The morning light barely touched the ruins of the city, casting long, eerie shadows over the crumbling buildings and cracked streets.
The silence was punctuated only by the occasional groan of a collapsing structure or the distant rustle of wind through the abandoned cars.
Lyerin stood amidst the chaos, his towering nine-foot frame covered in jet-black fur, his skin pulsing with dark veins that glowed faintly with an ominous red light. His transformation into an Eldritch being had rendered him a part of the twisted ecosystem that now ruled this world.
The Eldritch Fleshers that once lunged at him now regarded him with an odd sense of kinship, shuffling past him without a second glance.
