Hero vs Demon

Click... Click... Click...

The room was filled with the rhythmic clicking of computer keys, punctuated by the occasional impatient tapping of fingers on the wooden desk.

In the dimly lit space, I sat hunched over, my gaze fixed on the glowing monitor. The anticipation was palpable as I desperately tried to reload the page of my beloved novel, yearning for the release of a new chapter.

"Come on, come on..."

It's already 7 PM, so why was the author late?

The story was currently reaching its climax, drawing me in like a magnet. It unfolded in a world where demons lurked, hunted relentlessly by humans. The protagonist, a girl whose life had been shattered by the brutal murder of her family at the hands of a demon, had become a Hunter herself, consumed by her undying hatred for these creatures.

Throughout the novel, she embarked on a mission to eradicate demons, pushing them into the shadows and ensuring they lived in constant fear.

Now, in these final chapters, her journey had brought her face-to-face with the last chapters - the fearsome Demon God, a formidable and dreaded entity.

Click...

The sound of the new chapter notification pierced the air, breaking through the silence of the room. A surge of excitement coursed through me, urging me to click the link and dive into the next stage of the story.

With eager anticipation, I watched as the webpage slowly loaded, revealing the shimmering title of the chapter that lay before me.

Huff...

My breath caught in my throat as my eyes greedily devoured the lines of text that materialized on the screen. The author's words danced across the page, painting vivid scenes in my mind's eye.

It was as if I had been transported to a realm where darkness battled against light, where the fate of demons hung by a fragile thread.

Each sentence woven by the author was a brushstroke, meticulously crafting a tapestry of emotions within me. I felt the unwavering determination of the protagonist, her resolve unyielding as she confronted the Demon God, the very embodiment of her pain and suffering.

The tension in the air was electrifying, the words building upon each other, leading inexorably to a climactic crescendo.

With every passing paragraph, my heart pounded in sync with the protagonist's desperate struggle. The author skillfully stoked the suspense, keeping me on the edge of my seat.

The Demon God launched relentless attacks, testing the limits of the protagonist's endurance. Yet, she remained steadfast, drawing strength from her past and the memory of her loved ones.

I read on, my eyes racing across the text, my excitement growing with each passing moment. The author had intricately crafted this pivotal point, ensuring that the stakes were impossibly high.

And then, in an act of sheer determination, the protagonist unleashed her full powers, fueled by her undying vengeance. The surge of energy leaped from the page, igniting my own anticipation as I envisioned the cataclysmic clash between the two forces.

The battle unfolded before my mind's eye, vivid and visceral. I could almost taste the acrid stench of sulfur and hear the thunderous clash of their powers colliding.

The author had expertly orchestrated this moment, leading us to the precipice of victory or defeat.

As the chapter neared its end, the Demon God wavered, weakened by the protagonist's unrelenting assault. The taste of triumph lingered in the air, victory seemingly within reach after an arduous journey.

My eyes blurred with tears of anticipation, moved by the character's resilience and the imminent triumph over her nemesis.

"Bravo... Bravo..."

The words escaped my lips, a heartfelt applause for the author's storytelling prowess. Lost in the moment, I almost forgot I was alone in the confines of my room.

However, as I prepared to express my admiration in the comment section, a peculiar realization struck me.

There was still another page left to read.

I furrowed my brows, a mix of anticipation and trepidation coursing through my veins. Slowly, I scrolled down, my eyes scanning the remaining text.

For a fleeting moment, the words blurred together, my mind struggling to process the unexpected twist that unfolded before me.

My heart sank as the truth settled in.

The protagonist, the relentless Hunter driven by vengeance, had impaled herself on her own spear. It was a shocking and tragic turn of events, a twist that shattered my expectations like fragile glass.

I re-read the passage, desperately hoping for a different outcome, but the words remained unyielding, etched in black on the screen. The author had dared to defy conventions, delivering a conclusion that left me stunned and grappling with a whirlwind of emotions.

Thud...

The heroine's body slumped against the spear, her eyes reflecting a mix of pain, acceptance, and a flicker of triumph. It was a bittersweet victory, a poignant resolution to her unwavering pursuit of revenge.

At that moment, a profound silence settled over the room, broken only by the sound of my shallow breaths.

Huff...

I sat there, stunned, grappling with a cascade of emotions. The author had dared to defy conventions, to deliver a conclusion that defied my expectations and left an indelible mark on my soul.

As I closed my eyes, the images from the novel played out in my mind like a vivid film. I could almost feel the weight of the spear, the searing pain of the protagonist's final act. It was a scene etched into my consciousness, forever imprinted upon my literary journey.

"Bullshit!"

I hit the screen with my palms, frustrated and in disbelief at what I had just read. How could the author do this?

Frustrated and filled with an overwhelming surge of emotions, I clenched my fists, ready to unleash my anger in a scathing hate comment to the author. But as I raised my trembling hands to type, exhaustion washed over me like a tidal wave. My eyelids grew heavy, and my body sagged against the desk.

"What the hell..."

I muttered, fighting the fatigue that threatened to engulf me. But as my vision blurred and the words on the screen became a jumbled mess, I surrendered to the irresistible pull of my sleep.

I could write a comment tomorrow.