Deep Rock Galactic - Fathomless Tomb

it's from the Comments of Deep Rock Galactic - Fathomless Tomb (Original Soundtrack Vol. I) by Ghost Ship Games (the ones who made the game.
the one who made the comment is @jorgemigueltavares6041
link: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=uD_1VBbMfs0
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A pulse faintly echoes in the cave, as you and your companions slowly descend. The Scout pops a flare onto the ceiling, and with his laser pointer, points to several pock marks along the wall, descending into the pit below.
Glyphid tracks, hundreds of them, all leading downward into the pit. You toss another flare into the depths, and see it hit the dirt below. The drop was big enough to guarantee broken bones for any bloke unlucky enough to fall down, so you switch to your zipline launcher and shoot a line angled downwards.

After reaching the bottom, you come across a winding tunnel leading deeper into the Crystalline Caverns, and after a few minutes of navigating the claustrophobia-inducing corridors, your group emerges into a larger cavern, the ceiling riddled with sharp stalactites.

You freeze before the sight in front of you, after a few more flares are popped onto the ceiling: Glyphid corpses, hundreds of them, littered the cave floor, dismembered, riddled with bullet holes, burn marks... there wasn’t a single space that wasn’t covered in ichor or broken chitin.
You walked slowly, stepping on sticky puddles of alien blood and giblets, your  weapons ready and sweeping over the dead beasts, uncertain if they were all truly dead or if one or two of them were just playing possum. You even caught the Scout nudging a Glyphid with his pickaxe.

A desperate and epic battle had happened here, a fact made evident when the Engineer pointed at a dead Oppressor nearby. Smoke emanated from the bulky bug’s ruined abdomen, and looking at its head it was easy to determine why - someone had rammed a ‘Thunderhead’ heavy autocannon’s twin barrels into its tusked maw and fired tungsten rounds through the creature’s innards, discarding the weapon after it got stuck.
Leaving the grizzly sight behind, you press onward.
Following the pulse, you come across the carcass of a Praetorian, the bug was missing half of its legs, but what really drew your attention were the red stains splattered on its toothy maw. The Driller nudged you and pointed to the disturbed ground next to it: bloodied footprints, heading deeper into the cave.
You weren’t far, now.
The footprints were headed in the same direction as the pulse in your HUD, and with a grunt, the four of you quickened your pace. The piles of dead bugs thinned out, likely due to their depleting numbers, and that made it all the more easier to make out the more dangerous aliens.
A pair of Mactera Tri-jaws lay motionless in a shared pool of acidic ichor, leaking from their abdominal sacs; a headless Menace was impaled in a jagged stalagmite, glowing goo dripping down its length; another deceased Praetorian lay atop a pile of Glyphid Grunts, with bits of its green armored hide missing and the broken blade of a pickaxe protruding from its skull.
But all of that paled in comparison to the next carcass you saw, facing the wall.

Several large stalactites pinned and crushed a massive beast, the feared Dreadnought. You cannot help but stare in awe, these Glyphids were walking tanks, the bane of any mining crew that found themselves wounded and low on ammo. Yet this one’s carapace was shattered, brittle. A clever combination of a few cryo grenades paired with the weight of the stalactites had felled the monster, with the Scout letting loose a slow whistle, visibly impressed at the sight.
Cautiously, the four of you walk around the thing, keeping your eyes trained on it, reaching for the wall.

Your hearts sank.
You finally found him.

Behind the beast’s impaled body, sitting slumped against the wall, his armor dented, bloody and torn, is the dwarf you were looking for: Sarge. The whole reason why the four of you were down there in the first place.
His damaged pickaxe is embedded deep into the Dreadnought’s skull, thick blood oozing out from the wound. On his right hand, he’s still clutching his trusty ‘Bulldog’ revolver, the cylinder devoid of bullets.
It almost looked like he was just resting, and everyone held on to that faint hope, that he’d wake up and weakly ask for an Oily Oaf, his favorite brew.
The Driller sets down his flamethrower and kneels beside Sarge, reaching under his bloodied beard to sense a pulse in the stocky neck underneath it.

Nobody says anything. You just wait, holding your breaths.

After a pregnant pause, the Driller retrieves his hand and looks away, pinching the bridge of his nose, trembling. The Scout tries to hide his sobs, but fails. The Engineer removes his goggles, looking forlorn as fat tears drop down to the ground. You just stare up at the ceiling, trying to keep a stoic façade, but you can’t. You all knew it, you just didn’t want to accept the reality. Your mournful wails and cries echo into the darkness.
Hoxxes IV had claimed yet another life.

Sarge, your mentor and friend, a veteran miner, the one who always had a shanty on his sleeve to make everyone laugh while you mined together, the one who pulled your arses out of the fire multiple times, the one Dwarf that was liked by everyone in the station and got along with everyone, even Mission Control… was dead. He stayed behind to save his team. Bled out. Died alone. And yet, he has a peaceful smile adorning his bloody and rugged face. After a brief moment of mourning, you tap the radio.

“We found him, requesting extraction.” you announce to the speaker, barely recognizing your own voice.

“…Understood, it’s on its way.” is the curt response you get from Mission Control. A nav point appears on your HUD, and you feel a faint rumble in the distance as the pod descends to a closer depth to pick you up. You and the Driller gently hoist the fallen Dwarf and begin the trek back to the pod in silence, the Scout taking point while the Engineer covers the rear.

No bugs come for you, not a single one, they were either all dead or had retreated, you weren’t sure which.

As you climb up the ramp and slowly, almost reverently, deposit the fallen Sarge on one of the seats, you hear Mission Control’s voice in the radio.
“Bring him home, lads. We… we’re all waiting for him.” he says, desperately trying to hide the sadness in his voice and remain professional.
You sit down on the floor, the rumbles shaking you as the pod ascends once again, and stare at Sarge’s limp body, blinking away the tears that still formed in your eyes.

The driller sits next to him, his eyes unfocused as he stared vacantly at the depth displays and controls. The Scout once again gives in to his grief, his beard mottled with tears and snot as he cried inconsolably, while the Engineer put his arm over his friend’s back and tried to calm him down.
“Leave no dwarf behind.” you hear the Driller mutter quietly.

You all felt the same way.