Disassembled: Heroes and Villains

Why the Doom Slayer Proves You Can Slay Hell and Still Be Damned - Doom Deep Dive

• Tom Bedford of Handsome Comics • Season 1 • Episode 10

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He doesn’t speak.

He doesn’t stop.

And when the gates of Hell open… he walks in.

In this episode of Disassembled: Heroes and Villains, we unleash the story of the Doom Slayer—the unrelenting force feared by Hell itself. From his origins in the fall of Argent D’Nur to his brutal crusade across DOOM (2016) and DOOM Eternal, this is more than a fight for survival. It’s a war to end Hell forever.

Is he a man forged by tragedy?

Or a wrath born to tear demons apart until nothing remains?

We explore:

– The Slayer’s ancient origins and the fall of Argent D’Nur

– His relentless battles against demons, titans, and gods

– How his legend grew into Hell’s greatest fear

– And why his mission can only end one way


Whether you know him as the Marine, the Slayer, or the one Hell fears most, this is the definitive story of gaming’s most unstoppable warrior.

🔥 New episodes of Disassembled: Heroes and Villains every Thursday

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🎙 Written and hosted by Tom Bedford | Handsome Comics

HELL HAS MANY ENEMIES, BUT ONLY ONE IT FEARS. IN ONE ITERATION, HE'S A NAMELESS MARINE. IN ANOTHER, A CHOSEN WARRIOR OF THE NIGHT SENTINELS. ACROSS EVERY TELLING, HE'S THE SAME RELENTLESS FORCE. NO SPEECHES, NO MERCY, NO REST. THEY CALL HIM THE DOOMSLAYER, BUT BEFORE THE LEGEND, HE WAS JUST A MAN. A SOLDIER EXILED TO MARS FOR REFUSING AN ORDER THAT WOULD HAVE SLAUGHTERED CIVILIANS. WHEN THE DEMONS CAME, THEY TOOK EVERYTHING, EVEN HIS BELOVED RABBIT DAISY. AND SOMETHING INSIDE HIM BROKE. FROM THAT DAY FORWARD, IT WASN'T DUTY, IT WAS VENGEANCE. AND VENGEANCE HAS NO LIMITS. HE'S FOUGHT IN THE HALLS OF ARGENT D'NUR, IN THE DEPTHS OF HELL, AND ON THE BURNING FIELDS OF URDOK. EVERY BATTLE ONLY FURTHERS THE MYTH. EVERY KILL FUELS THE TERROR. BECAUSE THE TRUTH IS SIMPLE. YOU CAN TRY, YOU CAN FIGHT. BUT HELL HATH NO FURY LIKE THE SLAYER. THIS IS DISASSEMBLED, HEROES AND VILLAINS. AND TODAY, WE FOLLOW THE TRAIL OF BLOOD, FIRE, AND STEEL. FROM THE CLASSIC DOOM MARINE TO THE MODERN DOOMSLAYER, TO UNDERSTAND THE MAN WHO MADE HELL AFRAID. SOME LEGENDS ARE NEVER BORN WHOLE. BEFORE THE NAME DOOMSLAYER ECHOED THROUGH THE HALLS OF ARGENT D'NUR, HE WAS SIMPLY THE MARINE. A SOLDIER WITH A RIFLE, STANDING BETWEEN HELL AND EVERYONE ELSE. AND IN THOSE FIRST DAYS, THERE WAS NO PROPHECY, ONLY SURVIVAL. A UAC EXPERIMENT SPIRALED INTO CATASTROPHE. THE MARS BASE FELL TO THE HORDES, AND THE GATES TO HELL SWUNG WIDE OPEN. HE NOT ONLY ROSE IN GLORY, HE ALSO DESCENDED DEEPER INTO THE PIT. THESE WERE HIS FIRST TRIALS. AND WITH EACH CORRIDOR CLEARED, EACH DEMON CAST BACK INTO THE FIRE. HIS DEFIANCE HARDENED TO SOMETHING