An exhausted young man stood atop a large beast's ribcage.
Breathing loudly, and inhaling the hot dusty air, a large blue rectangle screen materialized directly above him. Its harsh glow illuminated his sharp features. Small circular runes rotated slowly along its borders as it announced a notification:
[Congratulations, Cyrus! You have won the Battle Game!]
Dark brown hair clung wet to his scalp, strands falling forward to stick against his scarred forehead, and temples.
Sweat carved clean tracks through the dust coating his face, leaving pale streaks down his cheeks and along the sharp edge of his jaw.
His eyes—hazel, pupils tight from the glare—stared at the Runic board notification, unblinking for long seconds at a time.
[Your resilience has caught our attention!]
[You have earned our affection!]
[Hence, a Path shall be granted to you!]
[You have earned a skill!]
