Hell had always favored the strong.
Not the noble, not the wise — only the strong.
Its laws were older than the stars, older than sin itself.
Down here, strength was truth. Strength was faith. Strength was everything.
It did not matter what blood flowed through your veins.
Human, demi-god, fallen, demon — even genesis-born beings, those carved from the primordial fires themselves — all stood under the same rule.
Hell bowed to no crown, only to violence.
That was its democracy. Its equality.
A kingdom where mercy was myth and only the powerful could call themselves alive.
And in that cauldron of centuries-long war — between the titans who once held the sky, the beast-folk who ran on instinct, the fallen who had lost heaven's song, the devils and demons who had torn eternity apart — one name sat atop the hierarchy of madness.
ASMODEUS.
Old beyond counting.
