23:32
Year 1628
28th of February
A group of dishevelled but well-dressed individuals clad in light armor moved through the extensive hallway, dimly lit by the full moon's light seeping into the cracks and holes of the damaged ceiling.
The group cautiously tread through thousands of bloody corpses, humanoid corpses—not exactly human, their skin dark but pale, sharp beast-like teeth, and obsidian dark horns that curled toward the back of their heads, piled up on the ground, mixing with the rubble. They were known as demons in this world.
• • •
A few minutes had passed, but the group didn't dare talk verbally just yet. One was taking the lead; he was the most covered, with the most armor on, two swords resting on both sides of his hip, the tips of their sheaths occasionally dripping blood. His head is fully protected and concealed with a metal helmet that leaves only enough holes for hearing, vision, and breathing.
He carefully, but not slowly, passed through the debris and corpses with undeniable experience. The others followed his footsteps, never once deviating from the path he had paved for them.
In just a few more steps, they reached the opening of a massive circular room; only a quarter of the roof is still intact. The moonlight reflected particularly brightly in that room, making the members of the group visibly squint for a short moment as their eyes adjusted to the light.
The leading member abruptly raised his hand, his fist tightly clenched. The others following him immediately froze in their places in response.
In the center of the circular room, basking in the moonlight, is an injured figure, his head down, yet he stood tall. The bells on his horns jingled as he raised his head and made eye contact with the group leader, his previously half-closed eyes growing wider with his smirk.
"You all sure did take your time coming here. Were the demons I left still too much?" He giggled in an unsettling manner.
The leader was the first to step out of the shadows and set foot into the half-destroyed room.
"Demon King," he said, his voice muffled by his helmet but still audible. He pulled out both swords with confidence. "We shall end your reign of terror—here and now!"
The rest of the members followed up, swiftly taking their positions. A swordsman wielding a long sword to the right of their leader; the tanker in the center, but a step behind both of the swordsmen; the mage, healer, and buffer hid behind the tanker.
Without wasting much more time, those wielding the swords rushed in, initiating the attack whilst the mage and buffer chant their spells.
"How impatient." The demon king clicked his tongue, his body rapidly transforming into hard crystals that shaped around his body like an exoskeleton armor. He brandished his newly formed razor-sharp claws and charged in toward the approaching enemies.
The swords, meant to pierce, simply deflected and slid through the smooth crystals; the swordsmen immediately stepped back before the demon's claws could reach them. Their expressions looked displeased as they realized their stab barely scratched the surface of the crystal armor.
"Is that it!?" The demon king expressed his disappointment in an exaggerated manner, lightning striking him before he could even conclude his yelling.
The members stayed on guard as they waited for the smoke to settle, finding the figure, supposed to be struck by lightning, nowhere to be seen.
Realizing this, the members quickly predicted he would target the backlines and prepared themselves accordingly.
As expected, he reappeared behind the three members that was behind the tanker, his claws colliding with a flying shield that successfully protected the mage, whose spell was in its final stages. The mage recited the remaining incomprehensible words, dark symbols formed around the demon king—bringing him down with an overwhelmingly oppressive gravity. The ground beneath him was cracking and sinking him further.
Before the effects weakened and diminished, the hidden assassin appeared out of thin air—like a ghost, he drove his dagger into the demon king's neck. The concentrated all-out force of the attack was enough to shatter the hard crystals on the demon's neck. Without sparing even a second, the leader threw one of his swords with extreme precision, directly hitting the opening and piercing the demon king's neck.
The sound of liquid gurgling can be heard as the demon king attempted to speak, only to cough up blood, but he wasn't the only one doing so; behind him is the assassin, who was yet to recover, pierced by numerous crystals spikes that rapidly grew on the demon king's back, impaling the assassin in place, three of which hitting his chest.
"Desmond!" The leader cried out as the mage pulled out a teleportation scroll with shaky hands, putting her almost exhausted mana into it, and teleported the dying assassin, Desmond, to the ground next to her.
"Focus your buff on her!" The leader urged the buffer member and rushed toward where the injured member was.
"Yes!" The buffer replied affirmatively. The rest of the members felt significantly weaker as a result of the buff being released from them and refocused on the healer.
"Please..." The healer muttered in shaky breaths as she was tasked with the heavy responsibility of saving a life. Her healing magic glowed a bright green. Symbols formed and wrapped around Desmond; the symbols turned into the flesh that replaced the missing parts, its speed just enough to keep him from shedding any more blood.
