Endless Horde: Through the Eyes of a Godking

Chapter 375: Racial War; Oh, Karma!

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Boom!

"Keep it up, folks! It's getting slow and tired. It won't be long now."

"Jets! Focus on breaking the barrier and getting to the power source! Let us Mechs focus on taking the Demon Prince down!"

"Go! Move it!"

The cacophony of deafening sounds and roars of battle rang incessantly within the surroundings. Fires billowed and smoke rose; the ground constantly shook from the aftermath of explosions happening all over the ship.

In front of the core area of the ship, several jets, machines, and tons of demons could be seen fighting for their lives. This part of the ship has been long exposed since the shields were taken down and the human fleet's unstoppable bombardment.

They pelted the main ship of demons with holes that exposed it to the harmful substances of space, making it more difficult for them to recover and counterattack.

The jets and drones streaked through space; they were either getting rid of the strays that's mobbing the place or working on disabling the protection of the core area so that they could reach the power source of the ship. Explore stories on mvl

Meanwhile, the mechs were facing the Demon Prince. They're ganging up on him, which seems unfair, but that's pretty common since this is war.

To the prince's credit, though, he's managing somehow. No, he's not completely unscathed; he couldn't possibly be given how their weapons were especially made to deal with demons like him, but even when he's outnumbered, he's still alive to this point. Any stray animals in his position would've died at the first salvo they received.

The pressure's on, though. The Demon Prince wasn't given any room to retreat or relax. The men are after him constantly. It's clear that they're tiring him out and keeping him occupied long enough to prevent him from interfering with their comrades who's trying to disable the barriers.

In terms of skill alone, the Demon Prince was clearly good. He's pretty strong too. There has been a pilot who made the mistake to engage him in close quarters and paid dearly for it with his life.

The Demon Prince was deadly with his spear, and no matter what they did, even though they outnumbered him, he never fell down even once. He will always manage to somehow fall on his feet. He could use an empty space as a foothold to stabilize himself, and he could launch an attack at any angle. His strikes were siniters, always seeking to kill whenever he could.

The mechs were pretty durable, but with the Demon Prince's spear, the materials used to create these mechas might as well be paper.

That's why they could only engage him at a distance. Had they fought him in close quarters, at least half of them would've been dead by now. It was fortunate that the humans who were engaging him weren't stupid.

Pshew! Bang!

"GAHCK!!!"

The Demon Prince's eyes went wide due to a sudden flash of pain. He collapsed and vomitted blood. He looked down and saw a gaping hole in his stomach, causing him to pale in terror and fright. He turned to the spot where the shot came from and saw a rather inauspicious mecha manifesting in his view.

He could tell that it was getting out of its cloaking after the shot. He could also see the lingering smoke rising from the railgun mounted on its shoulders. That's what he did.

"Nice fucking shot, Dude!"

"Good job, Bullet Angel!"

"He's down! Kill him!"

The Demon Prince paled even further after feeling the smoldering determination of humans to kill him. He tried his best to stand up and retreat, but the gaping hole in his stomach left him too weak to move.

Black blood poured out from the wound, staining the ground and his spear. Despite his weakness, the Demon Prince still glared at his enemies. He was terrified at the thought of truly dying here, but his hatred trounced the fear he felt.

He wanted nothing more than to tear all of them to pieces, chew on their flesh, and suck their marrows. He wanted them to suffer the most painful death possible. He wanted to refine their souls and douse it in a cauldron of boiling poison.

The Demon Prince never felt this kind of hatred before. It simultaneously eroded his reason and numbed his pain, giving him some semblance of clarity in an ironic way.

Still trying his best to crawl out of the way of the explosions and never-ending salvos, the prince collapsed on his own puddle of blood. He saw his reflection there and saw the enraged and twisted expression he was wearing.

One that mirrors the same one as the humans had as they fought this war.

That...that is when it hit him.

That is when everything became crystal clear to him. This was the part when he realized just how fucked up this was.

'Ah, so that's what it feels.'

'No wonder they're very eager to kill us all.'

He never could've imagined that there would be a day when he'd deeply relate to the emotions of people from a primitive race, yet here he was.

All the hatred he felt; all the bad things he wanted to do them; the sheer amount of anger, loss, shame, fear, and indignation were all things that the humans endured since the day they invaded their world.

The sheer might of demons forced them to their knees, so much so that even the idea of vengeance was squashed down because they're too weak for it.

This feeling was a searing sensation that penetrates deep into one's soul, branding itself within, unable to be forgotten. Yes, you could argue that these people weren't the same ones that had endured the worst; after all, they're pretty young, and they were born in an era where humans cowed under the heels of demons and hid within their little safety bubble.

They weren't their ancestors who were tortured, enslaved, converted, and humiliated. They were born as slaves and knew that kind of life ever since.

That said, history has a way of reminding people of their purpose. All the suffering and hatred their ancestors felt towards demons were inherited by the generation after them. You could even say that this hatred flows with their blood, remaining stagnant until the time comes when it should be ignited.

Their profound hatred towards the Demon Race gave birth to this change. And look just how much the tables have turned.

Seeing everything you know and love destroyed before your eyes while you're unable to do anything about it was a special kind of trauma that no individual could just endure.

Now that he could relate to what humans have always felt towards them, the Demon Prince couldn't help but laugh mirthlessly to himself.

'Oh, Karma. You truly are a bitch.'

He regretted everything so much; he regretted the fact that he honored his father's wishes to be gentle with Prime Earth for the sake of collecting the world's consciousness intact. He regrets that he allowed his men to play with their food instead of consuming it right away. He regrets his inactivity and disdain towards humans before, dismissing them as weak fools with delusions of grandeur.

And finally, he regretted the fact that he had given them so much window of opportunity to develop this far. Because if he had taken action back then, none of this would've happened.

But like they always say, there's no medicine for regrets.

The Demon Prince could feel his death approaching, even as the strays around him practically threw their bodies in between for the sake of protecting him while other strays carried him to safety.

He couldn't even bring himself to appreciate their efforts or thank them as they lay their own lives for him. It's because he knew that their efforts were meaningless; they're just delaying the inevitable. Humans won't let him go. They will kill him. That's for certain.

Even as he felt his wounds stitching itself, his energy couldn't keep up. He's skilled, yes. He's strong, yes. But he didn't have access to the same, nearly limitless well of energy source as the Sin Demons. He's stronger than the sin demons, yes. But the mechas of humans were built to mow through demons, and they've practically banded together to deal with him.

He was already exhausted from all the stressful situations he's been forced to. Hell, he couldn't even hold his spear properly anymore.

This was it for him. And he just can't help but feel really bitter and unwilling about it.

There's still so much for him to do. He hasn't even gotten the attention of the talent scouts yet. He hasn't proven his potential to them. He hasn't stepped onto the big stage yet. Dying in an unknown and primitive solar system like this wasn't anywhere on his bucket list of things he wanted to do.

Bitter tears poured down his face as he felt the scythe of death on his neck. He wanted to call out for his father to save him. He also dearly missed the mother he never had.

Yet despite his despair and sadness, his enemies were all out of mercy for him.

And as life ebbed away from his body, he couldn't help but have one final thought:

'Oh, father. We should've never really come here.'