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.

The silhouettes of the departing Aetherborne envoy shimmered in the shared vision of Corvin's ravens, their forms dissolving into the pale horizon beyond the spires of Raven's Nest. Turning from the balcony, he strode through the keep's vaulted corridors, the echoes of his boots striking the stone in slow, deliberate rhythm. These halls led to one of the meeting chambers. A space meant for encounters of weight, where words could shift the balance of alliances and silence could fracture trust. This time, it was no delegation from the Elven courts or the politics of Argyll, but emissaries from the Dragonkin of Savaryn. An ancient people born of might, scale, and claw. Their presence was more than diplomatic; it was the arrival of predators to measure another.


Chapter 75 - Ivory Scales and Mishandled Opportunity