A deep, hollow ache in my stomach dragged me kicking and screaming back to consciousness. The second thing I became aware of was the pain. It wasn't in one specific spot; it was a universal, all over body ache that made the very idea of moving seem like a terrible, terrible mistake. I managed a groan, pushing myself up on elbows that felt like they'd been used as anvils.
"So. You're finally awake."
The voice was cool, familiar. I winced, turning my head, a movement that sent a fresh spike of pain through my neck, to see Numi. She was crammed into a small wooden chair in the corner, looking like a giant who'd stolen a doll's furniture. A massive book was open in her hands, and she didn't even look up from it.
"Go shower," she said, turning a page with a claw that could probably rip the thing in half. "There are new clothes in the dresser. Then you can go eat. The dining hall awaits."
She finally glanced up, those pink eyes scanning me from head to toe, and a tiny, infuriating smirk touched her lips. "See you then." With that, she closed the book with a sound like a gavel dropping, stood, and left without a backward glance.
Moving was a process of pure willpower. Every step to the shower was a negotiation with my own screaming muscles. The hot water was a blessing and a curse, soothing the deep aches but stinging the countless new bruises and the burn on my calf. Pulling on the new clothes, soft, dark, and smelling faintly of ash, felt like finishing a marathon.
Then the hunger returned, a sharp, demanding claw in my gut. I stepped out into the hallway.
And immediately realized the problem.
She didn't tell me where to go.
The corridor stretched left and right, a maze of identical torch lit stone. Panic, dulled by exhaustion, started to creep in. I was starving, sore, and completely lost in a demonic prison complex. This was how I died. Not in glorious combat, but because I took a wrong turn looking for the cafeteria.
But then I saw them. A trickle of demons, all moving with a sense of purpose. A big guy with tusks sniffed the air and lumbered off to the left. A couple of imps scampered past, chattering about double meat rations tonight! They were all heading the same way.
Okay. Follow the hungry demons. That's a plan.
I fell in at the very back of the crowd, my pace a pathetic shamble compared to their powerful, eager strides. I was the sore, slow human bringing up the rear of the hellish dinner rush. Every step was a reminder of the insane staircase, the fire track, and those murderous training dummies. My legs felt like they were made of lead and ground glass.
But then the smell hit me. It poured from a large archway up ahead, a rich, heavy, smoky aroma of roasting meat and spices I couldn't name. My mouth watered instantly. It was the most incredible thing I'd ever smelled.
I shuffled into the vast, roaring dining hall. It was chaos. Demons of every size and description packed into long tables, devouring food from heavy iron plates. And there, at the far end, was the source of the glorious smell: a serving line with massive cauldrons and entire beasts turning on spits.
Leaning against a pillar near the front, looking right at me with that same infuriatingly knowing smirk, was Numi. She'd been waiting. Of course she had. She watched me take in the scene, watched me stand there looking lost, sore, and probably a little desperate. I straightened up, trying to hide the ache, and did my best to walk normally toward the food line. It was, without a doubt, the least convincing casual stroll in the history of hell.
The smell of roasted hell beast and spiced tubers was the only thing keeping me upright. I was two demons away from the serving cauldron, my iron tray clutched in my trembling hands, my entire being focused on the ladle of steaming, meaty goodness.
I never saw it coming.
A massive arm, sheathed in the fine, dark fabric of a tailored suit, wrapped around my waist. Before my sleep deprived, pain fogged brain could even process the threat, I was hoisted into the air like a sack of grain and unceremoniously dumped over a broad, suit clad shoulder.
A grunt of protest escaped me, but that was it. My body was a broken instrument. Any attempt to fight back would result in me just ragdolling to the floor in a pathetic heap. So I hung there, my face pressed against expensive demonic fabric that smelled of ozone and cedar, my tray clattering to the floor.
"Hey! My food..." I mumbled, the words muffled by his jacket.
The demon didn't respond. He just adjusted his grip and began walking, his gait smooth and powerful, cutting through the crowded cantina with an authority that made other demons subtly step aside. I caught a glimpse of a stark white dress shirt collar and the back of a neatly trimmed, horned head.
We headed straight for a massive, blood red door I hadn't even noticed before, set into the far wall. It swung open silently as we approached, and my captor carried me through.
Numi was waiting on the other side, leaning against the wall. She burst out laughing at the sight of me.
"I see you have him," she chuckled.
The suit wearing demon grunted. "Yeah, yeah. Just doing my job. I want to eat, too. This one moves too slow."
The door closed behind us, revealing a small, opulent lobby and a single, polished brass elevator door. It slid open with a soft ding. The inside was lined with dark, red wood and more of that plush fabric. The suited demon carried me in, Numi followed, and the doors closed.
Then the music started.
It was a smooth, jazzy piano melody over a walking bass line. It was... familiar. Deeply familiar. It had the same cool, confident swagger as the soundtrack from that Helltaker game, but... slower. More relaxed. A lounge version for the infernal upper management. I hung there, baffled, as we began to rise.
The elevator ride was smooth and silent, the music the only sound. After a minute, it slowed and stopped with another soft ding.
