Graves turned around slowly, craning his neck as his pupils dilated in pure horror. His legs grew tremendously weak. A better part of his home was in shambles, splinters of wood flying everywhere; he was incredibly lucky he hadn't been impaled by one.
Walking back toward the wreckage, he stretched out his hand to open the door, but there was no door left to open. The structure had been completely obliterated when the beast crashed through it. Stepping inside, he was greeted by a thick haze of smoke. He couldn't see much in the darkness, but the constant, violent muzzle flashes from the street brought rhythmic pulses of illumination. Coupled with the fires burning outside, he could see well enough.
Before he could advance any further, the distinct crunching of wood echoed from the shadows. Shakily, Graves tried to peek deeper into the room, knowing with absolute certainty that the devil was still inside. And his mom was too.
Crap...
What met his eyes was a horrific sight—one he would never, ever forget.
His already weakened limbs gave out completely, dropping him heavily onto his knees. His eyes widened, his brain physically unable to process the nightmare unfolding right in front of him. He was horrified, frozen, unsure of what emotion was even coursing through his veins anymore.
Before him stood an eight-foot-tall devil. It possessed multiple limbs—six arms in total, three on each side, with a razor-sharp claw at the end of every digit. Its legs resembled those of a mutated dog but tipped with elongated talons. Its chest had a hollow, gaping hole right through the center; if one looked closely, they could see straight through to the other side. Looking up at its face, it bore a human-like countenance, but it was more akin to a bare skull wrapped in thick, leathery skin. Its eyes glowed a manic red, filled with nothing but madness and hunger.
But what horrified Graves more wasn't the monster itself. It was what the devil was munching on.
His mother, who had been heavily sedated and sleeping, was literally being devoured. The devil had already eaten the better half of her body. Graves did not know how long he involuntarily closed his eyes, but when he forced them open again, the devil held his mother's head in its clawed hand. It stuffed it whole into its maw, loudly crushing it.
The devil turned its red eyes to look at Graves, then casually turned back to finish its meal.
By this time, Graves had finally come to his senses, fully realizing the reality of what was happening. Yet, he couldn't even move. He felt no rage, no terror—no will to live whatsoever. He just watched blankly as the beast consumed every last shred of his mother.
When the devil finally finished, it turned around to face him. Graves remained on his knees, his eyes completely hollow.
Why should he try to live? The very thing he struggled for, the sole anchor that pushed him to survive this hellhole, was gone. Why should he fight when his only purpose in life had been wiped out?
The devil raised its massive hand, baring its jarring, countless rows of teeth. Human flesh still hung loosely between them.
Graves stared up at the monster with no expression whatsoever. But just before the devil could bring its clawed hand down to split him open—
BANG!
The devil's head erupted from the back, a clean, gaping hole bursting through its skull. The massive beast crumpled to the ground, lifeless.
"Get the fuck up!" a voice shouted from the smoke outside.
It was a soldier, the one who had just executed the devil. Graves couldn't tell if the man was old or young because of the full-cover military combat helmet he wore.
"Uh...?" Graves uttered, trying to piece his shattered mind together just to form a coherent sentence.
The soldier looked at him, then peered deeper into the room. Seeing the absolute bloodbath on the floor, the trail of loose guts, and the splatter painting the walls, his gaze softened beneath his visor. He looked back down at the scrawny, white-haired kid before him, noticing he didn't have any real physical injuries.
It immediately dawned on the soldier that this skinny kid had just watched a devil eat someone he loved.
West had been pushing back the hordes of devils when he got aggressively separated from his unit. As a standard soldier, fighting a devil in solo close-quarters combat was the equivalent of jumping off a skyscraper—unless you were an A-class or S-class superhuman, which he absolutely was not. He had only survived this long by relying on ambushes, avoiding direct, prolonged confrontations at all costs.
While navigating back toward his squad using the digital map displayed on his forearm screen, he had heard a thunderous crash nearby. Snapping his head around, he caught a fleeting glimpse of a devil smashing into a residential shelter.
His first instinct was to run as far away as possible and try to snipe the beast from a safe distance. But when he took a second look through the haze, he spotted a skinny kid with white hair walking directly into the collapsing building.
Normally, NHF soldiers weren't obligated to risk their lives for the rats living outside the Great Wall. But for some inexplicable reason, West decided to check it out, telling himself that at the very first sign of danger, he would sprint away as fast as his legs could carry him.
Reaching the half-collapsed structure, he spotted the devil through the night-vision goggles attached to his helmet. The beast was actively sweeping its claw down to slaughter the kid. Without a second thought, West raised his rifle and squeezed the trigger, killing the monster instantly.
He silently praised his luck that it was just a D-class devil. If it had been anything higher, he would be a dead man right now.