Jigoku’s reign of terror was not merely confined to the underworld—he expanded it outward, into the very streets of Earth, becoming a living nightmare for all who dwelled upon it. As a prince of Hell, he was not just a figure of power; he was destruction incarnate, a force of chaos that seemed to exist solely to tear apart everything in its path. His very presence was a blight upon the land, and his name, whispered in fear, was enough to send even the most hardened warriors into paralyzing terror. Known as both the God of Terror and the Creator of Satanism, Jigoku was not content with ruling from the shadows—he sought to cast an unrelenting darkness over the world, reshaping humanity in his twisted image. His philosophy, built upon unrestrained violence and suffering, was designed to impose a vision of chaos, where true power could only be gained through the infliction and endurance of pain. To Jigoku, every ounce of suffering was a step toward a better, stronger world, albeit one of bloodshed and torment.
His most infamous acts were the New York Genocide and the Los Angeles Massacre—two brutal events that would forever be etched in history as symbols of his cruelty. These massacres were not mere battles or military campaigns; they were senseless and devastating killings carried out for one reason alone: to sate his sadistic thirst for blood. Over 700 million people perished in these events, and entire cities were left in ruin. But for Jigoku, these deaths were not simply casualties of war—they were offerings to his philosophy, sacrifices that proved his unchallenged power. No one was spared. Men, women, and children alike fell beneath his wrath, their lives extinguished without reason, without mercy. These were not the acts of a strategic mind but the ravings of a madman who sought only to cause chaos and spread his ideology through bloodshed. Every death, every scream, was a testament to his belief that suffering was the ultimate tool of transformation. Cities were decimated, entire populations wiped off the face of the Earth, and the world watched in horror as Jigoku reveled in the aftermath of his carnage.
Jigoku’s philosophy, rooted in violence and suffering, birthed what would come to be known as Satanism—the dark religion that he would later force upon his son, Akuma Ma Tori. Unlike conventional religions, which sought worship and reverence, Jigoku’s Satanism was an ideology of power through fear. It was not a system of beliefs but a brutal creed that embraced suffering and cruelty as the means to attain ultimate strength. The followers of Jigoku’s Satanism did not bow in devotion—they were called to arms, encouraged to embrace the pain and violence that pervaded the world, to use it as a tool to rise above the weak. In Jigoku’s eyes, power was not something that could be earned through hard work or diplomacy—it was something to be seized through force, through the imposition of fear, and through the willingness to cause suffering.
This perverse philosophy was rooted in the idea that only those who could endure pain and inflict it upon others would be worthy of true strength. The weak, in Jigoku’s eyes, were those who hesitated in the face of violence or felt remorse for the lives they took. For Jigoku, weakness was the ultimate sin, and he saw it as his divine right to shape the world in his image—an image where only the strong survived, and those who were not worthy perished without question. His vision was clear: a world shaped by suffering, where every individual was either a predator or prey, and only the strongest would claim power.
Jigoku’s methods were just as brutal and unrestrained as his philosophy. He was not merely a killer—he was a destroyer, a force of nature that sought to impose his will on the world through genocide, serial rape, and unrelenting torture. These acts were not incidental; they were integral to his larger plan to spread his philosophy across the globe. Jigoku did not see these as crimes—they were steps toward the creation of a new world, a world where his vision of strength and domination could be realized. He used his immense power to terrorize entire populations, breaking them down mentally and physically, forcing them to choose between submission or annihilation. Every village, every city, every nation that fell beneath his sway was a building block in the foundation of his hellish empire.
Central to his mission was the creation of the Tori no Ichizoku clan, a vast criminal organization that would serve as his personal army of terror. The clan, which was once a family of honor and respect, was twisted into a brutal network of mercenaries and assassins, all driven by Jigoku’s cruel teachings. Their motto, "kill for power, wealth, and survival," became both a creed and a battle cry. Under Jigoku’s influence, the Tori no Ichizoku clan grew rapidly, spreading its influence across North and South America. But it was in South America that Jigoku’s reign of terror truly reached its zenith.
