The fluorescent lights flickered overhead, casting erratic shadows that danced across the dimly lit laboratory as Henry navigated the maze of equipment. His heart raced, a chaotic mix of excitement and dread coursing through his veins. In a pod adjacent to Professor Nicanor’s, Rafa floated unconscious, suspended in a murky liquid, surrounded by a symphony of blinking monitors and the low hum of machinery.

  Henry’s fingers flew across the control panel, deftly pressing buttons and swiping through a series of screens displaying the intricate designs of his experiment. “I won’t kill you…” he muttered, his voice a low growl tinged with menace, “But I’ll make sure she won’t recognize you.” A wicked grin spread across his face, the weight of his dark intentions pressing heavily on his shoulders.

  With a decisive motion, he yanked down a lever. Instantly, a surge of energy crackled through the room, the air thickening with an electric charge. Streams of luminous energy began to spiral from Rafa’s body, swirling like ethereal tendrils of smoke, moving toward the machine with an ominous hum that filled the space.

  Henry felt the intoxicating power of the experiment coursing through him, a euphoric high that drowned out the nagging doubts clawing at the back of his mind. His eyes widened in rapt attention as the energy oscillated violently between Rafa and the machine, creating a mesmerizing display. After what felt like an eternity, the energy abruptly ceased.

  A sickening sound filled the air as Rafa’s head split open at the cranium, leaving a heavy silence in its wake. Henry’s breath quickened, his pulse pounding with anticipation as he approached Rafa’s pod. He checked the monitors, ensuring everything operated within expected parameters before shifting his gaze to Professor Nicanor. “Now, time to put you inside of the professor,” he grinned, excitement surging within him.

  With renewed fervor, Henry pressed a few more buttons and then pulled a gleaming lever. The machine began to hum once more, waves of energy surging into Professor Nicanor’s chamber.

  The lights that hung around the lab flickered violently, one by one exploding into darkness until only the eerie blue glow from the machine and the Professor’s pod illuminated the room.

  Henry watched in awe as the energy enveloped the professor, a radiant cocoon of power. Then, the flow abruptly halted. He quickly scanned the numbers and levels, a thrill racing through him as he noticed a heartbeat registering on the monitor. “Yes!” he cheered, his voice echoing in the silence. In a frenzy, he pressed additional buttons, and the pods began to drain. Both Rafa’s and Professor Nicanor’s bodies slumped forward, and Henry rushed to the Professor’s pod, opening it with trembling hands. He swiftly placed a mesh cover over the exposed head, urgency driving him as he pulled the Professor’s limp form onto a scientific table.

  “Okay, time to close you up now,” he said, his voice dripping with satisfaction. He gently removed the mesh cover, but just as he leaned over to secure the Professor’s head, an unnatural horror unfolded. Professor Nicanor’s mouth gaped impossibly wide, wider than any human mouth should, and a grotesque, shadowy hand shot out, grasping Henry and pulling him in.

  Henry screamed—a raw sound of pure terror—as he was yanked into the abyss of Professor Nicanor’s cavernous maw. In that fleeting moment, he was thrust into a nightmarish dimension, a hellscape of fire and shadow. The sights and sounds overwhelmed him, chaotic and disorienting, but amidst the turmoil, he caught a glimpse of Rafa, trapped deep within the Professor’s throat, before the force of the pull yanked him back out.

  With a brutal impact, Henry slammed against the wall, the powerful force rendering him unconscious.

  Professor Nicanor’s body began to stir on the table, his body pulsing as if something sinister was awakening within him. It looked as though hands were crawling beneath his skin, writhing in a disturbing dance. Then, with a sudden jolt, he stood upright, the movement halting the unsettling spectacle. Panic etched across his features, his body trembling as he glanced at the pod where Rafa lay collapsed. A look of horror washed over him as realization dawned. “Th—that’s me!” He touched his chest and face in confusion, disbelief threading through his thoughts.

  Yet, a deeper darkness began to seep into the room, a shadow that only he could perceive. It was a suffocating dread, the kind that emerges in the direst of moments—like a deer sensing a predator lurking unseen or a rabbit frozen in the grass, heart racing as it feels the faint rustle of leaves above, knowing that danger is near. This was fear… raw and unrelenting. Rafa surged off the table, and in a blind panic, he turned on his heels and fled, leaving his disfigured corpse behind in his haste. He burst through the exit, stepping into the enveloping night. Outside, darkness had cloaked everything, with only the towering silhouettes of gnarled trees surrounding him and Henry's van sitting ominously at the edge of a secluded dirt path. The soft glow from the lab behind him spilled out, creating haunting shadows that danced in front of him.

