Damian crouched, his chest heaving as he surveyed the wreckage before him. The village lay in ruins—homes reduced to ash, bodies scattered like broken dolls. A few smoldering embers were all that remained of what had once been a peaceful place. The stillness in the air felt oppressive, a bitter reminder of the violence that had unfolded here.

The Hell Brutes had come through—destructive, mindless beasts. They left nothing in their wake but despair.

Damian wiped the blood from his brow and flexed his fingers around the hilt of his sword. His body ached from the battle he'd just fought. It had been brutal, draining. Hell Brutes were no easy fight. They weren't the smartest demons, but they were power incarnate, capable of causing carnage with nothing but their strength and rage.

But even with their ferocity, Damian was still standing. He had to be.

The distant sound of heavy footsteps reached his ears. Another Brute. No. Two.

He didn't waste time. His eyes narrowed, his muscles tensed as he scanned the landscape. The demon's scent hit him before he even saw them—a rancid, burning stench, like rotting flesh mixed with sulfur. The two Hell Brutes lumbered toward him, their hulking forms moving through the smoke and fire. Their eyes, glowing like molten coals, locked onto him instantly.

Damian's grip tightened. He wasn't going to let them destroy any more lives.

The first Brute charged, its massive claws swiping through the air with terrifying speed. Damian reacted on pure instinct, rolling to the side as the claws scraped against the earth where he'd been standing just moments before. The ground split with a deafening crack, the Brute's power almost too much for the earth to bear.

He didn't hesitate. Damian's sword was already in motion, slashing upward to strike at the demon's exposed side. The blade sank deep into the Brute's thick hide with a sickening squelch. The demon howled, but it barely flinched. It swiped back with its other arm, forcing Damian to duck and dodge, his heart pounding with the adrenaline.

The second Brute was closing in, moving at a slower, more deliberate pace, but that only made it more dangerous. Damian rolled away from the first Brute, using his momentum to keep his distance as the second one closed in.

He wasn't going to last much longer like this. Every dodge and parry drained him, sapping his energy. But he couldn't stop. He couldn't afford to. Not while there were still people left to protect.

The first Brute roared again, slamming its fists into the ground with enough force to shake the very earth beneath Damian's feet. He managed to jump back, but the shockwave knocked him off balance, sending him crashing to the ground. His sword slipped from his grip, clattering against the rocks.

The Brute loomed over him, claws raised, ready to deliver the fatal blow. Damian's mind raced. His sword was too far away, and his body was screaming for rest. But there was no time. No time for hesitation.

With a grunt of effort, he pushed himself to his feet, his legs shaky but strong enough to carry him. He launched himself at the Brute, grabbing its extended arm and using it to propel himself upward. With a swift movement, he twisted and slammed his knee into the creature's face, disorienting it. The Brute stumbled backward, giving Damian just enough room to retrieve his sword.

He moved quickly, striking before the Brute could recover. The sword cut through the air with a flash, and he drove it deep into the Brute's throat. The creature let out a low growl, blood spurting from the wound, but it still wasn't enough. The demon staggered, roaring with defiance, but Damian didn't stop. He twisted the blade, plunging it deeper into the creature's heart, finally bringing it down with a sickening thud.

But the second Brute wasn't finished. It was already upon him.

Damian barely had time to recover as the demon swung its massive claw toward him. The blow caught him in the side, sending him crashing to the ground. His breath was knocked from his chest, pain flaring through his ribs, but he couldn't afford to stay down.

He gritted his teeth, forcing himself to stand. The Brute towered over him, its eyes burning with malice. He knew he couldn't take another hit like that.

Damian wasn't fast enough to dodge the next swing. The Brute's claws cut across his chest, tearing through his coat and drawing blood. He grimaced but didn't flinch. He was too close. Too close to finishing this.

With a roar, Damian surged forward, catching the Brute's arm and using its momentum to flip over its shoulder. He landed behind it, just out of reach of its claws. Without wasting a second, he drove his sword into the back of the Brute's skull, using every ounce of strength to force the blade deep.

The demon howled once, its body shaking, then collapsed to the ground with a final, guttural thud.

Damian stood over the two fallen demons, panting heavily. His chest heaved with the effort, his blood mixing with theirs as it pooled around his boots. His body ached, every muscle screaming at him to stop. But he couldn't. Not yet.

