The concept of Hell exists in various legends, myths, and religious beliefs, generally considered the place where the souls of the dead suffer or rest before reincarnation.
Consequently, the appearance of Hell differs across various mythological and religious systems, and they bear different names.
The Hell of Pain before Seraphine was unlike the Hell from the myths of Old Earth. Within her super-spatial spiritual sight, this Hell manifested as an infinitely vast, layered, and complex maze of utter pallor.
Inside, within the labyrinthine corridors between towering walls hundreds or thousands of meters high, viscous blood dripped constantly. Every second, cold winds howled, filling the air with a thick, dark scent of blood that blackened everything.
As soon as these wisps of wind and minuscule drops of blood touched the maze floor, they were instantly swallowed by the cracked paving stones etched with the dark works of ancient times, disappearing without a trace amidst faint gurgling sounds.
Gazing deeper into the winding, gloomy corridors, it seemed as if every turn faintly echoed with strange laughter and cold eyes that sent shivers down the spine.
But Seraphine felt no fear. She stepped lightly across the paving stones, which felt as if they were living things, with a slight, mocking smile.
If one ignored the heavy, abyss-like atmosphere in the corridor, her casual, unhurried gait would make it seem as if she were merely strolling through an ordinary park.
STOMP! STOMP! STOMP!
The heavy sound of her footsteps did not travel far before being overwhelmed by the intense cacophony of wails, groans, moans, and screams echoing from millions nearby. These cries interwoven in the darkness created a morbidly mournful yet incredibly expansive harmony.
The first movement described the ignorant souls falling into Hell; the second movement depicted terrified, powerless souls being tortured by practitioners in various chambers; the third movement detailed desperate souls sinking into inescapable darkness; and the fourth movement signified that regardless of the soul type, they were forever trapped within the depths of the maze until the end of time.
Following these nightmare-like, painful shrieks, Seraphine's gaze shifted to the walls, and she discovered that the colossal maze walls contained countless, despairing faces carved into the stone.
On the towering walls to the left and right, within every mottled crack, countless threads of blood-red moss were visibly growing and wriggling.
From bottom to top, this crimson moss covered every twisted face embedded in the walls, resembling a blood-red tapestry. Though the faces looked extremely hideous and contorted, one could still discern that they were all human souls.
While weeping turbid, bloody tears and letting out desolate moans, these souls continuously spewed forth thick surges of their agonizing emotions.
In reality, sustaining the existence and operation of the Hell of Pain in the original work required a massive quantity of pain. pain also served as the nourishment and primary resource for expanding the scale of the entire maze.
The beings responsible for extracting this suffering were called Curser, the lowest stratum of the Hell of Pain, from whom Hell's Ascended Practitioners were born.
Of course, only those Curser whose desire and pain reached the absolute extreme were qualified to be chosen by Leviathan and subsequently transformed into Ascended Practitioners. Upon transformation, they would completely forget all memories of their former human lives, becoming beings utterly devoted to worshipping Leviathan.
This process felt somewhat similar to the demons transformed by Kibutsuji Muzan's blood in "Demon Slayer". However, Muzan, who died just by being seen, was far inferior to the Hell God Leviathan in terms of power and status.
Coincidentally, during the transformation into an Ascended Practitioner, Leviathan also injects its own blood after draining the human host's life force. Subsequently, the Practitioner gains the ability to manipulate spacetime, matter, and energy, possessing infinite strength and an immortal body immune to all earthly weapons, alongside the power to summon terrifying and horrific instruments of torture from Hell.
Moreover, Hell's Ascended Practitioners exhibit a mental characteristic similar to the affliction of Primordial Demon Erice: they experience extreme joy and pleasure during pain, and can deeply sense the pain they inflict upon others. This is why the Practitioner eagerly torment humanity to attain greater pleasure.
The Practitioner appearing in the "Hellring" series films are far from being the entirety of the Hell of Pain.
They are not all humanoid. Just as Leviathan scatters numerous Lament Boxes into the mortal world, not all of them resemble the Rubik's Cube shape.