  “Where the hell am I?” he thought frantically, his heart racing as he scanned the area, eyes darting left and right. He caught sight of a puddle of water in front of him and leaned down, his breath hitching as he caught his reflection. Staring back was a figure he barely recognized.

  “I guess the better question is, who am I?” he murmured, disbelief flooding his senses as he took in the unfamiliar features. “I think I’m that damn teacher from the science fair!”

  He touched the jagged edges of his open head, feeling the roughness where his skull had once been intact. “Yeah, the one in that creep’s pod. Although my real body didn’t look too good, either,” he admitted, glancing down at the new form. “At least this one is recognizable,” he added, taking another look at his reflection, anxiety creeping back in.

  Suddenly, a desperate pressure swelled inside of his mouth, as if hands were pushing outward, yearning to escape. In a frantic moment, Rafa clamped his hands over his mouth, causing his face to bulge and his eyes to widen in horror. He could feel the skin crawling from within as numerous hands clawed their way toward his lips.

  Just as abruptly, the sensation faded, the hands retreating into the shadowy depths of his being, leaving him breathless and trembling. His features relaxed, almost hollow, as a resonant voice filled his mind—a voice belonging to a man he had never encountered, yet somehow felt familiar. “Stop running,” it commanded, deep and menacing, echoing with an unsettling warmth. “A King does not cower in fear.”

  A wave of calm washed over Rafa as his surroundings shifted, melting into an ethereal plane devoid of form. He found himself enveloped in a swirling, colorful fog, shades of purple and red breathing around him like living shadows.

  “Who are you!?” he demanded, his voice rising in the void, echoing back at him, punctuated by the silence.

  “Do not feign ignorance, child!” the voice boomed, reverberating through the emptiness. “My arrival was but a matter of destiny. Or did your mother fail to inform you?”

  “Great, and this is when you choose to show yourself?” Rafa shot back sarcastically. “Look at me—I’m not even me anymore,” he added, glancing down at his distorted form.

  “Hmph, that is but a mere shell. Go ahead, reveal to me your true form,” Asmodeus’s voice crackled with dark amusement as if he were smirking through his words.

  Rafa gasped, memories flooding back of the last time he transformed. “No,” he said firmly. “That isn’t me.” His fists clenched at his sides, determination coursing through him.

  Asmodeus purred, “You should never harbor shame for who you are, Rafael. Particularly one such as yourself, who is destined to be King soon.”

  “King?” Rafa questioned, his guard lowering slightly.

  “Of course! It is precisely why I am here. I understand how it may sound, notably with the way humans have depicted it, but come with me to Hell, Rafael. You shall be a King, ruling by my side. Our Kingdom will grow ever more powerful, and together, we shall conquer the other realms. Imagine the legions we will command, the women, the riches, the feasts! And with your aid, we may even open a portal to your Earth and claim it as our own. What do you say, my son?”

  “I think you talk too much, old man. I’m not about that lifestyle,” Rafa retorted, a defiant spark igniting in his chest. “Besides, Mom wouldn't like that, and I think you need a lawyer for custody battles. But I’ll be 18 soon—maybe check back later?” He mocked, crossing his arms defiantly.

  Asmodeus let out a frustrated sound, a low growl that reverberated through the ethereal plane. Suddenly, the fog around Rafa began to swirl violently, twisting into a tornado-like vortex. The mist contorted, taking on a terrifying shape until, at last, Asmodeus emerged before him—a towering fusion of man, goat, and bull, the same monstrous figure that Catalina had encountered long ago.

  His formidable presence would have sent any mortal cowering in fear, but Rafa stood there, transfixed in awe. “Hmm, do you not fear me?” Asmodeus asked, his voice a rumble of thunder.

  “I’ve encountered many entities before—ghosts, ghouls, even other demons,” Rafa replied, his calm demeanor surprising even himself. “And while they instilled varying degrees of fear in me, with you, there’s none. Should a son fear his father?”

