Page 26 of Of Sins and Sacrifice

I do my best to avoid looking at all the severed body parts, especially since not even an hour ago, I had seen the same people laughing, dancing, and enjoying life.

Now… They’re gone.

Just like that.

I reach soldier boy and realize why he’s trying so hard to move that piece of concrete. There’s a faint sound coming from underneath it. It’s almost like a wheezing sound, followed by a barely audible moan of pain.

He doesn’t acknowledge my presence.

Grabbing onto the sides of the slab, he pulls it up at the same time as he’s pulling it toward him. There are rusty metal bars protruding from the concrete that dig into his flesh, but he doesn’t stop.

He gives it his all.

It’s almost…admirable.

“Grab that side,” he says with a labored breath, pointing to the end of the slab that is still not budging.

I’m frozen to my spot, unable to move—either to run away or to help him.

More smoke comes out from the burning wood, making it increasingly harder to breathe. If I, an immortal, find this uncomfortable, I cannot imagine how it must be for a human.

The entire landscape is one of horror, reminding me of the hellish dimension where evil souls go. I’ve never personally visited it, but I’ve seen illustrations of it. And it’s just like this.

Pain. Death. More pain.

The severed body parts and the pooling blood gathering onto the asphalt are the centerpiece of this horror.

So much death…

“I’m talking to you, darling,” soldier boy calls out, his voice harsher than before. “Grab that side.”

I blink and meet his eyes.

They’re a dark green, but the darkness comes from within, from the things he’s witnessed and the things he has yet to witness.

There is no more amusement in his features now. No smile to be found. And for some reason, I envy the me from momentsago, who was only regaled with that side of him—annoying as it might be.

“I…can’t,” I whisper.

His features contort in anger, followed by what seems like disappointment.

But why? He doesn’t know me. He has no reason to be disappointed by my actions.

“You can’t?” he asks harshly, his upper lip twitching.

His hands are full of scrapes and scratches, some so deep, blood keeps oozing out. His nails are broken, a couple of them hanging on by a loose thread and on the verge of falling off.

His uniform is destroyed. Blood, smoke, and dirt. It’s also ripped in places from being snagged by the metal bars.

“I…”

I should go. Teleport out of here and disappear. He might find that strange, but perhaps after some time, he’d think I was an illusion.

I truly should go.

But why am I not moving?

“Don’t tell me you’re too delicate to lift some rubble.”

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