These differently shaped Boxes summon correspondingly shaped Ascended Practitioners. For instance, a carousel-horse shaped Lament Box summons insectoid Practitioner; a crystal ball shaped Box summons ice-elemental Practitioner; and even a music box shaped Box can summon a semi-mechanical Practitioner.
The Practitioner summoned by the Rubik's Cube Box in Seraphine's hand was none other than the bald Ellincer.
"To generate such dense power of pain, Ellincer, I am very curious..."
Seraphine slowly turned her head, smiling faintly at the bald man who walked half a step behind her with a respectful demeanor. "In this entire Hell, just how many Curser are there?"
The latter replied in a deep voice: "Mistress, the number of Curser in Hell is countless, far exceeding the total population of a single Mortal Realm."
"A single Mortal Realm?" Seraphine raised an eyebrow slightly. "Does that mean there are many other realms residing within?"
"Yes," Ellincer nodded. "The number of Mortal Realms can reach ten million."
"Ten million Mortal Realms?" Seraphine found this strange. "Are the inhabitants of these worlds... also humans?"
"This..." Ellincer paused before answering. "Mistress, aside from humans, are there any other intelligent beings in the Mortal Realms?"
"What about aliens?" Seraphine questioned.
"What are aliens?"
Ellincer shook his head. "Besides Heaven, Hell, and the Mortal Realms, there is nothing else in this world."
"I see," Seraphine nodded. "It seems there are quite a few secrets hidden behind this Hell of Pain."
After summoning the bald man using the Box, she instantly subdued this twisted Hell entity spiritually. However, this was the first time she had spoken to him. She hadn't expected to gain such explosive intelligence from a single conversation.
"Are these ten million realms connecting to parallel Old Earths, or are they ten million Secret Realms resembling Old Earth... or perhaps a cluster of Secret Realms?"
While pondering, Seraphine, walking leisurely through the maze corridor, felt the surrounding pervasive flood of pain, and a divine light suddenly flared in her eyes.
BUZZ!
Her spiritual sight instantly expanded to its limit, in a flash surpassing hundreds of millions of billions of walls, secret chambers, suspension bridges, tents, long bridges, halls, doors, staircases, courtyards, tunnels, slopes, stairs, and corridors, reaching the edge of this colossal maze.
WHOOSH
Spacetime warped.
The sensory force pierced through the extra-dimensional void and snapped back, remotely 'seeing' the Hell of Pain.
Only now did Seraphine determine its true shape and size. Looking from the extra-dimensional void, its form resembled an octagonal body constructed from countless ancient walls and bizarre architectural features.
The length of each side was approximately 200 million kilometers. This exceeded one Astronomical Unit, enough to encompass the entire Sun-Terrestrial system.
Near the hazy edge of the entire Hell of Pain, there floated a relatively 'smaller' gray-white, eight-pointed spire. Calling it 'small' was only relative. The tips of that spire were extremely elongated, stretching across millions of kilometers.
This spire was the true body of the Hell of Pain's Leviathan.
Hovering above the maze, it constantly emitted thousands of massive black beams of light. It broadcasted boundless, surging information related to suffering and desire: an ocean of chaos.
Seraphine recalled that in the original work, humans illuminated by these pitch-black beams would recall their most painful memories and awaken their greatest desires. If the desire and pain were not immense, they would only become a Curser, the lowest rank.
Only souls whose desire and pain both burned with ultimate fervor were qualified to become Ascended Practitioners, the fangs of Leviathan.
From this pervasive stream of pain enveloping the entire Hell of Pain, Seraphine quickly deduced the power level of Leviathan.
False God level, the same as Ansel.
"This makes things difficult."
Seraphine stroked her smooth chin thoughtfully. "This clone body is fine for dealing with Shining Sun level entities, but it might be insufficient to challenge a False God, especially one enjoying a home-ground advantage. The chance of winning is extremely low."
Currently, her clone, based on the Bodhisattva of Radiance, took less than two days to successfully cultivate its body. Being able to touch the threshold of the Shining Sun realm at the Morningstar level already surpassed the ordinary by far.
