“Awaken. Come to me, child.”

  The voice echoes through the void, pulling me from unconsciousness. My eyes flutter open, greeted by a sky painted crimson and a sun that burns red-hot. A splitting headache throbs in my skull, and a sharp, phantom pain pierces my side. I glance down to find bloodstains—but no wound. The memory rushes back: the car crash, the river, and the authorities chasing me.

  “Come to me, child.”

  The voice calls again, insistent, compelling.

  I sit up, scanning my surroundings. The ground beneath me is scorched and barren, the air heavy with heat so intense it burns to breathe. In the distance, a gothic town rises, unlike anything I've ever seen—spires clawing at the red sky, a castle looming ominously beyond. No skyscrapers, no neon lights, no billboards. Just brimstone and a hellscape straight out of a nightmare.

  It dawns on me: I’m in Hell. Fuck me!

  I grab my mask from the ground and strap it on, the act grounding me. Despite the infernal landscape, there’s no choice but to move forward. Stumbling to my feet, I trudge toward the town.

  As I trudged toward the distant town, the oppressive heat of this crimson-stained Hell gnawed at my lungs with every breath. The closer I got, the more vivid and foreboding the city became. The first thing I noticed was the towering black spires that pierced the blood-red sky like jagged teeth. Each structure seemed to defy logic, leaning at unnatural angles as though caught mid-collapse but frozen in time.

  The architecture was unlike anything I had ever seen. Buildings crafted from obsidian and dark stone were adorned with grotesque gargoyles that seemed to watch my every move. Their eyes glowed faintly, an eerie red that mirrored the hellish sun above. Intricate carvings of demonic figures and twisted vines snaked up the walls, as though the city itself was alive and breathing.

  Cobblestone streets stretched out before me, slick with a faint sheen that reflected the glow of dim, flickering lanterns suspended on wrought iron poles. The light they emitted was an unnatural purple hue, casting long, distorted shadows that danced and writhed across the ground as though mocking my every step.

  Everywhere I looked, there was evidence of decay and grandeur intertwined. Windows were shattered or boarded up with jagged planks, yet the intricate stained glass depictions of demonic legends remained untouched, their vibrant colors almost glowing against the backdrop of darkness. Above, the red sky swirled with dark clouds, lightning crackling silently within them as if the heavens themselves were warring.

  The air was thick with the stench of sulfur and ash, mingling with an undertone of something metallic, like dried blood. The streets weren’t empty—far from it. Monsters of all shapes and sizes moved about, each more grotesque than the last. There were hulking brutes with horns and claws, shadowy figures that seemed to fade in and out of existence, and even some humanoid creatures whose unsettling features betrayed their inhumanity: elongated limbs, glowing eyes, or flesh that seemed to shift unnaturally.

  Yet, despite their terrifying appearances, there was a sense of strange order. Merchants barked out offers in guttural languages, their stalls overflowing with bizarre wares: vials of glowing liquids, jagged weapons, and even what looked like pieces of living flesh. Some monsters bartered while others argued, their voices rumbling through the streets like thunder.

  In the distance, the castle loomed—a monolithic fortress that seemed to radiate malevolence. Its walls were impossibly high, carved from blackened stone that absorbed rather than reflected the crimson light. Spires spiraled into the sky, adorned with crimson banners that fluttered despite the still, oppressive air. A faint, pulsating glow emanated from the highest tower, like a heartbeat calling out to me.

  The closer I got to the city gates, the more the atmosphere pressed down on me. Brimstone crackled beneath my boots, and the very ground seemed to pulse faintly as though alive. As I passed through the towering iron gates, flanked by massive statues of demonic sentinels, I couldn’t shake the feeling that I was being watched—not just by the creatures on the streets, but by the city itself.

  Within the gates, the city was a maze of narrow alleys and twisting streets. Overhead, bridges and archways crisscrossed the skyline, connecting buildings like veins in a massive circulatory system. The deeper I ventured, the more alien it felt, as though the rules of reality had been warped.

