The cold air burned against his skin or what was left of it. The protagonist stumbled forward, disoriented, his senses overwhelmed by a world that looked more twisted and broken than before. His body felt heavier, tingling as if a million tiny needles pricked him all at once. He glanced down at his hands and saw them faintly glowing with a sickly green hue. This was more than just survival. He was no longer human; whatever he had become, the world would never let him forget it.

As he struggled to find his bearings, he heard a distant voice. It wasn’t a comforting tone or an old friend mocking, sneering, almost amused. The Revenant. Its presence seemed to drift on the wind, whispering to him, "You think you’re free? You’re mine, just like the rest of them."

But he wasn’t alone. Emerging from the haze was the Cowboy, riding in on horseback, the silhouette of the Old West brought to life in a place where time had lost all meaning. His green skin was the color of old moss, his eyes glowing beneath the shadow of his hat like embers left from a fire. He rode up slowly, his steed eerily calm as though it sensed the fate of this world as much as its rider did.

"Get up, partner," the Cowboy said, his voice gravelly but somehow kind. "Ain’t no time to rest. The world's not waitin’ on you to feel sorry for yourself." The protagonist looked at the Cowboy, his mind racing. “Why are you helping me?”

The Cowboy's face twisted into a half-smile. "I’m helpin’ myself. This world’s rotten to the core, and you, my friend, are the only one crazy enough to make a difference. We can’t let The Revenant have its way." As they traveled together through the wasteland, the Cowboy began teaching him more than survival skills; he taught him how to use his mutations. The glowing green skin wasn’t just a marker of what he’d become but a weapon an ability to channel energy from the earth that had poisoned him. The Cowboy referred to it as “The Redeemed Light,” a remnant of the radiation that could be wielded to create or destroy.

But every use of this power came at a cost. The more he drew on it, the closer he edged toward becoming a mindless ghoul, one of the lost souls who had given in to The Revenant’s whispers. It was a delicate balance, and the protagonist must learn to walk the line between human and monster if he hopes to survive.

The lessons were brutal and unforgiving, but they had to be. There was a war coming that went beyond simply surviving the wasteland. They needed to gather the Redeemed who hadn’t yet succumbed to despair fighters, scavengers, and anyone willing to rise against the evil that had been allowed to fester.

As they prepared for the battles ahead, it became clear that The Revenant had its plans. It was not a passive force but cunning and strategic, using its influence to turn entire factions against each other. The war wasn’t just against monsters or men it was against the very nature of a world that refused to let go of its sins.

With every step, the protagonist was preparing for war and redefining himself. He had once been an ordinary man, then a survivor, and now, perhaps, something more. He would need to be if there was any hope of facing The Revenant and emerging victorious.

But first, they had to find the others. The Cowboy spoke of a place far to the east where the last remnants of true resistance were said to gather an old city buried under layers of ruin and time. That’s where they were heading next.