Lyrics

From the blood-soaked earth, he rises,
A shadow in the dying light.
The wind whispers fear to the foolish,
For the hunter walks the night.

The storm is silent, the beast does not roar,
Yet death follows close, like the waves on the shore.
With claws unseen and eyes like the flame,
He strikes without mercy, without fear, without name!

No banner, no master, no chains to his will,
The land bends before him, the wild stands still.
A predator cloaked in the skin of a man,
The axe in his hand, the gods in his hand!

The trees whisper secrets, the rivers run red,
He does not speak, yet the weak know their end.
A ghost of the wild, an omen of wrath,
Through ruin and slaughter, he carves his own path!

The storm is silent, the beast does not roar,
Yet death follows close, like the waves on the shore.
With claws unseen and eyes like the flame,
He strikes without mercy, without fear, without name!

When the moon burns high and the air runs cold,
You will know his scent, you will feel his hold.
For the hunter does not chase—
The hunter waits.