A man sat silently on top a mountain of corpses,wondering where his world had gone wrong to be brought to ruins like this. He was soaked in blood, and his eyes glowed crimson, a hue matching the carnage around him.
A voice crackled to life through his comms.
"Crimson Carnage, you are to report back to Outpost-64 immedeately. Over."
He got up from the corpses with a sigh and stretched.
'Time to head back to another round of hell. Should be fun.'
A long time ago, Earth had been teeming with life, a utopia where men and monsters dwelt in harmony. That harmony had come at a cost, but finally, after centuries of war, the two realms had finally united to become one: Nixara, the new Earth. But this peace unravelled when they appeared...
Abyssals.
Shadowy creatures that slew their victims and kept their bodies, taking the new world by storm. Unprepared and outmatched, the people of Nixara fell, and with each Nixaran lost, another Abyssal was born. Soon, only a handful of monsters remained, pushed into hiding from the rest fthe world. Humanity, on the other hand, did what they did best... they survived. And in this desperation to survive, two powers surfaced to fight the new threat: Gifts and Cores
While Gifts amplified the body, granting the users superhuman powers, Cores allowed their weilder to control and defend their Soulscape, the very space an Abyssal had to destroy in order to take control of a body.
With these new powers, humanity pushed back, and those blessed with these powers were called to battle, tasked with the duty of keeping roaming Abyssals at bay.
The man called Crimson walked towards a large barricade, and a soldier immedeately got down from the watchtower to salute. "W-Welcome back, Crimson Carnage, sir. Please come with me for the repo- is that blood?! It's everywhere! How did you get injured this badly?! HQ, requesting immedeate medi-"
" Number of Abyssals on site: 164.
Mainly Wolf-type. Low- level intelligence
Abyssals remaining: None.
Send the scavengers out to harvest the corpses.
And for the seventeenth fucking time, none of this is mine!" he yelled, gesturing to his entire body.
" Oh yeah, sorry. I keep forgetting, even though this is how you always return from your missions."
He sighed, flicking of the blood he could manage.
" Just deliver the report. I'm off for a shower."
" Roger that sir, I won't-"
He was already gone, his steps leaving a bloody trail as he headed towards the barracks.
" Damn. So the rumours were real, huh?"
Every guard stationed on watchduty always said the same thing: a man would come back from his drenched in blood, leaving countless corpses for the scavengers to harvest.
The most impressive thing was that all he went on all his missions alone, and despite the gruesome state he would return in, he always had the highest kill rate: 100%
"Stills creeps me out though," the soldier muttered, staring at the trail of blood with a shudder
Meanwhile, 'Crimson' returned to his quarters. It was simple but spacious: a bed, a table, a large wardrobe and a bathroom- the bare necessities.
Crimson got out of the bathroom,towel round his neck, and turned to the front door.
" I can tell you're there, dude. You might as well come out.
A figure slowly came into the room, and without warning, threw a powerful blow aimed to crush his skull.
However, he dodged casually, catching the hand by the wrist as he faced his assailant.
"Nice catch. You're still as fast as ever, Draco."
" Good to see you too, Dan." he smirked, releasing his grip as they shook hands.
Dan Katuja, one of the few people Draco could sincerely call his friend, and one of the strongest Paladins at Nixara's disposal.
" Seriously though, who throws punches as a greeting? You nearly gave me a heart attack."
" Just seeing you after a mission gives soldiers a heart attack. 'Crimson Carnage'- that's what they call you right?"
Draco. That was his real name. And after a good shower, it was much easier to see his features- a dark, toned body, topped with icy blue hair and hazel eyes, scratching the back of his head with a defeated sigh. " I tried my best, Dan, I really did."
" I know. It's not every someone gets a Flaw like yours."
In exchange for the superhuman abilities granted by a Gift, a Flaw was always attached; a restriction that limited its user just as it had empowered them.
Flaws were just as diverse as Gifts, and the more powerful a Gift , the more crippling its Flaw.
People with Gifts were destined to become Paladins, a elite set of Gift-powered soldiers responsible for defending Nixara's territory, as well as regulating the population that lived there.
Draco's smile slowly faded.
" So, why did you really come here? No one comes to hell just to greet a friend."
" Cold. But also true . I came to deliver a message from the Iron Citadel. Crimson Carnage, you have recieved new orders: report to the Silvermoon Stronghold immedeately. You have a new mission."
" No."