Artyom Dereschuk - Hate the Sin

The situation seemed hopeless. If he tried to move faster, he risked getting spotted by either Desecrator or something else, and if he continued to move at his pace he would end up caught and shot.

“You know, I thought I could make a warrior out of you by pushing you to your limit, but it seems that the General was right. Some people are just not cut out for it.” His voice was very close, and the boy thought that it was coming from everywhere. “Some people are just spoiled little brats who can’t make a step without- argh!”

Desecrator’s speech was interrupted by a cry of pain. It seemed that some local creature had had enough of the boy’s ramblings and decided to take matters into whatever functioned as its hands.

There were the sounds of struggle as the boy rolled on the ground, trying to shake off whatever had gotten to him. By the sound of it, he wasn’t very successful. Puppy Slayer felt relieved for a second, but the grunting of the boy as he tried to shake off whatever had gotten to him, and the sounds of his flesh being slowly pulled apart by hungry teeth, were too much for him. He closed his ears and eyes, trying to protect himself from those images, but he could still hear them.

“Puppy! Help me, please!” he heard Desecrator shout to him. “I can’t reach my gun! I won’t—I won’t hurt you, I swear! Help me!”

He sounded sincere, and he sounded like he wanted to live. The spell of bloodlust that was put on him by that place was broken, and he was just another boy in danger.

And yet, the monster was there, too. He would not let the boy chime in. He would tear him apart and continue torturing Desecrator.

Just as he had always been helpless to protect himself, he was helpless to save others.

“Tsetse, please,” the boy whispered to himself, as tears started streaming down his cheeks. “Please come and save him.”

But Tsetse wouldn’t come. Tsetse was far away and the boy was on his own now. Just as his captain had told him before, if he wanted to save himself, or even save others, he had no one to rely on but himself.

That realization hurt him more than any bullet ever could. He didn’t want others to die. Even when he had killed that woman in the village, he hadn’t done it on his own accord. He was forced to by Tsetse who had wanted to save him from the wrath of frustrated adults. The woman would die regardless of whether he took the shot or not, and that thought was helping him sleep at night.

But now he was facing a situation where there were no adults to scold him, no Tsetse to guide his hand and take the blame—no one. Yet he was still not taking any action. Maybe Desecrator wasn’t worthy of saving, but that wasn’t how the boy felt at that moment. He could hear the living being slaughtered, and he felt his pain in his bones.

“ We have to be our own heroes ”.

The monster was there, sure. But there had always been monsters.

He stood up and rushed toward the sounds of struggle. Desecrator was probably barely alive at that point, but still, Puppy Slayer had to try. Try to save at least one miserable life in his lifetime and not stand aside.

He broke through the bushes to see Desecrator sprawled on the ground, his eyes aimlessly staring nowhere in particular. His left hand was weakly stretching upward, as if he was waving to someone, toward the gun which was far beyond his reach—it seemed that when he was tackled it had fallen out of his hands.

His body was slightly shaking as the creature sitting on top of him dug its fangs into him. One glance at the assailant was enough for Puppy Slayer to realize—it was one of the villagers, and the only reason it didn’t kill Desecrator outright was because it was badly hurt. It right limb was missing, most likely blown off, and its left one was badly wounded, to the point that Puppy Slayer wasn’t sure if the fearsome bone-blade was still intact. Its only weapon was its teeth, and at that moment they were sunken fully into Desecrator’s flesh.

The golden sparks in its eyes glinted as it noted the newly arrived boy, and it released its bite on its prey to raise its head. The boy had less than a second to grab the weapon in front of him and take a shot.

He didn’t waste it. For the first time in his life, his survival instinct told him that fighting was a better alternative to fleeing, and the boy lunged at the gun on the ground, momentarily doing a roll and jumping to his feet as soon as he felt his grip close on the weapon’s hilt.

Only to immediately lower the weapon again.

He couldn’t do it. It had to be some twisted joke of fate.

When the monster raised its half-human head the boy recognized that face. The last time he had seen those eyes, they were pleading him not to take the shot, to spare her life. And now, some last dimming spark of intelligence behind them was calmly wondering whether he was going to take that shot again.

It was the face that he had been seeing in his nightmares for the past few weeks.

It was the face that had been staring at him from beyond the wall of rain.

It was the face of the woman he had been forced to shoot back in the village. The face of the woman he had killed for everyone’s entertainment.

“Shoot…” Desecrator wheezed, looking at Puppy Slayer with pleading eyes from beneath half-closed eyelids.

Both the boy and the monster were staring at him, waiting for his next step. But he already knew that there would be none.

“I can’t do it,” he told both of them, sniffing his nose. “I’m sorry, Desecrator, I just… I can’t.”

He couldn’t be a hero, after all. He couldn’t save others, for he himself was too far gone.

He knew that the creature in front of him was not even technically alive or human, but he didn’t care. He couldn’t bring himself to shoot someone again.

It was almost ironic. He had been forced to end the woman’s life by people like Desecrator. And now, because of that, he couldn’t save him.

Desecrator’s face became the last scowl of fury: “That’s why… That’s why I’ve always hated you…”

“Spare him…” Puppy Slayer quietly pleaded with the monster.

The boy thought that he saw something akin to understanding in the creature’s eyes. Something from its past life made it relate to the struggle he had been facing and connected it with its killer. The boy was the only one had who wanted it spared when it was still alive, when it was a mother, a sister, a daughter. And now, he was asking it to return the favor.

But then its gaze turned downward, and the Blood of the Giants had made the decision for it. Its jaws snapped onto the Desecrator’s neck and its fangs pierced his jugular vein faster than the boy could blink. Throwing one final look at Puppy Slayer, it pulled the still struggling body into the darkness, leaving Puppy Slayer alone.

He knew he wouldn’t make it to the surface on his own. Tsetse’s plan had some reason, but it was not realistic.

Not with a wounded leg.

He had no doubt that their captain knew about the gun and suspected what the General’s plan was. In that case, running away was indeed the best course of action; the kids, being the ones in the vanguard, would surely die in the confrontation, either by the General’s or the creatures’ hands. Running away would not only save them, it would also free them from the priestess’ quest for vengeance. Corpse Eater doubted that she would count the bodies.

But his leg had gotten hurt in the fight. A stray piece of shrapnel from one of the grenades had gotten him, and what he initially ignored during his adrenaline rush for freedom was quickly turning out to be a serious wound. And the bleeding was stopping very slowly.