The doors slid open to reveal a scene straight out of a five star restaurant. The lighting was low and warm, gleaming off polished obsidian tables and crystal glassware. Demons in elegant attire — silken robes, sharp suits, glittering dresses — sat at tables, eating exquisite looking food and conversing in low, cultured tones. The air smelled of fine perfume, aged wine, and seared steak.
My chauffeur walked over to a central table, grabbed me by the back of my tunic, and unceremoniously plopped me into an empty chair like he was setting down a piece of luggage.
I blinked, my eyes adjusting. To my right sat Miss Yoclesh, sipping from a crystal goblet filled with a dark, shimmering liquid. Numi slid into the seat opposite me, still looking far too amused.
Yoclesh set her goblet down, her slitted amber eyes fixing on me. "Seems you had a good training. Your results were... not bad at all."
She leaned forward slightly, the shadows dancing across the scars on her collarbone. "Your adaptability is insanely high. So much so, that while fighting, your body doesn't just learn — it integrates. It copies pacing, mirrors footwork, absorbs technique. You gained a new ability during your little sparring session, according to our data."
My mind immediately, and irritatingly, conjured what the blood tracker orb would say in its smug, glowing text:
ABILITY UNLOCKED: MIMICS GRASP (NOVICE). PROWESS: "BARELY PASSABLE BUT UNEXPECTEDLY PROMISING FOR A BAG OF FLESH AND REGRET." FURTHER BEATINGS REQUIRED TO ADVANCE PROFICIENCY.
I could practically hear its condescending chime. I must have made a face because Yoclesh's smirk widened.
"Even the orb was impressed," she said, and I knew she'd seen the same report. "It doesn't say that often. Consider it a high compliment."
A server — a demon with four graceful arms — appeared and placed a plate in front of me. It wasn't a heap of food from a cauldron. It was a perfectly seared cut of meat, drizzled with a reduction, alongside glazed vegetables that looked like they'd been grown in celestial soil.
"Now eat," Yoclesh commanded, her tone leaving no room for argument. "You've earned it. Tomorrow, we see what else you can copy."
The meal was, without exaggeration, the best of my life. The meat melted on my tongue, the strange vegetables were both sweet and savory, and even the water tasted crystalline and pure. For a while, seated at that opulent table, the pain and exhaustion faded into the background. Yoclesh and Numi even exchanged a few casual words about citadel politics, mostly ignoring me as I devoured the food.
Later, back in my small room, I lay on the cot, my stomach full and my body humming with a strange mixture of agony and satisfaction. The blanket was rough, but it was warm. The room was spare, but it was mine. For the first time since being thrown in that cell, a treacherous thought wiggled into my mind: Maybe... it's not that bad in Hell after all.
The thought was annihilated the very next morning.
There was no gentle wake up call. Just Numi yanking my door open and barking my name. The running track awaited, but it had been... upgraded. The jets of fire were more frequent and unpredictable. The track itself now shifted, sections tilting or retracting with no warning. The blood tracker orb chirped merrily about Increased Difficulty: Lethal Mode Activated.
I was hit left and right. A fire plume seared my arm, the smell of burnt cloth and skin filling my nostrils. I stumbled on a shifting slab, nearly pitching over the edge before catching myself, my heart hammering against my ribs. My previous thought echoed in my mind, now coated in bitter irony. Hell is indeed that bad.
"Astro!" Numi's voice cut through my pain filled haze from the observation ledge. "Keep your eyes forward and lock in! Your brain is your best weapon right now, so use it!"
From beside her, Yoclesh observed, her arms crossed. Her voice was a low, analytical rumble I wasn't supposed to hear, but the acoustics of the cavern carried it. "He's increasing in stats very quickly. His body is learning to process the stress. He's already faster than a low tier grunt."
Numi nodded, a note of professional pride in her response. "Yes. His adaptability is very good. You still plan on releasing him after the job?"
Yoclesh didn't take her eyes off me as I barely dodged a collapsing section of the track. "Then yes. I will give him to the Demon Queen after the assassination. She will see him returned to the Mortal Coil."
Numi made a thoughtful sound. "Mmm. That's sad. He would make an excellent demon."
Yoclesh finally turned her head slightly. "Yeah. But he is still a human. Eventually, he needs to be on the Mortal Coil. Especially if these flying chickens find out." The disdain in her voice when she mentioned the angels was palpable.
Numi's answer was simple. "Yes." Then, she raised her voice, her tone shifting back to Drill Instructor. "I think it's time for some other training, yes?"
Yoclesh gave a final nod. "Yes. Keep me updated. I will go to my office again. I have paperwork to file on our... guest." With that, she turned and vanished into the shadows of the ledge.
"Astro! Running training is done!" Numi yelled.
My legs gave out immediately. I collapsed onto the hot, scorched track, gasping, every inch of my body screaming. I hadn't even heard a countdown finish.
Before I could even try to stand, Numi was there, looming over me. "Already? And you haven't even trained strength yet. Tsk." She sounded almost disappointed. Without another word, she grabbed my ankles and began dragging me off the track, my body bumping unceremoniously over the obsidian surface toward the gym. So much for the five star treatment.