Upon opening his eyes, the first thing the man lying on his back on the ground saw was the sky dyed a deep red, as if the firmament itself were bleeding. Dense, dark clouds moved slowly, creating an almost apocalyptic scene. The air was heavy, and a warm breeze carried with it the smell of ash and decay. He stood up with slow movements, his body feeling stiff, as if he had been asleep for centuries. Around him, the world was in chaos.
Destroyed structures stood like skeletons of stone and twisted metal. The ground was covered in gray dust and cracked, releasing small, sporadic flames. However, amidst all the gloomy scenery, something contrasted: a small tree of light.
The tree glowed with a soft golden glow, its leaves shining like tiny fragments of stars. It was fragile and delicate, yet at the same time it conveyed a sense of peace amidst the destruction.
Surprisingly, the man felt calm. There was no fear or despair, just a cold serenity. He tried to search through his memories, to find any memory of who he was or how he had gotten here, but his mind was an abysmal void. No names, no faces, just silence.
Before he could delve any deeper into his own questions, he noticed movement in the distance. Grotesque, deformed creatures were walking among the ruins. They were enormous, with misshapen bodies and black skin adorned with purple stripes that pulsed like exposed veins. Their wide mouths were filled with sharp teeth, and their eyes were bottomless pits, devoid of any sign of humanity.
Despite the presence of these aberrations, none of them dared to approach. Their monstrous bodies trembled, and their claws scratched the ground in hesitation. The man looked back and noticed that the small tree of light seemed to be the reason. Like an invisible barrier, it kept them at bay.
Driven by curiosity, he reached out his hand to touch the luminous trunk. The moment his fingers touched the light, the tree was absorbed into his body. A soft aura enveloped him for a moment, and then dissipated, leaving only a faint warmth in his chest.
Suddenly, a memory emerged from the darkness of his mind: Álkan.
"Yes... That is my name."
But before he could explore this revelation further, the change in the environment became evident. Without the light of the tree, the monsters noticed the absence of the barrier and their bodies trembled, but now with a predatory desire. They advanced slowly, emitting guttural sounds.
Álkan felt a wave of boiling hatred rise through his body. It was an overwhelming feeling, as if every fiber of his being hated these creatures. It was irrational, but impossible to ignore.
Guided only by instinct, he raised his hand and a sword of light materialized before him. The blade was long and shone with an intensity that hurt the creatures' eyes. Without hesitation, he advanced.
The first monster was cut in half in a single stroke. The viscous, dark blood splattered across the ground, its entrails steaming as the sword made contact. Álkan felt an unknown energy fill his body. His movements became faster, his strength increased, and each strike seemed to channel his own light against the darkness around him.
The other monsters retreated, their empty eyes now filled with fear. Álkan realized that the sword of light was the source of this fear. However, a feeling of exhaustion began to spread throughout his body. Keeping the sword active was rapidly draining his strength, as if it were consuming his very essence.
With no other option, he turned and ran. His legs moved instinctively, dodging the debris and the claws of the creatures that were still watching him. He didn't know where he was going, he only knew that he had to escape.
As he walked away, the only certainty he had was his name: Álkan. And perhaps, at the end of this place of nightmares, he would be able to discover who he really was.