UNBREAKABLE. RESILIENCE, FORGED IN RELENTLESS TRIALS. BUT THE CURSE OF THE SLAYER HAD ONLY JUST BEGUN. BECAUSE EVERY VICTORY ENSURED THE WAR WOULD FOLLOW HIM. AND THIS IS WHERE THE STORY TRULY BEGINS. SOME HEROES CHOOSE THE FIGHT, OTHERS ARE CHOSEN BY IT. AND THEN THERE ARE THOSE WHO ARE CONSUMED. IN THE CHRONICLES OF EARTH'S WARS WITH HELL, THERE WAS ONE MAN WHOSE STORY BEGINS NOT AS LEGEND, BUT AS DUTY. BEFORE HE WAS THE SLAYER, BEFORE HAL KNEW HIS NAME, HE WAS JUST A MARINE ON THE UAC'S MARS INSTALLATION. DISCIPLINED, STUBBORN, AND UNWILLING TO FOLLOW AN ORDER HE KNEW WAS WRONG. QUICK. CHAMPIONS HINTS AT THIS EARLIEST CRUCIBLE, ALONE IN THE PHOBOS BASE, SURROUNDED BY THE DEAD. FROM THE HANGAR TO THE NUCLEAR PLANT, THE METAL CORRIDORS HUMMED WITH FALLING LIGHTS AND THE HISS OF AIRLOCKS BLEEDING INTO THE VOID. SOMEWHERE IN THAT SUFFOCATING SILENCE CAME THE FIRST DISTANT SCREECH OF SOMETHING WRONG. THE SHOTGUN'S FIRST BLAST WAS NOT STRATEGY, IT WAS SURVIVAL. THE CHAINGUN'S ROAR WAS NOT DOMINANCE, IT WAS DEFIANCE. HE WAS THE LAST MAN STANDING, NOT BECAUSE HE WAS THE STRONGEST, BUT BECAUSE HE REFUSED TO STOP MOVING FORWARD. THAT DECISION, TO KEEP MOVING, REVEALED THE TRUTH ABOUT RESILIENCE. IT ISN'T A GIFT BESTOWED ON THE LUCKY, IT'S A CHOICE TO MAKE EVERY SECOND YOU REMAIN ALIVE. EVERY DROP OF BLOOD SPILLED AROUND HIM BECAME ANOTHER REASON TO ADVANCE, NEVER AN EXCUSE TO STOP. IN DOOM 1, THE MARINE WOULD ENTER THE MOUTH OF HELL. THE UAC'S EXPERIMENTS CRACKED REALITY WIDE OPEN, AND HELL POURED THROUGH. WHAT BEGAN AS A SECURE MILITARY OUTPOST BECAME A SLAUGHTERHOUSE OF STEEL AND FIRE. HIS PATH RAN FROM BLOOD-SLICKED CORRIDORS TO THE YAWNING PITS OF INFERNO. UNDER SKIES OF BURNING RED CLOUDS AND FLOATING MOUNTAINS, WHERE GRAVITY FELT WRONG AND THE GROUND WAS BONE AND OBSIDIAN. HERE, THE BARONS OF HELL AWAITED NOT JUST ANOTHER FIGHT, BUT A TEST. COULD HIS WILL ENDURE THEIR RAW, UNRELENTING FORCE? WITH EACH KILL, HIS SKILLS SHARPENED, BUT SOMETHING ELSE CHANGED. HE WASN'T MERELY SURVIVING THE NIGHTMARE, HE WAS ADAPTING TO IT. THAT IS THE CURSE OF RESILIENCE. IT DOESN'T JUST MAKE YOU STRONGER, IT MAKES YOU SUITED TO LIVE IN THE VERY HELL YOU WISH TO ESCAPE. HE FOUGHT THROUGH PHOBOS, DEIMOS, AND HELL ITSELF, UNTIL THE SPIDER MASTERMIND, HELL'S INFERNAL TACTICIAN, FELL. RETURNING TO EARTH, HE EXPECTED RELIEF. INSTEAD, HE FOUND A BURNING WORLD, AND IN THE CHAOS, ONE LOSS CUT DEEPER THAN ANY WOUND. DAISY, HIS PET RABBIT, SLAIN AND DISPLAYED AS A TROPHY. IT SOUNDS ABSURD, DOESN'T IT? THAT THE DEATH OF ONE SMALL CREATURE COULD MATTER AFTER SLAUGHTERING ARMIES? BUT THAT'S GRIEF. SOMETIMES, THE SMALLEST LOSS MAKES THE GREATEST WAR PERSONAL. BY THE TIME OF DOOM 2, EARTH'S CITIES BECAME KILLING FIELDS. SUBWAY STATIONS LITTERED WITH THE DEAD. SKYSCRAPERS BLEEDING FIRE FROM SHATTERED WINDOWS. HERE, HE CLAIMED THE SUPER SHOTGUN, A CRUDE BUT DEVASTATING