Between the constant howls and wails, the screams and cries of women being raped, and the despairing pleas of those being eaten alive, ran a middle-aged man whose hoarse shouts aimlessly drifted into the night.
''Why… WHY, YOU ABSOLUTE FUCKERS!!!''
His mind was a mess, as much in disarray as it had ever been, while his clothes were tattered and bloodied, a grim reflection of his now unrecognizable and wretched body.
As for where he was running to, it didn't matter…
He just wanted to flee…
Flee from the hellscape that was unfolding behind him, as his remote village, the one he had called home since birth, transformed into a fiery beacon.
''Whyyyyy areeeeeee youuuuuuuuuu runninnnnnnnnnnng awwaaayyyy froooooom usssssssss?''
Terrifying, guttural voices randomly echoed behind him, their primal and predatory nature forcing his body to release even more adrenaline, its survival instincts going into overdrive. But unfortunately, and much to his dismay, it wasn't able to overcome its increasingly severe injuries, with fatigue even beginning to overtake him, its embrace a warm blanket threatening his escape.
One step at a time, he thought… He just needed to go… One. Step. At. A. Time!
Maybe then, and only then, could he live.
His pursuers were, from what he had hurriedly seen, humanoid creatures akin to shadows, their forms barely distinguishable from the surrounding and heavy darkness. Their eyes, like night itself, were also relentlessly locked onto him, their struggling and pathetic prey, with their faint and sinister giggles carried farther by the glacial air.
But despite his breath continuously shortening, he did not stop running. No, he just couldn't, not until he was far, far away from these murderous demons.
As for their appearance, it greatly varied from one another.
Some had crimson fur, while others had bones protruding from their backs. Several ran on four limbs like wolves, while others ran like hunchbacks.
But despite these stark differences, they all shared one chilling trait: their mouths.
All of them were filled with shark-like rows of teeth whose pearly whiteness would haunt those unfortunate enough to witness them.
But this wasn't enough… No, their long, acute claws also complimented this courage-shattering portrait, the finishing touch on the masterpiece that'd rob their preys of their last shred of dignity.
They were, from all accounts, the spawn of hell.
''STAY AWAY FROM ME!!! I'LL KILL YOU ALL!!!''
How did it come to this?! HOW?!
His thoughts were in utter chaos as he desperately tried to run faster, much to the detriment of his failing body.
After all, the 33-year-old Derrick Tarlin was but the abandoned son of a mercenary, one whose story was all too familiar in these parts. His mother, a commoner, had died whilst giving birth to him, thus earning him the scorn and hatred of his father, who subsequently threw him away.
It was so cliché that he had found it all to be too absurd, a classic case of someone left for the world to deal with.
Fortunately, a great foster family had taken him in, raising him earnestly and providing for all his needs. This was why he had shed no tears when learning, a few years later, of his father's passing, the drunkard ultimately stabbed in a bar brawl.
In fact, he had felt… nothing. Not a single ounce of sadness. It had just been the anecdote of a stranger's untimely, and perhaps deserved, death…
And then, time passed.
His childhood had been alright: nothing fancy, but nothing to complain about either. In retrospect, he could even say that it had been great. But as elders liked to say, good times always came to an end.
At the age of 12, his two foster parents, whom he then considered his only family, caught a fatal, but swift, illness. He remembered the utter emptiness he had felt on that fateful day, finally realizing what true suffering really was when losing your loved ones.
Fortuitously, they had left him everything they owned, which was summed up by a small plot of land at the village's outer limits. There, he had picked himself back up before living a peaceful life, although mostly alone. He hadn't minded, though, since it suited his individualistic and now resourceful character, although not to the point where he wouldn't lend a hand to struggling neighbors.
But now, with everything crashing down, he couldn't help but yearn for something different. Only in the face of death, he thought, would someone be confronted with such regrets.
After this slew of memories concluded, his last bit of willpower vanished, leading his legs to stop moving as he instead turned to face his pursuers.
This was it. The end of the road.