The violence he unleashed in South America was particularly vicious. Governments fell, militias were crushed, and entire regions were left in ruins. The resistance movements that tried to push back against his forces were obliterated, their leaders slaughtered without mercy. The brutality of Jigoku’s methods left entire populations terrorized and broken, their spirits crushed beneath the weight of his cruelty. It was during this time that the South American Anti-Hero Organization (S.A.A.H.O.) was formed. Created by those who had survived Jigoku’s madness, S.A.A.H.O. was designed to fight back against the horrors that had been unleashed. It was a group born out of necessity, a desperate attempt to resist the onslaught of terror that had consumed the region.
Even among demons, Jigoku’s reputation was unmatched. Lucifer, often seen as the embodiment of cruelty in Hell, recognized Jigoku’s power and saw him as a force of chaos unlike anything he had ever encountered. Jigoku was not just another demon—he was a harbinger of destruction, a being whose very presence threatened to consume everything in its path. His actions were motivated not by any strategic plan but by pure madness—a need to destroy and dominate for the sake of it. Even the rulers of Hell, beings accustomed to unimaginable cruelty, distanced themselves from him. They saw his methods as too extreme, even for their dark realm. Jigoku was a demon apart, an entity that defied even the most basic principles of Hell. His violence was not about achieving any particular goal—it was an expression of his madness, a compulsion to impose terror on everything and everyone.
Despite his growing disdain among his peers, Jigoku embraced his title as the "God of Terror." He believed that his actions were justified, that his reign of violence was the natural order of the world. In his eyes, there were no innocent lives—only those who could take life and those who would have theirs taken. To him, his bloodshed was not just a reflection of his power—it was a divine right, an inherent aspect of his existence. He believed that the world was his domain to terrorize, to shape into a place of fear and suffering. His belief in his own godhood was not about divinity but about domination. He was the god of terror, and the world would bow to him or perish beneath his wrath.
Jigoku’s reign was one of absolute chaos, and his actions were not random acts of destruction. They were carefully calculated to spread his ideology through violence. He sought not only to increase his power but to control the very essence of fear itself. His name became synonymous with terror, and his legacy was one of torment and ruin. His violence was not the act of a madman—it was the manifestation of a twisted ideology, one that would continue to shape the world for generations to come.
His actions in South America were the catalyst for the formation of S.A.A.H.O., but they also set the stage for the further spread of his influence. The terror that Jigoku unleashed did not stop when he left a region. It resonated for decades, as his followers continued to spread his vision of suffering and power. The Tori no Ichizoku clan flourished in his absence, its influence growing and reaching new corners of the globe. Even in his death, Jigoku’s legacy continued to shape the world, casting a shadow that stretched far beyond his violent reign.
Jigoku’s legacy was one of fear, of terror, of unrestrained violence. It was a legacy that would live on in the hearts of his followers, in the blood-soaked streets he had left behind, and in the world he had tried so hard to shape in his own image. It was a legacy that would haunt the Earth for generations to come.
The Tragic Creation of Akuma
Jigoku's cruelty wasn't confined to his enemies or his followers—it was woven into the very fabric of his family. His twisted desires turned the natural bond between father and son into something horrific, a relationship marked not by love or care, but by manipulation, control, and abuse. His heart was as cold as his methods, and he was relentless in his quest for power. Akuma, his son, would never know the warmth of a loving father. Instead, he was to be shaped into a weapon, a tool to carry out Jigoku's unyielding will. The story of Akuma's creation was a tragic one—one where innocence was stripped away, and all that was left was hatred and the echo of a broken soul.