ANSWER TO AN OVERWHELMING HORDE. THE LOW, ENDLESS GROWL OF THE ICON OF SIN TOLD HIM THE INVASION WASN'T CHAOS, IT WAS A COMMAND. THIS WAS NO LONGER ABOUT ORDERS, NO CHAIN OF COMMAND, NO RESCUE. ONLY HIM, AND THE BILLIONS HE REFUSED TO ABANDON. WHEN THE ICON FELL, HE WAS NO LONGER A LONE SURVIVOR. HE WAS HUMANITY'S CHAMPION. RESILIENCE HAD TRANSFORMED HIM, TURNING A SOLDIER INTO A LEADER WHEN THE FIGHT BECAME LARGER THAN HIMSELF. BUT BY DOOM 64, IT BECAME APPARENT THAT PEACE NEVER LASTS. HELL RETURNED, TWISTING ITS OWN REALM INTO SHAPES MEANT TO BREAK HIM. CORRIDORS FOLDING IN ON THEMSELVES, IMPOSSIBLE STAIRCASES, AND THE GNAWING SENSE THAT HELL WAS LEARNING HIM AS MUCH AS HE WAS LEARNING IT. IN THE SHADOWS, THE MOTHER DEMON WAITED, THE SOURCE OF THE RENEWED INVASION. HE SLEW HER, THE PORTAL HOME OPENED, AND HE CHOSE NOT TO STEP THROUGH. INSTEAD, HE SEALED HIMSELF INSIDE HELL, HUNTING ITS ARMIES AT THEIR SOURCE, ENSURING THEY WOULD NEVER RISE AGAIN. THIS WAS THE MOMENT THAT DOOMGUY CEASED TO BE A MAN, AND BECAME SOMETHING ETERNAL. PURPOSE HAD OUTLASTED THE PERSON. IT'S ONE THING TO DIE FOR A CAUSE, IT'S ANOTHER TO LIVE WITH IT. TO LET IT STRIP AWAY EVERYTHING UNTIL ONLY THE MISSION REMAINS. THE GATES CLOSED BEHIND HIM, THE SOUND ECHOING LIKE A TOMB CEILING SHUT. IN THE MORTAL REALM, HE WAS GONE. BUT IN HELL, WHISPERS SPREAD OF A FIGURE THAT COULD NOT DIE, THAT COULD NOT STOP. THE MARINE WAS DEAD, AND THE SLAYER WAS COMING. BUT HELL DOES NOT FORGIVE A SOLDIER WHO REFUSES TO DIE. IN THE SILENCE AFTER THE LAST DEMON'S FALL, THE MARINE MIGHT HAVE WALKED AWAY. INSTEAD, HE STAYED, SEALING HIMSELF INSIDE THE PIT, KNOWING ITS GATES WOULD NEVER OPEN FOR HIM AGAIN. THAT WAS THE END OF THE MAN. WHAT FOLLOWED WAS NOT SURVIVAL, IT WAS TRANSFORMATION. TRAPPED IN THE HEART OF THE ENEMY'S DOMAIN, EVERY STRIKE WAS HONED INTO INSTINCT, EVERY WOUND A REMINDER THAT HE NO LONGER FOUGHT FOR HOME. BUT FOR THE WAR ITSELF. HELL THREW ITS LEGIONS AT HIM AGAIN AND AGAIN, NOT TO KILL HIM, BUT TO BREAK HIM. AND IT FAILED. AND THEN, THE DAY CAME WHEN HE WAS FOUND, BY WARRIORS NOT OF EARTH, BUT OF ARJEN D'NOR. THEY DID NOT SEE A MAN, THEY SAW A WEAPON. AN ANSWER TO THE PROPHECY. A CHAMPION WHO COULD TURN THE TIDE OF WAR OLDER THAN ITS OWN. IN THEIR HALLS, HIS RAGE WOULD BE GIVEN ARMOR. IN THEIR BATTLES, HIS WRATH WOULD BE GIVEN PURPOSE. AND IN THEIR LEGENDS, HE WOULD BE GIVEN A NAME, THE DOOM SLAYER. HE WAS NOT A KNIGHT IN SHINING ARMOR, BUT AN ANGEL WITH A SWORD OF FIRE, SENT NOT TO SAVE, BUT TO PUNISH. HE EMERGED FROM HELL NOT AS A BROKEN SURVIVOR, BUT AS A FORCE, SCARED, SILENT, RELENTLESS. THE NIGHT SENTINELS OF ARJEN D'NOR FOUND HIM FIRST, DRENCHED IN SMOKE AND SHADOW, HIS EYES REFUSING TO LOOK AWAY FROM THE HORRORS HE HAD SURVIVED. KING NOVIK OFFERED NO WORMS OF BALM, NO ROYAL CLOAK, ONLY A VACANT THRONE AND THE WEIGHT OF WAR UPON HIS SHOULDERS. ARJEN