# Chapter 1: The Betrayal in the Ruins
Ash fell softly from the gray sky, drifting between the skeletons of towers that once scraped the heavens. What remained of the old world was a graveyard of concrete and steel, silent but for the distant cries of beasts prowling through the wreckage. Humanity had burned itself out a decade ago, and the wasteland was merciless to those too weak to endure it.
Kael Draven staggered across a cracked street, one hand pressed tightly to his side. His chest rose and fell with labored breaths, each step a battle against the emptiness clawing at his body. He wasn't alone. A group trailed him—people he once thought of as comrades. Their laughter carried over the ruins, sharp as knives.
"You're slowing us down, Kael," said Darric, their leader, his voice cold as the ash-laden wind. He stood on the wreck of a collapsed bus, looking down at Kael with eyes that had no warmth left in them. "Out here, weakness is death. And I don't intend to die because of you."
The others chuckled. Rina, who had once shared her food with him when he was starving, crossed her arms and spat in the dust. "He's dead weight. Always has been. The only reason we kept him this long was pity."
Kael forced the words out, his throat dry. "I can fight. I just need—"
But he didn't finish. Pain bloomed in his stomach as Darric's blade slid into him. Kael gasped, his body buckling as the weapon was pulled away, leaving him trembling on his knees. The world swam before his eyes.
"Consider it mercy," Darric said flatly, already turning away. "The ruins will do the rest."
The group left without another glance. Their laughter echoed between ruined walls, growing faint until silence returned. Kael lay there, blood soaking into his clothes, breath ragged. He had been abandoned, cut down not by monsters, but by the very people he trusted. Darkness pressed in, and for the first time in years, he felt death's shadow looming.
Then, beneath the rubble where he had fallen, something stirred.
Kael's fingers brushed against a shard hidden in the dust—smooth, jagged, and faintly glowing with crimson light. Cold to the touch, yet thrumming with an ancient pulse. The moment his skin met it, a voice filled his head.
*"Destruction… feeds me. Feed me, and I shall feed you."*
His vision cleared. The pain in his body shifted—burning, then fading. Slowly, impossibly, the wound sealed shut, leaving only the memory of pain behind. Kael blinked, trembling as strength returned to his limbs. He sat upright, staring at the shard in disbelief. The glow spread through his chest, sinking deeper until he felt it not in his hand, but within his very soul.
A presence formed inside him—a **Codex**, vast and endless, its pages etched with runes of ruin. He could sense it, whispering, waiting. Power radiated from it, raw and intoxicating. For the first time in his life, Kael felt more than just fear and hunger. He felt… strength.
Memories of betrayal flashed in his mind. Darric's sneer. Rina's contempt. The laughter of people who left him to die. Kael clenched his fists, heat coursing through his veins.
"If the world wants me dead…" His voice was low, steady, burning with a new resolve. "…then I'll destroy the world."
The ground beneath him trembled faintly as the Codex pulsed, answering his will. It was more than survival—it was hunger. He felt it urging him toward the ruins, toward destruction, toward growth.
In the distance, the cry of a mutant beast echoed through the hollow streets. Once, the sound would have frozen him. Now, it filled him with something else entirely.
Kael picked up a rusted steel pipe from the rubble, his grip steady. The shard's glow still lingered in his eyes, painting them crimson in the dim light. He turned toward the darkness, ready to take his first step into the new world the Codex had opened before him.
The scavenger who had been left to die was gone.
Only something new remained.
And so began the rise of Kael Draven—the man who woul
d one day be known as the **God of Ruin**.