Between the howls and wails, the screams and cries of women being raped in plain sight, the sight of human flesh being sliced and eaten as if a delicacy, a middle-aged man was desperately running, yelling his lungs out.""Why.... WHY!!! YOU ABSOLUTE f.u.c.kERS!!!""
His clothes were tattered and soaked in blood, and his body was beyond recognition and barely holding on. He was trying to flee the h.e.l.lish scene that was occurring behind him. His remote village, the one in which he had lived in for his entire life, was now a beacon illuminating the night.
""Whyyyyy areeeeeee youuuuuuuuuu runninnnnnnnnnnng awwaaayyyy froooooom usssssssss?""
Terrifying low growls could be heard behind him. Mixed with his own panting, he could hardly order his lungs to keep functioning and his heart to keep pumping.
The humanoid creatures tailing him were acting like shadows, which were barely distinguishable. Their eyes, similar to black holes, were observing their prey struggling for its pathetic life.
Faint and sinister giggles were following him wherever he ran. Their appearance varied greatly. Some had a crimson fur, while others had bones protruding from their back. Several were running on four limbs like wolves and others had an anatomy similar to ghouls.
They had rows of teeth akin to sharks and their pearly whiteness, mixed with fresh blood, could terrorize any living soul.
Their long, acute claws inspired terror in whoever encountered them, often breaking their remaining bit of willpower. They could be described as the sp.a.w.n of h.e.l.l.
""STAY AWAY FROM ME!!! I"LL KILL YOU ALL!!!""
How did it come to all this?! How?! His thoughts were in utter chaos while trying to augment the pace of his wretched body.
Derrick Tarlin, 37, was the abandoned son of a soldier of fortune, and his mother had died giving birth to him. He often thought that it was that loss that made his father leave him.
When he reached his teens, he learned that his father had been killed in a bar while celebrating a completed mission. He had been raised by a good foster family, so he didn"t feel a single ounce of sadness. His biological father was basically a stranger.
His early childhood had been all right, but good times always came to an end.
At the age of 12, his two foster parents, which were his only relatives, caught an illness and died. They left him everything they owned, which was a small plot of land at the outskirts of the village.
He had lived a peaceful life, although mostly alone. It suited his loner personality a lot. He didn"t mind occasionally lending a hand when neighbors needed him, but he would never take the initiative.
Now that everything was coming to an end, he couldn"t help but yearn for something different. Only in the face of death would someone be confronted with his past choices.
After all his memories flashed through, his last bit of will vanished. He stopped running and turned around, facing his pursuers. His body couldn"t keep up anymore, and he fell to his knees, smothering the wet gra.s.s under him.
His hectic breathing finally stabilized and it became profound and raspy. His face, previously full of terror, looked serene after coming to the conclusion that this was the end of the road.
His inability and weakness was something he hadn"t cared about before. He respected soldiers that would train every day, hoping to be promoted, but he always pitied them deep down. Why hurt yourself and hope for something that most of them would never be able to reach?
He now realized that he was wrong. Of course, they were chasing after their goal and hoped to live a comfortable life, but there was another, more meaningful reason. It was a job that allowed them to fight back, to protect what was theirs.
A slight smile even appeared on his unshaven face. Oh, regrets... However, there were no do-overs in life. If there was, he would enjoy everything he had missed on, be it women, material possessions or strength. He wouldn"t dare hold back, but those were now the ramblings of a dying man.
The creatures surrounded him and cautiously observed the soon to be corpse.
""An interesting human.... It looks like he stopped begging for his life... he he he...""
The cackling ghoul-like creature started advancing from the encirclement, sizing up Derrick and licking its black lips in antic.i.p.ation of the feast that was about to come.
""You"re quite right... My body has already gone past its limits and I"m already at death"s door... It"s pointless to run further...""
The creature"s eyes turned into crescents, pleased by Derricks" answer. Who didn"t like a hand-delivered meal?
""Quite smart of a human facing death... I"ll even make an exception... Any last words before we devour you?""
Derrick took one last breath and looked at the hideous creature, staring at it with a gaze full of hatred and contempt. The slight smile he had before grew even larger, giving him a wicked appearance.
""I"ll be waiting on the other side... And when we meet... We"ll see who gets to eat who... hahahaHAHAHAHA.... ughhh!!!""
As blood rushed up his throat and leaked between his teeth, his sinister appearance aggravated to the point that he looked like demon.
After his maniacal laugh, his punctured lungs finally gave out, causing his whole body to collapse on the ground, dyeing it a scarlet shade. His mind went blank, while his consciousness started leaving his battered body.
***
After what appeared to be a few minutes, he suddenly woke up. He was startled at first, but realized that he had indeed died.
He had no body and everything around him was black, without an ounce of life. It was an absolute void.
""So this is what happens when you die... You just drift in darkness... That"s actually underwhelming... I wonder if I"ll just fade away into nothingness""
When Derrick"s thoughts were starting to drift, a prompt showed up in front of him.
[Welcome Derrick Tarlin! This is System : Nemesis]
[Would you like to take revenge? Yes/No]