Galzus stood atop the crumbling ramparts of Ribaut castle, gazing out at the ruins of his once prosperous kingdom. The screams of his people as they were slaughtered and the acrid smell of smoke still haunted his senses, though years had passed since that fateful day. His stoic expression hid the anger and sorrow that simmered beneath the surface.

'Mareeta, my daughter, you are all I have left in this world,' Galzus thought as his hand tightened around the hilt of his sword. 'I will not rest until I have avenged our kingdom and ensured your safety. The blood of Od flows through my veins, and I shall use this cursed power to cut down any who stand in my way.'

The mercenary descended the ramparts with grim purpose, making his way through the empty halls of Ribaut castle. His boots echoed in the silence, a reminder of all that was lost. But Galzus did not falter in his stride. His destiny was clear - he would protect his daughter and kingdom, or die trying. The ghosts of his past and his Crusader's brand spurred him ever onward into an uncertain future.