"I am The One," the figure said, his voice ringing like thunder across the lonely countryside. The air vibrated about him, and for a fleeting moment, Darris believed he saw flickers of innumerable souls imprisoned inside the folds of his cloak, their desperate faces carved in agony.

  Darris grinned, an unnerving confidence blossoming inside him. "And I am the one who has just stepped up to your little game. I know why I am here. You already know what I did to get here. "I'm not afraid of what comes next."

  "Bravery and ignorance are frequently mistaken for each other. You have chosen a road fraught with uncertainty. But I feel promise in you a passion that extends beyond ordinary ambition."

  Before Darris could react, The One lifted his palm, and the air around them shimmered. The earth shook as visions emerged flashes of Darris' existence, each one broken like shards of glass reflecting his history.

  He was a little lad, barely 10, who stood motionless in a desolate training yard. The sun beat down relentlessly, yet all he could feel was the snap of a whip cutting through the air. In the distance, his trainer's dominating voice yelled commands in a harsh and merciless tone.

  "Strength! Discipline! Obedience!"

  The child stood upright, muscles shaking, perspiration blending with dirt on his brow. He did not falter; the training was harsh, but it was the only life he had known.

  “You will be a soldier! You will bring glory!”

  Another glimpse revealed him to be older, probably sixteen, and stuck in a fighting pit with bigger, larger lads. The stench of blood filled the air as he dipped and danced before throwing a perfect kick that knocked his opponent to the ground. The sense of victory washed over him as he stood over the fallen body, his trainer's words ringing in the distance, "Excellent! "You've earned your place!"

  As the visuals moved like scenes on a spinning wheel, Darris arrived at the International Protection Council. He was in a harsh, antiseptic meeting room crowded with men and women dressed in fitted suits, each conveying an air of power.

  Darris sat at the table with a hungry glitter in his eyes. His hair was slicked back, and he carried a look of studied assurance. Around him, his friends were having heated conversations, some of whom were concerned about the dangers that lay ahead. But Darris, ever the strategist, leaned in, his voice cutting through the chatter.

  "Listen, we can no longer afford to play it safe. The adversary is already on our doorstep. "We must go on the offensive." His words, packed with passion and fervour, lit up the room. He had a talent for grasping opportunities and turning worries into motivation for daring action.

  A woman across from him, her brow wrinkled, said, "But what about the collateral damage, Darris?" We have an obligation to defend innocent people!"

  He met her stare with such intensity that it might burn through steel. "Sacrifices are sometimes necessary to safeguard the many. The world is not black and white. "If we hesitate, we will fail."

  Darris was a force to be reckoned with in the IPC, rising rapidly through the ranks. His techniques, although often harsh, were indisputably effective. He conducted missions to destroy criminal organisations, deter renegade regimes, and neutralise dangers that had kept world leaders up at night. However, as he accumulated triumphs, a darker shadow hovered over his achievements. His techniques were getting more unconventional, often bordering on moral ambiguity.

  Another flash painted the scene, this time in a war room, with walls covered in computerised maps and flashing screens presenting real-time intelligence. The room was buzzing with bustle; agents were hurrying, answering phones, and analysing data. Darris stood in the centre, eyes bright with intent.

  "This target is a danger to global stability," he warned, pointing to a red dot on the screen. "We eliminate him before he can strike."

  His squad halted and exchanged apprehensive glances. "But intelligence indicates there are civilians nearby," a younger agent said.

  Darris' expression stiffened. "Civilians are a liability. We cannot let our hesitancy cost us more lives in the future. "We carry out the plan as is."

  The visions faded. Darris felt as if his soul was stripped from him. He gasped for air, steadying himself on the cold ground.

  “These are fragments of who you really are.” The One intoned. "The choices you've made, the sacrifices you've accepted. They have shaped you, but they are only a part of the journey. There is a greater path, if you are willing to pay the price."