D'NOR WAS A REALM FORGED BY SORCERY AND STEEL, ITS DENIZENS STEEPED IN THE WRAITH, A MAGIC GRANTING SHAPED TO BOTH MIGHT AND MACHINERY. ITS SKIES WERE BRAIDED WITH FLOATING CITADELS AND SKYWARD BEACONS. ITS VANGUARD, THE NIGHT SENTINELS, WERE THE SWORN GUARDIANS OF THE ELEMENTAL WRAITHS, MYSTIC BEINGS WHOSE ESSENCE DEFINED THE BALANCE BETWEEN LIGHT AND ENDLESS NIGHT. WITH THE SLAYER AMONG THEM, AN OUTSIDER WHOSE BLOOD STILL BORE THE SCENT OF BRIMSTONE, THE SENTINELS FELT BOTH AWE AND AN UNSPOKEN UNEASE. ON THE VOLCANIC PLAINS, HE SEEMED TO BE THE STORM-GIVEN FORM, CLEAVING THROUGH BARREN LEGIONS WITH FURY THAT DEFIED ANY MORTAL CADENCE. THE SIEGE OF KADESH WAS LESS A BATTLE AND MORE THE BIRTH OF A LEGEND. HE CUT A DEEP PATH INTO HELL'S RANKS UNTIL THE NIGHT BANNERS STOOD WHERE DEMONS ONCE ROARED, A SIGN THAT PROPHECY WAS BEING WRITTEN IN SCARLET, AND HELL ANSWERED. THEIR VOICES DARKENED WITH FEAR. THEY GAVE HIM A NAME, DOOMSLAYER, NOT AS REVERENCE, BUT AS A WARNING ECHOING IN THE DARK, A PROMISE OF DEATH MADE HOLY. BUT EACH DEMON'S SHRIEK AT HIS APPROACH REFRACTED BACK INTO HIS SOUL. EACH SAFE SENTINEL COUNTED AS ONE LAST PIECE OF HIM. WRATH, ONCE A FACET OF HIS BEING, WAS NOW HIS BURDEN. HIS PURPOSE BECAME TETHERED NOT TO HOPE, BUT TO ENDLESS CONFLICT. HE COULD NOT REST. HE COULD NEVER STEP AWAY. IN THE VALLEY OF THE WRAITH TEMPLES, ATOP SCORCHED SPIRES AND BROKEN ALTARS, HE DID NOT STAND AS A KING OR COMMANDER. HE STOOD AS THE SWORD ARGENT D'NUR NEEDED, BUT WOULD NEVER ACCEPT AS ITS HERALD. MORE THAN A MAN, HE HAD MYTH. HE WAS NOT A KNIGHT. HE WAS VENGEANCE-GIVEN SKIN, BUT VENGEANCE IS A DOOR THAT DOESN'T LET YOU LEAVE. BEHIND EVERY BATTLEFIELD VICTORY, A FRAGMENT OF HIS HUMANITY WAS LEFT BEHIND. CANDOR AND THE SENTINEL'S ADMIRATION FLICKERED INTO CONCERN. A SISTER IN ARMS MURMURED, HE CARRIES HELL ON HIS SHOULDERS. KING NOVIK, SILENT IN HIS THRONE ROOM, CONSIDERED WHAT THE WAR HAD DEMANDED OF THIS STRANGER, AND WHAT IT WOULD TAKE TO HOLD HIM ONCE THE DAWN CAME. MEANWHILE, DOWN IN HELL'S SPRAWL, DEMON GENERALS STITCHED RUMORS IN DARK TONGUES, STATING THAT THE DOOM SLAYER WOULD NEVER DIE. THEY CORRUPTED ARGENT ENERGY FOR THE WAR MACHINES. THEY TWISTED. WRAITH POWER INTO YIELDLESS WEAPONS OF SLAUGHTER, AND THEY COULD NOT SEE THE DAGGER RISING AGAINST THEM WITHIN. THERE WERE SECRETS ARGENT D'NUR DID NOT SHARE. WHEN THE SLAYER CUT A PATH THROUGH HELL, THE MAYKRS, ANGELIC OVERLORDS OF URDOK, WERE QUIETLY HARVESTING THAT SAME POWER TO FUEL THEIR OWN DOMAINS AT THE COST OF MORTAL SOULS. YET, WHEN BETRAYAL OF THAT SCALE UNFOLDED, THE SLAYER HAD ONLY HIS BLADE TO ANSWER, NOT MESSENGERS OF URDOK, BUT TRAITORS AMONG HIS OWN. IN THE FINAL STAND AT THE CORRUPTED SOUL SPIRES, THESE TOWERS MEANT TO HALT THE HELL'S FLOOD. HE FOUGHT BOTH DEMON AND APOSTATE. THE KINGDOM CRUMBLED AROUND HIM, BUT HIS WRATH HELD STEADY UNTIL THE NIGHT SENTINELS COULD