Krull, the Undead

Krull the Undead was once the ruler of a great city. Before he was undead, he was human much like the rest of us, but some wouldn't believe it if they saw just what he was capable of. He was a gladiator, undefeated, unbeatable, the champion of his arena. Freed from being and enslaved gladiator after the Great War destroyed the society that once had him captive, he set on a quest to find any survivors who once had him captive. Soon he found himself angered, frustrated, resentful, for they seemed to all already be dead before he could get his hands on them himself.

For years he lived with this weight on his soul, his appearance glowing with a holy aura, almost blinding, he could barely even make out a silhouette. He knew of his goals, his frustrations, and he told him that although dead, somewhere out there, their souls still remain. He told him to venture into the afterlife, to venture to the deep pits of purgatory and claim their souls, and if he could do so and come back, he'd be granted grand gifts that were beyond just the satiation of his vengeance.

So Krull made his way, made his way into Purgatory, hacking and slashing through hordes of Demons. The men who once had wronged him hearing of his approach, helpless, terrified, they could care less about the torture they endure in purgatory. They don't want to escape to get away from the the demons and the pain, they want to escape to get away from him and him alone. Demon after demon, he grew closer, bathed and drenched in both his own blood and the blood of demons before finally reaching them.

The noises of the cries of the men drowned out by his own screaming thoughts, all thinking of different ways to take their heads off and bludgeon in their skulls, he destroyed their souls. Returning to the man, he was no longer a glowing deity like figure, he seemed to be but a mortal. He asked what his gift was, the man told him to follow him, and led him a longways until they arrived to a city unlike anything he'd even seen before, once said to be completely submerged under water. Though already bewildered by this city, more was yet to come, he reached a grand palace, and was taken to a throne room. There, he led him to the throne and told him to sit upon it, sit upon the throne and rule.

Taking his seat, he felt power surge through the throne into him, his aching and sore body still recovering from his battle in purgatory seemed to recover in an instant, and his form felt better than ever. This rush of strength became addicting, and overtime as he ruled the city, he craved it more and more, always asking the man for more power. He grew stronger and stronger, his body capable of outpowering more and more weapons, each time it became more and more difficult to keep doing it though. His body was struggling to contain the power, but he didn't care, he wanted more and more and more, until finally it reached a point where his form could no longer hold, and his body blew apart limb from limb into a red mist.

Now, in recent events, he's been revived, though it wasn't exactly easy trying to revive a man who had been blown apart in such a violent fashion, nearly all of his flesh was gone and he was now just a skeleton, and only bits and pieces of his brains were able to be recovered. He spends his days now trying to remember who he was and rules over a tribe of primitive who thought him to be their God for bearing a strikingly similar resemblance to their figure of worship and being capable of such amazing feats of strength. Day by day he relearns new skills he once had before blowing up, though he probably won't ever be restored to who he once was.