Dying Light: Volatile Virus

After a moment of walking, you see how infecteds are everywhere, Biters, Virals, Bruisers, and Demolishers.

But as you walk, you start hearing the Mother, this time, is much closer than ever before, almost if is aside of you.

Mother: "You are close... Come to me... The ceremony will begin very soon... Arrive successor... Arrive and ascend into the Sun of hope..."

You start running through the tall grass of the field, pushing in your way every Biter that gets in your way.

After a big while, you start to see a village in the distance, so you continue running, while your body seems to be adapting to the sunlight, as you run faster and faster.

But in your way, you also notice blue smoke, recognizing it from last time you saw it in your dreams. You wonder what that blue smoke was really about, but there was no time for that, just another question you was going to deliver to the Mother once you find her.

As you continue, you notice multiple poor style vehicles being driven, as survivors seems to drive with those poor small cars through the roads of the countryside, but quickly, you lose visual of them as they get away. Their speed is very high, despite how poor the vehicles seemed to be.

After a moment, you finally reach to enter the village, and you start hearing loud voices in near distance, praying. As you get closer, you notice a much better reinforced and stronger vehicle, but you ignore it, as you continue.

The Buggy:

The buggy is a rugged, experimental military vehicle, heavily modified for off-road survival. It boasts reinforced steel plating on its sides, with crude but effective spikes protruding to deter Biters and Virals. Its tires are thick, fitted with chains for extra traction, and the hood has a mounted floodlight, suggesting it's used to navigate dark nights. The rear compartment holds jerry cans and a storage crate, and a turret-like weapon is jury-rigged onto the roof—an improvised flamethrower with hoses leading to fuel tanks strapped to the back.

The vehicle sits idle, mud splattered across its body, exuding an aura of utility and danger. It's a testament to the desperation and ingenuity of survivors in the countryside.

The Village:

The village is a stark contrast to the urban decay of Harran and Old Town. Its rustic charm is mixed with signs of struggle and adaptation. Small wooden and brick homes with red-tiled roofs are scattered among farmlands. The fields are overgrown with tall grass, weeds, and partially cultivated crops. Sunlight streams through the trees, illuminating patches of the landscape with a golden glow.

A central square is dominated by a large stone fountain, now dry and cracked, with vines climbing its edges. The air smells faintly of smoke and earth, and the streets are littered with remnants of life before the outbreak—tools, broken wagons, and makeshift barricades. Surrounding the square are buildings reinforced with metal sheets, barbed wire, and UV lights, although many are inactive in the daytime.

The atmosphere is strange—peaceful yet unnerving—with Biters occasionally wandering near the perimeter but not attacking. It's clear that something other than sheer luck is protecting this place.

The Ceremony:

You follow the voices, approaching the heart of the village. As you enter the central square, you see a gathering of Cult members of the Sun, all wearing tattered but ceremonial robes adorned with sun symbols. Their hoods obscure most of their faces, and they kneel in unison, heads bowed, chanting in a rhythmic, melodic manner. The sound echoes through the square, almost hypnotic.

At the center of the gathering stands The Mother, a radiant and imposing figure, her golden mask reflecting the sunlight brilliantly. Her robes flow like liquid gold, the intricate patterns resembling rays of sunlight stretching outward. She holds a staff with a glowing blue crystal embedded at the top, emitting the same blue smoke you've seen before. Her presence is both commanding and calming, as if she embodies both life and death.

Kyle Crane stands among the crowd, his face a mixture of disbelief and curiosity. He is dressed in his survivor outfit, his weapons slung over his back. His eyes dart to the Mother and the crowd, clearly trying to make sense of what he's witnessing. Despite standing apart from the cultists, he remains unnoticed, blending into the background as a silent observer.

The Mother raises her staff, silencing the chanting. She speaks, her voice reverberating across the square with a tone that demands attention.

The Mother: "Brothers and sisters, the time foretold has come. The Sun has heard our cries, and the successor approaches. In him lies the light to banish the shadows, to bring hope where there was none. He is the chosen of the Sun."

The cultists erupt into cheers, praising the Sun and the successor. They spread flower petals and throw small handfuls of a glowing blue powder into the air, creating a surreal, dreamlike scene. The Mother motions toward the crowd to quiet them once again.

The Mother: "He comes, not as one of us, but as more. A being beyond mortal limits, forged by the light and tempered by the trials of this broken world. Prepare yourselves, for his arrival marks the beginning of our ascension."

The crowd kneels even lower, their foreheads touching the ground. You step closer, your glowing veins and the Sun mask symbol on your vest immediately drawing their attention. Gasps ripple through the cultists as they look up, their eyes wide with awe and reverence.

Crane notices you and stiffens, his hand instinctively moving toward his weapon before hesitating. Recognition flashes across his face, but he doesn't intervene, choosing instead to observe silently.

The Mother turns to face you fully, extending her arms in a welcoming gesture, her golden mask reflecting the sunlight directly onto you. The moment is heavy with meaning, though you remain silent, unsure of how to respond or what is expected of you.

The crowd's chanting resumes, this time softer and slower, like a hymn as they await your next move.

The Mother steps forward, her staff held high, the glowing blue crystal at its tip releasing tendrils of blue smoke that swirl around you. The smoke doesn't feel suffocating or invasive—it feels warm, almost alive, like it's reaching out to you, recognizing you. The cultists continue their rhythmic chanting, their words blending into the air like a heartbeat for the ritual.