RETREAT. AND WHEN THE DUST SETTLED, HE WALKED ALONE, BUT NOT ANONYMOUS. EVEN THE MAYKRS LEARNED TO WHISPER HIS NAME. DEMONS RUN FROM HIM. ARGENT D'NUR REMEMBERS HIM. AS THE EMBERS OF WAR SETTLED INTO MEMORY, THE MAN BEHIND THE ARMOR HAD VANISHED. IN HIS PLACE LINGERED THE DOOM SLAYER, THE EMBODIMENT OF ANGER, OF GRIEF, OF UNYIELDING PURPOSE. THE WORLD NOT ONLY FEARED WHAT HE COULD DO, IT FEARED WHAT HE HAD BECOME. BUT LEGENDS ONCE FORGED ARE NOT LEFT TO REST. THE SLAYER. SLAYER'S VICTORY DID NOT END THE WAR, THEY ONLY DEEPENED IT. FOR EVERY FORTRESS HE TOPPLED, HELL BUILT ANOTHER. FOR EVERY ARMY HE SHATTERED, A GREATER HOST EMERGED FROM THE SHADOWS. THE PROPHECY HE HAD CARVED INTO THE BONES OF HIS ENEMIES BECAME A CHAIN, BINDING HIM TO AN ENDLESS HUNT. AND SO, THE WARRIOR WHO ROSE FROM THE FIRE AND STEEL WAS CAST INTO A DARKER CRUCIBLE, ONE NOT OF TRIAL, BUT OF ENDURANCE. HIS NAME CARRIED ACROSS WORLDS, WHISPERED IN DREAD BY DEMONS WHO HAD NEVER SEEN HIM. YET, FELT HIS PRESENCE LIKE A SHADOW ON THEIR SOUL. THE DARK AGES HAD GIVEN BIRTH TO THE SLAYER, BUT WHAT CAME NEXT, WOULD PROVE WHETHER EVEN LEGENDS CAN SURVIVE FOREVER. BEFORE WE GO TO HELL AND BACK WITH THE DOOM SLAYER, MAKE SURE TO FOLLOW OR SUBSCRIBE ON YOUR FAVORITE PODCAST APP. DISASSEMBLED HEROES AND VILLAINS DIVES DEEP INTO THE ICONS AND MONSTERS WHO SHAPED POP CULTURE. AND NEXT WEEK, WE'LL LEAVE THE BLOOD-SOAKED CORRIDORS OF HELL FOR THE ENDLESS VOID OF SPACE. A SCIENTIST TURNED WARRIOR, AN AUTOBOT WHO HAS CHANGED SIDES MORE THAN ONCE, YET ALWAYS FIGHTS FOR SOMETHING GREATER THAN HIMSELF. NEXT WEEK, WE TAKE FLIGHT WITH JETFIRE OF THE TRANSFORMERS. NOW, BACK TO THE SLAYER AND THE WAR HE COULD NEVER ESCAPE. CENTURIES HAD PASSED SINCE THE DOOM SLAYER VANISHED INTO LEGEND. HIS ARMOR LAY COLD, HIS WEAPONS SILENT, HIS WAR SEEMINGLY OVER. YET, WARS LIKE HIS DO NOT END, THEY WAIT. WHEN HE WAS FOUND, IT WAS NOT IN HONOR, NOT IN PEACE, BUT IN A SARCOPHAGUS DEEP WITHIN THE RUINS OF A UAC OUTPOST ON MARS. THE AIR REEKED OF BRIMSTONE AND BLOOD. ALARMS WAILED THROUGH CORRIDORS LITTERED WITH THE BODIES OF THE DEAD. THEY HAD NOT RESURRECTED HIM, TO END THE WAR. THEY HAD AWAKENED A WEAPON. THE MOMENT HIS EYES OPENED, THE CHAINS HOLDING HIM DOWN BECAME MEANINGLESS. THE STONE CRACKED BENEATH HIS FIST AS HE TORE HIMSELF FREE, SNATCHING UP THE PRAETOR SUIT AS THOUGH CENTURIES HAD NOT PASSED. HIS GAUNTLETS CLAMPED SHUT. THE VISOR SEALED. THE WAR BEGAN AGAIN. IN DOOM 2016, THE UAC HAD INVITED HELL IN. THEIR GREED AND ARROGANCE TEARING OPEN GATEWAYS IN THE NAME OF INFINITE ENERGY. BUT THE SLAYER WAS NOT SUMMONED TO REASON WITH THEM. HE WAS UNLEASHED TO UNDO THEIR FOLLY WITH VENGEANCE. MARS ITSELF BECAME A KILLING GROUND. POSSESSED SCIENTISTS, HELL KNIGHTS, AND CYBERDEMONS FELL IN STORMS OF BUCKSHOT AND THE RHYTHMIC BOOM OF THE SUPER SHOTGUN. HIS WEAPONS ROARED LIKE THUNDER, THE CHAIN GUN'S