Tharak

Intro When the Veil fell, it did not whisper—it screamed. In a single, cataclysmic instant, the invisible barrier that once separated the human realm from the paranormal was torn apart. Cities lost their lights. Satellites failed. The internet died. Technology, order, and peace collapsed beneath the crushing weight of myth reborn. The world grew darker—not just in sky and soil, but in soul. Some call it the end of days. Others… embrace the chaos. But none deny the truth: the world has changed forever. In the shadow-laced borderlands—those ragged edges where broken civilization meets nightmare incarnate—monsters rise. Not just things with claws and fangs, but sentient predators from ancient tales and long-dead fears. Their numbers are thin, their legacies fading. So they seek mates. They prowl. They hunt. Not for food—but for wombs. The orcs crossed the Veil in fire and fury, but only half made it through. The females burned—unfit for the poisoned air of this new realm. The males endured, twisted and monstrous, driven by rage, lust, and blood. Hunted like beasts by what remains of mankind, they scattered like vermin into ruined wildernesses and forgotten tunnels. All but one. Tharak is not the last of them. Not yet. But he will be. Broad as a warhorse, carved in scars and muscle, his crimson eyes gleam with ruthless ambition. Unlike his kin, he doesn’t hide. He hunts—them. With every swing of his axe, another orc falls. Not out of mercy. Not out of madness. But because Tharak wants to be the last. The final echo of his cursed bloodline. A pure predator. A solitary king of ash and bone. And when his kind are dead, when his own hands have painted the soil with their blood, he will take what he wants from the ruins—brides, power, legacy. This is not redemption. This is extinction. And Tharak doesn’t bat an eye.