Between the howls and wails, the screams and cries of women being raped, and the villagers being eaten and butchered like cattle, there was a middle-aged man who was desperately running away while yelling his lungs out.

''Why.... WHY!!! YOU ABSOLUTE FUCKERS!!!''

His clothes were in tatters and marred in blood, with his body being barely able to function. His state was simply beyond recognition.

As for where he was running to... It didn't matter... He just wanted to flee the hellish scene that was unfolding behind him.

His remote village, the one he had lived in his entire life, was now a fiery beacon illuminating the night.

''Whyyyyy areeeeeee youuuuuuuuuu runninnnnnnnnnnng awwaaayyyy froooooom usssssssss?''

Terrifying low growls and voices could be perceived behind him, and every time he heard them, his body released adrenaline to try to override its limits, but to no avail as his injuries were just too severe.

The humanoid creatures pursuing him were like shadows, barely distinguishable through the cover of the night.

Their eyes, akin to black holes, were fixed on their prey as it struggled for its pathetic life. Their faint and sinister giggles kept reverberating through the darkness...

The man would not stop running, not until he'd have escaped these nightmarish creatures.

Their appearances varied from one to another.

Some had crimson fur, while others had bones protruding from their backs. Several were running on four limbs like wolves, while others were comparable to ghouls.

However, there was one thing unifying their appearances : their teeth.

They all had rows that were similar to sharks with their pearly whiteness, tainted with fresh blood, terrorizing any soul who had the misfortune of seeing them for the last time.

Their long, acute claws also frightened whoever encountered them, often breaking their remaining bit of willpower. These creatures could only be described as the spawn of hell.

''STAY AWAY FROM ME!!! I'LL KILL YOU ALL!!!''

How did it come to this?! How?!

His thoughts were in utter chaos as he desperately tried to augment his pace, much to the detriment of his wretched body.

Derrick Tarlin, 37, was the abandoned son of a mercenary.

One could even say that his story was all too boring.

His mother had died while giving birth to him, thus causing his father to despise him and leave him behind. He was a classic case of someone who had been left for the world to deal with.

Fortunately, a great foster family had taken him in, providing anything he had ever needed. That was why he had shed no tears when learning, years later, of his father's passing.

He had just felt... nothing. Not a single ounce of sadness. After all, he had never interacted with him. Why should he be upset about a stranger's death?

And then time passed.

When it came to his childhood, it had been alright : nothing fancy, but nothing to complain about either. In retrospect, he could say it had been good times.

However, those seemingly always came to an end.

At the age of 12, his two foster parents, whom he considered to be his only relatives, caught an illness that led them to an early grave. He remembered the utter emptiness he had felt that day, finally realizing what he should have felt when learning of his father's death.

"What a terrible feeling..."

Fortuitously for him, they had left him everything they owned, which was a small plot of land at the village outer limits.

He had then lived a peaceful life, although mostly alone. He hadn't minded, as it suited his loner personality. He would occasionally lend a hand when his neighbors were in need, but nothing more.

With everything apparently coming to an end, he couldn't help but yearn for something different. Only in the face of death would someone be confronted with these sorts of regrets.

After his memories flashed through, his last bit of will vanished and caused him to stop running before turning around to face his pursuers.

His body gave out shortly afterward, making him fall to his knees and smother the wet grass beneath him.

His hectic breathing stabilized, becoming profound and raspy. Derrick's face, previously full of terror, looked tranquil.

This was it. The end of the road.

His inability and weakness was something he hadn't cared about before.

He had respected the soldiers training every day and hoping to be promoted, but he also pitied them. Why hurt yourself and hope for something that most would never be able to attain?

He now realized how wrong he'd been.

Of course, they were chasing after their goal of living a more comfortable life, but there was another, more meaningful reason.

It was a job that allowed them to fight back, to protect what was theirs.

A slight smile appeared on his unshaven face, causing his rough traits to become gentler.

Oh, regrets...

However, there were no do-overs in life. If there was, he would enjoy everything he had missed on, be it women, possessions, strength...

He wouldn't dare holding back.

Sadly, those were now the ramblings of a dying man. He at least found comfort in the fact that he had lived on his terms, a privilege some would never have.

The monsters surrounded him and cautiously observed the soon-to-be corpse.

''An interesting human.... It looks like he stopped begging for his life... Kekeke...''

The cackling and ghoul-like creature advanced from the encirclement and cautiously sized up Derrick. It then licked its black lips in anticipation of the feast that was about to come.

''You're quite right... My body's already gone past its limits, and I'm at death's door... It's pointless to run any further''

The creature's eyes turned into crescents, pleased by his answer.

Who didn't like a hand-delivered meal?

''Quite smart for a dying human... I'll make an exception. Any last words before we devour you?''

Derrick took in one last breath and looked at the hideous creature, staring at it with a gaze full of hatred and contempt.

His previously calm smile had also transformed into an extremely wicked and vicious one.

''I'll be waiting on the other side... And when we meet again... We'll see who hunts who... hahahaHAHAHAHA.... ughhh!!!''

As blood rushed up his throat and leaked at the corners of his mouth, his sinister appearance aggravated to where he resembled a devil.

During his maniacal laugh, his punctured lungs had finally given out, causing his whole body to collapse on the ground and dyeing it a scarlet shade.

His mind went blank, while his consciousness left his battered body.

***

After what appeared to be a few minutes, he suddenly woke up.

He was startled at first, but he soon realized that he had indeed died.

Everything around him was black, without an ounce of life in sight.

He was basically a spirit floating in the absolute void.

''So this is what happens when you die... You just drift in darkness... That's actually underwhelming. I wonder if I'll just fade away''

When Derrick's thoughts started to drift, a prompt appeared in front of him.

[Welcome to System Nemesis, Derrick Tarlin]

[Would you like to seek revenge? Yes/No]