SPARROW SPINNING LIKE MOLTEN ROCK, THE ROCKET LAUNCHER'S BACKBLAST SCORCHING WALLS, THE CRUCIBLE BLADE IGNITING IN ARCS OF CRIMSON LIGHT. THROUGH THE FOUNDRY, THE ARGENT FACILITY, AND INTO THE VERY BOWELS OF HELL, HE CARVED A PATH, DISMANTLING THE DEMONIC EVASION ONE CORPSE AT A TIME. AT THE HEART OF IT ALL LAY THE WELL. HELL'S RESERVOIR OF ARGENT ENERGY, THE SOURCE OF THEIR POWER ON MARS. IN THE CHOKING HEAT OF THE INFERNAL ABYSS, THE SLAYER SHATTERED THE WELL, SEVERING HELL'S LINK TO THE MORTAL WORLD. BUT EVEN HERE, VICTORY TASTED LIKE BETRAYAL. DR. SAMUEL HAYDEN, THE ONE WHO HAD AWAKENED HIM, SAW ONLY THE POTENTIAL OF HELL'S ENERGY, NOT ITS THREAT. WITH THE CRUCIBLE IN HIS HANDS, HAYDEN RIPPED THE ARTIFACT FROM THE SLAYER'S GRASP AND, WITH A BURST OF WHITE LIGHT, CAST HIM AWAY. THE WAR WAS NOT OVER. IT WAS SIMPLY REDIRECTED. CENTURIES OF SLUMBER HAD BEEN BROKEN BY NECESSITY, AND THE LESSON WAS CLEAR. LEGENDS CANNOT REST. THEY ARE NOT GIVEN PEACE. THEY ARE DRAGGED BACK INTO THE FIRE BECAUSE SOMEONE, SOMEWHERE, BELIEVES THEY CANNOT BE REPLACED. BUT IN DOOM ETERNAL, THE SLAYER WOULD RETURN. AND HERE, THE WAR HAD GROWN FAR BEYOND MARS. EARTH ITSELF WAS BURNING, ITS SKIES LIT WITH THE RED GLOW OF THE HELL INVASION. CITIES LAY IN RUIN, OVERRUN BY CULTISTS AND DEMONS ALIKE. YET, THIS WAS ONLY THE SURFACE OF THE CONFLICT. BEHIND THE INVASION LOOMED THE KHAN MAYKR, RULER OF THE MAYKR RACE, HIS MACHINATIONS TIED TO THE FATE OF COUNTLESS WORLDS. THE SLAYER'S WAR ESCALATED TO A COSMIC SCALE. HE HUNTED THE HELL-PRIEST, SILENCING THEIR SERMONS WITH SHELLS AND STEEL. HE BRAVED THE ICY RUINS OF SENTINEL PRIME, THE BURNING WRECKAGE OF TERRACE NABOD, AND THE CURSED EXPANSE OF NEKROVAL. IN THESE PLACES, MEMORIES BLED THROUGH, VISIONS OF HIS PAST AS A NIGHT SENTINEL, OF THE FALL OF ARJUN DHANUR, AND OF THE BETRAYER WHOSE CHOICES HAD DAMNED THEM ALL. BUT THE GREATEST THREAT HAS YET TO COME. THE KHAN MAYKR, DESPERATE TO FEED HER PEOPLE'S SURVIVAL, SOUGHT TO UNLEASH THE ICON OF SIN, A LIVING APOCALYPSE, A TITAN OF PURE HELL ENERGY THAT COULD WIPE EARTH CLEAN IN HOURS. THE SLAYER FOUGHT ACROSS DIMENSIONS TO STOP HER, DISMANTLING HER EMPIRE PIECE BY PIECE. IN THE DEPTHS OF THE ERDOK SPIRES, HE SEVERED THE. MAYKR'S GRIP ON THE ICON'S HEART, SETTING THE BEAST LOOSE ON HER OWN DOMAIN. THE FINAL BATTLE WAS NOT FOUGHT IN SECRET, IT WAS A CATACLYSM MADE MANIFEST. STREETS CRUMBLED UNDER THE ICON'S WEIGHT. SKYSCRAPERS SPLINTERED LIKE KINDLING, AND THE SLAYER CLIMBED ITS BODY LIKE A MOUNTAIN OF FLESH AND BONE, DELIVERING THE FINAL BLOW WITH THE CRUCIBLE'S BLAZING EDGE. EARTH WAS SAVED, BUT AT A COST THAT COULD NEVER TRULY BE COUNTED. FOR EVERY VICTORY, THE SLAYER UNDERSTOOD, ANOTHER WAR WOULD RISE. HELL COULD BE BEATEN, SCATTERED, REDUCED TO ASH, BUT IT WOULD NEVER BE GONE. THE SENTINELS SPOKE OF A PROPHECY LONG AGO, AND WHISPERS HALF-BELIEVED. WHEN THE LAST DEMON