Corvin Blackmoor was a man carved by war and betrayal.
From the blood soaked deserts of Afghanistan to the shadowed corridors of British Intelligence, he served and watched ideals crumble into lies.
Patriotism. Honor. Loyalty.
He buried them all long before a Quds Force assassin silenced his final breath.

But death was only the beginning.

Dragged from the ruins of a dying world, Corvin awakens in Valtheris. A savage world ruled by magic, where gods are myths, and survival is written in blood.
He is no longer human.
He is the last of the Dark Parasytes, an extinct race once so feared that every kingdom, every empire, and every mage order hunted them to extinction.

Armed with Shadow Siphon, the power to replicate the strengths of others, Corvin stands alone at the bottom of an alien food chain.
Weaker than a wild beast, with enemies and predators lurking in every forest, every court, every throne.

Weakness is temporary, patience is eternal.

In a world fractured by ancient wars, between noble Elves, scheming Demons, ruthless Humans, primal Feralis and Aetherborn Corvin will climb.
He will feast. He will conquer.

And in the shadows of Valtheris, the last predator will rise.
No gods. No masters.
Only the cold ambition of a man who has nothing left to believe in… but power itself.

Corvin stood in the cold, sterile glow of his underground laboratory, the air thick with alchemical fumes and the faint hum of arcane wards. As always, John hovered nearby, quill in hand, his neat script already half a page ahead of the experiment itself. This time the work was focused on a new virutic strain, designed in theory, to enhance natural regeneration for both the living and his expanding undead legions. The numbers had grown staggering: more than forty thousand covenant bound units at his command. If they could heal naturally, without constant magical intervention, they would become not merely an army, but a force of attrition no foe could withstand.


Chapter 86 - A Perfect Assessment