The storm howled outside the ruined cathedral, but General Viktor "Bloodfang" Kruger barely noticed. He stood in the candlelit gloom, his combat knife glistening in his hand, the serrated edge still stained with remnants of his last kill.
A dark presence loomed behind him.
Reaper-77. The undead enforcer had not fallen easily in their last battle, but even death hadn't been enough to stop him. His hollow, inhuman voice broke the silence.
"Do you fear what you've become, Kruger?"
Kruger exhaled slowly. He lifted his knife, inspecting the dried blood along its edge. A symbol of his path, the endless war that had led him to this point.
"Fear?" he muttered. "No. But I understand it now."
With a flick of his wrist, he sliced his palm open, watching crimson droplets fall onto the ancient stone floor.
Reaper-77 stepped forward, his yellowed eyes gleaming from beneath his mask. "A blood oath?" he rasped. "To what end?"
Kruger turned, his gaze cold, unwavering. "To finish what I started."
Lightning flashed through the cathedral's shattered windows, illuminating the battlefield outside—a war-torn wasteland filled with the writhing forms of undead abominations.
Kruger gritted his teeth.
The enemy had grown stronger. Wolfe's bio-engineered monstrosities were adapting.
The war was far from over.
Reaper-77 tilted his head. "You are changing, General."
Kruger smirked, his grip tightening around his blade.
"Then let's see if I've changed enough to kill you this time."