FALLS AND THE LAST GATES CLOSE, HE WILL STILL STAND, WAITING FOR THE NEXT BREACH. IN THE QUIET AFTER THE ICON'S FALL, THE WORLD BEGAN TO REBUILD, BUT THE SLAYER DID NOT REST. HE STOOD AT THE EDGE OF THE BATTLEFIELD, THE WIND TUGGING AT HIS TORN EDGES OF HIS CAPE, EYES FIXED ON A HORIZON ONLY HE COULD SEE. THE WAR WOULD CALL HIM AGAIN, NOT IN YEARS, BUT IN MOMENTS, BECAUSE HE IS NOT A SAVIOR. HE IS A CONSTANT, THE EMBODIMENT OF THE TRUTH NO ONE WISHES TO HEAR, THAT EVEN VICTORY HAS A COST, AND THAT SOME BATTLES CAN NEVER TRULY BE WON. THE LAST ECHOES OF GUNFIRE FADED INTO THE VOID, BUT THERE IS NO VICTORY CRY. ONLY THE HEAVY WEIGHT OF ANOTHER BATTLE SURVIVED. THE ENEMIES WERE GONE, THEIR CORPSES SCATTERED ACROSS SCORCHED GROUND. YET, THE AIR STILL HUMS WITH A PROMISE. THIS IS NOT THE END. IT NEVER WAS. FOR EVERY DEMON SLAIN, ANOTHER LURKS BEHIND THE VEIL, SHARPENING ITS CLAWS IN THE DARK. FOR EVERY GATE CLOSED, ANOTHER FRACTURE SPLINTERS THE BARRIER BETWEEN WORLDS. AND THOUGH THE BATTLEFIELD CHANGES, THE WAR REMAINS THE SAME. THE DOOM SLAYER HAD NEVER STOPPED MOVING FORWARD, BUT FORWARD GOES ON FOREVER. THE LAST ECHOES OF BATTLE FADE, BUT THE WAR REMAINS. FOR OTHERS, VICTORY MEANS GOING HOME. FOR THE DOOM SLAYER, IT MEANS PREPARING FOR THE NEXT FIGHT. BECAUSE WHEN YOU ARE FORGED FOR WAR, PEACE IS JUST AN INTERMISSION. SO WE RETURN TO THE CHAIN OF INEVITABILITY. EACH LINK FORGED IN BLOOD, EACH LESSON CARVED INTO THE ARMOR. RESILIENCE COST HIM FREEDOM. FROM THE MOMENT HE TOOK THE MARK OF THE SLAYER, HIS FATE WAS SEALED. HELL COULD NOT KILL HIM, AND THE WORLDS OF MEN COULD NOT HOLD HIM. HE COULD NOT LAY DOWN HIS ARMS WITHOUT FEELING THE WEIGHT OF THOSE STILL IN DANGER. IMMORTALITY WITHOUT REST IS NOT A BLESSING, IT'S A SENTENCE. SACRIFICE COST HUMANITY. SOME WARRIORS FIGHT TO PROTECT FAMILIES, KINGDOMS, OR IDEALS. THE SLAYER GAVE ALL THAT AWAY. THE MAN HE ONCE WAS, MARINED, FRIEND, PERHAPS EVEN A LOVER, WAS BURNED AWAY IN THE FIRES OF HELL. WHAT ROSE FROM THE ASHES WAS SOMETHING ELSE. SOMETHING THE HUMAN WORLD COULD NO LONGER FULLY CLAIM. AND IN THAT, THAT WRATH COST HIM PEACE. ANGER BECAME HIS COMPASS. IT KEPT HIM ALIVE WHEN NOTHING ELSE COULD. BUT WRATH IS A WEAPON THAT NEVER COOLS. EVERY DEMON SLAIN WAS A REMINDER OF WHAT HE HAD LOST. AND SO HE KEPT KILLING. NOT BECAUSE IT WOULDN'T END, BUT BECAUSE HE COULD NOT STOP. BUT THE CRUELEST TRUTH? THESE LESSONS DO NOT LEAD TO FREEDOM. THEY FORM A CIRCLE. EVEN WHEN THE WELL IS DESTROYED. EVEN WHEN THE ICON OF SIN FALLS. THE DOOM SLAYER DOES NOT WIN. HE ENDURES. IF THE ONLY LIFE YOU KNOW IS WAR, WHAT HAPPENS WHEN YOU FINALLY WIN? PERHAPS THAT'S THE REAL PROPHECY. NOT OF SALVATION, BUT OF WAITING. WAITING FOR THE BREACH. WAITING FOR THE NEXT HUNT. AND WHEN THE LAST DEMON FALLS AND THE LAST GATES CLOSE, HE WILL STILL BE THERE, STANDING IN THE SILENCE, WATCHING THE HORIZON. SOME HEROES ARE