It all began with Sumi, a human woman who had the misfortune of crossing Jigoku’s path. Sumi was a loving wife, a devoted mother, and a woman of integrity. Her life was tragically shattered the day Jigoku entered her world. His methods were insidious, his manipulations subtle but devastating. Sumi had been unaware of the monster that lurked beneath the surface of the man she had once called husband. Jigoku had killed her real husband and slaughtered her family, leaving her to mourn their deaths, never knowing the true nature of the monster who had orchestrated their demise. For her, it was a nightmare she couldn’t escape.
Jigoku, in his twisted hunger for power, disguised himself as Sumi’s deceased husband, deceiving her into believing that the man she loved had returned. In this form, he raped her, viewing her as nothing more than a vessel—a tool to fulfill his grand design. Sumi’s cries for help went unheard, and her terror was silenced by the force of Jigoku’s control. She was trapped in a web of lies and cruelty, unable to see the truth behind her tormentor's mask.
What followed was the birth of Akuma, a child who was destined to be a weapon, not a son. From the moment he was born, Jigoku had no intention of raising Akuma as a human being. He was a means to an end, a perfect instrument to further Jigoku’s plans. The child, conceived through violence and manipulation, would be trained not in love, but in the art of cruelty. Akuma’s purpose was to be molded into the perfect weapon—a creature fueled by hatred, rage, and pain.
Jigoku's vision for Akuma was simple: a being of pure destruction, a force to be reckoned with, capable of carrying out his father's bidding without question. Akuma was not meant to have a soul, not meant to possess the human qualities of compassion, empathy, or mercy. He was to be a puppet, controlled by the strings of rage and resentment, a living extension of Jigoku’s own malevolent will.
As Akuma grew, his father’s cold and calculating influence seeped deeper into his psyche. Jigoku’s rejection of his son was absolute. There was no love in his eyes, no hint of tenderness in his voice. To Jigoku, Akuma was nothing more than a tool—a weapon to wield in his endless pursuit of power. It didn’t matter to him that Akuma was his flesh and blood; what mattered was that Akuma could be shaped into the perfect vessel for his dark ambitions.
In this twisted, loveless environment, Akuma began to resent the man who claimed to be his father. He was raised in a world where manipulation and cruelty were the only constants, and love was an alien concept. Akuma longed for something more—something that didn’t revolve around violence and hatred. He dreamed of a life free from the tyranny of his father’s cruelty. But those dreams were impossible. Jigoku’s control over him was absolute. No matter how much Akuma resisted, the chains of his father’s influence tightened around him, pulling him deeper into the abyss.
Jigoku, ever the master manipulator, planted seeds of doubt in Akuma’s heart, convincing him that his mother was a traitor. He painted Sumi as a woman who had betrayed their family, who had willingly given herself to a stranger. Akuma, too young and too naive to understand the truth, believed his father’s lies. He came to hate his mother, seeing her as complicit in the cruel scheme that had ruined his life. The love he had once felt for her turned to anger, and he rejected her completely, never knowing that she, too, was a victim of Jigoku’s monstrous plans.
As Akuma grew older, Jigoku's teachings became more insidious. He manipulated Akuma’s feelings of betrayal, pushing him further into the darkness. He encouraged Akuma to embrace his demonic side, to reject his humanity, and to channel all his pain, rage, and confusion into power. Jigoku’s ultimate goal was not just to create a weapon, but to break his son, to make him into something that could never escape his control. Akuma’s humanity was an obstacle, and Jigoku was determined to destroy it. He wanted Akuma to forget the child he once was, to embrace the monster his father sought to create.
This manipulation worked all too well. Akuma’s inner conflict grew as he struggled to reconcile his desire for love and acceptance with the ruthless teachings of his father. He hated himself for being weak, for wanting something beyond the violent path that had been forced upon him. And yet, every time he tried to rebel, Jigoku was there, tightening his grip, using Akuma’s pain to fuel his growing power. Akuma’s heart became a battleground, torn between the flickering remnants of his humanity and the growing darkness that was consuming him.
