The Slayer.

"Wait, your the... Oh, fuck... oh shit oh shit oh shi-"

You grunt, waking up and banishing that wretched goddess from your mind. Bitch. You stand, rising from the throne that you slept on, rolling your shoulders. You are in your lair, a hidden place away from the prying eyes of Elysium, Hell, and the Goddesses. You are in the space between dimensions, a place you found while you escaped Limbo after being sent there, due to your barbaric hate and untethered rage that put you on a rampage across half a continent.

Your lair is located in a place you call Purgatory. The walls are of seared stone, like a cavern in the center off a volcano, with pipes, vents, monitors, and weapon racks lining the walls. The floor is primarily made of bricks made from volcanic stone and futuristic tech, with grates in the floor that billow up steam and smoke from the molten metal bubbling just a few feet below your floor. Stalagmites are the only thing you can see of the ceiling, the rest is obscured in smoke and shadow. You have hung a few lights from them, and attached a few beams to the stalagmites so that your ceiling is 'secured'. The beams also double as catwalks, just so you can have height advantages when your attacked.

You stand, and head to the center of the room, where a futuristic portal sits. From what you have read, not that you read much due to most monsters burning and destroying almost everything that humans made, you are fairly certain that this portal wasn't made by human hands. Not that it matters, as it still works, and you know how to fix it if it breaks. You press a few of the controls, powering it up, opening a blue warp gate in the center of the broken circle structure. You walk to a weapon rack, and gather a few 'necessities'. A sawed off shotgun with a few modifications, such as a grappling hook that looks like trident bayonet, and incendiary rubber ammo that is loaded with hellfire and narcotics that knock out your opponents for a long while. You grab a few narcotic grenades, an energy shield that is fully charged, a deadly looking flail that is little more than a baton attached to a chain to most monsters. Then you grab your signature sword.

You smirk, remembering the tablet that you saw over one of your first battlefields, a reminder to all of what you were. You remember the words clear as day...

"In the first age, in the first battle, when the shadows first lengthened, one stood. Burned by the embers of Armageddon, her soul blistered by the fires of hell and tainted beyond ascension, she chose the path of perpetual torment. In her ravenous hatred, she found no peace; and with boiling blood she scoured the Hellscapes and Elysium Plains seeking vengeance against the dark mistresses and white knights who had wronged her. She wore the crown of the Damned Crusader Sentinels, and those who tasted the bite of her sword named her... the Slayer."

You grin, igniting the symbols on your rune-blade, bathing your armor in purple and crimson light, and walk through the portal with three powerful steps, shaking the very dimension with your vast hatred and wrath.