Meanwhile, the demon king lay in his own pool of blood; he used his last breaths to snicker at the group, more blood escaping out of his mouth as he did. His crystal armor shattered as he finally lost his life, his semi-bare body, as a result of his clothes tearing, revealing numerous fresh wounds that the current group clearly did not cause.
[ Demon King Deran has been defeated! ]
The system shoved the notification window into the faces of the members. They collectively exhaled in relief. The demon king was defeated, and Desmond's condition was now stable. Everything seemed to be going in the right direction.
[ Warning! Heroes in your group have slain another hero! ]
"What...!?" The one wielding the long sword yelped. The rest of the members, except the group leader, seemed to be in a panic; the healer checked Desmond, who was breathing evenly and even stared at the others looking at him.
"Then, who...?" The mage asked, fear and confusion evident in her voice and expression.
[ Voting is being held as punishment.
Slain Hero: Deran Collin Wades (Dark Mage)
Hero Group Responsible: Group #10
Please vote out a member; ties will result in a coin flip, failure to vote will result in random selection.
Hero Group Members:
• Remmy Sean Willam (Swordsman) [Vote]
• Desmond Lorem (Assassin) [Vote]
• Alexandria Donovan (Mage) [Vote]
• Evie Calia Falcon (Healer) [Vote]
• Dion Hans (Buffer) [Vote]
• Amaline Riverson (Tanker) [Vote]
• ?Unregistered? (?Unregistered?) [Vote]
A voted member will be forced to commit suicide for the life taken as a punishment. ]
[ Timer: 00:57 seconds remaining. ]
"How... how can the demon king be..." Amaline stared at the window in defeat.
"Hey, what's going on!?" The group leader—oblivious to the current situation—shouted toward his subordinates, as they seemed to be in a daze, they all stared at the air like they were frozen by fear.
Then, all of them turned to look at him; some already had guilt forming subtly on their expressions, some with relief, but they all looked unpleasant, like they were forced to swallow something unsavory.
[ Timer: 00:43 seconds remaining. ]
Remmy, the one with the longsword, repeatedly muttered, but it was still loud enough to be heard by the leader, whose hearing is quite exceptional. "I'm sorry... I'm sorry." His hand trembled, but he was the first one to vote.
[ • ?Unregistered? (?Unregistered?) [Vote] Votes: 1/7 ]
"What...?" The leader was utterly confused at the behaviour of his members. The healer, Evie, walked over to him and cast a quite taxing spell that nullified all the pain he had received and might receive.
"What for...?" Evie refused to meet his eyes any longer as she turned his back on him and walked away, her shoulder trembling, might it be from the exhaustion or despair one feels from impending doom, in her case, likely both.
"Hey! Answer me!" He grew increasingly agitated; their lack of answers and silence was driving him insane; he could sense the seriousness in the air, that this was not just one of their usual pranks.
"You are going to die." Alexandria finally replied to him, trying to sound unaffected, but her voice broke in the end.
It seemed like the leader's fate was sealed; in just under a minute, some voters decided that a certain person's life was less than their own.
[ Timer: 00:01 second remaining. ]
[ ?Unregistered? has received the most votes! Votes: 4/7
Punishment will be carried out shortly! ]
"What do you mean..." He lost control of his body right at the end of his sentence; his arms moved to point the only remaining sword he currently had right at his own chest.
A sword that was missing its pair is undoubtedly of high quality. Like stabbing butter, it pierced his chest plate with ease as if it were common fabric.
Before he could even fully process the situation, his hands were already covered in his own blood, the sword—with automated accuracy—went exactly through his heart, making him rapidly bleed.
He quietly stared at the blood that accumulated beneath him, his body slumped into the bloody ground, and it splashed from his weight, as his knees buckled from having lost their strength.
The healer, or anyone else, could not be of help in this situation. Even if she did still have the means to do so, the system still ruled over them and could have made her, or anyone's action, completely meaningless.
His stare was unfocused; through his peripheral vision, he could see the cracks of the floor absorbing the blood he shed; the last thing he saw and heard was the blood, the way it spread, how it splashed when he fell on it.
Shock and unanswered questions left him in a daze, in pain from what he sees is none other than a possible betrayal—the only possible explanation his brain could come up with at the moment.
The act of stabbing himself did not hurt, but he wished it did. Then, maybe, just maybe, the pain could've distracted him from even trying to think about it.
'No way...did they...'
'What... have they done to me?'
'Did they do it... no... Why...?'
His vision had been consumed by darkness for a while; his consciousness ultimately followed.
He inevitably perished without knowing the cause, the exact perpetrators, or the reason behind it. Though it doesn't seem like he has to think about it anymore after all.
00:00
Year 1628
29th of February