A demon… he's definitely a demon!
Who else but a demon could forcibly drag someone's soul out of their body?
Sergei remembered the stories he'd heard as a child, demons fed on human souls. His face instantly twisted with terror, and he hurriedly turned to warn the others that the mysterious man before them was a demon.
"How… how did Mert die?!"
"No… no way… I was right next to Mert. I didn't see anyone attack him at all!"
"God… he was scared to death!"
"Heavens, could it really be a demon?"
Fear showed on every German soldier's face.
Mert had died silently and suddenly, without even a scream, eyes wide open in terror, as if frightened to death right there among them. No one had seen what happened. How could such an eerie scene not send chills through their hearts?
Listening to their shouts, Sergei's fear gave way to a flash of confusion.
It was clearly this man who had used a chain to rip Mert's soul from his body, so why did it seem like only he could see it?
Everyone's eyes were fixed on Mert's corpse. No one paid attention to the soul that had been dragged out. From this, Sergei realized that perhaps only he could see Mert's soul… and that strange golden chain.
"Ahhh!"
Mert's soul was still wailing, the sound shrill and unbearable.
Bound by the golden chain, Mert's skin looked as if it had been seared by red-hot iron, festering, bleeding, the flesh corroded and dissolved by the links. His whole form had become something like a hideous, wrathful ghost.
"Urgh… urgh…"
Sergei couldn't take it anymore. The ghastly sight and piercing screams churned his stomach until he vomited on the spot.
Everything unfolding before his eyes had long since shattered his understanding of the world, breaking the worldview he had built over decades.
"Everyone… run!" Sergei finally lost all restraint, pointing at the man and shouting, "He's… he's a demon! He used a chain to drag Mert's soul out! If we don't run, we're all going to die!"
Demon? Soul? Chain?
Sergei's almost crazed words did not bring alarm, they only drew looks of confusion.
Though the man's sudden appearance and his immunity to bullets were unsettling, that didn't mean they were ready to accept such absurd, mythical talk of demons and souls, things far beyond the bounds of reason.
Swish
The golden chain lashed out again, twisting through the air like a serpent.
Sergei saw it coming, and then an agonizing, searing pain erupted through him, skin and flesh feeling as though they were boiling alive. His scream was ragged and piercing as the chain yanked him forward.
One moment alive, the next moment lifeless.
The terror frozen on Sergei's face was all anyone needed to connect the dots, their comrades' deaths, one after another, were all tied to this mysterious man.
"Fire! Fire! Fire!"
Grunde's unease spiked, his trembling voice issuing the order.
He couldn't be certain whether this man was truly a demon, but with comrades dying in rapid succession, and with Sergei's dying warning still fresh, he knew that if they didn't kill this figure, none of them would leave alive.
Perhaps it was fear of the unknown that triggered their survival instincts, but everyone began pulling their triggers.
Ratatatatatata,
Muzzle flashes burst in the snow, and the forest rang with deafening gunfire.
The terrified soldiers poured every bullet they had into the figure before them, not caring about waste or the risk of alerting those damned Slavs, they could only think about killing this "demon."
"Shell, Blood-Seal Mode."
In the face of the barrage, the man raised his hand casually.
A hemispherical azure shield, like an upturned jade bowl, formed around him, covered in vein-like patterns the color of blood, spanning about five meters.
Everything that touched the shield was corroded and dissolved, bullets vanished without a ripple, as if swallowed by the sea.
"He's a demon… he really is a demon!"
"Sergei was right! Run!"
"We can't beat a demon… he'll kill us all!"
When something beyond human comprehension unfolds, panic becomes inevitable.
Guns can't kill a demon.
The demon will slaughter us all.
He's here to punish us.
These thoughts tore through the soldiers' minds. Their morale collapsed instantly, replaced only by fear.
"Ahhhh…"
A soldier screamed, threw down his weapon, and turned to flee frantically toward the edge of the forest.
Once someone took the lead, the rest instantly followed suit. The entire unit collapsed into a panicked rout, each man screaming in terror, running madly toward the forest's edge as if wishing their parents had given them two extra pairs of legs.