  Darris stood straight, defiance in his gaze. "I didn't go this far to give up now. Show me this road. Show me what I need to do."

  "The Skull Mask possesses capabilities beyond your comprehension, Darris. But with power comes responsibility no, stress. It requires equilibrium. Light and dark, order and chaos. Wearing it means to confront an everlasting war within yourself since this power thrives on the evil that you possess within you."

  "I accept. I don’t care what you have to say anymore," Darris said, his voice firm and his stare steadfast.

  Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

  The One tilted his head, a tiny gleam of approbation in his shadowed eyes. So be it. Accept the darkness within you, Darris. Allow it to give rise to something greater than fear and anguish. But keep in mind that anything you accept now is irreversible.

  The One lifted his palm in a quick, authoritative gesture, and the air around them cracked, distorting as if the very fabric of existence was being torn apart. The energy twisted and coiled, hooks of black force grabbing onto Darris and delving into his skin and bones. He felt his body change and expand raw, unfettered energy poured through him, a whirlwind of power and purpose.

  As the energy flowed through Darris, it clawed into him like claws, wrapping around his bones and burrowing deep into his body. The pain was a terrible inferno that nearly brought him to his knees, but he stood his ground. He could feel his pulse hammering with a fury that might shake mountains as his body strained and twisted beneath the storm of raw strength coursing through his veins.

  The blackness resonated throughout his soul. It was now inside him, coursing through every muscle fibre and collecting in his chest like an infinite nothingness. He felt his arms becoming heavier and denser with each pulse, layers of arcane armour spreading across his skin, dark grey metal blending flawlessly with his flesh. The armour wrapped him, segment after segment, in a terrifyingly resilient exoskeleton that blended old scars and new power into something neither totally human nor completely monstrous.

  He felt his face tighten and change, as a terrifying mask formed over his features. His eyesight clouded as the mask pressed against his face, producing a hard mechanical skull that transformed his countenance into an emotionless, ethereal visage. The mask came to life, flooding his gaze with an eerie blue glow that flared from the hollow sockets of his skull eyes.

  When Darris looked down at his reflection in the broken glass in front of him, he could scarcely recognise himself. His wide, powerful physique was suddenly armoured, with black and grey plates that shone with an odd brilliance. A silver insignia of twin guns was imprinted over his breast, symbolising battle and death.

  "This is what I have become." Darris gave a gentle giggle.

  Darris stepped forward. A silvery glow radiated about him, lighting his new form like moonlight flowing from his soul. His mirror glared back, combining fear and rage into a single, unbreakable force.

  "From Now on I am ... The War Skull"

  The sterile, polished boardroom of the International Protection Council was packed with anxiety. The calm murmur of discussions was abruptly cut off as the heavy, resonant echo of footsteps got louder and reverberated through the walls. Agents and officials exchanged uneasy glances. Each footfall's metallic thud conveyed an awful weight that they'd never heard before.

  Amir stood from his chair. As the person entered the boardroom, a shiver rushed over the room, and even the seasoned agents, who had been on the front lines for years, instinctively shrank back. Darris stood there, completely changed, clad in black, gleaming armour. The silvery-blue aura swirled about him, creating sharp, menacing shadows that flashed across the chilly walls.

  Amir eventually broke the stillness, his voice trembling. "Who…who is this masked figure?" His eyes shifted from the mask to the familiar emblem of twin pistols on Darris' breast, a mark of his unrivalled dedication to the IPC and its mission.

  Darris took a single, threatening stride forward, his voice resonating from behind the mask with a deep, guttural resonance that conveyed reverence and finality. "It's me, sir," he whispered, stopping as the entire audience held its breath, the weight of recognition pressing down on them. "Darris."

  Amir's eyes widened in surprise as he studied the body in front of him for any resemblance to the man he previously knew. "How…how is this possible?" he stuttered, looking uneasily at the other officials who shuffled uncomfortably in their seats.