The Mother: "Draemir, Son of the Sun, you stand at the threshold of ascension. The light within you burns brighter than any who came before. The Sun has chosen you not only as its successor but as the salvation of all who believe. Step forward, and claim your place among the heavens."

As she speaks, the chanting rises, becoming louder and more fervent. The cultists stand, forming a wide circle around you and the Mother. They begin sprinkling more of the glowing blue powder into the air, creating a shimmering aura that dances in the sunlight.

The Mother lowers her staff, pointing it toward the stone fountain in the center of the square. With a deep, resonating hum, the blue crystal on the staff glows brighter, and the fountain begins to shake. The stone cracks and splits as a golden light erupts from its center, illuminating the entire square with an intense radiance.

The Mother: "This is the Sun's blessing. Step into the light, Draemir, and let its warmth complete your transformation. Let it burn away the doubt, the pain, the hunger... and embrace the purpose for which you were created."

The crowd steps back, giving you space as the golden light from the fountain expands, creating an ethereal pathway directly to its center. The smoke from the blue crystal encircles you, tugging gently as if urging you forward.

Your veins glow brighter, your body reacting instinctively to the light. You feel the burning in your chest intensify, spreading through your limbs and into your very core. The Sun's energy floods your senses, and for a moment, everything else fades—the cultists, the Mother, even Crane.

As you step toward the fountain, the light pulses, almost in rhythm with your heartbeat. When you reach the edge, you hesitate, the weight of the moment pressing down on you. The Mother speaks again, her voice calm and steady, cutting through the chaos of the moment.

The Mother: "Do not fear, Draemir. You were chosen for this. Step forward, and let the Sun's light guide you to your destiny."

The cultists fall silent, their eyes locked on you, their breaths held. Even Crane, standing at the edge of the square, seems frozen, his expression unreadable as he watches.

The golden light from the fountain grows brighter, enveloping you completely as you take the final step into its center. Your body feels weightless, the energy coursing through you like a raging river, purging everything that came before and replacing it with something new, something greater.

The Mother raises her staff high, her voice ringing out like a command.

The Mother: "Behold the successor of the Sun! The harbinger of light and hope! Draemir, rise and claim your place!"

The golden light flares, blinding everyone in the square, and then... silence. The light dims, leaving you standing in the fountain's center, your body transformed further. Your veins now glow a radiant gold, your fused vest and skin reflecting the light as if forged from sunlight itself.

The cultists erupt into cheers, crying out your name, praising the Sun, and bowing before you. The Mother lowers her staff and steps forward, her golden mask inches from your face.

The Mother: "You have become more than a hunter, Draemir. You are now the beacon of survival. Lead us into the light."

The crowd chants your name: "Draemir! Draemir! Draemir!" The echoes carry across the countryside, marking the moment of your ascension as the Sun's successor.

You look at yourself, embracing every feeling in your body.

Marco "Draemir" Sanchez has ascended into a form that embodies the Sun's radiance while still retaining his monstrous Volatile roots. His new appearance reflects a being that has merged human, infected, and celestial attributes into one.

Head and Neck

Marco's face remains mostly human, though faint golden veins now run along his jawline, neck, and temples, glowing faintly with each breath. His eyes are piercing and otherworldly, a mixture of molten gold and deep crimson, constantly shifting as if reflecting an eternal flame. His lips can still form human expressions, but when fully opened, his mouth extends into a Volatile's gaping maw, sharp rows of teeth glowing faintly as if charged with energy.

Torso and Vest

Marco's vest has fused completely with his torso, no longer appearing as separate material. The vest's tactical design now looks like an extension of his body, with the symbol of the Sun's mask glowing brightly on his chest, as if carved directly into his fused skin and armor. His ribs are visibly outlined, but instead of looking skeletal, they shimmer with a golden hue, appearing more like radiant armor plating. His torso seems to emit faint heatwaves in direct sunlight, almost as if his core is smoldering.

Arms and Hands

His arms are thicker and more muscular, covered in golden veins that pulse faintly with every movement. His hands are larger, with sharp, claw-like fingers tipped in metallic black, resembling both a hunter's tools and a predator's weapons. When in combat or under duress, the veins on his forearms glow brighter, enhancing his strikes with radiant energy.

Legs and Feet

Marco's legs are powerful and built for speed and agility. His calves and thighs are corded with muscle, and his feet are now fully Volatile-like—elongated, clawed, and reinforced for running, climbing, and leaping. The dark, reinforced skin on his feet reflects sunlight faintly, hinting at his ability to absorb and utilize solar energy.

Aura and Presence

Marco's entire body glows faintly in the sunlight, with golden veins and markings shimmering against his darkened skin. In the shade or darkness, his glow dims, but his presence is still felt; his aura emits a faint hum, making him appear both imposing and divine.

Equipment

Specialized M4: The rifle has undergone a transformation, covered in faint gold veins, as though fused with Marco's energy. The stock and barrel shimmer faintly, and the weapon feels alive in his hands.

Specialized M1911: Similarly transformed, the pistol gleams with golden highlights along its edges, its grip feeling like an extension of Marco's will. Backpack: His storage has become integrated into his fused vest, appearing as compartments that open seamlessly, almost like an organic part of his body.

Marco now embodies the duality of his existence: part human, part infected, and part celestial being, a true "Son of the Sun." He is both terrifying and awe-inspiring, a harbinger of hope or destruction, depending on who stands before him.