  A skeletal creature shuffled past me, its hollow eyes fixed forward as it carried a bundle of tattered rags. In the distance, a creature with the body of a spider and the face of a man haggled with a merchant over a glowing orb that buzzed like an angry hornet.

  But it wasn’t all chaos. A fountain stood in the center of the square, its water—if it could even be called that—was a luminous, thick liquid that bubbled unnaturally. The statue at its center was of a cloaked figure holding scales, a demonic representation of justice, or perhaps something far more sinister.

  This was no ordinary city. It was a place that demanded reverence, fear, and submission. A place where the line between the living and the damned blurred.

  For a moment, I hesitated. I didn’t belong here. The city felt like it knew that, and every carved gargoyle and glowing pair of eyes seemed to whisper the same question:

  What are you doing here, human?

  By the time I reach the town gates, I’m panting and drenched in sweat. The sight before me stops me in my tracks. Monsters—everywhere. Grotesque and terrifying, yet eerily civilized. They go about their business, talking, bartering, living.

  Their eyes find me, one after another. Stares pierce through me with curiosity, suspicion, and something darker. But none approach.

  “Well, well, well. A human, in the underworld, and still looking very… human. You must be new here.”

  I whip around, knife in hand, but no one’s there. Panic sets in, and I backpedal—right into something.

  I spin, knife at the ready.

  “GAAAH!”

  Unauthorized duplication: this narrative has been taken without consent. Report sightings.

  Standing before me is a demon woman, her presence magnetic and terrifying. Midnight-black hair cascades over her shoulders, and red eyes glimmer against her inky-black sclera. Her skin is a pale blue, her armor skimpy but menacing. Massive bat-like wings extend from her back, and a pointed tail sways lazily behind her. My eyes involuntarily linger on her… ahem... chest.

  I snap out of it, raising my knife. “Who are you? What do you want?”

  Before I can react, her tail coils around my arm, twisting it painfully. She circles me, her movements fluid and predatory. I grit my teeth, plant my feet, and use her momentum to throw her off.

  She lands with a smirk. “Impressive, human. I didn’t think you had that in you.”

  “Why’d you attack me? Are all monsters here like this?” I demand, still on edge.

  She laughs, a low, sultry sound. “Attack? You held a knife to me first. But yes, I was considering killing you. You’re in Hell, darling; that’s just how things are.”

  “Tch. Don’t expect me to trust you—or any of you.”

  Her grin widens, revealing sharp teeth. “I like you. You’ve got fire. My name’s Belros. What’s yours?”

  “Why should I tell you?”

  She shrugs, unbothered. “Suit yourself, Soda.”

  The name stops me cold. “How do you know my name?”

  She ignores my question, her gaze shifting to the castle in the distance. “So, what’s a human like you doing here?”

  I hesitate before answering. “Something… or someone… is calling me to that castle. I don’t know why, but I have to go.”

  Belros’ expression darkens. “That’s Lucifer’s domain, human. You won’t survive the journey.”

  “Thanks for the warning,” I mutter, brushing past her.

  A few steps later, I noticed her following me.

  “Why are you following me, Belros?”

  “I’m bored. And you amuse me,” she says casually, her wings fluttering. “Besides, you’re clearly out of your depth. That knife of yours? Won’t cut it—literally.”

  Reluctantly, I glance at my weapon. She might be right.

  “Fine,” I sigh. “Where do I get something better?”

  Belros leads me to a blacksmith shop run by a burly goblin. The walls are lined with weapons—swords, axes, hammers, all gleaming ominously. No guns in sight.

  Belros hands me a weapon.

  “A scythe?” I groan. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

  She smirks. “You’ll thank me later. Trust me, it suits you.”

  “I’ve never used one before!”

  “You’ll learn. Come on, let’s hit the training grounds.”

