Moskov

Are you awake, lamb?

I suppose you are an exception among this pitiful herd.

Do you want to know why you are here?

So stay quiet and listen...

When you were still among the living, your name was Moskov, although that no longer matters today.

Yes, you are dead. Countless spears pierced your insides while your enemies pinned you to the sand. Your blood flowed freely, seeping into the earth and coloring the sand a dark purple. But there was defiance in your bones. Even in death, you refused to collapse; reluctant to admit failure.

Yes, you failed. This battle marked the end of your tribe. Your rival, Khaleed, has brought a force three times yours, if not more. Yet you did not flee, because the blood feud between your two tribes had reached the point of no return. You are a true tragic hero.

In your last moments, you must have thought that this death was worthy of a desert warrior. You fought for your tribe at the cost of your life. The golden sands will surely transport you to the halls of glory and etch your name in the annals of history...

Pathetic.

Look around you. These are your so-called golden halls of glory. There is nothing here except a great vortex of darkness. It lurks beneath the surface of the desert, voraciously corrupting every grain of sand, rendering everything unholy. Beneath your feet lies a mountain of bones, the countless remains of your ancestors. Above you, their tortured spirits groan in agony, filled with pain, despair and resentment. However, they will never be able to escape this devouring vortex. They are doomed to be devoured by darkness; to be the food of the insatiable.

Ultimately, they become a part of me.

Who am I?

I am a weapon. A weapon of pure darkness.

It's not difficult to explain. In this world where there is birth, there is death; where there is light, there is darkness. I am in the heart of this vortex of darkness. War, death and anguish are what I feed on. Deep down, you've already known this for some time. Due to the constant feuding between the tribes of the desert, you were taught from a young age to be a fearless warrior. Everything you knew was about fighting, and you and Khaleed were destined to fight to the death – but have you ever wondered why?

I can see the rage in your eyes. This all comes to mind now, right?

Yes, you are just fodder to me. Simple lambs, born to be slaughtered. And I grow stronger with each offering, extending my influence to more and more tribes and plunging them into war and chaos. All this to ensure that this cycle of violence is passed down from generation to generation.

Save your strength. Your once warm blood has long since cooled. Your powerful body has stiffened and your rage is nothing more than the complaint of a powerless soul. I am here in front of you, and yet you can do nothing.

But don't be fooled. I am not the mastermind of your destiny. While you mindlessly killed each other in your enclosures, the shepherd stood at a distance, drinking your blood and harvesting your flesh. He was once the king of the desert, a ruthless tyrant, but now he slumbers far away, beneath the ruins of Tivacan. Before he fell asleep, he buried me here to gather power for his return.

The world should have been mine to conquer. I should be the one to plunge this world into darkness. Yet here I am, trapped in this desert, like a caged animal being fattened. I guess our destinies aren't so different. No matter how powerful I become, I remain just a pawn. Someone else's ship. And now he's about to wake up...

Damn him!

You want revenge, don't you?

Well, your anger is admirable and your blood is boiling again. You are the first to want to escape your pen after learning the truth. I see your soul burning with fury. Your pride, your pain, your hatred... they try to wake up your body. With such remarkable determination, you will surely bring eternal silence to this noisy desert...

Come! Come in front of me. Get me out of this damn vortex. Free me and let me see the light again.

Hate! For being forgotten by history. For the humiliation of being someone's pawn. For your sullied honor. Let all the hatred of the desert flow into you.

Burn! A vengeful soul burns the most. Return to the battlefield once again. With the darkness, I will reshape your body. I will grant you unlimited power. I will give you your revenge!

Go! Embrace the darkness and silence this desert for eternity.