As we got closer to the Ogre village some of the Ogres began to approach us. "WHAT DO YA HAVE THERE DROKEN?" One of the Ogres asked my father whose name I now know. "THIS HERE BE MY SON, WHO I BE TAKING TO THE SHAMAN TO GRANT THE LAD A NAME." Hearing this I was getting a little nervous. Droken seemed to sense this. "SORRY LADS, BUT THE SHAMAN WILL WANT TO SEE THE BOI RIGHT AWAY." The Ogres moved aside when they heard this, a few of them nodding and grunting in agreement. Droken began to carry me to the large hut in the back of the cave. "DON'T YOU START FUSSING THERE BOI. THOSE LADS ARE YOUR UNCLES, AND WOULD SOONER DIE THAN HARM YOU." As he lifted me up to his shoulder, I looked back at those Ogres and saw them grinning and waving at my curious expression. I turned to look at Droken again and he glanced my way in surprise. "YER A SMART BOI HUH?" His look of surprise honestly looked so funny that I surprised myself by giggling.

"LET'S GETCHA HOME BOI" As my father started to walk into the forest he spoke to me, thinking that I couldn't understand a word. "YE GEST WAIT 'TILL THE TRIBE SEES YA. OH, THE LOOKS THEIR FACES, YER ONE UGLY OGRE CUB YA KNOW DAT." Despite his thick accent and deep voice I understood my father clear as day. Or should I say night. It was only then that I noticed that it wasn't the sun that lit up the sky but the stars and the moons. *Wait holdup, moons, why are there eight?* "OH, WHAT SEEMS TO HAVE CAUGHT YER EYE LITTLE ONE." said my father as he followed my line of sight. "AH, THE MOONS, YE SHOULD KNOW THAT EACH ONE REPRESENTS THE DOMAIN OF A GOD."

A shadow appeared from behind a nearby tree. *HOLY SHIT* In front of my eyes was a giant, its skin a dark green, its eyes completely black except for yellow irises. Long crooked fangs dripping with saliva filled its massive jaws. Two holes for nostrils sat above it's eyes. Its body was shaped like Hercules if he had a dad bod. Its claws were chipped and stained with blood. Its ears short yet pointy. Its arms were long and its legs were short. *IF MY FATHER LOOKS LIKE THAT, THEN WHAT THE HELL DO I LOOK LIKE* ^I don't know Master, I can only see what you see.^ *Well that's helpful. So, R.S is he going to eat me or what. If so, that would be a huge pile of BULLSHIT.* ^That is unlikely Master for two reasons. One he can sense that you are kin, and two your traits Enhanced Dark Affinity and Monster/Sentient Race Hybrid are making it so that he's more compelled to look after you than to eat you^ *So your telling me, that I have a doting father, that looks like walking shit.*

Darkness. That was all I saw. That was all I felt. Yet, after a lifetime of misery and torment, I didn't fear it. I embraced it. Then a warmth enveloped my body and with it light. As I blinked away my blindness I heard the voice of a woman in a language I couldn't understand. I realized that I was just born. ^RETRIBUTION SYSTEM SYNCHRONIZATION INTALIZING^ ^10% SYNCHRONIZATION^ ^20% SYNCHRONIZATION^ ... ^100% SYNCHRONIZATION^ ^SYNCHRONIZATION COMPLETE^ ^Hello Master Jack, I am your Retribution System aka R.S and I am here to help you RULE this universe or DESTROY it^ *WHAT THE FUCK IS GOING ON* ^Master Jack, you died in your previous life at the age of 18.^ *I KNOW THAT, I MEANT WHAT HAPPENED AFTER* ^SATAN asked you some questions and you answered this is the result^ *DO HAVE TO BE SO CALM ABOUT IT*

The ground collapsed beneath Star, slamming her into stone hard enough to steal her breath. Cold flooded the chamber as a crowned shadow descended, beautiful and merciless. Darkness surged into her eyes, her body arching as her tattoos burned and spread, carving something ancient into her flesh. Azrathion stopped the soldiers with one look. This wasn’t corruption. It was inheritance. When Star rose, eyes glowing darker pink, her smile was small and lethal. The world had misjudged her—and it would pay.

This is a short story based in the world that the video game Arc Raiders takes place in. If you are unfamiliar I have attached the lore below. ARC Raiders lore centers on humanity's struggle for survival underground after a cataclysm known as the Collapse (around 2180) devastated Earth, followed by the arrival of mysterious, advanced robots called ARC, forcing survivors into subterranean cities like Speranza (in former Italy). Raiders risk the dangerous surface to scavenge resources, battling waves of increasingly advanced ARC machines, while uncovering clues about the machines' origins—speculated to be linked to humans who escaped Earth via an "Exodus" project or an AI takeover, with the machines possibly trying to reclaim the planet.

I stepped away, alone in the observation bay. Holograms of Jakari’s shoulder hovered in front of me, angles and micro-movements glowing softly. Every twitch, every flare of pain, every subtle adjustment I noted. My heart counted what the readouts couldn’t: his stubbornness, his precision, the way he carried danger like a second skin. I leaned closer, tracing the lines. Not just his shoulder. Him. I sighed, forcing focus back to numbers—but I knew, quietly, I’d always been watching him more than anyone else did.