  The training grounds are a dusty arena filled with practicing monsters. Belros walks me through the basics of wielding a scythe. At first, it’s a disaster. I trip, fumble, and nearly impale myself more than once. Belros watches, laughing at my every mistake.

  After hours of practice, something clicks. I spin the scythe in a fluid arc, the blade glowing cerulean as it slices through the air.

  “Not bad,” Belros admits, watching me with renewed interest. “Want to spar?”

  I grin beneath my mask. “Bring it on.”

  Belros takes her position in the center of the training grounds, her wings unfurled and her stance relaxed yet poised. The gleam in her crimson eyes sends a shiver down my spine. She’s toying with me already.

  I grip my scythe tightly, its cool weight unfamiliar yet somehow reassuring. The blade shimmers faintly in the crimson light, its edge sharp enough to carve through stone. I take a deep breath, centering myself.

  “Let’s see if you can keep up, human,” Belros taunts, her voice dripping with confidence.

  We lock eyes, neither of us making the first move. The tension hangs heavy between us, like a coiled spring ready to snap.

  I break the standoff, rushing forward with my scythe held low. I swing it in a wide arc, aiming for her legs. She leaps into the air with a graceful backflip, her bat-like wings carrying her effortlessly.

  “Predictable,” she laughs, landing a few feet away.

  Before I can recover, she retaliates with a barrage of purple flames that spiral toward me. I raise the scythe defensively, the blade absorbing most of the impact, but the force sends me skidding backward.

  “Magic? Really? That’s not fair!” I shout, frustration mounting.

  “Fairness? In Hell? Oh, darling, you have so much to learn,” she replies, her grin widening.

  Determined not to be outdone, I charge again, this time feinting to the left before spinning around to strike from the right. The scythe whistles through the air, its blade glowing with a cerulean hue. She barely dodges, the tip grazing her armor.

  Her eyes narrow. “Not bad. You’re learning.”

  She moves faster now, closing the distance between us in a blur. Her tail whips toward me like a serpent, aiming to knock me off balance. I sidestep, countering with a diagonal slash. She blocks it with her gauntlet, the clash of metal echoing across the arena.

  “Getting cocky, are we?” she teases, her tone laced with mockery.

  I smirk beneath my mask. “You wish.”

  I pivot, using the momentum to swing the scythe in a tight circle. The blade slices through the air, creating a shockwave that barrels toward her. She raises a magical barrier just in time, the cerulean energy dispersing harmlessly against it.

  “Impressive,” she admits, her grin softening into something almost genuine. “But let’s see how you handle this!”

  She lunges, her movements a blur of speed and precision. Her claws swipe at me, forcing me to parry each strike with the shaft of the scythe. The impact reverberates through my arms, numbing my grip.

  Suddenly, she spins, her wing slamming into me like a battering ram. I’m sent flying, landing hard on the ground with a gasp. The scythe clatters out of reach.

  Belros looms over me, her silhouette framed by the crimson sky. “Ready to admit defeat?”

  I grit my teeth, blood trickling down my lip. “Not a chance.”

  Pushing through the pain, I roll to the side, snatching the scythe as I rise. With a roar, I channel all my energy into a single swing. The blade glows brighter than ever, a brilliant cerulean arc slicing through the air.

  She doesn’t dodge. Instead, she meets my attack head-on, her gauntlet glowing with dark energy. The clash creates a shockwave that ripples through the arena, kicking up a cloud of dust and debris.

  When the dust settles, I’m on my knees, the scythe buried in the ground to keep me upright. Belros stands a few feet away, her armor scorched but her smirk intact.

  “You’re relentless. I’ll give you that,” she says, brushing soot from her shoulder. “But you’re not strong enough yet.”

  I try to respond, but my vision blurs. My legs give out, and I collapse to the ground.

  Through the haze, I hear her voice, softer now. “You’re a reckless fool, but you’ve got potential. Rest, human. You’ll need your strength.”

  As darkness overtakes me, I manage to croak out two words: “I’m… hungry.”

  Her laugh is the last thing I hear.