Gabriel moved deeper into the wild lands, his steps quiet, his figure almost a shadow as he followed the remnants of the ancient road. The further he walked, the more desolate the landscape became. Gnarled trees twisted in unnatural directions, their branches like skeletal fingers clawing at the sky. The air was thick with an eerie silence, broken only by the occasional distant howl of some unknown creature. Even the wind seemed to have a haunted quality, whispering through the crumbling remains of the forgotten path.
Days passed in a blur. His hunger gnawed at him relentlessly, but he continued forward, driven by a purpose he barely understood. He had to keep moving, had to find somewhere—somewhere he could disappear, somewhere he could rebuild himself away from the light of men and the ever-present orc threat. But more than that, Gabriel needed a place where he could gain control over his curse. He refused to become a monster.
He passed through rocky valleys and thick forests until the ancient road led him to the foothills of a towering mountain range. There, nestled between the peaks, was what he had been unknowingly searching for.
Veloren.
The ruins of a once-great city loomed ahead, their towering spires now crumbling, their proud walls overgrown with vines and moss. The remains of Veloren, the lost city of men, lay forgotten in this desolate corner of the world, its glory faded with time, its history turned to dust. But even in its ruined state, the city still exuded a sense of ancient power.
Gabriel halted at the edge of the city, his keen eyes scanning the broken towers and shattered gates. This place was different from anything he had encountered so far. It was as if the city had once been a beacon of civilization but had since been swallowed whole by the wild lands.
He took a step forward, his boot crunching on the debris scattered across the stone street. His heart, now cold and still, felt a strange sense of familiarity. As if this place, abandoned and desolate, had been waiting for him.
The grand avenue that had once welcomed caravans and travelers stretched out before him, now choked with weeds and the ruins of toppled statues. Gabriel walked deeper into the city, passing crumbled houses and fallen arches. The weight of history pressed down on him, the remnants of a forgotten age speaking of lost knowledge and broken dreams.
Eventually, he came to the heart of the city—a vast square dominated by the ruins of what must have once been a grand cathedral. Its towering pillars still stood, defiant against the ravages of time, though the roof had long since collapsed. At the center of the square was a large fountain, cracked and dry, its once-beautiful carvings now worn smooth by centuries of neglect.
Gabriel stood in the center of the square, staring up at the cathedral's crumbling facade. This place—this city—felt right. Here, in the ruins of Veloren, he could rebuild. He could hide from the world, far from the sun's reach, far from the prying eyes of men, orcs, and gods alike.
He needed time, time to control the curse that coursed through his veins, time to master his new powers. And in this city, he would find that time.
The sun dipped below the horizon, bathing the city in shadow. Night was falling, and with it, Gabriel's strength returned in full. He moved with a renewed sense of purpose, exploring the ruined cathedral. Its vast halls, though crumbled, still held a strange beauty. Stone pews lay broken beneath fallen beams, and faded murals depicting long-forgotten gods and heroes covered the walls. Gabriel ran his fingers along the worn stone, feeling the echoes of a past long gone.
He found a stairwell leading down beneath the cathedral. With cautious steps, Gabriel descended into the catacombs. The air grew cooler, the darkness absolute, but his new eyes pierced the gloom with ease. The underground tunnels wound deep beneath the city, leading to crypts and vaults that had been untouched for centuries.
It was here, in the depths of Veloren's catacombs, that Gabriel would make his base. The ancient vaults would serve as his refuge, a place to train, to study, to control the curse that now defined him. The tunnels provided safety from the light, while the ruins above offered the perfect hiding place from the orc warbands that still scoured the land.
Gabriel stood in the center of the vault, his breath steady, his thoughts focused. The hunger still gnawed at him, but he had learned to keep it at bay. In time, he would learn to control it fully.
But the hunger for blood wasn't the only desire that drove him now. His thirst for revenge against the orcs burned even brighter. The memory of his parents' deaths, his village razed to the ground, the betrayal of his gods—it all seared his soul. Gabriel clenched his fists, feeling the strength in his cursed limbs.
The orcs had to be stopped. Their ever-growing presence threatened everything. They had brought death and destruction to his life before, and now, they were spreading across the land like a plague. Gabriel knew that his destiny, cursed though it may be, would bring him into conflict with them again.
But he couldn't do it alone. Not yet.
Gabriel set to work in the ruins of Veloren, fortifying the cathedral and catacombs, scavenging materials from the city's remains. The old city's architecture, though crumbled, still held valuable resources—iron, stone, even forgotten weapons and relics buried beneath the rubble. He scavenged what he could and used his blacksmithing skills to craft tools and weapons. He wasn't just preparing to survive; he was preparing for war.
The nights stretched into weeks as Gabriel toiled, his body adjusting to his new reality. He explored every corner of Veloren, discovering forgotten chambers filled with ancient tomes and relics from a time before even his own. Some of the texts, though faded, spoke of strange magics, of powers long since lost to mankind. Gabriel poured over them, searching for answers, seeking knowledge that might help him understand his curse and, perhaps, even break it.
But the wild lands were not as desolate as they seemed.
Gabriel soon realized that he was not alone. At night, strange creatures roamed the edges of the city—twisted beasts born of the wilds, their forms grotesque and unnatural. They kept their distance for now, wary of the city's new occupant, but Gabriel knew it was only a matter of time before they ventured closer.
And then there were the orcs. He had seen signs of their warbands—scout patrols moving through the wild lands, likely searching for any remnants of human resistance. It wouldn't be long before they discovered the ruins of Veloren.
Gabriel stood at the top of the cathedral's broken tower one night, staring out across the wild lands. The orcs would come. They always did. But when they did, Gabriel would be ready.
Veloren would rise again. Not as a city of men, but as a fortress of shadows. Here, Gabriel would rebuild. Here, he would hone his strength. And when the time came, he would march out of the wild lands, not as Gabriel the Holy Warrior, but as something far more dangerous.
The cursed blood in his veins surged, and Gabriel welcomed the power it brought. His time would come. And when it did, the world would tremble before him.
For now, he would bide his time, waiting in the shadows of the ruined city, sharpening his blade and his resolve.