[The Host is DEAD]
"Total Annihilation" Shouted the red haired boy while slashing both his swords at the same time.
Two huge sword energies, one green and one red, were released from the swords in a cross form which was as huge as a whole building, a 30 ft tall attack hit the both demon lords and they were heavily injured to the near death state, they quickly left the battlefield with a teleportation device to save their own skin.
"We must deal with him as soon as possible or else he will be become a huge threat to everyone, his abilities are already beyond our imagination."
The boy directed his anger on the army which was abandoned by their leaders, he instructed his own army to not move a single step.
"I will deal with them myself, no need to interfere", he said while looking at a dead body in a distance.
And no one can imagine what happened at that battlefield that day, even his own army shivered at the sight, while some were enjoying to see their master's powers, some pitied the people fighting their master.
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Clank.... Clank.....swrrr....
But then, darkness descended. The vision fractured, leaving Montu adrift in a sea of confusion. Who was this boy? Was he…? The questions remained unanswered, swallowed by the encroaching silence.
A clang of metal against metal jolted him back to his grim reality.
Montu lost his consciousness from the wounds and trauma, but this shouldn't have happened as he was a zombie.
Montu regained his consciousness, and faintly saw that the hobgoblin was fighting a few people.
He couldn't actually grasp the situation he was in. He blinked his eyes a few times, until he was able to see the sight in front of his eyes clearly
His vision, slowly clarifying to reveal the hobgoblin locked in a desperate struggle with the bandits. He saw the hobgoblin, bloodied and battered, missing an arm, surrounded by the corpses of his fallen foes.
Blood smeared his body like macabre war paint, a testament to the desperate dance he'd engaged in to protect Montu. His one remaining arm swung a sword dulled by countless parries, each blow carving bloody furrows through the flesh of the bandits surrounding him. The air reeked of iron and bone, the roars of the hobgoblin mingling with the screams of the dying.
He fought with the ferocity of a cornered beast, his loyalty an indomitable flame burning even brighter in the face of their shared mortality.
His gaze moved beyond the hobgoblin, taking in the gruesome tableau of the battlefield. Fallen bandits lay scattered like broken dolls, their once-greedy eyes staring vacantly at the sky. And in the midst of it all, the man who orchestrated this massacre – the bandit captain.
His features, twisted with hatred and greed, held the glint of triumph. He clutched a spear in his hands and was fighting the hobgoblin.
He too was wounded and was bleeding.
Montu checked his health, but there was no response from the system. Montu went cold and emotionless, he didn't get angry or sad. Montu the checked his body himself and it still had the two holes in his chest from the spear, meaning that his regeneration skill wasn't able to heal him, as the time depends on the severity of the wound.
Montu pushed himself up, his broke limbs protesting with each movement. Although it didn't hurt or anything, the broken limbs did hinder his movements, his steps were wobbly and uncertain. But the cold fire in his veins propelled him forward, each unsteady step a defiant pulse against the tide of death.
The bandits didn't notice him, their attention stolen by the hobgoblin's berserker rage.
But the hobgoblin noticed it as all his attention was on Montu. He just took a quick look at Montu, but the captain, his gaze like a venomous serpent's followed his gaze and saw Montu trying to get away.
A cruel smile twisted his lips as he adjusted his grip on the spear, its tip aimed at Montu's already-battered head.
He threw the spear at Montu, while he threw it the hobgoblin tried his best to stop it. He was being slashed by other bandits but he didn't care and used his sword to strike at the bandit leader, which slashed his chest severly and he fell down, but he had already launched the spear aimed at Montu. It struck montu in his head.
And he fell down, lifeless, emotionless, hopeless.
A memory flooded his brain, faces, kind and loving, etched with fear and sorrow as they… He couldn't grasp it, the image fading like smoke before he could hold it. But the pain, the raw, agonizing ache that welled up within him, that he recognized. It was the absence, the gaping hole where family should have been.
His parents. Their faces, blurry yet distinct, flashed in his mind – a last goodbye.
He was thinking about his parents for the first time in a decade. He never knew where they vanished or what happened to them.
He tried to search everywhere for them but didn't find a single clue.
'I got another chance at life and even that is being taken away now. Why does God hate me, why do I have to suffer in this wretched world.'
'.....Well, I think it's for the best that I die, atleast I am free now. He closed his eyes.'
HP = 0
[The Host is DEAD]