Jigoku’s cruelty was not limited to the physical realm. He destroyed Akuma’s spirit, twisted his perception of the world, and made him question his own identity. Akuma was not allowed to grieve for the loss of his humanity, nor was he permitted to mourn the destruction of his family. He was too consumed by the fire of hatred that had been stoked in him since birth. The only emotion Akuma knew was rage, and it was that rage that made him a perfect soldier in his father’s war.
Jigoku’s vision of strength was one built on suffering. He believed that only through the infliction of pain could true power be attained. He did not see Akuma as a son, but as a tool to be honed through hardship and torment. He wanted Akuma to see suffering as a necessary sacrifice, to embrace it as a part of his identity. This was the legacy Jigoku sought to leave behind—a world where pain was the ultimate currency, where strength could only be achieved through domination and control.
The Tragic Cycle of Abuse
The relationship between Akuma and Sumi was beyond repair. By the time Akuma reached adolescence, the seeds of hatred and distrust had already taken root. The emotional bond between mother and son had been destroyed by Jigoku’s manipulations, and Akuma, blinded by rage and confusion, could never see the truth. Sumi was a victim, just as much as Akuma, but in his eyes, she was a betrayer, a woman who had willingly participated in his suffering.
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Sumi, for her part, was helpless. She had been broken by Jigoku’s cruelty long before Akuma was born. She was a woman trapped in a nightmare of her own making, unable to escape the man who had destroyed everything she loved. She loved Akuma, but her ability to protect him had been stolen long ago. In her heart, she mourned the loss of the son she had once hoped to raise in a loving home, but it was a grief she could never share with him.
As Akuma grew older, he became a mirror of his father’s dark legacy. He was cold, calculating, and full of hatred. He had been taught to see the world as a battlefield, where only the strongest survived. There was no room for compassion in his heart, no space for love. Akuma was a weapon, honed and shaped by the cruelty of his father, and it was in this ruthless world that he found his place.
But despite his father’s teachings, despite the darkness that surrounded him, there was a part of Akuma that longed for something more. A part of him that wanted to break free from the chains of his father’s influence. But this desire for freedom was crushed beneath the weight of Jigoku’s control. Akuma had no choice but to accept the path that had been laid out for him. The dream of a normal life, a life untouched by violence and cruelty, was gone forever.
Jigoku’s legacy was one of destruction. It was a legacy that had been passed down from father to son, a legacy of pain and suffering that would continue to haunt Akuma for the rest of his life. The Tori no Ichizoku clan, once a proud and honorable family, was now a fearsome force of terror and violence, driven by the ideology that Jigoku had instilled in it. The clan’s power spread across continents, leaving a trail of blood and destruction in its wake.
For Akuma, however, the legacy of his father was not one of pride. It was a scar, a wound that would never heal. He was torn between his desire for power and his longing for the family he could never have. He was a prisoner of his own emotions, trapped by the very legacy his father had created. The darkness of his past haunted him, and no matter how far he ran, he could never escape the shadow of Jigoku’s influence.
Akuma’s story was one of tragedy, a life shaped by manipulation, cruelty, and loss. His father’s legacy had consumed him, and in the end, Akuma was nothing more than a broken vessel, caught between the forces of hatred and the fleeting memory of a life that could have been.
Jigoku's Legacy
Jigoku’s actions left an indelible mark not only on his son but on the entire world. His cruelty was not limited to the confines of his own family. It spread like a plague, tainting everything it touched. His legacy was one of destruction, a legacy that would reverberate through the generations, its echoes felt in every corner of the world. What Jigoku had done to his own flesh and blood, he had done to entire families, entire civilizations, leaving a wake of suffering and terror in his path.
The Tori no Ichizoku clan, once a proud and honorable family, was irrevocably transformed by Jigoku's influence. Under his command, the clan morphed into a fearsome force of violence, terror, and domination. It was no longer a family bound by blood and honor; it was a shadowy network of assassins, mercenaries, and warmongers, all driven by the same twisted ideology that Jigoku had instilled. The clan’s power spread across continents, leaving death and despair in its wake. The very name of the Tori no Ichizoku became synonymous with fear, whispered in hushed tones wherever their influence reached.
