Titan King

Chapter 43

Pickle led the group of survivors through the dark tunnels. Lucy noticed just how ferociously he was against the demons. His steps, breaths, swings, blows, and his every being were brimming with a violence that was barely being kept in check by him.

Sometimes he would have the group stop to rest, while he disappeared further in the tunnels. Only to come back moments later, sometimes almost an hour, with his hands covered in blood.

Looking angrier than before each time.

Unable to hold her curiosity, the Corporal followed the man; she hadn't learnt his name yet. The tunnel darkened further and further, until all of the natural light was gone.

Lucy readied her weapon; she could not see, so she stuck as close to the wall as possible.

A light coming from the end of the corner caught her attention, and she moved to check on it. When she did, she froze as a familiar feeling of unbearable heat was launched past her.

She almost died!

Lucy: 'Get a hold!'

She scolded herself. The sound akin to shouts of fear caught her attention. And when she did fully give the scene before her full attention...

It was the large man.

He was tearing through a demonic horde like paper, and flashes of fire from the Arch-vile were the only reason she was able to see.

It equal parts amazed and terrified her.

Screams echoed from deeper ahead — not human, but guttural and furious.

She inched closer, peering into the firelit chaos.

Pickle stood in the centre of it all.

Demons swarmed him like locusts, and he tore through them as if they were paper. Each movement was savage and efficient — a dance of annihilation illuminated by the burning sigils of an Arch-vile's flames.

The monster shrieked and hurled fire at him, but Pickle was faster. He lunged through the blaze, kneeing the Arch-vile's skull so hard it caved in before sending the body flying down the tunnel.

Imps leapt onto him, scratching and biting. He swatted them aside like gnats.

Then a Baron of Hell crashed into him with a roar, shaking the tunnel. The two titans wrestled, claws and muscles straining.

But there was no contest.

Pickle seized the Baron's arms, muscles bulging — and ripped them clean off.

Before the demon could even scream, he used its own limbs as clubs, smashing its skull into pulp.

More demons surged forward, shrieking.

Pickle turned to meet them, eyes blazing in the firelight—and the slaughter began anew.

...

Lucy stood frozen, her back pressed to the tunnel wall.

The air reeked of burnt flesh and sulfur. The ground trembled beneath her boots as Pickle continued his brutal symphony—a rhythm of flesh-tearing, bones-cracking, and monsters screaming.

She had seen death before.

She had seen soldiers torn apart by Hell Knights, cities levelled by infernal bombardments.
But this... this was something else entirely.

When the last Imp fell, the world fell silent. Only the crackle of demon fire remained. Pickle stood amid a mountain of corpses, his chest rising and falling in slow, steady breaths. Steam curled from his skin; blood and ash clung to him like war paint. His eyes—faintly glowing a sickly green, animal and ancient—flicked toward her hiding place.