The spirit pushed with all it's might, ignoring the writhing of it's brothers against the thorny boulder. This soul was one of the last to make it to the stone, managing to avoid the fate of it's siblings. Instead, it was able to push the overly large rock along with it's fellows, the only drive it experienced was to follow the monstrosity's orders. It had no power, that was obvious fact. The giant, the monstrous figure that commanded and ate them - it had power. The spirit didn't remember the concept of right and wrong - all it knew was that if it didn't push the rock, if it didn't obey, it would die. Even the spirit knew that dying was not enjoyable, but the work of pushing the stone made it feel something - not malice or anger, but a strange nostalgic feeling, even as blood coated his hands and thorns broke off of the stone and stabbed his feet. The other spirits lacked the mouth on their faces, but the spirit could sense their emotions. It was their eyes, the haze that coated it and the tears that streamed from their faces. They all felt overwhelming fear and sadness. Even with it's lack of a nose, the spirit could feel the disgusting scent of it's surroundings, the smell of brimstone, smoke, and feces filling every inch of the place. This only seemed to add to the misery of the place, not that the spirit minded. It's job was to push the stone, that was all. 

Just push the stone, and everything will be alright.

The spirit continued to push the stone, which was easier for him now that the bodies on the thorns stopped moving, until the rock slowly came to a stop. Even when pushing harder, the spirit was unable to move the rock, and it took it several seconds to realized the cause - the others had stopped pushing, and were looking back. Turning around to see what had caught the other's attention, the spirit was truly shocked. A large swarm was descending on the toppled guard, who was aggressively clawing at it's throat. The guards staples, the pieces of metal that held the flesh of it's gut together, was slowly being pulled off, met with screams from the guard. By this point,  all spirits had stopped pushing the rock, watching the carnage that was occurring. It was insane to one spirit, the spirit that had pushed the rock to survive. What did they think they were doing? They were challenging the one with power, they were challenging their superior. This was wrong. Or, it was, until the spirit saw the face of the horned guard. Of course, there was anger and pain, depicted from it's misshapen mouth. But along with that, their was something else there, something you needed to feel. Underneath that blind fury, there was an overwhelming emotion.

Fear. The monster was afraid. He didn't have power, and the spirits were the ones who were stronger now. The spirit kneeled down, picking up one of the smaller thorns that snapped off the rock as they pushed. It cut into the spirit's hand, blood seeping out and turning it's pure white hands a crimson red. The spirit made it's way over to the toppled guard, the monstrosity, until it stood close to the guards stomach. The spirit, still clutching the thorn, jammed it into the guards side.

Blood slowly seeped out of the wound. The skin felt leathery to the touch, and it was clear that the wound was merely a pinprick to the giant. Slowly, the spirit pulled out the thorn, before stabbing again, before retracting the blade once more. The intensity and speed at which this occurred only increased, until the spirit was relentlessly jamming the blade into the guard, the holes caused by the blade being somehow familiar in appearance. The guards screams continued to reverberate throughout the area, and the spirit eventually managed it - their was now an fairly large hole in the guards side, blood pooling below the creature. The thrusting continued, until the inevitable occurred - the thorn had broken, digging itself in a hard object inside of the guard, most likely bone. Not wishing to stop it's assault, the spirit climbed up the guards bloated stomach, seeking to join in the staple removal, which had made extreme progress. Countless staples fell from the beast, landing all around it's body and leaving the stomach partially exposed. The spirit merely helped it's siblings, pulling the remaining giant pieces of metal along with its brethren. Even with all of them, there were at least several more staples to remove. But the knowledge that it was in control, that it had authority, the spirit knew that it -

... No. The spirit knew that [i]he[/i] was superior to the tormentor that he stood upon. The fat creature was cocky, it allowed the spirits to assault it. The spirit could see clearly now - the guard must have choked while devouring on the bodies of the spirits. Even with all it's strength, it ignored the strongest factor in a battle - numbers beat everything and, with enough numbers, it didn't matter how strong an opponent was. The spirit decided to return to the hole he had created at the guards side and, after sliding from it's massive form carefully, began to tear the creatures side apart. The skin was far to tough to rip with his bear hands - even the thorn had difficulty doing so. Instead, the spirit tore the flesh from the inside, digging into the guard. The work was slow, and his hands were already bloody messes from wielding the thorn, but the spirit continued. The guard wasn't going to let them kill it so easily, and being inside of it would make it much harder for the guard to reach him.