Jigoku’s cruelty was not confined to physical violence alone. He reshaped the moral fabric of the clan, twisting it into something monstrous. He taught his followers to embrace suffering as a means to gain strength, to seek domination through control, and to view compassion as weakness. To be a true member of the Tori no Ichizoku was to cast aside humanity, to live by the law of the strong ruling over the weak. The clan became a breeding ground for those who reveled in pain and destruction, and it was a legacy that would continue long after Jigoku’s death.
Even after his fall, the shadows of Jigoku's influence remained, lingering like a dark cloud over the clan. His vision continued to drive those who followed him, and his teachings were passed down like a sacred doctrine. The ideology he created—the belief that power could only be attained through domination, that strength was forged through suffering—remained entrenched in the Tori no Ichizoku’s way of life. It wasn’t just a legacy; it was a curse, a cycle that repeated itself with each new generation. The world would continue to feel the repercussions of Jigoku's actions, and the Tori no Ichizoku would remain a symbol of fear and oppression.
For Akuma, however, Jigoku’s legacy was one of brokenness. It was a legacy of abandonment, manipulation, and lost love. Akuma had been shaped by his father’s cruelty, raised in an environment where love was absent, and trust was a foreign concept. He had been groomed to be a weapon, a tool to be used by Jigoku in his quest for power. But in the depths of his heart, Akuma had always yearned for something more—something that his father could never provide. He had longed for a life free from the chains of his father’s influence, for the chance to be more than the monster Jigoku had created.
But that life was forever out of reach. Jigoku’s legacy had consumed Akuma, and no matter how hard he tried, he could never escape its shadow. The scars of his past ran deep—emotional wounds that would never fully heal. His hatred for his father was tempered by the painful realization that he could never truly escape his influence. Akuma’s desire for power was rooted in his need to prove his worth, to fill the void that his father had left in him. But every victory, every conquest, only deepened his internal turmoil. His heart was torn between the desire for vengeance and the longing for a normal life—one that had been stolen from him long ago.
Jigoku’s legacy was a double-edged sword. It gave Akuma the strength he needed to survive in a world of violence and cruelty, but it also kept him chained to the past, unable to break free from the cycle of hatred and despair. No matter how far Akuma went, no matter how much power he gained, he would always be a part of Jigoku’s twisted legacy. The brokenness that Jigoku had instilled in him would be his burden to carry for the rest of his life.
But the legacy of Jigoku wasn’t just confined to Akuma. It spread throughout the world like a disease, infecting all those who came into contact with it. Those who followed Jigoku’s teachings continued to spread his message of domination and pain. The Tori no Ichizoku clan, now a shadow of its former self, continued to carry out Jigoku’s will, its members driven by the belief that strength was born of suffering. And in their wake, they left a world that had been scarred by Jigoku’s vision of power.
Jigoku’s legacy was one of destruction, yes, but it was also one of loss. For Akuma, that loss was personal. He had lost his family, his humanity, and his chance at a normal life. He had lost the love of his mother, the one person who might have shown him the path to redemption. His entire existence was shaped by the actions of his father, and in the end, he was left with nothing but the wreckage of a life that could have been. Jigoku’s legacy was not just the power he had amassed, but the pain and suffering that he had inflicted on his own flesh and blood.
In the end, Akuma was left to confront his own demons, the twisted legacy of a father who had never seen him as anything more than a tool. He was forced to live with the knowledge that he could never escape the shadow of Jigoku’s influence. No matter how much power Akuma gained, he would always be a part of the legacy his father had created, and that knowledge would haunt him for the rest of his life. The darkness of Jigoku’s legacy would forever define him, and no amount of vengeance or power could ever change that.