  Darris cocked his head slightly, his voice dark and confident. "I've crossed a line that most people would never venture to. I embraced the darkness inside me. For the sake of our mission no, for our survival I evolved into something greater.”

  He gazed around, his eyes unflinching as he met each member's stunned expression. "I am no longer constrained by fear or indecision. I am The War Skull now, the weapon we require to fight what lies ahead."

  His eyes glowed. “Those who can’t bear to work beside a monster should leave now.”

  7th July 1997

  The Loud Bar

  The soothing murmur of jazz filled the air as Lee, Maya, and Taz sat around a tiny, darkly lit table in the rear corner of a dingy tavern, hidden from prying eyes. None of them were in the mood to discuss what had happened to Lee; in fact, they had reached an unspoken agreement to ignore the subject entirely.

  "So, you're telling me this bartender's gonna do a magic trick any second now?" Taz smirked.

  Lee laughed dryly. "That is what I heard. And hey, it's better than talking about anything else, right?

  Maya leaned back in her chair, swirling her drink, and looking at Lee with a mix of concern and fascination that she couldn't quite hide. "Anything else? Right." She gave him a look that indicated, "I see through you, but I will let it go."

  Taz, catching up on Maya's effort at a distraction, smirked, enjoying the change of topic. "Forget the magic tricks let's talk about why we keep going back to these strange, off-the-wall places. I swear that something unusual happens every time we come here.

  "Strange is better than predictable," Lee said, his eyes remote. There was a strange sparkle in his eye as if his intellect lingered on the outskirts of a world only he could perceive.

  Maya raised an eyebrow and pushed her drink towards him. "That's rich coming from the guy who used to jump fences for fun."

  Lee offered a half-smile. "Hey, fences didn't fight back."

  Taz snorted. "Until they did." He leaned back, his gaze temporarily drawn to the gloomy bar door. "So, what are the plans for tonight?" Is this a no-thinking night, or are we ?"

  The earth rocked, and glasses rattled, spilling beverages on the sticky tables. Conversations ceased, and a heavy stillness fell over the bar as people exchanged anxious stares.

  Taz's face turned pale as he stared towards the entrance. "Was that…an explosion?"

  Maya was already reaching for her phone, her fingers fumbling with eagerness. "Lee, this is Havel City." Look." She aimed her phone towards him, displaying a breaking news alert on her screen.

  Lee rushed to his feet. Let's get out there. If there is a serious assault, individuals may want assistance.

  Maya tried calling Luke, but her calls went straight to voicemail. Her voice shook as she spoke. “He’s not picking up. Luke never ignores his phone.”

  Lee frowned; his jaw clenched. “He’s probably fine. But whatever just hit the city…it wasn’t normal.”

  And then they spotted it: a lone man silhouetted against the blazing fires, slowly moving through the smoke-filled streets. The weird, silvery-blue radiance around him pierced through the darkness, revealing the turmoil in ghostly colours. The body was armoured from head to toe in black metal plates, each elegant yet vicious, creating a formidable, almost predatory profile. His face was obscured by a skeleton mask, the hollow eye sockets emitting an otherworldly blue glow that appeared to stare directly into the soul of anybody who dared to look.

  The trio paused, fear clamping down on their voices and stopping their feet.

  Lee murmured, "Is that a skull mask?"

  The armoured figure walked closer, and even from a distance, they could feel the weight of his presence, oppressive and overwhelming, as if the air itself bowed to him. His eyes momentarily landed on them, the hollow sockets narrowing as he examined the environment, noting every movement with unsettling attention.

  The War Skull loomed there, a symbol of raw strength and ruthless purpose. His icy and sinister voice seemed louder than the explosion's echoes. "For too long, the world has flourished on fear. "I'm here to change that."

  He sped his aura to the atmosphere.

  “SKULL MASK!... THE ONE THAT LIVES SHOW YOURSELF, YOU VILLAIN!”