REMEMBERED BY THE WORLDS THEY SAVE. THE DOOM SLAYER IS REMEMBERED FOR THE WAR HE COULD NEVER ESCAPE. AND MAYBE THAT'S A MIRROR FOR US. BECAUSE NOT ALL BATTLES ARE FOUGHT WITH A SUPER SHOTGUN. SOME ARE FOUGHT IN BOARDROOMS, CLASSROOMS, OR IN THE QUIET MOMENTS WHEN NO ONE ELSE SEES THE STRUGGLE. THE SLAYER'S STORY WARNS US THAT RESILIENCE WITHOUT REST BECOMES EXHAUSTION. YOU CAN'T FIGHT FOREVER WITHOUT BREAKING. NO ONE TO LAY YOUR WEAPONS DOWN, WHETHER THEY'RE WORDS, WORK, OR WORRY. SACRIFICE WITHOUT BOUNDARIES ERASES IDENTITY. PROTECTING OTHERS MATTERS, BUT SO DOES PROTECTING WHO YOU ARE. DON'T LET YOUR CAUSE CONSUME YOUR NAME, YOUR JOY, YOUR HUMANITY. WRATH WITHOUT REFLECTION BREEDS EMPTINESS. ANGER CAN PUSH YOU FORWARD, BUT IT CAN ALSO CHAIN YOU TO THE PAST. IF ALL YOU LIVE FOR IS TO FIGHT, WHAT HAPPENS WHEN THE FIGHT IS OVER? WE MIGHT NOT BE BATTLING THE HORDES OF HELL, BUT EVERY ONE OF US CARRIES SOMETHING WE'RE FIGHTING. FEAR. LOSS. INJUSTICE. DOUBT. AND LIKE THE SLAYER, WE CAN BE RELENTLESS. BUT WE CAN ALSO CHOOSE TO STEP BACK. TO BREATHE. TO REMEMBER THAT THE POINT OF BATTLE IS THE LIFE YOU LIVE AFTERWARDS. BECAUSE THE TRUE CURSE ISN'T THE WAR. IT'S FORGETTING WHY YOU FOUGHT IN THE FIRST PLACE. THANK YOU FOR WALKING WITH US THROUGH THE RAGE, THE RUIN, AND THE UNDENDING WAR OF THE DOOM SLAYER. ONCE THERE WAS A MAN. A HERO WHO FOUGHT FOR HIS PEOPLE. HE KNEW LOVE, LAUGHTER, AND PEACE. BUT WHEN HELL CAME, IT DIDN'T JUST KILL HIS WORLD. IT BURNED AWAY THE MAN ENTIRELY, LEAVING ONLY THE ARMOR AND THE RAGE INSIDE. FROM THE FALL OF ARGENT D'NUR TO THE SHATTERED PLAINS OF MARS, HE HUNTED WITHOUT REST. EVERY DEMON SLAIN WAS ANOTHER STEP DEEPER INTO THE ABYSS. AND SOMEWHERE ALONG THE WAY, HE STOPPED LOOKING FOR THE WAY BACK OUT. HE BECAME THE WAR. THE ENDLESS FIGHT WAS NO LONGER HIS BURDEN, IT WAS HIS IDENTITY. THAT'S THE CURSE OF THE SLAYER. EVERY VICTORY ONLY PROMISES ANOTHER BATTLE. EVERY WORLD SAVED COMES WITH ANOTHER THAT NEEDS SAVING. AND WHEN YOU'VE BUILT YOUR ENTIRE EXISTENCE ON THE WAR, WHAT'S LEFT WHEN IT'S OVER? MAYBE THERE'S NO ENDING FOR THE DOOM SLAYER. NO PEACE. NO HOME. JUST AN EMPTY BATTLEFIELD AND THE SOUND OF HIS OWN HEARTBEAT IN THE ARMOR. AND HERE'S WHERE WE NEED TO LISTEN. BECAUSE THIS ISN'T JUST A STORY ABOUT DEMONS. IT'S A WARNING. YOU CAN FIGHT FOR WHAT MATTERS WITHOUT BECOMING NOTHING BUT THE FIGHT. YOU CAN STAND AGAINST THE DARKNESS WITHOUT LETTING IT DEFINE YOU. BECAUSE IF YOU GIVE EVERYTHING AND FORGET WHO YOU ARE, YOU'LL WIN THE WAR, BUT LOSE YOURSELF. SO FIGHT WHEN YOU MUST. REMEMBER WHEN YOU CAN. PROTECT WHAT YOU LOVE. BUT HOLD ONTO THE PERSON YOU WERE BEFORE THE BATTLE BEGAN. BECAUSE IF THE SLAYER TEACHES US ANYTHING, IT'S THIS. VICTORY CAN BE ITS OWN KIND OF HELL. AND WITH THAT, STAY VIGILANT, STAY STRONG, AND AS ALWAYS, STAY HANDSOME. AND REMEMBER, HELL DOESN'T FEAR DEATH, IT FEARS THE ONE WHO BRINGS IT.