The first sensation Marcus felt was the sterile, suffocating scent of antiseptics and the weight of bandages pressing down on his chest and shoulder. Pain throbbed through him, sharp and insistent, but he forced his eyes open, the fluorescent lights of the hospital ceiling blurring into focus. The room was quiet, save for the steady beeping of the heart monitor beside him.
As his vision cleared, a sudden, pulsing light caught his attention. A notification blinked at the edge of his field of view, a reminder of something he had chosen to ignore for years. The System had never disappeared; it had always been there, a shadow at the edge of his consciousness. But Marcus had avoided it, never checking his stat sheets since he became a family man. The numbers were reminders of who he once was—an identity drenched in violence, deeds he had buried in the years spent as a husband and father.
Now, with everything shattered, the notification glared at him like an accusation.
**System Notification:**
*Unarmed Mastery skill has increased to Level 48.*
Marcus stared at the message, a chill running down his spine. Memories surged: the world of special operations, the classified missions where the System had thrived on his actions, each kill and brutal act adding to his silent tally. He hadn’t needed to see the stats to know they were there, marking him as something more than just a soldier. Something far darker.
With a sigh that trembled at the edges, Marcus mentally summoned his full stat sheet, a thing he hadn’t dared confront in over a decade. The glowing interface materialized before him, cold and unforgiving, detailing everything he was and had once been. The life of a killer whose path was paved with blood and shadows.
---
**Name**: Marcus
**Level**: 87
**Class**: **Dreadwraith**
**Title**: **Herald of Ruin**
**Health**: 10% (Critically Injured)
**Stamina**: 15% (Severely Depleted)
**Energy**: Dormant (Cultivation Sealed)
**Strength**: 152
**Dexterity**: 138
**Constitution**: 144
**Wisdom**: 112
**Intelligence**: 109
**Charisma**: 85
**Skills**:
- **Unarmed Mastery**: Level 48
- **Tactical Awareness**: Level 78
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- **Endurance**: Level 82
- **Close-Quarter Combat**: Level 74
- **Survival Instincts**: Level 80
- **Stealth**: Level 70
- **Pain Tolerance**: Level 75
- **Interrogation**: Level 68
- **Psychological Warfare**: Level 66
- **Shadow Manipulation**: Level 65
- **Healing Factor**: Level 32 (Reduced)
- **Combat Meditation**: Level 65
**Abilities**:
- **Combat Frenzy**: Passive – Gain increased damage resistance and focus during life-threatening situations.
- **Last Stand**: Active – Channel all remaining energy into a burst of strength and speed when health falls below 15%.
- **Battle Trance**: Active – Temporarily enhances reflexes and awareness; effectiveness dependent on stamina.
**Status Effects**:
- **Critically Wounded**: Reduced mobility and pain impedes focus.
- **Energy Sealed**: Unable to access higher-level abilities without reinitiating cultivation paths.
---
Marcus’s eyes moved over the stats, his breath coming faster as each number and skill set drove home a grim truth. Earth, a low-cultivation zone, hadn’t allowed for any peaceful progression of power. Here, the System’s growth came through one source: bloodshed, the taking of lives. His years in special operations had kept him sharp, each mission, each dark deed adding to his skill set. The man he had been wasn’t a hero—far from it. In those missions, he had become the **Dreadwraith**, the unseen force who could break minds as easily as bodies, extracting information with methods no one would speak of.
It had been effective. Terrifyingly so. And as **Herald of Ruin**, a title that spoke to the countless lives he had ended in his pursuit of power and victory, Marcus had become known for being unstoppable. He was a man whose arrival meant death, a specter from which there was no escape.
The notification of his unarmed mastery increasing was a brutal reminder that during the chaos in the park, instinct had taken over. He had become that man again, the one who could calculate and kill without hesitation. It wasn’t just muscle memory. It was the System responding to his true nature, honed and lethal, reawakened by the blood and horror that surrounded him.
*This is who I am*, he thought, a grim acceptance settling over him. Not just Marcus Thompson, the father and engineer. He was Eirik, the **Dreadwraith**, the **Herald of Ruin**. The man whose reputation was forged in battle and whose power was sharpened through acts that haunted others but only drove him forward. He’d tried to turn away from it, to be a good man, a family man. But now, with everything taken from him, the System’s reminder was clear: there was no running from who he truly was.
He dismissed the stat sheet, the flickering blue interface fading from his vision. The pain in his chest and shoulder roared, but it was nothing compared to the cold, seething resolve in his gut. Marcus clenched his fists, ignoring the dull throb that echoed through his body.
This time, it wasn’t about survival. It was about retribution. He would embrace the **Dreadwraith** once more, use every dark skill he’d ever gained to hunt down those responsible. The men who had shattered his world would learn why he was once feared across realms.
With a deep, steadying breath, Marcus closed his eyes, feeling the surge of a long-buried power stir within him. The world he had left behind was calling, and it was time for the Herald of Ruin to answer.