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  Asmodeus paused, his eyes narrowing as he considered the question. His form began to shift once more, contorting and shrinking until he stood before Rafa as the handsome human man Catalina had once opened the door to. “Tell me, Rafael,” his voice oozed with dark curiosity, “what hope do you have left?” He drew closer, his gaze sinister, gleaming with a chilling interest. “What did you see when you gazed into that simple puddle? You said it yourself—you are no longer the man you once were. Do you honestly believe Marisol will welcome you back after witnessing you in this state? The frail body of an old man, your skull cracked open, a man who looks as though he’s been dead for ages. I doubt even your mother would wish to see you again,” he murmured, his hand resting lightly on Rafa’s shoulder. “Why? After all, she never wanted you in the first place.” He grinned darkly as he faded out of existence, reappearing behind him in an instant.

  Rafa gasped, spinning with haste to confront Asmodeus, but the demon had already vanished, only to materialize in a new position. His laughter reverberated with a dark resonance, filling the air with a sense of dread. “So be it, Rafael!” Asmodeus declared with an unsettling calm. “But mark my words—those demons shall not rest until they tear themselves free from the wretched corpse you now inhabit! This vessel does not belong to you, and if I know Belial, he is no doubt striving with all his might to break free. I would wish you good fortune, but I am certain you shall choose the path most fitting… son.” Asmodeus’s laughter swelled, and the world around Rafa began to distort, warping until he found himself once again before the puddle.

  Staring at his reflection, he felt the weight of the encounter crash down on him. As he reached out to touch his face, a prickly sensation erupted in his skull, where it was split open. Curiosity mingled with dread as he leaned closer to the puddle, peering into the depths of his skull. The interior felt gooey and sticky, and the itch clawed at his consciousness. Pushing deeper, his fingers scraped against something thin and bony, and suddenly, a hand seized him from within.

  Panic surged through Rafa as he yanked his hand back, but it was too late. A dark, long, slimy hand gripped his wrist, leaking brain matter as it pulled him back toward the depths of his skull.

  “Get off me!” Rafa shouted, his heart racing, but another hand began to crawl out, and desperation gripped him. He made a frantic attempt to push it back inside, but the demon’s hands seized both his wrists and the pressure built within him, causing his head to bulge grotesquely as something much larger writhed to escape.

  Then, an unbearable itch ignited from his rear end, a maddening sensation that mirrored the turmoil unraveling inside him. “Aw, hell no!” he roared, his voice a visceral scream of frustration. With every ounce of strength, Rafa struggled against the grip of the hands, but they were relentless. The darkness threatened to consume him as he fought against his own body.

  “No! I won’t let you out!” he yelled, feeling the overwhelming surge of fear and determination intertwining within him. He could almost hear Belial’s mocking laughter echoing in the back of his mind, taunting him, urging him to give in to the darkness.

  In that moment of desperation, Rafa realized he had a choice. He could succumb to the chaos and let Belial emerge, or he could reclaim his identity and fight back against the darkness that sought to claim him. Gathering every ounce of willpower, he focused on the flickering ember of his true self buried beneath the chaos. “I am not just a vessel for you!” he shouted into the void, defiance igniting his spirit. “I am not afraid of you, Belial!”

  With that declaration, he felt a surge of energy ripple through him—a warmth that spread from his core, pushing against the suffocating darkness. The hands gripping his wrists hesitated, as if momentarily stunned by the utterance of their name. Rafa harnessed that energy, envisioning a barrier rising within him, a protective shield against the chaos that loomed, threatening to engulf him.

  As he concentrated, the hands began to recede, retreating into the shadows where they belonged. Rafa could feel the weight of Belial’s presence—heavy and insistent—pressing against his defenses, but he refused to back down. “You don’t control me!” he yelled, pushing against the dark, forcing it back with every ounce of strength he could muster.

  The atmosphere around him shifted. He could feel the tension crackling in the air, a battle of wills unfolding within him. Just as Belial’s essence threatened to overwhelm him, Rafa summoned the memory of Marisol’s face—the warmth of her smile, the strength of her spirit. It fueled him, reminding him of what he was fighting for.

  “Marisol needs me,” he declared, voice steady and resolute. “I will not let you take me from her!”

