Foster's body was in tatters. Every breath tore a searing pain from his ribcage. His muscles screamed in agony, his bones seemed ready to give way under the strain. But he couldn't stop. Not while this creature was still breathing.
Opposite him, the general of Hell staggered, his armor shattered, his flesh stained with gaping wounds from which trickled dark blood. But he was still smiling. A hideous grin, dripping with pride and defiance.
- You really think... you can finish me off?
His voice, once full of arrogance, wavered under the effect of pain. Yet he refused to bend. His claws, still sticky with Foster's blood, clenched, and an evil shudder ran through his emaciated body.
Foster didn't reply. There was nothing left to say. Just steel, rage and death.
