when the ground finally broke open. A beam of red light pierced the clouds, and a figure emerged — shrouded in ash and smoke, his form flickering between flesh and flame.
Arcturus drew his first breath again, and the world trembled.
His eyes opened — glowing like molten iron — and the shadows themselves seemed to bow.
“Rebirth complete,” a voice murmured in his mind.
“Host integrity: 87