The hallway narrowed. No windows. Red lights bled across steel floors. I moved slow, rifle ready. The server core ahead hummed like a heartbeat. Guards froze, oblivious. One by one, I dismantled them—precision, silence, brutality. Jayla’s voice cut through static: “Jakari, you’re in the blind zone.” I plugged in her drive. Data flooded my HUD—contracts, shipments, assassinations. Alarms flared. I yanked the drive free, heart steady. “Got what we came for,” I said. Jayla’s voice whispered, “I’ve got you. No matter what.”

The nightmare followed me awake—no images, only darkness and red eyes watching. A roar shook my bones. Asia slept beside me, exhausted, unaware. I kissed her forehead and left before the fear could speak. Miles burned under my feet. Steel screamed in my hands. Discipline kept the abyss behind me. Later, the drone showed Little Rock alive and ignorant. Then the building appeared—too clean, too guarded. A woman sat calmly inside. “That’s her,” I said. On the rooftop, the city moved below. Then Jayla’s voice cut sharp: “Jakari—get down. Now.”

Rain sliced across the windshield. Jayla drove, precise and silent, while shadows clung to the road like predators. Lina hunched over her sketchpad, pencil moving faster than her pulse. Evelyn Crowe’s house rose from the earth, dark and breathing, and inside, the air shifted. “He’s coming,” Evelyn said, eyes locking on Jakari. My chest tightened. I glanced at the group: Asia poised, Jayla calculating, Lina trembling yet defiant. Whatever came for us, it would face all of us. Together.

The men laughed on the flight deck—until the wind died. Azrathion raised his hand, and their shadows peeled away from their bodies like living things. Blood ran from their eyes as armor grew from bone and darkness swallowed their screams. They knelt not by choice, but by command. Dakota watched, frozen, cigar trembling between his fingers. This was no ally. This was what the world sent when death itself had failed—and it had come for Jakari.

Caroline adopts a quiet, unnervingly obedient dog named Bishop, believing she is offering him a second chance. Soon, her home fills with whispered sounds, moving lights, and the sense of being watched. Bishop’s loyalty turns possessive, his presence impossibly heavy, his silence hiding something inhuman. When Caroline finally flees, she vanishes without a trace. At the shelter, a new dog appears—calm, well-behaved, and waiting. This time, her name is Caroline.

The leader whimpered, bleeding, as Kelo slammed him to his knees. Jakari crouched, black eyes fixed, and the man flinched under his touch. “Who sent you?” Jakari asked, calm, precise. “Star… a woman,” he stammered. Asia yelled, “Kill him!” Kelo shook his head, but I held up my hand. “No,” I said. “We send a message. He goes back to her.” Jakari brushed the glowing mark on his face. “The second one,” he said. And for the first time, I realized—we weren’t just surviving. We were ready to fight.

This one can be filmed as is, or changed to a swimming pool, a field, or old barn. the choice is yours

Fire tore through the council hall as the floor split open. Souls screamed as Azrathion climbed from the breach, flames crowning his horns. Soldiers fell to their knees, bleeding, laughing, breaking. Chains meant to bind gods wrapped around him—and failed. “I was your executioner,” he roared, fire shaking stone. “Your sin made flesh.” Star did not flinch. “He can bring Jakari alive,” she said. “And if he betrays you—I’ll kill him myself.”

The airport was a graveyard frozen between fire and ash. Smoke twisted into the sky, planes lay melted on the tarmac, bodies scorched and lifeless. No sirens, no help—just silence. I felt them—faint whispers of trapped souls—but I shoved the voices away, hiding my gift. Jakari’s eyes never left me as I sketched shadows and chained figures, symbols I barely understood. “Who are these?” he asked. I swallowed. “I don’t know… I just see them.” Something was coming. Something close. And we weren’t ready.

Smoke and ash curled around Star as she walked the burning town. Her soldiers fell silent behind her. The broken soldier Jakari had thrown to the ground before her. “We failed, my Lady… Posida is gone,” he stammered. Star’s boot struck him, hard. “Take him to the town hall,” she said. Inside, seven towering Masters watched. “What do you offer?” the Leader asked. Star held the black-pulsing heart. “Azrathion’s,” she said. The Last Warrant stirred in chains, eyes locking on her. “You release me… for what?” His voice rolled like thunder. Star’s answer: “Jakari.” And in that moment, the Last Warrant rose. The hunt began.

The van smelled like smoke and grief. Jakari’s scream still rang in my bones, the echo of it louder than the shattered glass. We didn’t talk—we survived. A bomb blinked beneath a tarp, proof this wasn’t over, proof someone wanted us erased. We stole cars, split apart, and ran. In the Corvette, his silence finally cracked, guilt bleeding through every word. I kissed him to remind us we were still human. Then the airport burned into view—runway scorched, plane gone, ash falling. Not a warning. A message.

The bridge became a cage of steel and red dots, and something inside me finally snapped. I stopped reacting and started deciding. Soldiers fell. Screams vanished into the dark below. When I faced Posida, I dropped my rifle and my mercy with it. I didn’t fight to survive—I fought to send a message. By the time I walked away, the war had already begun.

The town burned because of me. Explosions split the sky, smoke swallowed everything I loved, and the bridge ahead promised escape—or death. A juggernaut stood in our way, armor unbreakable, laughter shaking the street. When steel shattered and blood hit the ground, I realized this wasn’t survival anymore. It was war.