As the Devil's presence grew nearer, the air itself seemed to rebel — growing thinner, heavier, until each breath felt like inhaling smoke through a straw.
"W-what… what is this feeling? I feel like I'm suffocating… I—I can't breathe," Wal stammered, gasping, eyes wide with panic.
"That suffocating pressure? That means the A-Rank Devil is acknowledging us," the seasoned A-Rank adventurer said, his voice steady, but his eyes wary — like a man staring down a nightmare he thought he'd never face again.
"Oh? Then this is going to be fun," Lilith whispered with a smirk, though her fingers trembled ever so slightly around the hilt of her blade.
"We follow the plan," the A-Rank ordered, his voice a steel edge in the growing storm.
As the sun dipped below the horizon, painting the sky blood-orange, the atmosphere grew unbearably tense — air thinning with each second. Then it appeared. A silhouette not shaped by any natural law. It didn't walk so much as glide into view, a monstrous amalgamation of forms — grotesque and unnatural. Horns jutted where eyes should've been. Its back was riddled with hundreds of broken arrows, like the spines of a cursed porcupine. Claws, each the length of a man's arm, curled like sickles. And its legs — bent and hooved like some ancient pagan god.
Terror rooted me in place. My heart thundered in my chest, each beat screaming run, but my legs ignored the call. Even its aura — an invisible, crushing weight — made my vision blur. I was genuinely afraid I'd lose consciousness just standing there.
The A-Rank and the two B-Ranks didn't hesitate. They rushed in, blades drawn, spells primed. Brave. Or foolish.
Then the Devil moved — barely. One subtle flick of those massive claws cleaved the space between us. A thunderous slash erupted, tearing through the battlefield. In the blink of an eye, the two B-Ranks were dead, their bodies reduced to blood-slick smears. The A-Rank stumbled back, screaming, his arm severed, gushing crimson.
Before I could even react, the Devil was on him. It seized him by the hair like he was nothing — a puppet. The adventurer writhed, screamed, begged, but the monster just started twisting. I'll never forget the sound — that wet, snapping crunch as bone gave way. His head spun a grotesque 90 degrees, his face frozen in pure, unfiltered terror. He was dead before his knees hit the ground.
Then, slowly, the Devil turned its attention to me.
An eye — not in its skull, but emerging grotesquely from its cheek — opened and locked onto mine. It stared. It saw me.
And in that moment, I knew — death wasn't coming. It was already here.