He was a hardworking college student, taking part-time jobs with dedication to finish his course and hopefully, one day escape poverty.
"Big bro!" his 5-year-old sister clung onto his legs while giving off an adorable expression. "Can I borrow your phone?"
Additionally, another reason he's working himself to the bone is to provide for his little sister, who is taking on the role of their absent parents.
Their parents weren't on good terms and argued from dusk till dawn. Eventually, they fell out of love and separated, leaving their two children to fend for themselves. As difficult as that sounds, the older brother knew his responsibility, and so, he took a part-time job as a cashier at 7/11.
The cashier was in the kitchen of their rented apartment, cooking a pancake for their breakfast when his younger sister asked for his phone.
Her eyes were glittering and it was irresistible. That cute expression is a knockout punch, so he reached into his pocket and handed over his phone with a genuine grin.
After that, he turned the stove off and plated the pancakes, promptly asking, "Do you want honey this time, or chocolate?"
"Chocolate!" she exclaimed.
Her pitched tone spreads the smile on his lips wider, and he couldn't help but giggle, "Got it."
With the phone tightly clutched in her hand, she struggled to climb up the chair. But with the use of her limbs like a spider, she prevailed and made it atop the kitchen table.
It didn't take long for the news to start playing, and his older brother instantly recognized what the news was about.
After coating the pancake with her younger sister's requested syrup, he went over to the table and dined with her followed by "That again… It's really odd for someone your age to be into the news, Natalie; let alone be addicted."
"I'm not watching the news, big bro Nathan," she replied without her eyes leaving the phone. "I'm watching Wolf! He's very cool!"
Nathan could feel the fondness in her tone as she recited that last line.
"Really? Then what about the people he killed?"
"What people?" Natalie then grabbed the fork and stabbed the pancake right down the middle before packing it in her mouth.
"He'sh naf tht baf," she mumbled. (He's not that bad.)
Gentle laughter sounded like a nostalgic harmony inside that big old kitchen. It was a shard of the cashier's memory as he found death before his eyes.
He blinked into reality, confronted by the barrel of a loaded gun.
"Big bro…" a faint voice echoed in his ears as he felt dreamy with his sore, numbing body. "…make it back home, okay."
It was a line he heard every day when he went to college or work. For him, it was a clichéd remark from his younger sister. It never quite resonated until now. Concealed within those words was an unspoken plea, "Don't get tired of me." Whenever her older brother went beyond the doorstep, Natalie always broke into a relapse, fearing that her brother might perceive her as a burden and ultimately abandon her, just as their parents did.
Little did she know that her brother cherished her more than she could fathom.
That's the exact reason why he doesn't engage in any fight; because if he gets hurt, no one will cook for Natalie… No one will drop her to school, no one will read her to sleep, no one will replace his duty as an older brother.
For that reason, he refuses to die.
With his lacerated knees lying amidst the wrecked counter of the shop, his head lowered on the neck-level, begging "Don't shoot," as he held his tears. "I have to make it back home."
Wolf, who was still unable to rise due to the countless wounds on his body, did not put away the gun despite the cashier's voice crippling in despair.
"I have a sister," the cashier's voice cracked. "She's all I have and all she has is me. I can't die yet."
As the colorless black eyes of Wolf behold the cashier's sympathetic state, Wolf pretended not to notice the cashier's missing left arm by simply not making a move.
"Because of her, I grew to believe that the person behind Wolf's mask is not evil. Because of her, I want to keep livi-"
*Bang*
It goes without saying that when humans are confronted with a life-threatening situation, like when being held at gunpoint, they tend to instinctively 'introduce themselves.'
The context is similar to why pufferfish inflate when sensing danger, birds fly away when approached, and chameleons camouflage upon seeing a predator; it's a survival instinct, in which case, for humans, it is wired into their head as an unconscious response. A desperate plea to evoke the conscience of the one holding the gun.
Humans illustrate themselves to trigger the slightest shred of sympathy. They tell the aggressor their name, status, then follow it with a plea as they hang in the thread of getting spared. They suppose it will make it harder to be erased if the one holding their life knows them, because by doing so, it will make them something more than just a background character. It will make them a human being with a name.
Unfortunately for Nathan, the one holding the gun was Wolf.
With a bullet inside Nathan's skull, he fell dead on his back with his eyes, which turned purple, still agape. His skin paled in seconds, and his body was abnormally bulging despite being deceased. His corpse is actively contorting due to the archdemon's curse, fortunately, it was to no avail as the magic-imbued bullet in his skull repels the demonic curse.
~~~~~~~~~~
Under the dark sky of that evening, as the city howled in terror, Ermit stood at the heap of cursed demons' carnage lying slaughtered on the cemented pathway in front of the campus' entrance gate.
Ermit single-handedly faced the summoned army of the archdemon, emerging victorious without a scratch. Yet, he knew the true battle was imminent.
His katana glistened with purple ichor as he confidently tread upon the river of demon blood on his feet, heading toward the city echoing with chaotic screams.
Each step he took, his gait became faster, until it reached the pace of sprinting. He passed by Victor and a handful of DH from Twilight guild engaging in a battle against the same type of demons he just took down.
In just a glance, Ermit could tell that the DH are taking the upper hand. And as he dashed across the battlefield, he cleaved several demons in one slash as he bolted towards the city.
Mesmerised by the incredible smooth movements, the lower-ranking DH can only mumble in amazement, "He slayed the demons as if he were a train running over them. So that's the level of an S-rank DH."
No normal archdemon can manipulate the time of the day, Ermit was mindful of that fact. What they are dealing with cannot be compared with the 13 archdemons Ermit vanquished in his past accomplishments. This particular archdemon does in fact possess a herculean prowess.
By the time Ermit arrived at the city, nearly half of the citizens had already evacuated, and it didn't take an extra second for him to confirm the ominous danger this archdemon posed.
The ground quivered beneath Ermit's feet, heavily shaking periodically as if something humongous was coming.
A headless golem comparable in height to 12-storey buildings in the city, lurched in the middle of the road, trampling over the abandoned vehicles, and humans who fell behind as well.
Its ancient marble structure was scarred with moss and cracks, its form moving slowly with four limbs making the back hunched, and mounted on the golem's empty head, was the winged archdemon wearing a nasty grin.