The Truth

[Warning: Mild Gore and Graphic Violence Scenes Ahead. Please tread with caution.]

Thump!

It was at that moment that his instincts kicked in. Ethan ducked and rolled over to the side, missing the huge shadow's sharp maws by a mere breadth away.

He felt like his heart was about to explode, his back sweating buckets. Still, he didn't let that sense of panic hold him back.

Recovering to his feet, Ethan quickly retreated a safe distance away from the spawn who had sneakily ambushed him early on, facing the spawn with a much calmer expression.

Upon one glance, he recognized the spawn almost immediately. It was the exact Vernon he had accidentally set loose, noting the half-extracted ores dangling on its back.

A pathetic and wounded half-crippled monster in its last breath.

Ethan regained his confidence in that immediate second. Wasting no time, he entered his fighting stance, the sword on his waist unsheathed within the short exchange of one breath as he aimed the sharp blade against the spawn's most brittle skin.

Then, he paused, watching the spawn's each and every movement until…

He found that one careless opening, and that's all he needed.

With a swish, his figure sprung forward like a launched bullet, the grip on his sword tight and powerful as he swung his blade with maximum strength, slicing through the spawn's flesh from the shoulder down to the bosom. 

The piercing sound of breaking glass rang in the air as whatever's left of the ores completely shattered upon the impact, exploding into thousand pieces like thin glass plunged into boiling hot water.

The ground shook, the spawn's wrinkled corpse hitting the ground. It was not until the spawn's blood-red eyes entirely grew dim did Ethan release his breath.

The gratification from the clean kill was instantaneous, but he didn't let that small sense of satisfaction take over him and blind him from reality.

On the contrary, his caution heightened as he caught a slip of a movement from behind him.

Almost instantly, his back stiffened, the grip on his sword tightening as he slowly bent his padded knees, once again reentering his fighting stance.

One step, two steps…

He stood still in his position, ears perked up as he waited for the right momentum to strike.

Another heavy stomp was heard. A sharp glint flashed past his eyes as he turned around with a vicious grin.

That… was when his grip faltered.

A bead of cold sweat slid down the tip of his chin, landing on the cracked soil with a crisp mocking "plop!"

'What the hell is that?'

Ethan's once sharp and confident eyebrows twitched, his entire blood running cold.

Standing before him in all fours was a strangely-built Abyssal Spawn at least thrice the size of ordinary Vernons. Three eyes, iron skin, and most importantly, the ores embedded on its shell–a heart-chilling shade of ruby red.

This was the end. Ethan was almost sure of that. He would be utterly crushed once he came near that anomaly of a spawn.

He needed to flee from this place. He needed to inform the others and retreat with the team.

But then, he saw it. The nearly lifeless body of his comrade dangling on the irregular spawn's opening and closing sharp maws, its dripping saliva mixed with a tint of red.

'L-Leader… P-Please… save me…'

He didn't miss the slow movement of his comrade's shuddering pale lips, the dying man's bloodied eyes screaming despairingly for his help.

Ethan stepped forward. But only once, before backing down two steps after and turning around with his eyes shut in pain.

He could hear it. The crushing sounds of the man's bones and the snapping of his tendons.

He could almost envision it, so vividly as if he had seen them with his own two eyes. The twitching of the man's body as the monster peeled him out of his skin, the silent scream for mercy as he watched himself being crushed bit by bit.

The man was suffering inhumane pain and yet, he could do nothing about that.

Ethan knew, there's no point fighting a losing battle.

That was why, he didn't hesitate to do the only logical thing he could do at this point.

Even if it meant abandoning his own people…

Even if it meant living a loser's life…

He ran away, with not a head turned.

…

The stench of blood lingered thick in the air, the sorrowful wails of the fallen and defeated echoing from every corner of the battlefield.

Caught amidst the gradually thickening blood mist was the bruised and battered Ethan, who watched the horrible massacre in front of him with dim eyes. Blood streamed down the long cut on his right arm, his other arm staying limp against his side as he lowered his eyelids.

How did things end up this way?

Ethan stumbled forward, dragging his sword against the cracked ground. He just couldn't figure out what exactly went wrong.

Clearly, everything had been going well. Sure, the time was tight on them, but they had everything under control. The execution, their momentum, and even the unpredictable demon guide whose motive remained unknown.

Nothing had gone astray from what was initially planned. They had accounted for everything, so why? Why did things end up like this?

Ethan's two legs wobbled. He had not a strength left. He looked around the battlefield where his comrades, or whatever's left of them, struggled against the overwhelming tide of Vernons and Abyssal spawns in futile efforts.

A tear slid down his cheeks, his eyes red and stinging.

What had exactly gone wrong?

That was when his eyes caught the striking blur of a figure amongst the chaos.

Gleaming ginger hair that curled down to the waist, the cold glint beyond the fearsome mask of the devil that overlooked all sorrow like ants, and the flutter of her black robes that was without a speck of dust, what more of blood and pain.

Ethan creased his brows, his limbs suddenly fueled by unknown strength as he rushed forward, motioning a grab at her shoulder.

And as if he had finally grazed upon the truth behind their downfall, realization struck him like thunder, breathing rage into his skin.

"So it's you," he seethed out, the doubt in his voice nil. "You're the one behind all this."