Nickname：Scarred Butcher
Name：Norn

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Norn was born in a remote mountain village of Costa Rica, a place of barren soil and endless hardship. Yet even as a child, he bore a strength far beyond ordinary men—hoisting with one arm the logs that would burden many.

Norn lived with his parents, farming bananas in the hills—until a well-dressed stranger arrived with expensive gifts. After a private talk with Norn’s parents, the man took the bewildered boy to the United States. From that moment on, Norn would never again set foot on his homeland.

Only upon arriving in the United States did Norn learn the truth: he had been sold to an underground fight club. The stranger was a talent scout, and the club’s owner saw in Norn’s raw power the makings of a prizefighter. His parents had signed him away for a mere one thousand dollars.

The ring offered no mercy. Training was hell-forged—18 hours of drills, endless sparring under searing lights, and no reprieve. Without his freakish gift for recovery from pain and exhaustion, Norn would have perished like the other trainees—beaten to death, discarded as carrion for the strays.

Within a month, Norn fought over a hundred matches without a single loss. He even shattered the jaw of a former champion two weight classes above him—with one punch.

With each victory came money and cheers. Norn lost himself in the blood and glory of the ring. He was no longer the simple mountain boy, but the undefeated “Muscle Monster.”

But one final match ended it all. To promote a new fighter and rig the odds, Norn’s manager paid off the ref, allowing illegal moves. In the brutal, one-sided beatdown, Norn refused to quit—until his left shin, right arm, and both wrists were shattered. His career was finished in a pool of blood.

Worthless now, the club owner threw him out without a second thought. The once-celebrated champion became a homeless nobody. To survive, he took a job at a back-alley restaurant—butchering its “special meat.”

He soon learned the “special meat” came from Science Progressive Front labs—destroyed clones, bio-zombie remains, unfinished synthetic organs. Sometimes the heaps of flesh still twitched in the piles. Working daily with the dead, he’d been infected.

Norn still thinks like a human, but his body is rotting. Festering sores, sloughing skin, septic fevers—he’s in constant agony. With no cure in sight, he uses nails to stitch his wounds and iodine to slow the infection.

The relentless agony of disease, the excruciating pain of flesh torn and stitched, slowly eroded his sanity. His body swelled with suffering, every inch a torment. And all that despair and pain twisted into an unending hatred for the world—hatred for his parents’ betrayal, for the fight club’s schemes, for the restaurant owner’s cruelty.

At last, on the night the Juggernaut descended, Norn’s despair reached its breaking point.

He took a cleaver to his boss and began his revenge on the whole world.