  With that thought, a blinding light erupted from within him, illuminating the darkness that surrounded him. The hands that had once clawed at him fell silent, retreating into the depths of his being, defeated by his newfound resolve. Rafa gasped, the sensation of his skull still throbbing.

  The moon hung high in the sky, casting silvery light across the ground. He glanced down at the puddle again, his reflection still marred by the grotesque remnants of his transformation.

  As he stood, catching his breath, Rafa could feel a lingering presence, a whisper of Belial still lurking in the shadows, waiting for the next opportunity to strike. He knew he had to act quickly.

  Rafa turned his gaze to the van, its shadowy silhouette lingering at the edge of his vision, and drew in a steadying breath. A surge of determination coursed through him as he approached the vehicle, the weight of his purpose propelling him forward. He had to find Marisol. “If Henry could conduct such a twisted experiment,” he reasoned, “then surely Marisol could undo its effects. After all, she was the science champion, wasn’t she?” he murmured to himself, a flicker of hope igniting within.

  As he approached the van, he heard the faint sound of footsteps crunching on the gravel behind him. He spun around, adrenaline surging through his veins, ready to face whatever emerged from the shadows. Instead, he found himself staring into the eyes of Henry, the very man who had set this nightmare in motion.

  “Rafa…” Henry’s voice trailed off, a mix of shock and fear evident on his face. “W-what happened to you?”

  “Stop right there,” Rafa replied, his voice steady but firm. “You’re sick.”

  Henry took a step back, confusion etched across his features. “What do you mean?”

  “Look at me!” Rafa continued, his voice warping and splitting, as if multiple voices echoed together, each one darker than the last. The memory of the lab flashed in his mind. “You think you can play God with people’s lives!?”

  The tension in the air thickened, and for a moment, it felt as if the world was holding its breath. Then, with a sudden burst of resolve, Rafa charged forward, ready to confront the man who had orchestrated so much pain.

  Henry’s eyes widened in terror as Rafa advanced, a surge of dread coiling in his stomach. The darkness that had been swirling at the edges of Rafa’s consciousness poured out, wrapping around him like a suffocating shroud. He could feel Belial’s influence gnawing at the corners of his mind, insidious and relentless, whispering malevolent thoughts that clawed at his sanity.

  With a sudden jolt, he reached for his head, a sharp, piercing pain exploding behind his eyes like shards of glass. The agony intensified as he collapsed to the ground, his knees giving way beneath him. His skull still throbbed the pressure of something dark and ancient trying to tear its way out. “Aah!” he screamed, the sound a raw mixture of fear and desperation. He gasped for breath, his vision swimming, and every inch of him screamed with agony.

  Henry, heart pounding, stepped closer. Panic had fully taken over now. His hands were shaking as he looked down at the broken figure before him—no longer a mere man, but something monstrous, something he didn’t know how to control. This wasn’t part of the plan.

  Without thinking, Henry lashed out, grabbing Rafa by the hair and yanking his head back roughly, exposing the vulnerable, distorted skin beneath. “You should never have gotten close to her,” Henry muttered through clenched teeth, his voice trembling with both fear and anger.

  Rafa’s breath hitched, but he couldn’t muster the strength to fight back, his body still convulsing from the pain within. “Please stop,” Rafa’s voice barely escaped, broken and pleading, but Henry wasn’t listening.

  In a surge of panic-fueled rage, Henry raised his foot and kicked Rafa hard in the ribs, the sickening sound of the blow echoing through the darkened woods. Rafa gasped in pain, his body jerking forward in response, but he couldn’t get enough leverage to push himself away.

  “Look at you,” Henry spat, his voice thick with a combination of fear and rage. “Look at what you’ve become. You’re not even human anymore.”

  Rafa struggled to breathe, his hands trembling as he tried to push himself up, but the force of Henry’s kick had left him dazed and weak. His vision blurred, the pain intensifying as Belial’s influence clawed at his mind, urging him to fight back, to give in.

  But Henry wasn’t done. In a final, desperate move, he bent down, seizing Rafa by the throat, his grip tightening like a vice. “You were nothing before I took you. You’ll be nothing now!” Henry hissed, his breath ragged as the adrenaline pushed him to the brink.

  Rafa’s vision was fading, the demon inside him writhing in protest, but just as he thought he might lose consciousness, something inside him snapped. The darkness that had been festering within surged, and with it, a primal force that sent a shockwave through his broken body.

