Boris Vallejo style. A lone warrior emerges from the darkness, his cursed armor pulsating with glowing blue runes. The blood- red moon casts an eerie glow over jagged cliffs. Strange beasts lurk in the shadows, their eyes watching with hunger. The ground is cracked and lifeless, whispering of ancient horrors. He walks through the ruins of a lost civilization, his breath visible in the cold, unnatural air. A smoky haze swirls around him, distorting reality. The weight of a sinister power presses down on his soul. He knows he has stepped into something far worse than death