At this moment, Seraphine's 'gaze' penetrated the layers of the maze, looking toward the black rays emanating from Leviathan's true body. Suddenly, an idea struck her.
Seraphine sensed the vast flood of pain and contemplated:
"If I could devour all the pain within this Hell, then achieving Ancient Myth or even Primordial Myth status would only take a single morning."
However, this was just a fleeting thought. Sensing that Leviathan's will was embedded within every thread of suffering, she knew that absorbing even a tiny fraction would draw the entity's intense attention. This was normal; the entire Hell of Pain was Leviathan's private domain. Moreover, this emotion of suffering was the foundation of its evolution and its source of sustenance.
Nevertheless, this did not prevent Seraphine from dismissing Leviathan's perceived ignorance:
"What a waste of an entity. It has absorbed so much emotional suffering for untold years, yet it remains only a False God."
She had already devised a solution: a permanent strategy to resolve the issue of Leviathan occupying this Hell of Pain in one effort.
STOMP STOMP
Turning a corner, Seraphine glanced at the bald man beside her and asked:
"Ellincer, do you still remember anything about your existence as a human?"
Hearing his Mistress's question, the bald man shook his head. Clearly, he had completely forgotten.
"So," Seraphine mused, "Leviathan must erase, or perhaps devour, all memories of the host during the process of transforming Cursers into Practitioners."
"Yes, Mistress," the bald man replied in a low voice. "Leviathan seeks out every painful memory fragment. It personally immerses itself to experience that suffering and collects these fragments for future understanding. This is his instinct; once he starts, he cannot stop."
"Is that so," Seraphine smirked, smiling lightly. "Very good. Give me a general description of how Leviathan remakes humans."
"Understood, Mistress." The bald man nodded. "If someone opens a Box in the Mortal Realm, their body is torn apart by iron hooks shot from the Box, leaving only a sliver of soul that is delivered to Hell. Upon arriving, these souls are bestowed with damaged bodies to become Cursers. If their potential is too ordinary, they only wander endlessly in the Pits of Flame or the Torture Chambers, providing ceaseless pain."
Speaking of this, the bald man couldn't help but sigh. "Mortals have too narrow an understanding of pleasure; they cannot grasp the ultimate ecstasy derived from torturing and being tortured."
He continued: "Those lowly Cursers, after their soul bodies shatter, are built into the walls to live forever recalling their suffering. If their potential is excellent, they avoid that fate; instead, they are granted a luxurious 'Personal Hell.'"
"A luxurious Personal Hell..." Seraphine frowned slightly, surprised. "Open one for me to see."
"As you wish, Mistress." The bald man respectfully nodded and immediately extended his index finger, lightly tapping the empty space before him.
BUZZ—
Spacetime distorted. The silent corridor blurred and vanished as their location rapidly shifted. During the jump, the heavy aura radiating from the bald man erupted, subtly revealing a power comparable to the Resplendent Moon level.
Indeed, Ellincer, the bald Head Priest of Hell, was a Resplendent Moon level entity. However, unlike the Resplendent Moon witches in Ansel's world, Ellincer's strength derived mostly from Leviathan's modifications. His blood was Leviathan's blood; his leather armor was Leviathan's flesh; even his soul was intertwined with Leviathan's power. In Hell, Ascended Practitioners rarely possess any concept of self-cultivation.
The daily routines of these entities, aside from endlessly torturing Cursers, primarily involved serving as prison guards for the suffering souls within Hell. These Practitioners often operated in small groups. For instance, the bald man in the "Hellring" film was part of a four-person unit. Such squads were generally called a 'Rift Squad' or a 'Pain Cultivation Group.'
As a Great High Priest, Ellincer held a higher status than ordinary Practitioners and was responsible for even more tasks, including periodically organizing the Practitioners to engage in prayer directed toward Leviathan.
Because of this, Ellincer's own foundation was extremely poor. This allowed Seraphine to capture him with a single glance, turning him into another one of her Spirituality Familia.
