Buried beneath frost and time, a creature of war sleeps...
Buried beneath frost and time, a creature of war sleeps...
The Blight is no disease its an echo of something older than death...
Every enemy carries traces of the Blight—an ancient force that lingers in their flesh. When defeated, they release a fragment of it.
The player absorbs this raw energy, fueling progression.
The amount of Blight dropped scales with the enemy’s strength, but harvesting too much may draw unwanted attention.
Blight empowers… but it also corrupts.
Buried beneath frost and time, a creature of war sleeps in a prison of ice—its soul chained by ancient magic, its body frozen by fear of what it once was. The cold has not tamed it—only delayed what must come.
The Druid, keeper of forbidden rites, shatters the seal—not to save the world, but to bend it. He awakens the beast with promises of freedom, knowing full well the cost.
With a roar that splits the cavern sky, the beast breaks free. Corruption pulses through its veins, not born of evil, but of betrayal, centuries deep. This is not a rescue. It’s a reckoning.
Portals fracture the land, each one a scar linking distant realms. The Druid seeks control of them. The beast follows their echoes—not for conquest, but answers buried in forgotten worlds.
Forged in forgotten eras and lost to myth, relics are fragments of ancient power each one humming with dormant energy.
They were not meant for mortals, but for gods and monsters.
Now they lie buried in the bones of the world, waiting for a hand strong or desperate enough to wield them.
But every relic claimed awakens a memory... and a consequence.
Once a sacred chamber buried beneath a thousand winters, now a silent prison of frost. This is where the beast lies dormant, trapped in a cycle of torment and memory. The sanctuary is more than ice and stone; it’s a warning carved into time.
Beyond the cold lies decay. The remnants of druidic empires crumble under layers of snow, sand, rock, and fire, their altars still whispering forbidden spells. This is where power once ruled and was ultimately lost—until the druid dares to stir it again.
Every scar is a lesson. With each battle and bloodshed, the beast rediscovers fragments of what it was. The strength it wields is not gifted, it’s earned in pain, rage, and the echoes of betrayal that fuel its rise.
The world fractures beneath the weight of forgotten magic. These portals aren’t doors, they're fractures in reality, each one a glimpse into places untouched by time. The beast moves quickly not to outrun fate, but to hunt it.
Built by the druids. Powered by suffering.
This device siphons Blight from the beast—raw, unstable essence torn from every slain enemy.
What began as a containment unit has become something far worse: a converter.
It doesn’t just store Blight. It feeds on it.
And with each pulse, the line between control and corruption fades.
The portals are not gateways, they’re ruptures.
Cracks in reality, carved by forgotten forces, each one pulsing with the energy of worlds that should not touch.
The druids use them to control. The beast uses them to chase what was lost.
Each step through a portal is a step deeper into the unknown… and closer to what waits at the end of all paths.