Max ran.
His breath came in ragged gasps, his body screaming with exhaustion. His left arm was already gone, torn apart by the monstrous beast. Now, with demons chasing him through the infernal wasteland, his survival was nothing but borrowed time.
His legs burned, his wounds oozing blood. He could barely grip the stolen sword in his remaining hand. It felt heavy—too heavy.
Behind him, guttural growls echoed through the blazing landscape. The demons were catching up.
A jagged rock came into view, a looming structure with a small cave at its base.
A chance.
Max lunged forward, throwing himself toward the cave—
But he never made it.
The instant his foot slammed onto the cracked ground, a sickening snap reverberated through his entire body.
Pain unlike anything before tore through his leg.
His vision exploded in white-hot agony.
Max didn't have time to scream before his body hit the ground.
The bone—his right leg—was shattered.
---
He couldn't move.
The demons were laughing now—high-pitched, shrill voices filled with delight as they watched him suffer.
Max gasped, his trembling fingers clutching his mangled leg. His knee had twisted unnaturally, the skin split open, revealing bone protruding through burned flesh.
*"No… No…"*
He tried to crawl.
The demons let him.
They didn't attack.
They simply watched—enjoying the sight of their prey dragging himself forward, leaving behind a trail of crimson.
Every movement sent fresh waves of pain ripping through his body. His lungs felt crushed beneath the weight of suffering.
But he had to move.
If he stopped, he was already dead.
With agonizing effort, Max finally reached the cave, his broken leg dragging uselessly behind him. The moment his body collapsed inside, darkness swallowed him.
---
Time passed, though he no longer knew how much.
His vision flickered between blinding agony and suffocating exhaustion. His breathing was shallow, his fingers numb.
*"I can't…"*
The thought whispered in his mind.
The pain was too much.
Every part of his body was broken—shattered, burned, bleeding.
What was the point?
This place—this Hell—was never going to let him go.
It would keep breaking him. Again. And again.
And again.
A quiet sob escaped his lips.
*"Why… why did this happen to me?"*
His life had already been cruel before—bullied, beaten, betrayed.
Had God abandoned him?
Or had God never existed at all?
He clenched his fists.
It didn't matter.
Nothing mattered anymore.
Max lay there, breathing shallow, his mind breaking further with each passing second.
Then—
The demons returned.
---
Max barely had the strength to lift his head, but he could hear them—their footsteps, their snarling voices.
They had come back for him.
A twisted joke.
Was this Hell's way of making sure he never had the chance to rest?
One of the demons stepped into the cave.
Its blade gleamed red-hot—still sizzling from the unrelenting infernal heat.
Max exhaled shakily.
He had nothing left.
He couldn't run. He couldn't fight.
But something deep inside him refused to die quietly.
The demon lunged forward, raising its sword—
Max didn't think.
He moved.
Pain exploded in his shattered leg, his body twisting on instinct.
His remaining arm shot forward.
Fingers found purchase.
His hands wrapped around the demon's wrist—the one holding the scorching sword—
And he squeezed.
The demon shrieked as Max wrenched its arm aside, sending the blade clattering to the ground.
A second later, Max seized the weapon.
His own body barely obeyed him, but desperation carried him forward.
The sword plunged into the demon's throat.
Blood—black and steaming—splattered across the cave floor.
The demon gurgled, its body convulsing.
Then, it collapsed.
Silence.
Max didn't move.
His own body barely obeyed him, but desperation carried him forward.
The sword plunged into the demon's throat.
Blood—black and steaming—splattered across the cave floor.
The demon gurgled, its body convulsing.
Then, it collapsed.
Silence.
Max didn't move.
Didn't breathe.
His body trembled violently, his pulse hammering against his skull.
Then—
The rest of the demons arrived.
And this time, there were more.
---
This version elevates Max's suffering while strengthening his inner turmoil. He's teetering on the edge of breaking completely, but his survival instincts are still fighting—just barely.
What do you think? Do you want to stretch his suffering even further before he finds any hope? I can make his next battle even more brutal! Let's refine this together.