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The doors to hell broken off their hinges, the hordes of the dead marching forth in a daze of bloodlust. The end is here, long prophesized, but never believed. The raving lunatics and blind apostles warned the world, but nobody wanted to believe.

The cobbles of the city are drenched red and the air reeks of death. The demons that were born of the unnatural and evil roam the streets, laying waste to the once proud city. Some are bony, some horned and some winged. Some are small and some are large. They all come together in a wave of horror to butcher, ravage and pillage.


Outside the walls, a lone warrior stands. He faces the forces of chaos and burns with despair. His family, wife and young daughter, is trapped behind bodies, corpses and beasts. Gripping his steel sword, he charges forward, crashing with the wave of demons.


Where before there was injustice between the weak and the powerful, there is now the retribution by means of animalistic rage. Where before there was lust for the flesh, there is now huddling together in a sombre embrace.

A hulking beast with a great jet mane gallops around a street corner, nails scraping against hard stone. It has set its sights on an old man and chases after him relentlessly. With a lunge, it buries its muzzle in his neck and tears him apart.

At the other side of the city, an insectoid imp opens its mouth and an arsenal of tentacles writhes its way down a soldier's throat, slurping up his insides.

Next to this horror, a barbaric legionnaire made of an assortment of flesh swings his morning star around, crushing bones and splitting skulls.


Slashing and dicing, the knight sends demons back to the realm of oblivion from where they came. With mighty force he pushes through the pack of rabid beasts. Here he disembowels a foul, winged imp. There he plunges his sword deep into a blob of flesh. He ducks under the blow of a war-hog and sprints forth, barely escaping the rush of the pack. The gates are in sight, but a swarm blocks entrance.


Amidst the chaos within the walls, a new horror emerges. On its wake, limbs go flying and souls get torn from bodies. Wielding a flaming war-axe, an abomination of horns, hooves and fangs is thrashing soldiers to bits. With its large, scaly arm it lifts a soldier and snaps him in two with his lupine jaws. Then with a single strike he cuts a soldier apart from head to toes. Its howling laugh echoes in the ransacked city.

It charges toward the last line of defense. The last remaining torches are snuffed out, and with them the courage in the hearts of men gives way to holistic dread. The lesser demons urge the beast on with piercing cackles and otherworldly chants. Upon impact, shields, flesh, bones, skulls are shredded to bits as the machine of war pummels the line of soldiers.


Inch by inch he gets closer to his family. His hammer connects with flesh and bones again and again. The demons are all over him, scratching, biting and piercing. A blow takes his hammer away, and he resorts to cracking skulls with his bare hands. He grabs a demon by the neck and smashes its head in with ferocious blows, then he reaches into a gaping snout and rips the beast's tongue out. But the weight of the horde pulls him to his knees, swallowing him in a storm of claws, teeth and tentacles. He struggles for breath and his vision goes blurry, as the world fades to black.


The city has fallen. A red carpet has been unrolled, made of defiled corpses and clotting blood. The demons are chanting in their forbidden tongue, forming circles upon circles, dancing, all merging into one humongous beast of immeasurable malice. The whole city trembles with their rhythmic, almost alluring, ceremony.

But the great beast, war-axe still in hand, does not celebrate. It has tasted suffering, and now wants more. With greedy eyes it looks around. It sniffs the air, and a wretched smile crawls its way up its bloodied snout.


A sea of wheat swaying under a light breeze. His children running to him laughing, their mother watching from their little farmhouse. He is swallowed by hugs and kisses, his very soul caressed. Their faces so soft and tender. Then their skin is bubbling and they turn to ash and hands shoot out from the dirt and drag them down and...

With a primal, guttural roar, the warrior drags himself up. His muscles straining and bulging, he punches, tears and pushes his way out of the sea of limbs.

He unsheathes his sword and starts chopping up the hellish vermin as they come crushing onto him. Wave after wave they fall, as the bloodthirsty sword quenches its thirst with a dance of death.

The warrior stands in the crimson sea of carnage, his mind reeling and pumping at the beat of the infernal drumming of death. Faster and harsher the drumming reverberates across his body, and at the climax of animalistic despair, the warrior steps forward.


From a crevice on a wall of a small house, a mother and a daughter gaze at the horrors unfolding all around them. The defenses have fallen and the city is overrun by critters. Above all, father is not here. All hope is lost, and the pair embrace as if their lives depend on it.

Then, a shadow moves in front of the door, blocking out the light. Heavy, ragged breathing from the other side, and then the door blown off its hinges. Crouching through the door, a scaly beast on iron hooves enters. It exhales a foul, scorching breath from its nostrils, in contempt for the weakness sprayed before it. Then, wielding an axe blazing with fury, it takes a step towards the huddled-together mother and daughter. The whole room shakes under the weight of the beast, as shrieks fill the atmosphere. The beast lifts its weapon of doom ready to strike and the women close their eyes, bracing for the afterlife.

A bloodcurdling scream erupts from the beast's lungs. A scream of pain. From its torso, a broadsword protrudes. The blade slides out, and the warrior slashes across the beast's chest as it turns around to face its subject of annoyance. It swings a fist, and the warrior rolls under it. He shoots a glance at his family dragging their way to the edge of the room, as he places himself between them and certain death.

The beast then strikes with its war-axe, leaving a trail of sparks in the air. The warrior dodges again and slashes against the beast's thigh, and then across its belly. The beast, fuming with impatience, winds up for another blow. The warrior though is nimble, and manages to lunge at the beast's hand, cutting it off and seeing the smothering war-axe drop on the floor with a thud. The beast, shocked, takes a step back and lets out a howl that shakes the house to its foundation. The warrior, steadfast under the impossible odds, steels himself for the killing blow. With impossible speed, the beast's remaining arm shoots out and grabs the warrior from his shoulder, and with one motion cracks his collarbone. His sword falls from his grasp as his face contorts into a visage of agony.

Seething with mad cruelty and barbaric wrath, the beast growls mockingly in the face of the warrior. With a splash, his bowels drop on the floor as the beast tosses him like an emptied sack.

The warrior can only watch.

The beast stands up on its hind legs, filling up the room with its monstrous size. It looms over the mother and daughter, forcing them together with hatred and vileness unknown to mankind. The beast takes a step forward...

There was no screaming. Just rage and blood.

Written by MrDupin
Content is available under CC BY-SA

Author's note: The story was inspired by the song "Twilight of the Thunder God" by Amon Amarth and is an entry to Hel's "Bible Black" Metal Contest