Tombwave Barbarian

Venus didn’t vanish in glory. It was gutted, sold off, and left to boil in its own mess. The ones who made it happen danced through the smoke, convinced the end was just another phase. It wasn’t.

Now Earth stinks of the same noise—smog in the lungs, chemicals in the beat, and crowds too busy moving to notice they’re dancing straight into the same fire.

The Barbarian’s not here to warn anyone. The time for that burned up back home. There’s no circle, no cult, no prayer left. Just one undead freak wired to the teeth, dragging his riffs through the dirt like they still mean something.