The village was silent now, the fire beginning to die down. There would be no more screams tonight—only the weight of the aftermath. Damian wiped the blood from his sword, sheathing it with slow, deliberate movements.

The demons were dead. But the war would continue. It always did.

Damian's chest heaved with each ragged breath, the echo of battle ringing in his ears. The pungent scent of sulfur and charred flesh lingered in the air, but he didn't have the luxury of time to focus on the aftermath. The Hell Brutes, monstrous, hulking figures with skin like blackened stone, were only the beginning. His instincts screamed that something more was coming, something far more dangerous. The wreckage of the village around him lay in ruin, but it didn't matter. The real battle was still unfolding.

The ground beneath him rumbled once more, this time with more intensity. Damian's hand instinctively tightened around his sword hilt, his fingers burning with the faint crackle of Grace that ran through him. He had fought many battles, but this—this felt different.

The Hell Brutes had been a distraction. But for what?

Damian's muscles coiled in preparation, his body twitching like a bowstring pulled tight, waiting for the next strike.

Then he heard it. The unmistakable sound of something massive moving through the smoke and debris. The air shifted, and a low growl reverberated from the direction of the sound.

His blood ran cold. It wasn't just one. There were more.

From the smoke emerged two more Hell Brutes, their bodies thick with muscle and their eyes burning with a savage, animalistic rage. These demons were an ugly, grotesque sight—huge and powerful, they seemed to have emerged straight from a nightmare. The first two had been tough, but this—this was going to be a different kind of hell.

Damian's hand tightened around the hilt of his sword. He didn't have time to waste on thinking about what had brought these monsters here. The only thing that mattered now was that he needed to finish them.

The first Brute lunged at him with a roar that shook the air. It swung a massive clawed fist, aimed directly at his chest. Damian dodged with a fluid roll, feeling the rush of air as the claw missed by mere inches. He rose quickly, already closing the distance between him and the demon. His sword gleamed with the glow of his Grace as he swung it at the Brute's exposed side. The blade cut deep into its thick hide, but the demon only snarled, unfazed, and twisted, knocking Damian back with the force of its massive arm.

The impact sent him crashing into a ruined building, the walls crumbling beneath him. Pain shot through his body as rubble and debris rained down. He gritted his teeth, pushing through the pain, and pulled himself back to his feet. His head spun for a moment, but his instincts were sharp—there was no room for weakness in this fight. Not now.

The second Brute was already closing in. Damian's heart beat faster. He needed to end this quickly, before they could swarm him.

He staggered forward, moving to intercept the incoming demon. As it swung its clawed fists at him, he leapt into the air, twisting mid-flight to land behind it. His sword slashed through the air with deadly precision, carving into the Brute's thick neck.

The demon howled in agony, stumbling back as its blood spurted across the ground. It tried to turn toward him, but Damian was already on the move, using the momentum to strike again. He spun with his sword raised high and brought it down across the Brute's exposed back. The blade sank deep, and the demon collapsed, crashing to the ground with an earth-shattering thud.

But the first Brute was already back on its feet, furious, its red eyes burning with hatred. Damian's breath quickened. He couldn't afford another mistake.

As the Brute rushed at him, Damian dashed forward with a speed born of necessity. He needed to get in close, where the demon's massive size would be a disadvantage. He weaved through the monster's massive legs, feeling the heat radiating off its body, and with one swift strike, he buried his sword into its underbelly.

The Hell Brute let out a deafening roar, its body shaking violently as it tried to dislodge him. But Damian held on, twisting the blade, his teeth gritted in determination. His sword was infused with Grace, but even that wasn't enough to cut through the demon's unnatural resilience in a single strike. It would take more. Much more.

Damian wrenched his sword free, narrowly avoiding a retaliatory blow from the Brute's other claw. He pivoted, then swung his sword again, aiming for the demon's throat. The blade sank deep into its thick hide, and this time, the Brute didn't fight back. It let out a pitiful screech before collapsing onto its side, twitching in its death throes.

Breathing heavily, Damian staggered back, wiping the sweat from his brow. His body was covered in cuts and bruises, his blood mingling with the demon's as he took a moment to catch his breath. The battle had been hard, but it wasn't over.

The smoke clawed at my throat as I strode through the wreckage, my boots crunching against broken stone and ash. The village was silent now, save for the occasional crackle of a dying fire. The air stank of sulfur and rot—a Hell Brute's calling card.

