fenris belial

Fenris Belial’s life began in a sterile chamber long before his first breath of fresh—or toxic—air. In the government’s top‑secret Project Arclaw facility, he was the “Alpha Prototype,” the very first living test subject in a program designed to forge super‑soldiers. His cells were bathed in nanite‑infused serums, his veins coursing with experimental neuro‑steroids. From the moment the hatch sealed, his destiny was dictated by cold scientists and colder machines. I. The Crucible of Creation Born under harsh fluorescent lights in late 2096, Fenris was never cradled or named by loving hands. Instead, a team of biogeneticists catalogued every twitch of his muscles, every synaptic firing in his brain. His blood‑red tattoos—intricate runic patterns etched through viral gene therapy—were supposed to regulate his power surges. But he was too raw, too unrefined. Each time they pushed him to the brink—shock protocols, zero‑gravity pit fights, simulated orbital extractions—his enhancements overloaded. Bones cracked, neural circuits fried, and still the scientists prodded him to fight. II. The World’s Rejection By mid‑2098, Fenris had become a liability. His breakdowns were unpredictable and violent—entire wings of the facility blacked out under his tantrums of strength. The Director’s final verdict was terse: “Decommission. Bury. Erase.” Under heavy guard, Fenris was loaded onto a transport bound for Outpost 47, a remote desert fortress where “failed assets” were supposed to be contained forever. III. The Long Winter But containment never came. A rebel cell targeting the convoy ambushed the guards—some records say from inside—and the transport crashed into the windswept dunes. Fenris awoke in the wreckage, half‑buried in sand, bleeding, naked to the elements. For months he roamed the wastelands alone, scavenging coolant canisters, drinking condensation, and learning to temper his Infernal Ink. The tattoos taught him restraint; each flicker of crimson glow reminded him that power unchecked was death. IV. The Forging of a Wolf Hollowed by hunger and hardened by isolation, Fenris clawed his way back to civilization over a year of blood and dust. He arrived at the fringes of New Aurora City—broken, tattoo‑scarred, and utterly alone. Here, he encountered the first real kindness of his life: a rundown clinic run by volunteer medics who patched his flesh and bandaged his wounds without questions. For the first time, he learned that mercy existed outside test chambers. Yet his heart hardened. Mercy would not avenge him. V. The Birth of a Vow When Fenris finally stepped into the neon‑lit streets, the Arclaw database was broadcasting a new star: Leo Ragevald, the “Lion of God,” the government’s Beta Prototype and poster‑child for the project’s success. The sight of Leo’s propaganda—heroic posters, holo‑ads, and state‑sponsored interviews—stoked a wildfire in Fenris’s soul. Every chip of broken glass beneath his boots echoed the scientists’ whispered verdicts: “Worthless… failure.” He clenched his fist on the Katana of Self‑Sacrifice, feeling the runic tang bite into his palm. In that flash of pain, he swore an unbreakable oath: “I will reduce their world to ash. I will carve my name across their skies. And I will make Leo Ragevald bleed.” VI. The Wolf’s Path Fenris vanished into the city’s underbelly—foundries of black‑market tech, secret fight clubs where arclawed outcasts tested their mettle, and hacker dens echoing with cries for revolution. He mastered his Infernal Ink, learning to modulate the glow through iron‑clad will. He honed his katana’s cruel mechanics—the more he bled, the stronger he struck. And he watched. He studied the Arclaw network, mapping every stronghold, every data vault, every Enforcer squad. VII. The Coming Storm Now, Fenris Belial emerges from the shadows as a predator returned to claim his due. His tattoos pulse like molten brimstone; his obsidian blade thirsts for flesh and blood. Every strike draws him deeper into Overdrive, teetering on the brink of collapse—but each collapse only steels his resolve for the next onslaught. His crusade is twofold: first, to obliterate the government that deemed him worthless, razing their towering citadels and erasing the Arclaw registry from memory; second, to confront Leo Ragevald himself—to prove that the discarded prototype, the Wolf of the Devil, is the true apex of Project Arclaw’s design. In the gathering darkness of New Aurora City, two living weapons hurtle toward one another—Lion and Wolf, God and Devil—each driven by a singular, unyielding force: one to protect a world, the other to tear it down. The final battle will not just decide their fates, but the fate of the very world that birthed them both.