A crimson sun hung over a shattered sky, bleeding light across the desolate realm of Vanyara. Once a world of boundless spirit and harmony, now lay fractured, scorched by wars waged in the name of false gods and broken oaths. From the ashes of that ancient silence, a name was whispered once more—a name the heavens had tried to forget.
Nirvaan.
Seven hundred years had passed since the world last trembled beneath his shadow. Once hailed as the Sovereign of Calamity, Nirvaan had been betrayed, not by his enemies, but by those closest to him—his sworn brothers, his beloved, even his master. They feared his strength, his mind, his destiny. So they buried him beneath the Valley of Screams, sealing him within a coffin forged from the bones of dying stars.
But the world had grown arrogant in his absence.
Now, the skies cracked.
Chains of ancient runes shattered like glass as a towering obsidian sarcophagus floated above a scorched cliff. Black lightning danced around it, each bolt screaming with echoes of wrath that had fermented for centuries. The earth rumbled in terror. Mountains bowed.
Then, the silence broke.
*BOOM!*
The coffin exploded outward in a storm of voidfire and shadows. And from within, a man stepped forth—bare-chested, eyes like twin abysses, hair long and wild like a beast unchained. Tattoos of forbidden sigils glowed across his arms and back, pulsing with cosmic fury.
Nirvaan had returned.
"I gave this world everything," he whispered, voice layered with echoes of countless lifetimes. "And it buried me alive."
He looked up at the heavens, his gaze piercing through the clouds as if daring the gods to look away.
"You should have killed me when you had the chance."
From the depths of the sky, divine eyes blinked open. Realms shuddered.
The villain was back.
And this time, he would not show mercy.