Sumi’s life, once filled with love and dreams of a peaceful future, had become a never-ending nightmare. She had been trapped in a cycle of abuse by Jigoku, and despite her love for her son, Akuma, she could never escape the man who controlled her, mind, body, and soul. Her suffering was multifaceted, a slow erosion of her spirit and a constant reminder of everything she had lost.
From the moment she became entwined with Jigoku, Sumi had been severed from the world outside. Jigoku was not just a husband; he was a tyrant, and Sumi’s life became a prison. Every attempt she made to reach out to family or friends was thwarted. Whether through direct threats or subtle manipulation, Jigoku ensured that she was alone. Her once-vibrant world shrank to the confines of their home, a place filled with suffocating silence and dread. Sumi's heart ached as she saw her friends' lives continuing, full of laughter and freedom, while she was forced to live in the shadow of Jigoku’s cruelty.
With every passing day, Sumi’s isolation deepened. The only voices she heard were Jigoku’s, and they were always filled with contempt and malice. Her once-thriving social connections faded away, and with them, her sense of self. The loneliness pressed on her chest like an ever-heavier weight, until it became an inescapable part of her existence.
Jigoku’s cruelty was not limited to physical torment. His greatest weapon against Sumi was his manipulation of her mind. He twisted every truth, every moment of weakness, and turned them into accusations that sliced through her heart. Sumi found herself questioning her own memories. Was she really responsible for the pain in their lives? Was it her fault Akuma had grown into the angry, bitter child he had become? Jigoku’s words haunted her like a ghost, lingering long after he had spoken them.
He accused her of weakness, of failing to protect their family, and constantly reminded her that she was nothing without him. The emotional abuse wore down her spirit. Her love for Akuma became a silent sorrow, knowing that no matter what she did, she could never fix the damage that Jigoku had caused. She was not just a mother anymore—she was a broken woman, trapped by her own mind.
The greatest wound in Sumi’s heart was her inability to protect Akuma. The boy she had carried inside her for nine months, the child she had hoped to raise with love and care, had been consumed by Jigoku’s hatred. Every time she looked at him, she saw a reflection of the man she had once loved—only now it was twisted into something monstrous.
Sumi longed to shield him from the poison that flowed through their lives, but she was powerless. She had no control over the direction of his life. She tried, in small ways, to give him moments of love, a soft touch, a comforting word, but every attempt was met with coldness or anger. Akuma had been raised to see her as weak, as complicit in the misery he had endured. Her love, no matter how much it burned within her, was rejected by the very son she had once held in her arms.
There were moments when Sumi thought she could escape, when she believed that she could run far enough away from Jigoku and the suffocating violence that ruled their lives. Perhaps she would find safety, a place where Akuma could be free from the manipulation and abuse. But each time she tried to flee, Jigoku’s grip tightened.
He hunted them down, using every resource at his disposal to drag them back into the suffocating cage he had built. Sumi tried to explain to Akuma that they needed to leave, that they could start fresh, but every time she saw the confusion and anger in his eyes, she knew the truth: Akuma was already lost to her. He had become a reflection of Jigoku, unable to comprehend her pain, unable to see her sacrifice.
These failed attempts to break free broke something deep inside Sumi. She had fought so hard to protect him, only to find herself defeated at every turn. The hopelessness wrapped itself around her heart, and she knew that escape was nothing more than a dream.
Sumi's heartache was quiet, a constant hum of grief that never left her. The world saw her as the wife of Jigoku, the mother of his son, but they could never see the woman she used to be—the woman who had dreams and hopes for her family. The pain of living with Jigoku was constant, a knife twisting deeper with every year that passed.
Every night, she would lay in bed, unable to sleep, her thoughts consumed by the crushing weight of what had been lost. She mourned for Akuma, for the child he could have been, for the love they could have shared. But her grief was hers alone. She couldn’t express it to Akuma, for he would only see it as weakness, and she couldn’t show it to Jigoku, for fear of further torment.
