Chapter 28: Welcome to the Grimdark World

Barbarus, the Northern Mountains, the front-line wastelands.

Now.

The setting sun casts a dim light, painting the world in a murky hue.

Bare trees stand alone in the wasteland.

Nurgling hounds race across the terrain, kicking up dust. The mist dances with the dirt, blending the horizon into a murky haze.

Herila's vision is tainted red, blood flowing, drawing the attention of distant predators.

She fires her bolter.

The targeted hound leaps forward, its slender body contorting into an almost impossible shape—

—the ground is torn apart by its claws, dirt flying everywhere—

It dodged!

Herila takes a deep breath, quickly reloading. The blood-soaked bolt slips in her grip.

She fires again!

Two shots ring out.

The hound dodges twice, evading the shots with agility. However, its companion falls, twitching—

The first shot was a feint; the second, aimed at its companion, was Herila's true target.

The grotesque Nurgling hound, enraged, growls menacingly. Its already rapid pace increases even more!

Herila aims and fires three shots in quick succession, all of which the hound skillfully evades.

Emperor's mercy!

Reluctantly, Herila shifts her aim to the two hounds trailing behind.

Bolts whiz through the mist, one after the other, unerringly seeking the sprinting hounds.

Flesh is torn, blood splatters! The cold precision of machinery versus the frailty of flesh!

Two more hounds fall, their momentum carrying them forward, tumbling over the ground.

Only one remains. But Herila doesn't let her guard down—

The agile hound from before is now dangerously close to the tree where Herila is concealed!

She fires rapidly, unleashing a barrage of bolts. In a split second, the hound leaps—

—directly towards Herila in the tree!

Her eyes narrow, but her hands don't falter.

After emptying her clip, Herila grips her bolter with one hand and draws her combat knife with the other.

The Nurgling hound bares its fangs, its foul-smelling saliva dripping as it lunges at Herila—

She braces herself, using her bolter to block the hound's gaping maw, while thrusting her knife towards the beast with all her might!

The force of the impact knocks Herila from her perch—

Both warrior and beast plummet from the towering branches, crashing into the hard ground below.

"Crack!"

The tree branches shake, leaves quivering.

"Thud!"

Dust rises. Herila feels a burning pain in her back, a numbing sensation in her chest.

The massive Nurgling hound, weighing down on Herila, lunges for her throat!

"Snap!"

The sheer force breaks Herila's bolter!

She thrusts the broken end of her weapon into the hound's throat—

Her entire forearm is engulfed! The broken bolter jams the hound's throat, preventing it from biting. It struggles desperately.

Its limbs flail, sharp claws piercing Herila's abdomen, sinking deep into her flesh.

"Cough!"

Herila's other hand, holding the knife, plunges into the hound's belly. With sheer willpower, she stirs the blade, the hound's putrid lungs slipping out of the wound.

Both combatants grapple fiercely, blood and flesh flying. Herila's vision blurs, her eyes bloodshot.

No! She can't die!

She must deliver the documents!

Deathwatch is known for its tenacity.

Herila struggles to stay conscious.

—Broken ribs, her right hand corroded to the bone after being thrust into the hound's acidic throat, a punctured abdomen, a fractured left leg.

Thankfully, her vital organs are intact, though her intestines have spilled out.

As long as she reaches the command post before bleeding out...

Herila checks the documents in her pocket—intact.

She stuffs her intestines back in, hastily wrapping a bandage around her abdomen. Using a branch as a crutch, she pushes herself up and continues her journey.

Blood trails behind her.

Her vision fades, the world turning grayscale, large specks clouding her sight.

Almost there. Almost there.

Why does it feel so far?

Come on, Herila, you can do it.

You swore to defend this place.

Herila no longer feels pain, her vision consumed by darkness.

It's too dark. She thinks, removing her gas mask and tossing it aside.

Still so dark, why?

Fear grips Herila. What if she fails her mission?

She... she feels like that helpless, crying child again.

She's too weak. She can't do anything.

No, no, no, Herila, you can, you can, you can!

A lone scarecrow stands in a field.

Herila recognizes it. It marks the edge of the fields, indicating she's close to human settlements.

She smiles, feeling her face twitch.

If she falls here, someone will find her.

Even so, Herila's numb body mechanically moves forward.

She must complete her mission. She swore to protect everyone.

Huh?

Is there someone ahead?

Herila isn't sure. Her vision is a blur, filled with large black and white specks.

She's uncertain.

"Herila!!!"

"Herila!"

"Herila, hold on! Don't die!!!"

Ah.

It's Hades's voice.

Herila feels like she's smiling, her cheeks wet. Are those tears?

Finally, she's fulfilled her vow.

Look, Hades, she did it.

She's a formidable Deathwatch now.

Herila can protect everyone.

And they're reunited.

Herila can't hold on any longer. She collapses.

Here lies a dying Barbarus maiden.