Warm blood flowed out of Oldred's ear. It felt like hot liquid seeping down his neck. He felt his insides turning soft, like stirred porridge, a symphony of a severe concussion.
Oldred stood tall before Grog. Between the two of them, in the middle of the little hell they had created, neither truly submitted to death. They were two pillars of destruction refusing to fall. With firm, heavy steps, they both approached each other. Thick black smoke billowed from the putrid mark on Grog's forehead, like a smokestack from a hellish locomotive.
Inside the cathedral of noise in his head, the voice echoed again.
The Dog:
"(You're never ready to die, are you? No one ever is. So kill... kill everything that would kill you!)"
THUD!
Oldred punched his own head with his bionic arm, a brutal forced reset. He then used both hands to shove his steel mask back onto his face.
SKRRCHHH!
He let the steel spikes on the inside of the mask dig deeper, tearing into his face once more, anchoring himself to the pain. Fresh blood flowed from behind the mask and dripped onto the dirty wooden floor.
Grog, witnessing this madness, just snorted.
Grog:
"(The way a person dies determines who they are... as a loser... or as a killer...)"
Grog advanced very quickly, his gigantic figure moving like a rockslide. Oldred took one step back to evade, only to find his foot pinned to the floor. Grog had stomped on it.
A giant fist slammed into the side of his head.
TIIIIINGGGGGGG!!
A shrill sound, like a cathedral bell struck by a sledgehammer, rang in his ears. His vision blurred, the world shaking violently. Another blow came from above, a double-axe hand descending to split him.
Oldred raised both his hands. One of flesh, one of steel.
KRA-BOOM!
He parried the blow that felt like a meteor strike. The floor beneath them cracked and exploded upward. The entire house trembled violently on its foundation. Swiftly, Oldred pulled out his chainsaw. Instead of starting it, Oldred used his bionic arm to brutally scrape the chainsaw's teeth.
SKREEEEEET!
The metal-on-metal friction sent a shower of small sparks, hot embers that caught on the cheap booze soaking Grog's robes and mask.
In an instant, Grog was engulfed in flames.
Grog:
"Agh!!! YOU—!"
With a movement so fast it seemed Oldred's figure split into two illusions, Oldred pulled the chainsaw's starter.
VRRRROOOOOOOOOMMMMM!!
He revved it again, and tried to slash Grog's burning stomach. The chain screamed as it met Grog's rock-hard flesh. Having difficulty breaking through, Oldred roared and punched the back of the chainsaw with his bionic arm.
BOOOOOM!!
The chainsaw's engine exploded. The sound itself shattered, sending out a deafening shockwave. Oldred's ears gushed more blood from the sound blast, his world now nearly silent. However, the forced power of the slash succeeded. The destroyed chainsaw tore through, disemboweling Grog, revealing his steaming entrails.
Oldred then leaped past Grog, grabbed what he had just unleashed—his hot, slick intestines—and wrapped them around Grog's neck from behind, choking him with his own organs.
The black patches on Oldred's neck suddenly changed. The veins seemed to move, crawling under his pale skin, forming a new black mark resembling a snarling Dog's head. Oldred's strength felt like it was increasing. No, not just that. It felt like it was evolving. Ignoring the flames that were now burning him as well, the grip on Grog's neck tightened.
Outside, the besieging cultists could only watch in horror.
Cultist 1:
"That monster... Is... is he choking Grog... with...?"
Cultist 3:
"F-Forget Grog! He's done for! Just kill that masked monster!! Shoot them both!"
They then rained down on the house again with the bullets they had. Rifle slugs, spreading shotgun pellets, and even tried to burn the house down by throwing torches and bottles of booze.
The Black Mark on Grog's forehead darkened as well, glowing red amidst the fire. With his remaining strength, Grog retaliated. He moved backward brutally, slamming his back—and Oldred, who was attached to it—into the wall behind them.
KRAAAKK!
The entire wall gave way. Grog then spun around and punched Oldred from the left, a desperate blow that sent him flying through the kitchen wall once more, bringing him back to the now-burning living room.
CRACK!!
A sharp cracking sound was heard from the lower left side of Oldred's chest. His ribs were broken.
Oldred stood up slowly, coughing up blood. He faced Grog, who stood far in front of him, still burning and now disemboweled. Oldred's muscles tensed.
P-TANG! PING!
With supernatural strength, bullets, sharp fragments, and glass shards were expelled from his wounds. He forcibly ejected the foreign objects. With his strong bionic arm, he grabbed Grog's hammer, which was lying on the floor.
Meanwhile...
Danica, who was in a hurry, had left Oldred as Grog's task while she hunted Nu'al. She ran through the muddy village streets, panting.
Her eyes were fixed above. Thick black smoke billowed into the cracked night sky. Smoke from the house that had become a fighting arena.
Danica:
"Grog..." she whispered, worried.
Danica's brown hair was wet with frustrated sweat. She glanced at the other cult members running aimlessly.
Danica:
"What are you all doing?! Find that skinny bitch! If she runs again, just shoot her! Bring her corpse if you have to!"
The members, who were also getting fed up with the village's situation, split up, grumbling. But as Danica glanced up again, she saw something strange. A small yellow light, like a firefly, zipped across the sky and entered the window of an empty house across the street.
Danica:
"What... is that?"