Ebon awakens in an endless white void, void of memory, void of purpose, void of self. In his palm hovers a single rune, pulsing like a dying star. The moment he takes it, reality shatters. He plummets from the abyss and crashes into a world strangled by ruin and darkness. Chains rattle. A slave carriage. A world that should not be. In this land, the sky bleeds hues of anguish, and the earth groans beneath the weight of forgotten gods. Strength is carved from suffering, and those who falter are consumed by the ever-hungering black. The only law is power, and the only fate for the weak is oblivion. Ebon does not belong here. And yet, something within him stirs, an ember buried beneath eons of silence. The rune he carries is but a fragment of something greater, a key to an existence long forsaken. With every battle, every death, and every rebirth, he will claw his way through the abyssal tide, unearthing lost truths, shaping his path in a world that defies meaning. But the deeper he descends, the more he glimpses it, the thing beyond the veil, watching, waiting. What is the truth of this world? What lies at the end of all struggle? And when the time comes… will he be the one to shape The Color Black, or will it consume him whole?