"Stop! All of you, stop! No one is allowed to run!"
Grund flew into a rage, firing his gun to execute fleeing soldiers.
But even this could not stop the tide of desertion. After all, compared to facing a devil, the Gestapo wasn't nearly as terrifying. Even being shot for desertion was better than having your soul dragged out by a demon.
"Trying to run?"
The man's brow arched slightly as he raised his hand and lashed out with the chain once more.
The golden chain split into dozens of strands in midair, each whipping up a howling gale as it chased down the fleeing soldiers, yanking every single one's soul straight from their body.
Only Grund was spared, his soul left untouched by the chains.
All the fleeing soldiers collapsed lifelessly into the snow, fear still frozen on their faces. Grund's pupils contracted violently at the sight. Unable to contain the terror any longer, he fell to the ground with a scream.
"Answer me one question."
The man walked slowly toward him, speaking in a calm, even tone. "Where is Schmidt and Hydra's base?"
Although Hydra belonged to Communist Party, the two organizations had different insignias. The German army's was the tilted swastika, while Hydra's was a skull with serpent-like tentacles. The chest badge worn by the man before him bore the latter symbol, hence the man's decision to spare him.
Gulp.
Grund's face turned as pale as a corpse. Swallowing hard, he realized this might be his chance, maybe he wouldn't have to die.
"If I tell you… will you let me go?"
"Heh, no need."
The man gave a cold chuckle, his eyes glinting. "Since you're unwilling to speak, I'll just see for myself."
He had merely been avoiding trouble by asking, not because he couldn't force the truth from him. If the man spoke willingly, it would save him the trouble of digging through countless fragments of memory within the soul to find the answer. But now… he would do it himself.
"No… no!!!"
Grund's soul was wrenched out of his body, as an overwhelming will surged directly into it.
Half a moment later, the man opened his eyes again.
In those deep blue irises flickered a streak of molten gold flame, and a nameless force surged around him like a roaring tide. It shook the land for dozens of kilometers, sending snowdrifts boiling into the air, while fierce gales howled through the mountains.
"Please… spare me…"
Grund's soul wept bitterly, his face twisted with remorse.
"I still have family… a daughter… they're waiting for me. Please, I beg you, let me go! I'm just an ordinary man, Schmidt forced me into all of this!"
"Your sins… are beyond forgiveness."
Golden flames danced in the man's eyes like molten lava, but his voice was cold as a bone-chilling wind.
"For crimes such as yours, the only road left leads to Hell. Go there… and repent well."
Rumble!
A terrifying, unholy aura surged upward, as black vapors poured from the ground.
The earth split into countless cracks, and from within the roiling darkness, a colossal gate rose. Shattered bones littered its surface, slick with a blood-red, eerie light. Two enormous skeletons, their forms bound in white wrappings, stood on either side of the portal.
The massive skeletal hands pulled the gate open with a heavy groan.
Inside, countless vengeful spirits screamed in agony. Twisted faces, distorted by endless torment, radiated a suffocating terror.
"No… no! I don't want to go to Hell!"
Grund screamed, crawling and running desperately for his life.
One step, two steps, three steps…
In the face of despair, the will to survive can overcome all obstacles.
He ran with astonishing speed, adrenaline flooding his veins. In that moment, he could have broken world sprinting records.
But once the Gate of Hell had been opened… how could it let a sinner escape?
A bone-white claw gripping a long blade shot out from the gate, slicing through trees and obstacles as if they were nothing, impaling Grund's fleeing soul with flawless precision.
"Ahhh!!!"
Grund's face twisted in agony as his flesh peeled away bit by bit.
The skeletal claw withdrew slowly, dragging him back toward the gate.
Countless vengeful spirits, like sharks scenting blood, pounced upon him, tearing at his soul in a frenzy.
"No… save me!"
"Ahhh… it hurts… no…!"
Amid Grund's endless screams, the Gate of Hell closed slowly.
In life, he had committed unforgivable crimes. Now, as a damned soul, he would remain in Hell forever, punished until his mind and soul were consumed, until nothing remained but an empty shell.