It was enraging; the sheer helplessness of his own wound, and unhelping was the scenery before him as he looked up with tears born of a mixture of agony and grief:
Demons crawled around the distant buildings, screeching out, crawling from the underbelly of the world as they burst through concrete.
This…is the end, he thought.
It wasn't just his fate he was considering–the sheer amount of deathly creatures of otherworldly forms birthing into the world with malicious intent was something beyond his imagination.
A few caught wind of him as he was knelt in the middle of the street, likely through the stench of burning blood that rose from his accursed wound.
Black-skinned, lanky humanoid demons crawled across the walls of the surrounding buildings, dragging their lengthy tongues against the air as they sought his flesh out.
A massive, minotaur-esque demon of sooty, brown fur stomped towards him, wielding a hammer forged of melded bones with a handle made out of spines.