I hated the quiet. Quiet meant death.

My fingers tightened around the hilt of my blade, its weight a familiar comfort. The Grace etched into its steel pulsed faintly, resonating with the power coursing through me. It was a reminder of who I was, what I'd become: a Warden, humanity's shield. Yet standing here, surrounded by the ruins of lives lost, I felt like anything but a savior.

I exhaled slowly, forcing my mind to steady. Regret and hesitation had no place here. Not now. Not ever.

The faint scrape of claws on stone snapped me out of my thoughts. I turned sharply, my eyes narrowing as a shadow shifted in the haze. A growl followed, low and guttural, like a predator savoring its prey.

"Come on, then," I muttered, raising my blade. "Let's get this over with."

The Hell Brute emerged from the smoke, its hulking form illuminated by the flickering flames around us. It stood taller than any man, its skin cracked and blackened like volcanic rock. Its glowing red eyes locked onto me, and for a moment, we simply stared at each other, predator and prey.

I didn't wait for it to make the first move. I surged forward, my boots kicking up ash as I closed the distance. My blade gleamed as I swung it in a wide arc, aiming for the demon's midsection.

It moved faster than I expected, its massive arm deflecting the blow with a sickening crunch. The force of the impact rattled up my arms, but I held my ground, gritting my teeth as the beast lashed out with its claws.

I ducked, the tips of its talons slicing through the air above me. Close. Too close.

The Brute roared in frustration, its other hand slamming down toward me. I rolled to the side, narrowly avoiding the blow, and rose to my feet in one fluid motion. My muscles burned, but adrenaline and Grace pushed me forward.

The Brute charged, its massive bulk barreling toward me like a living avalanche. I planted my feet and thrust my blade upward as it came within range, the edge slicing into its shoulder. Black ichor sprayed from the wound, the stench nearly overwhelming.

The demon howled, staggering back. I didn't give it a chance to recover. With a burst of energy, I leapt onto its back, driving my sword into the base of its neck. It bucked wildly, trying to throw me off, but I held on, twisting the blade deeper.

Its movements grew erratic, its strength faltering. I jumped clear just as it collapsed, the ground trembling beneath its weight.

One down.

I barely had time to catch my breath before the next one appeared.

It charged at me from the side, its clawed feet digging into the dirt as it sprinted. I turned to face it, bracing myself for the impact.

The blow came like a battering ram, its massive fist slamming into my raised blade. The force sent me skidding back, my boots leaving deep grooves in the ground. Pain shot through my arms, but I gritted my teeth and held firm.

The Brute snarled, its jaws snapping inches from my face. Its breath was hot and foul, like a furnace spewing decay. I shoved back with all my strength, creating just enough space to maneuver.

My blade flashed as I struck, carving into its chest. The demon recoiled, a guttural roar escaping its throat. I pressed the attack, my strikes precise and unrelenting. Each swing of my sword carried the weight of Grace, the power searing through the demon's corrupted flesh.

But it wasn't enough. Not yet.

The Brute lashed out with a desperate swipe, catching my side. Pain exploded through me as its claws tore through my armor, drawing blood. I staggered but didn't fall. Falling meant death.

"Is that all you've got?" I growled, forcing myself upright.

The demon roared in response, its rage boiling over. It charged again, but this time, I was ready. I sidestepped at the last moment, swinging my blade upward in a clean, calculated strike.

The sword found its mark, cleaving through the demon's neck. Its head toppled to the ground with a sickening thud, and its body followed moments later.

I stood over its corpse, my chest heaving. The pain in my side was sharp, but manageable. I'd had worse.

The battlefield fell silent once more. I scanned the area, my senses on high alert. The Brutes never traveled alone. There were always more.

Sure enough, the ground trembled beneath me.

I turned to see another figure emerge from the smoke, larger and more imposing than the last. Its claws glowed with an infernal energy, and its eyes burned with a cunning intelligence that sent a chill down my spine.

This one was different. Stronger. Smarter.

I tightened my grip on my blade, the faint hum of Grace coursing through it reassuring me.

"Just another beast," I muttered, though I wasn't entirely sure if the words were for the demon or myself.

The Brute snarled, its voice deep and guttural. "You fight well, human. But your strength will fail you soon."

I smirked, though it didn't reach my eyes. "We'll see about that."

And then it came at me, faster than anything that size had a right to move.

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