A young man stood in the distance, his figure cloaked in shadow. His features were sharp, his eyes glinting with a fiery intensity that could rival Hell itself. His ashen skin bore ancient runes that pulsed faintly with a glow, whispering of dark magic and the underworld. His hair curled like black smoke, wild and untamed—a perfect mirror of the chaotic realm around him. Even the air seemed to tremble in his presence.
With purposeful steps, he approached the towering figure ahead.
"My lord," the young man said, his voice low and urgent. "There's trouble. Infernals have broken loose. They're heading this way."
The Guardian didn't move.
Standing tall, wreathed in flame, the Guardian of Hell peered toward the horizon. A column of smoke twisted into the sky like a dark omen. His eyes, burning with the eternal fire of the underworld, narrowed. Something was coming.
The winds of Hell whispered across scorched ground, carrying with them the scent of sulfur and death. For millennia, the Guardian had watched the gates of Hell—unchallenged, unbroken, eternal. His flame-branded armor shimmered under the blood-red sky, and his sword, the Flame of the Abyss, rested against his side, humming with raw power.
From the deepest pits to the threshold of damnation, his essence was etched into the very fabric of this realm. No soul escaped without his decree. No force entered uninvited.
But today... something had shifted.
The ground trembled. The pulse of Hell—the rhythm that had never once faltered—now stuttered like a failing heartbeat.
"Infernals," he muttered, drawing his blade.
Dark, twisted figures emerged from the shadows. Born from Hell's most cursed depths, the Infernals were beasts of molten lava and jagged stone. Their eyes gleamed with savage hunger, their claws dripping with heat.
"You dare challenge me?" the Guardian thundered, flames crackling with his voice. "This is my domain."
One charged.
Too slow.
The Guardian moved in a blur, his sword a flash of fire. The creature screamed as it was torn apart, reduced to ash in an instant.
But more came.
Wave after wave surged toward him—feral, shrieking, relentless. The Guardian's sword danced through them, each strike a storm, each step scorching the earth beneath him. But the numbers did not thin. For every Infernal he struck down, another rose.
"This is not your domain to claim!" His voice shook the air as a hurricane of fire burst from his body, incinerating a dozen beasts in a heartbeat.
And still… they came.
Then, he saw it.
Larger than the others. Horned. Its eyes glowed like dying stars. A demon of the old flame.
This one is different.
It lunged. The Guardian met its claws with steel, the clash sending a shockwave through the battlefield. They traded blows, fire against flame, blade against brute force. The demon roared, releasing a molten blast. The Guardian raised his sword high.
The Flame of the Abyss ignited into a wall of inferno.
With a single, roaring strike, the demon was consumed, reduced to ash mid-scream.
Silence fell.
But only for a moment.
Another rumble. More Infernals rose from the pits.
The Guardian straightened, eyes burning brighter.
"This is only the beginning."
He lifted his sword again.
"None shall pass."
Another grotesque demon charged. The Guardian's flames exploded, turning the front line into cinders.
"What is going on?" he muttered, cutting down three more with a single swing. "Why are this many Infernals attacking? Is someone behind this?"
An Infernal lunged at his blind spot. Without looking, he twisted, impaling it mid-air. Ash rained down around him.
"Tch… there's no end to them."
Another leaped. This time, he let go of his sword. It vanished in a blaze as he caught the beast barehanded. Heat surged from his palm until the creature shrieked and crumbled to nothing.
A smirk curved his lips. "Interesting... I'm getting warmed up."
He rose into the air, one hand raised.
"Inferno."
A cataclysm of flame swept across the field, reducing all to blackened stone and silence.
Two men appeared, dropping to one knee.
"Lord Azrael! We came as soon as we heard the attack!"
Azrael stepped forward. The heat surrounding him intensified. The ground cracked under his feet.
"You must've heard from Bullock that I was handling it."
The men flinched. "Y-Yes, my lord!"
"And yet you still came?" His voice lowered, dangerously calm. "Are you saying I couldn't handle this alone?"
"N-No, my lord!" they stammered.
"Lies."
One of them gulped. "W-We just wanted to make sure everything was under control."
The other—Hulk—glared sideways.
Terrible answer.
Azrael took a step forward.
Bull panicked.
I'm going to die. Should I run? Run! Run!
He bolted.
Hulk sighed. "That fool…"
In a flash of flame, Azrael reappeared—right in front of the fleeing man.
What?!
Bull threw a flaming punch. Azrael caught it with ease.
"Has the heat made you forget your place?" he asked, gripping tighter.
"P-Please, my lord, I don't want to die!"
"Too bad. I can't have a rampaging bull causing chaos in Hell."
Flames erupted. Bull's scream echoed across the realm until only ashes remained.
Azrael turned to Hulk.
"Hulk."
Hulk straightened. When had he moved again?
"Tell Laisa to meet me in the Flaming Hall. And summon the Five Pillars."
"Y-Yes, my lord," Hulk said, bowing low.
Azrael vanished into fire. Hulk exhaled deeply and glanced at the ashes.
"You should've kept your mouth shut, Bull."
He sighed. "And now Laisa? Great. She creeps me out."
He vanished into smoke.
---
The Chamber of Scarlet Flames
Inside a lavish chamber, a group of maids stood quietly. Hulk appeared in a puff of black smoke.
"Lord Azrael summons Lady Laisa," he said plainly.
One maid turned pale and ran inside.
A woman with crimson hair lounged on a silken bed, draped in a robe, half-asleep.
"Who dares disturb my beauty sleep?"
"Lady Laisa, Lord Azrael requests your presence."
At his name, she sat up. Her eyes sparkled.
"He wants to see me?" she asked, already rising.
The maid bowed. "Yes, my lady."
"You should've said so sooner!" she snapped.
She pulled a crimson gown from her wardrobe, applied a sultry shade of lipstick, and smiled into her mirror.
"I need to look perfect for him."
Dressed and radiant, she stepped out, wrinkling her nose at Hulk.
"Why are you still here? Scram."
He muttered under his breath, "It's a war council, not a date."
Her eyes narrowed. "Did you say something?"
"N-No, my lady!"
"Good. Let's not keep Lord Azrael waiting."
She glided away, flames flickering in her wake. Hulk vanished behind her.
---
The Flaming Hall
Flames lined the towering obsidian pillars. Shadows danced across the walls. At the center sat a massive round table, glowing with heat. Five figures waited, their presence heavy with authority.
The doors opened with a thunderous crack. Azrael entered.
They rose at once.
He took his seat at the head. One motion—and they followed.
"Let's begin."
Hulk stepped forward.
"Sorry for being late~"
Laisa entered like a flame personified, her gown rippling behind her. She approached Azrael and curtsied, holding his gaze with a soft smile.
"You're late," Azrael said coldly.
"My apologies, my lord," she purred, leaning in as if to kiss his cheek.
He raised a finger, pressing it gently against her lips.
"Sit. The meeting has begun."
She pouted but obeyed, slipping gracefully into her chair.
Hulk clenched his jaw. She's too much…
"Shall we begin?" Azrael asked, eyes sweeping the room.
The table fell into silence, the flames whispering like conspirators.
Hell was stirring.