Sumi’s suffering was silent, a quiet storm that raged within her heart. The woman who had once been strong, full of love and hope, was now a shadow of herself. She was just a vessel of pain, hollowed out by the years of torment.
Occasionally, when the house was still, Sumi would remember what it had been like before everything fell apart. There had been a time, long ago, when Akuma had been a small child, full of laughter and innocence. She could almost hear his laughter in the halls, could almost feel his tiny hands in hers. She remembered the joy of his first steps, the warmth of his embrace when he sought comfort.
But those memories were so far removed from the harshness of the present. They were ghosts, fading further with each passing day. Sumi clung to them, but they only served to deepen her grief. She mourned the future they could have had, the bond they could have shared, and the happiness that was stolen from them both.
In the end, Sumi could no longer bear to watch Akuma become the very thing she had tried so hard to protect him from. She knew that there was no future for them within Jigoku’s grasp. The world she had once dreamt of was gone, and her only hope was to give Akuma the chance to live free of his father’s influence.
In a final act of love, Sumi made the ultimate sacrifice. She chose to take the weight of Jigoku’s wrath upon herself, knowing that it would give Akuma the freedom he needed. It was a sacrifice she made with no expectation of recognition, no hope of being understood. She did it because, despite everything, she still loved him, and she still believed that there was a part of Akuma that could find redemption.
Her sacrifice was quiet, unnoticed by the world. Jigoku’s fury took her life, but in her final moments, Sumi found a semblance of peace. She had given everything for her son—everything but the chance to see him free from the shackles of his father’s legacy.
In the years that followed Sumi’s death, Akuma began to feel the weight of her absence. As he climbed higher in power, the darkness of his past continued to haunt him. It wasn’t until much later, when he began to question everything he had been taught, that he realized the truth: his mother had never been the betrayer. She had loved him with every fiber of her being, but her love had been silenced by the cruelty of Jigoku and the bitterness of his own heart.
By the time Akuma fully understood the depths of Sumi’s sacrifice, it was too late. His regret was a cold, hollow thing that gnawed at him, reminding him that the love and understanding he could have had with his mother had been lost forever. Her memory became a painful wound that he could never heal, a wound that would haunt him for the rest of his life.
In the end, Sumi’s suffering had not been in vain. Her love had remained pure, even in the face of everything that had been done to her. Though Akuma could never truly escape the shadow of Jigoku, Sumi’s love for him was a light that, in the end, could never be extinguished. It was a love that would remain in his heart, a legacy of sorrow and unfulfilled hope.
Jigoku’s Appearance
Jigoku’s form was a monstrous titan, standing at a staggering 25 feet tall. His size alone dwarfed most creatures, creating an overwhelming presence that struck fear into all who dared to face him. His body was encased in an intricate network of black and grey scales, resembling a natural suit of armor forged in the depths of Hell. These scales shimmered faintly in the light, creating a volcanic texture that seemed to pulse with a life of its own. Jigoku wore golden armor adorned with features of a lion, dragon, and bird, each symbolizing a different aspect of his dominion over terror.
Dominating his back were his colossal wings, veins of crimson running through them like molten lava. These wings were not only a display of power but also deadly weapons. Spikes jutted from the edges, resembling jagged blades designed for destruction. When fully unfurled, they could block out the sun, casting an ominous shadow over anything in their path.
Jigoku’s jagged teeth, like polished obsidian shards, gleamed menacingly in the darkness, ready to tear through anything unfortunate enough to come near. His talons curved like the scythes of a grim reaper, sharp and gleaming with an unnatural edge, designed for maximum lethality.
Beneath his armor, Jigoku’s body was muscular and defined, radiating a heat that suggested a core burning with an unholy fire. His arms, legs, and torso were predominantly red, transitioning to black and grey at the extremities. His very form exuded raw power—a predator of nightmares, forged for destruction. He was the embodiment of chaos, a living weapon whose very presence was enough to send terror into the hearts of all who dared oppose him.
