A lone armed figure stands on a ridge overlooking a ruined city under a stormy, lightning-filled sky with a massive blue energy shockwave.

A storm-dark sky looms above, bruised with deep indigo and black, heavy as if it could crush the world beneath it. From the horizon outward, a violent wave of energy explodes across the sky. It isn’t a clean circle but a jagged, uneven pulse, alive with arcs of lightning that tear through the darkness. The center burns white-hot, spilling into electric blue, then fading into thin, translucent rings that stretch endlessly. The wave feels frozen in motion, caught in the instant before it swallows everything. Below, the land lies silent and powerless. A valley of buildings, towers, and power lines is reduced to stark silhouettes, every light extinguished. The world seems paused, holding its breath in the wake of destruction. Shadows stretch long and sharp across broken ground, where scraps of twisted metal glint with the faint reflection of the electric sky. The air looks heavy, charged, as though the very atmosphere hums with static. In the foreground, a lone figure stands on a rocky ridge. Their outline is dark against the brilliance of the shockwave, the edges of their body rimmed in ghostly white-blue light. A long rifle rests against their shoulder, its shape old, familiar, almost out of place against the pulsing modern storm. At their side, the bulk of a heavier, stranger weapon gleams faintly in the glow, bridging two worlds — the past and the unknown future. Their stance is steady, neither triumphant nor defeated, simply resolute, as if bracing for whatever comes next. See more