BUZZ—
The surrounding scene gradually became distinct. They now stood on a gray stone plaza several hundred meters wide. At the center stood a manor with a classical appearance, encircled by jagged, grotesque stone trees. Approaching the manor revealed that the main gate was forged from heavy core material etched with complex arcane symbols.
The stone steps leading to the entrance were littered with countless eyes that seemed almost petrified, creating an abrasive, uncomfortable feeling underfoot.
CRACK—
After pushing open the bone gate, the first thing visible was a fountain of blood in the center of the hall. It was surrounded by furnishings so horrifying that no language or text could truly describe them.
Under the dim light of crystal chandeliers, the sofas, coffee tables, and bookshelves filling the hall were exquisitely crafted. However, the materials used to create them were unbelievably cruel.
"Hmm..." Seraphine assessed the furniture, muttering casually, "These items were crafted from pieces of the guests' own clone bodies, I presume."
"That's right," the bald man replied slowly. "The diligent ones receive happiness. These furnishings were crafted by the Cursers themselves, using their own skin, blood, muscle, and bone. They consume while simultaneously recovering. It allows them to enjoy the ultimate agony of flesh while gaining satisfaction from the toil."
"And it's accompanied by screams, right?" Seraphine mocked with a dry laugh.
"The music needs some instrumentation to enhance it," the bald man shrugged. "It's unavoidable."
"So, where are these guests housed?" Seraphine looked around, then suddenly glanced at the floor. "The basement?"
BUZZ—
As soon as she spoke, the scenery blurred again. The two suddenly found themselves in a dim, underground cellar.
There, Seraphine spotted three peculiar instruments: a vat of churning acidic foam, an iron coffin studded with moving spikes, and a pit radiating the sound of intense burning.
"Interesting."
Activating her spiritual sight, Seraphine perceived what lay within those instruments: three masses of twitching flesh, each larger than a normal person.
These three Cursers had been eroded, gouged, and burned into unrecognizable lumps of flesh. Furthermore, these instruments were subjected to terrifying dark magic. The pain felt by the Cursers within was multiplied by dozens or hundreds of times.
The emotional suffering they spewed forth was thousands of times greater than that of the 'Wall Builders.' In terms of quality, it was far superior.
"Spiritual fluctuation..."
Seraphine focused her senses and realized the physical agony was merely the key to unlock a far more terrifying pain.
This pain originated from the spirits of the guests.
The dark magic instruments would manifest the deepest negative emotions and memories as tangible entities within each subject's spiritual domain. These guests would then fall into an endless, tragic state of fear created by their own minds, unable to break free.
"The greatest suffering usually does not come from the body, but from the soul and memory," Seraphine whispered calmly.
The bald man, Ellincer, nodded silently in agreement.
Seraphine looked up, her super-spatial spiritual sight piercing through all obstructions to gaze far away toward Leviathan, floating tens of millions of kilometers above. After observing for a few seconds, she suddenly smiled.
"Since you enjoy witnessing the memories of others' suffering so much, I shall give you a grand gift."
...
In the real universe, within the Milky Way.
In the boundless void, Seraphine (True Body), who had devoured all the stars and countless intelligent life forms across the entire Perseus Arm for 60,000 light-years, was now striding into the even larger Scutum–Centaurus Arm.
BOOM!!!
In a single second, under Seraphine's will, hundreds of thousands of star systems within the vast interstellar space spanning 1000 light-years in diameter instantly melted into endless light and heat. They transformed into rivers of blazing light, each grander than the Sun, carrying billions of times the speed of light past vast distances to rush into the dimensional rifts scattered across her entire body.
At this moment, Seraphine, like a cosmic giant, slightly paused her movement. Her magnificent, divine Will flowed backward instantly, rapidly entering a single, three-dimensional unit cell within her body.
It was empty there, save for one star system slowly revolving. This was the Solar System, a commemorative decoration Seraphine deliberately preserved.
An Earth still existed here, but it was a replica. An uninhabited Earth perfectly reconstructed at the fundamental particle level.
The real Earth and all of humanity had currently moved house into the Eden World, located inside another three-dimensional unit cell within Seraphine's body.