Shortly after, they completely gave out, making him fall to his knees as he smothered the cold, wet grass beneath him.
His ears also found peace at last, as his hectic breathing stabilized, its sound now profound and raspy. He could feel it, his expression turning serene.
Was this… all he amounted to?
His inability and weakness were things he hadn't cared about before. In fact, he was a big fan of soldiers and their training regimen, their devotion to the cause always equal to their hunger for the next promotion.
But deep down, he had also pitied them. Why hurt yourself and hope for something most would never attain?
But this question, he now realized, couldn't have been more misguided.
They were of course chasing after their goal of living a more comfortable life, but there was another, deeper and more meaningful, reason. It was a job that allowed them to fight back, to protect what was theirs.
This was the true essence of a soldier: to fight and protect something greater than yourself.
A slight smile appeared on his unshaven face, softening his rough traits.
Oh, regrets…
However, there were no do-overs in life. If there was, he would enjoy everything he had missed out on, be it women, possessions, strength…
He wouldn't dare hold back. After all, what was the point of surviving if not for enjoying life?
But sadly, those were now the ramblings of a dying man…
During these musings, the monsters had surrounded him, cautiously observing the soon-to-be corpse.
''An interesting human…. Looks like he's stopped begging for his life, kekeke…''
The cackling and ghoul-like creature, the apparent leader of the group, then advanced from the encirclement while sizing him up, its black lips twitching in anticipation.
"Eh… My body's already broken, and I'm at death's door… It's pointless to run any longer…"
The creature's eyes turned into crescents, seemingly pleased by his answer.
"Quite smart for a dying human… I'll make an exception: Any last words before we devour you?"
Derrick took in one last breath before staring at the hideous creature, his previously serene gaze now full of hatred and contempt.
''I'll be waiting on the other side… And when we meet again… We'll see who hunts who… hahahaHAHAHAHA…. Ughhh!!!''
This was his last stand, the final grievance he'd shout before going to the other side. If only he had been better, more capable…
Immediately, blood rushed up his throat, its volume too great to contain as it began to leak from the corners of his mouth, making him look like a fallen devil. His culminating and maniacal laugh also led to his punctured lungs finally giving out, his body subsequently collapsing and dyeing the ground a scarlet shade.
His mind went blank shortly after, with his consciousness finally deciding to leave behind its broken shell…
⁂
Anguish… Despair… Anger…
These were all emotions tormenting Derrick, his soul embroiled in a fight against itself.
Hadn't he accepted his death? But then, why was he still suffering? After all, he remembered his face against the grass while letting out his last breath…
It had already ended… It had to.
But he could still hear their cackles, the cries for help from his neighbors… He could still see their shapes, their appearances, their… smiles.
But the worst was the extreme cowardice he had felt during the attack, as he decided to flee while witnessing children getting eviscerated alive, their parents already beheaded without as much as a struggle.
Their petrified eyes, their will to live… But their pleas couldn't, as genuine and desperate as they were, prevent him from running away, his brain locking away his self-conscious in a deep and dark room.
These atrocious and vicious visions decided to keep playing in a loop, driving him ever so closer to the edge of complete madness.
Guilt… Guilt… Guilt…
This was the only thing he felt after each episode, their expressions now completely seared into his mind.
But just as he was about to fall off the precipice, he suddenly woke up.
Startled, panicked and out of breath, he soon settled down as he realized that he had indeed died, since everything around him was lifeless and pitch black, his remaining self a likely spirit floating in the absolute void.
''So this is what happens when you die… You just drift into darkness. That's actually quite underwhelming, but I'm glad it's over. I wonder if I'll just… fade away.''
But as if hearing his complaint, a prompt suddenly appeared before him.
[You've been caught in the
[Welcome to
[Would you like to seek revenge?
''Ah?! What is this? Have I finally gone crazy?!''
Derrick looked at the prompt with stupor, unsure of how to proceed. He couldn't grab it, nor could he make it disappear, its glow the sole light in this never-ending hell.
*BEEP*
[Would you like to seek revenge?