System Nemesis

 Between the constant howls and wails of anguish, the screams and cries of women being raped, and the desperate pleas of those being eaten alive, ran a middle-aged man whose hoarse shouts were lost to the void.

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

His mind was a mess, as much in disarray as it had ever been, while his clothes were in tatters and bloodied, a grim reflection of his now unrecognizable, wretched body.

 As for where he was running to, it didn't matter...

 He just wanted to flee... Flee from the hellscape that was unfolding behind him, as his remote village, the one he had called home since birth, transformed into a fiery beacon.

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

 Terrifying, guttural voices randomly echoed behind him, their primal and predatory nature forcing his body to release even more adrenaline, its survival instincts going into overdrive. But unfortunately, his injuries were just too severe as fatigue began to overtake him, its embrace a warm blanket that threatened his life.

One step at a time, he thought... He just needed to go One. Step. At. A. Time!

Maybe then, and only then, could he escape.

From what he had hastily glanced, his pursuers were humanoid creatures that were like shadows, barely distinguishable from the ever-engulfing surrounding darkness. Their eyes, akin to night itself, were relentlessly locked onto their struggling and pathetic prey, their faint and sinister giggles carried farther by the glacial air.

But despite his breath continuously shortening, he did not stop running. No, he just couldn't, not until he was far, far away from these murderous creatures.

As for what they looked like, it varied from one another.

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

 But despite these stark differences, they all shared one chilling trait: their mouths.

All of them were filled with shark-like rows of teeth whose pearly whiteness would haunt those unfortunate enough to witness them.

But this wasn't enough... No, their long, acute claws also complimented this courage-shattering portrait, which'd break their preys' last shred of willpower.

They were, from all accounts, 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 increase his pace, much to the detriment of his failing body.

After all, the 33-year-old Derrick Tarlin was but the abandoned son of a mercenary, one whose story was all too familiar in these remote lands. His mother, a commoner, had died whilst giving birth to him, thus earning him the scorn and hatred of his father, who subsequently left him behind.

 It was so cliché that he had found it all to be too absurd, a classic case of someone left for the world to deal with.

 Fortunately, a great foster family had taken him in, raising him earnestly and providing for all his needs. This was why he had shed no tears when learning of his father's passing, the drunkard ultimately stabbed in a bar brawl.

 In fact, he had felt... nothing. Not a single ounce of sadness. To him, it was but an anecdote of a stranger's untimely, and perhaps deserved, death...

And then, time passed.

His childhood had been alright: nothing fancy, but nothing to complain about either. In retrospect, he could even say that it had been great. But the good times, as people liked to say, always came to an end.

 At the age of 12, his two foster parents, whom he then considered his only family, caught a fatal, but quick, illness. He remembered the utter emptiness he had felt that day, finally realizing what true suffering was supposed to feel like when losing your loved ones.

Fortuitously, they had left him everything, which was summed up by a small plot of land at the village's outer limits. There, he had lived a peaceful life, although mostly alone. He hadn't minded, though, since it suited his loner and now resourceful character, although not to the point where he wouldn't lend a hand to a struggling neighbor.

But now, with everything crashing down, he couldn't help but yearn for something different. Only in the face of death, he thought, would someone be confronted with such regrets.

After this slew of memories, his last bit of willpower vanished, leading his legs to stop moving as he instead turned to face his pursuers.

This was it. The end of the road.

Shortly after, they completely gave out, making him fall to his knees as he smothered the cold, wet grass beneath him.

His ears also found peace at last, as his hectic breathing stabilized, its sound now profound and raspy. He could feel it, his expression turning serene.

Was this... really all he amounted to?

His inability and weakness were traits he hadn't cared about before. In fact, he was a big fan of soldiers and their training regimen, their devotion to the cause always equal to their hunger for the next promotion.

But deep down, he had pitied them. Why hurt yourself and hope for something most would never attain?

But this question, he now realized, couldn't have been more misguided.

 They were of course chasing after their goal of living a more comfortable life, but there was another, deeper and more meaningful, reason. It was a job that allowed them to fight back, to protect what was theirs.

This was the true essence of a soldier: to fight and protect something greater than yourself.

 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 out on, be it women, possessions, strength...

 He wouldn't dare hold back.

But sadly, those were now the ramblings of a dying man, although one who at least found solace in the fact that he had lived on his own terms, a privilege some had never known.

 During these musings, the monsters had surrounded him, cautiously observing the soon-to-be corpse.

''An interesting human.... Looks like he's stopped begging for his life, kekeke...''

 The cackling, ghoul-like creature, the apparent leader of the group, then advanced from the encirclement while sizing up Derrick, its black lips twitching in anticipation.

"You're quite right... My body's already broken, and I'm at death's door... It's pointless to run any longer..."

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

''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 stared at the hideous creature, his previously serene gaze now full of hatred and contempt.

''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 from the corners of his mouth, he resembled more a devil than his old self which, following his maniacal laugh, led to his punctured lungs giving out, his whole body thus collapsing and dyeing the ground a scarlet shade.

 His mind went blank shortly after, with his consciousness finally deciding to leave behind his broken shell.

***

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

 He was startled at first, but soon realized that he had indeed died, since everything around him was pitch black and without an ounce of life.

 He was basically a spirit floating in the absolute void.

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

 As his thoughts began to drift, a prompt suddenly appeared before him.

[Welcome to <System Nemesis>, Derrick Tarlin.]

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

''Ah?! What is this? Have I finally gone crazy?!''

 Derrick looked at the prompt with stupor before studying it. He couldn't grab it, nor could he make it disappear, its glow the sole light in this never-ending hell.

*BEEP*

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