At the searing hot epicenter of the Sun, a figure resembling a streak of light slowly materialized. This was a manifestation created by a wisp of Seraphine's Will. Brilliant and dazzling, this avatar of mere, faint divine Will appeared both ethereal and colossal, both fragile and immense.
She slowly spread her hand, extending two fingers to pinch a tiny black speck, a mote of dust suspended in the boundless sea of light, and smiled lightly:
"Long time no see, Erice. Hmm, perhaps not so long. Since I last placed you here, less than a month has passed. Ha ha, though for you, 68,000 years have passed, a period of absolute clarity, absolute solitude, and absolute boredom."
This was merely Seraphine murmuring to herself; she had no intention of conversing with Erice. For Erice, currently trapped in Void Torment, even the most filthy insult was a supreme blessing, enough to occupy his mind for a long time, helping him endure that extreme solitude and boredom.
"Let's talk less drivel." Seraphine's fingers holding the speck of light flickered faintly. "I'll borrow your memories for a moment."
BUZZ!!!
The black speck vibrated rapidly. In an instant, all of Erice's memories confined within the speck, including the memory of those desperate 68,000 years in the void, were completely copied by Seraphine.
Then, she released the black speck and vanished within the solar body. Only Erice, completely unaware of what had transpired, remained to continue his endless, nearly billion-year ordeal in the void.
...
Seraphine slowly returned to her senses, looking at the small sphere of light in her massive palm. This sphere was the weapon she would use against Leviathan this time: Erice's memory.
She had no intention of experiencing the taste of these memories. Although Seraphine was not afraid of merely 68,000 years of solitude, it was entirely unnecessary.
"Since you enjoy pain so much, surely this memory devoid of feeling, touch, sight, taste, smell, and even all sensation, a state where you cannot sleep, cannot touch anything, cannot collapse even when completely sober, and cannot alleviate the loneliness with any imagined object, sixty-eight thousand years of solitude, should be quite flavorful."
"No, I haven't seen enough; there's still much more lacking," Seraphine smiled coldly.
She then used the Light of Infinity to envelop this mass of Erice's memory layer by layer. Suddenly, against all logic, his Mass/Volume expanded by a million times its original size, that is, 68 billion years of desperate, solitary memory.
"Equivalent to being alone from the moment the universe was born until the 21st century," Seraphine chuckled teasingly. "And experiencing that journey five times over."
...
In the obscure void of the Realm of Phantasm, within the Hell of Pain.
Seraphine (Clone) opened her eyes wide, looking at the pitch-black, spatial memory crystal in her palm, and smirked: "Alright, let us begin."
TSSS TSSS TSSS!!!
Her furious body slowly contracted, shrinking down into a single thread of crimson light. At this moment, the vast power of rage also dispersed, dancing around, swirling and washing the void, wrapping around the crystal condensed from the Erice memory, layering upon it.
In a brief few seconds, it transformed into a somewhat sluggish, indistinct, pale soul.
And just then, that long-absent crimson ray of light suddenly pierced into the center of the soul's brow. The circulating power of rage activated once more, creating a weak, frail body from nothing, roughly resembling a thirty or forty-year-old figure covered in bleeding wounds.
In the next instant, the soul plunged into and merged with the decaying body.
GULP...
The heartbeat echoed.
The rough, withered body immediately trembled. Bones, organs, muscles, and skin vibrated incessantly, causing the ragged cloth garments he wore to ripple slightly.
"Real memory, illusory soul, ruined body, I exist in the gap between the three." Seraphine's voice echoed faintly around them. "With the three merged, Leviathan surely won't perceive me. After he devours this memory containing 68 billion years of desperate years, ha ha ha ha, I wonder what his reaction will be."
Afterward, a voice sounded beside Ellincer's ear:
"Take me to see Leviathan. I have a gift to present him."
The bald man bowed respectfully, immediately extending his hand to manipulate space, teleporting himself and the body concealing Seraphine's will away from the cramped basement.
They left behind only the three wicked instruments of dark magic, and the three miserable Cursers lying within, suffering endless torture.