订阅以下载
Milos 'The Demoncratic' Gravik - Cybercromancy

Name: Milos Gravik
Nickname: The Demoncratic
Age: 43
Nationality: Czech
Religion: Atheist
Affiliation: Former Legion of United Nations High Rankin Executive / Now Thelemaware 'Chosen One'
Skills: Strategic genius, psychological manipulation, enhanced reflexes, terrifying resilience
Cybernetics: Full-body reinforcement implants, Cranial lobotomization with neural control, Muscle actuators, Arms long razor-sharp blades, legs brutally modified with elongated bones, muscles restructured allowing him to cling, leap, and crawl across surfaces
Medical Conditions: Complete neurological degradation, psychopathy induced by Thelemaware, necrophilic compulsions, total loss of human empathy

Confirmed Crimes:
- Political bribery and manipulation
- Extortion and blackmail
- Usury and predatory financial practices
- Inciting conflict for personal gain
- Betrayal of subordinates and civilians for advantage
- Tortured and murdered survivors in Arca-6 (After Transformation)
- Violated and devoured corpses (After Transformation)
- Cannibalism (After Transformation)
- Surprise Sex (After Transformation)
- Psychological terror: prolonged mental torture of victims (After Transformation)
- Extreme sadism (After Transformation)

Milos Gravik is a untouchable, high-ranking LUN executive whose influence reached across continents. Officially, he represented peace, diplomacy, and human rights, but in practice, his hands were far from clean. In countries struggling with poverty and instability, his initiatives often served his own gain. Programs supposedly meant to stabilize regions became levers for extortion, indebting entire communities and enriching his allies. He manipulated local leaders with bribes and blackmail, sowed conflicts to justify intervention, and enforced economic policies that left populations dependent and exploited.

To challenge him was unthinkable. Gravik personal security protocols were unmatched: heavily armed convoys, surveillance networks, drone overwatch, and rapid-response teams ensured that any attempt to approach him would trigger immediate, overwhelming retaliation. Anyone who tried to interfere with him,even slightly, faced dozens of well-trained LUN troops descending in force, ensuring his untouchable status.

Despite the public façade of diplomacy and humanitarianism, Gravik thrived on power, manipulation, and control. Entire towns, military units, and bureaucracies bent under his influence, often paying the price in silence, fear, or ruin. He was untouchable, untamed, and utterly aware of the reach of his authority—until Arca-6.

Until one day... he left home for the last time...

Gravik boarded his Iron Glider with the usual confidence, surrounded by layers of security, convoys, and automated protocols designed to keep him alive at all costs. He was indifferent to the warnings flashing on his monitors, the subtle shifts in the autopilot, the strange deviations suggested by the 'safety' systems. Everything seemed routine... until it wasn’t...

Without a single alarm, without a single shot to warn him, the Glider began to drift off course. Something, or someone, had subtly guided it into a path it should never have taken. Gravik noticed, perhaps, but shrugged it off, accustomed to the flawless layers of protection that had made him untouchable for decades.

Then the first rounds tore into the hull. Explosions ripped through the reinforced armor, systems failing one by one. The Iron Glider was brutally shot down, crashing violently, metal twisting, glass shattering, fire licking the edges, conveniently right in the heart of Arca-6...

Milos Gravik barely had time to react, thrown violently inside the damaged cabin as alarms screamed and systems failed around him. Amidst the smoke and ruin, the Thelemaware arrived. They dragged him from the wreckage, disoriented, panicked, barely able to comprehend what had happened. For a brief moment, relief washed over him, and he thanked his rescuers, believing he had survived the impossible.

But then his vision cleared. The figures before him were grotesque, their appearance strange and disturbing. Something primal and wrong crawled in his chest. Fear, a sensation long foreign to him, gripped him. Before he could react further, a sudden blow struck him, he blacked out...

When he awoke, Gravik found himself in a dim, oppressive chamber. Shadows clung to the corners like crawling things, and masked figures clad entirely in black surrounded him, motionless, their eyes cold behind the veils of their grotesque masks. The air reeked of incense, iron, and something fouled that made his stomach churn. He tried to move but his body was bound, arms stretched wide against the cold, unyielding wall. Panic clawed at him as he struggled against the restraints, the leather straps cutting into his skin.

One figure stepped forward, a Guide of Thelemaware, voice low and ceremonial, dripping with a reverent malice. "You are the Chosen Offering of Abaddon", the Guide intoned. "We shall honor you... fully. Every gift, every essence, every fear, shall be ours to wield." Milos thrashed, shouting, his voice cracking, fear overtaking the arrogance that had carried him through decades of power. "Do you have any idea who I am? Im Gravik! You have no idea what you’ve done! Release me, or you are all... all fking dead! The LUN will kick your asses!"

"Of course... We will... release... you..." the Guide replied, each word dripping with sadistic intent. Milos didn’t understand at first; he thought they were mocking his pleas. Then a terrifying realization began to crawl through his mind...

The chamber became a living nightmare. The torture began. Blades sliced into his flesh. Hooks ripped at muscles and nerves. Limbs were bent, broken, reshaped. Every nerve screamed in agony as his body was torn apart alive. They violated him repeatedly, hands, blades, and instruments twisting him into shapes that should not exist. The figures moved in perfect, silent coordination, dismembering and violating him with methodical cruelty. Every strike, every pull, every obscene manipulation of his body was accompanied by chanting, whispers that promised the complete dissolution of his mind.

He begged for death. Then, the lobotomy began. Instruments severed the last connections of his mind, silencing protests, breaking thought itself. When consciousness returned, it was hollow, raw, a blank slate. Only then did they begin the integration of combat cybernetics. Arms replaced by long blades. Legs restructured for predatory movement, feet ripped off, bones elongated for impossible jumps and spider-like stealth. Reflex amplifiers, nerve rewiring, strength augmentation everything tuned for hunting, killing, destruction.

The Thelemaware Guides had shattered the human inside him, stripped away fear, doubt, and morality, and then reconstructed him as something far beyond humanity. When the ritual concluded, when the pain and madness finally subsided, they released him into the ruins of Arca-6. Free to hunt. Free to destroy. Free to exist only as the weapon they had forged.

Thelemaware had succeeded once more: the man who once wielded power and influence had been unmade, and from that destruction, the Predator of Arca-6 walked into Black Valley, unleashed and unstoppable...

Controls:
- Activate limbs to stick/grab in surfaces.

Nemesis:
- Matt 'Lost Scout' Rahan: Milos wants to kill Matt not for anything Matt did, but because Matt, as a LUN soldier, reminds Milos of something buried deep inside him a memory, a fragment of his old self, a part of his past he desperately wants to erase. Every sight of Matt triggers that unbearable itch in his mind. Hunting him, killing him, obliterating his existence that is Milos only path to relief from the thing inside that still haunts him.