  His hands shot up, grabbing Henry’s wrist with a strength that surprised both of them. “You’ll regret this,” Rafa growled his voice a twisted echo of his own, blending with the demon’s dark influence.

  Henry froze, his eyes wide with fear as he realized too late that he had underestimated Rafa, and the power coursing through him. With a violent jerk, Rafa shoved Henry back, sending him stumbling to the floor.

  “Get off of me!” Rafa shouted, his voice warping and splitting, echoing with the terrifying growl of Belial’s power. “I am done being your experiment.”

  Henry scrambled back, his mind racing. He had created this, but never imagined it would go this far. This wasn’t a human anymore—it was a monster with a will of its own, one that was warring with Rafa for control—and winning.

  Rafa’s body convulsed violently, his fingers clawing at the dirt beneath him as if trying to anchor himself to reality. An ancient presence within him stirred to life, awakening with a terrifying hunger. His eyes flickered, transforming from their familiar brown into an abyssal black, glowing with a sinister, malevolent energy. The voice that erupted from his lips was otherworldly, a chilling amalgamation of Rafa’s own and a darker force—something that had no place in the realm of the living.

  “If you will not wield this body… then I shall take it as my own,” the voice rumbled, deep and thunderous, reverberating through the very air around them. The words echoed with power, each syllable dripping with malicious intent, and Henry froze, his breath catching in his throat. It was Belial. There was no mistaking it. The demon had fully claimed Rafa.

  The air grew colder, thick with dread, and the shadows seemed to bend and warp as if the woods itself recognized the evil awakening. Belial’s grip on the world tightened, the very atmosphere suffocating with dark energy.

  Before Henry could react, Belial lunged, moving with a speed that was unnatural, more monstrous than human. He grabbed Henry by the head with one hand, fingers sinking into his skull like claws, squeezing with terrifying force. The sickening sound of cracking bone filled the air as Belial yanked Henry off the ground, his head twisted unnaturally to the side, eyes wide with the terror of what was about to come.

  Henry gasped, his hands scrabbling at the demon’s grip, but it was useless. Belial’s strength was beyond anything human. With a savage twist, the demon tore at Henry’s legs, both of them in one hand, and with a deep, resonant roar, he pulled them apart, the sound of muscle, sinew, and bone being shredded like paper filling the air.

  Henry's scream echoed through the woods, a piercing cry filled with agony, yet Belial pressed on without hesitation. With relentless force, he wrenched, limbs tearing with sickening ease, blood and entrails spilling onto the floor in a gruesome cascade. As Henry's cries faded into a low, guttural moan, his consciousness began to slip into darkness.

  Flesh hung in ribbons, and Henry’s body was contorted beyond recognition as he was torn apart, piece by piece.

  “This is what you deserve,” Belial’s voice hissed, the words reverberating with malevolent satisfaction. The demon’s hands twisted Henry’s remaining form, pulling until the man’s torso split with a sickening crack. Bones splintered like dry twigs, organs spilling out in a flood of red.

  Belial released Henry’s dismembered remains, letting them thud heavily against the cold ground, the sound echoing through the stillness of the night. He stepped back, his eyes gleaming with a twisted delight as he surveyed the horror he had wrought. The malevolent grin that had once stretched across his face was now replaced by a sinister, almost satisfied expression as if he relished the chaos that accompanied his every act of cruelty.

  “And that’s the cost of defiance,” he intoned, his voice icy and laced with a chilling, regal authority that sent shivers through the air.

  Turning away from the gruesome scene, Belial’s gaze pierced the darkness, his attention drawn to the distant glimmer of city lights flickering on the horizon. He tilted his head from side to side, the sound of cracking bones echoing ominously as he contemplated his next move. “So just how astute is this Marisol? Hmm,” he mused, a predatory glint sparkling in his eyes. “I think I'll pay her a visit.”

  Suddenly, he hunched over, his back contorting grotesquely as bat-like wings erupted from his spine, stretching wide and casting eerie shadows on the ground. With a powerful flap of his wings, Belial launched himself into the air, a gust of wind whipping through the clearing, scattering Henry’s remains like leaves caught in a storm.

  He soared upward, leaving the secluded area behind, his dark silhouette cutting against the starry sky as he sped toward the city, vanishing into the night like a fleeting nightmare.