As it locked eyes with me, I felt something ancient stir inside—an echo of dread, even in my crafted frame. I wanted to run, to flee into the blackness, but my legs wouldn't move. I was frozen. The other survivors stood rooted in place, paralyzed by terror, watching as the devil—a nightmare clad in flesh and ash—tore through the bodies of our fallen.
It didn't just kill. It mutilated.
With black claws like hooked blades, it ripped open the corpses with obscene glee, disemboweling them and pulling out organs in wet, slopping handfuls. It ate them raw—liver, heart, stomach—chewing slowly as blood ran down its chin. We could only watch, trembling, knowing a single movement would draw its wrath.
No one was coming for us. No heroes. No help. Only death.
I blinked—and it vanished.
The air fell silent.
Then suddenly, I was lifted from the ground.
It stood behind me, one hand wrapped around my neck. The devil's claws dug into my metal plating, and then—it began to crush.
The sound was unbearable. My neck didn't break—it buckled. Plates folded inward with a shrieking groan, compressed under impossible strength. The metal twisted as the pressure mounted.
Lilith collapsed, crying, begging for her life. Wal stood frozen in horror. The last support mage turned and ran—pure instinct.
The devil didn't even chase.
It simply extended a finger. The nail on its ring finger grew long and thin, like a stiletto, and launched through the air. It pierced the mage's skull from behind, exited through his mouth, and left him alive—convulsing, gurgling, twitching in agony.
It wanted him to suffer.
Its attention shifted back to me. Its breath was rancid—hot, sulfuric, full of rot.
"You're not human, are you?" it hissed.
The voice was a cacophony of razors and bile. Every word scraped against my ears like broken glass across iron.
The metal in my neck folded further, collapsing under its grip with a deafening screech.
Wal finally snapped out of his trance and charged. He swung with everything he had—but the devil punched him once. Wal tried to block with his arm.
The blow shattered it.
Bone split through flesh. His forearm bent backwards at a grotesque angle, blood spraying in pulsing bursts. He hit the ground, howling.
"Do you people have a death wish?" the devil spat.
Wal writhed in pain. Lilith lay broken. My metal neck was seconds from folding entirely.
There was no escape.
Only the silence before the scream.