Renny was halfway to his apartment building, mind elsewhere, when three figures closed in to block his way. They all wore black shirts and trousers under red jean jackets. The middle one stepped right into him.
Bump.
"Hey, punk! Watch it!" he barked.
Renny blinked back to the present. "My bad. I didn't see you."
The one on the left smirked. "Of course you didn't. Just like you didn't see that police officer's house at night." All three burst into laughter.
Renny's jaw tightened. He shifted to go around them toward the elevator, but the one on the right blocked him with an arm.
"Where you think you're going, convict?"
"Look," Renny said, keeping his voice even, "I'm not trying to be rude. It's been a rough week, and I just want to clean up and rest. So if you'd let me through…"
The middle one tilted his head. "You know what I don't get? Why you're an Ezraphor at all." He glanced at the others. "Have you seen his spot on the leaderboard? Dead last. Carrying the entire Demon Association on his back. Man's a strong heavy lifter." They howled.
"I don't have time for this," Renny said flatly.
Something in his tone made the middle one's smile die. He stepped in, hooked Renny's jaw with his palm, and yanked him forward effortlessly.
"Watch your tone, convict. We're Grade 2 demons. That means we outrank you in everything that matters. Authority, power, everything. So if you know what's good for you… you'll come correct with that tone."
He shoved Renny back like he weighed nothing. The group laughed again.
"Look at him," the one on the left sneered. "Bet he was a punk on Earth. Maybe that's why he got dumped in Hell. Angels probably took one look and said 'nah, too pathetic.'"
"Hey, watch it," the middle one snapped at him. "You calling us pathetic too?"
"N-no," the left one stammered. "I just meant, forget it. Dumb joke."
The middle one shook his head and turned back to Renny. "Even Hell won't keep you. You're already at the bottom. Soon enough, you'll be dead… and sent to rot." He spat the last word, eyes narrowing.
Then he jerked his chin at his gang. "Let's go. No point wasting time on convicts."
They moved off, still laughing. Renny stood there for a long moment, chest tight, before exhaling. Without a word, he walked into the building and took the elevator up to his floor.
***
Renny stood in the bathroom, palms pressed against the sink, water dripping from his hair. The mirror fogged in the center, but his own gaze still found him through the mist.
Why were those Grade 2s even here? This was his building. The only demon in the whole complex. They had no business in this area, let alone in his way.
He let out a slow breath, eyes narrowing at his own reflection.
This life… this second chance… was he just wasting it? He indeed was in Hell, but he wasn't some rotting human anymore. He was a demon now, with a working body, albeit no special abilities but he at least had options now. And yet here he was, playing small. Was it hesitation? Fear? The unanswered question of why he'd ended up here at all?
Maybe. But whatever the reason, it didn't matter. Sitting around as everyone stepped over him wouldn't give him the answers. His life in Hell couldn't be the same limp story as his life on Earth.
Because if that were true… if a healthy body couldn't change who he was… then what was the point?
No. He wasn't going to be a bum, never again.
His fingers tightened on the sink's edge.Make use of this chance, Renny. This is who you are. A demon. An Ezraphor. Come on.
He inhaled sharply, straightened, and stared himself down in the mirror. "I am Renanyo Ezraphor," he said under his breath. "Grade 1 demon. This is who I am."
The shower steam finally cleared. His mind drifted to what came next. He'd need a sharp suit, real tools, and the kind of skills that matched his grade.
But temptation pulled his attention elsewhere. He opened the demon social channels, curiosity tugging despite himself. Kev hadn't lied, they were roasting him hard. His bruised face, his torn suit, passed around like some cheap meme.
Renny's jaw tightened. His anger burned hot, but he forced it back down.
They don't know me yet.
He closed the chat feed and pulled up the leaderboard for the Lesser Grades.
Grades 1 through 5. Upper Grades, 6 to 9, were ranked separately.
Most would assume that the top spot would belong to the Demon Association's president. But no… it was the vice president, Kovanis Omekro. And right under him, Yurokane Omekro, the president himself.
The Omekros had the top two positions. Dominating the board. Renny wondered if it had always been that way.
One day, his name would sit at the top. Even if he was the only Ezraphor in hell, Renny swore it silently. With a sigh, he swiped the board away and opened the Ezraphor weapon and tools, his first time checking the contract store.
A short blurb flashed across the screen: Ezraphors, Demons of Loss and Destruction.
He scrolled, expecting the cascade of demonic weapons he'd imagined. Instead, row after row of mundane human weapons appeared, pistols, blades, chains. No special enchantments, no demonic edge. Just… metal and bullets. This? This was his arsenal? Ridiculous. How could these help him against a soul guardian? Agent Kaviru had warned him to be cautious with spending, but cautious with what? There was nothing here but useless scraps dressed up as weapons.
Frustration tightened his chest. He checked the prices, and it only worsened the insult. Even the cheapest, an unimpressive pistol, cost 150 points. With a hiss of breath, he bought it. If this was all they offered him, what choice did he have?
His thoughts flicked bitterly to Kev. Kev had various mark abilities, demonic weapons, and seeds, tools born of his mark, each one able to burrow into a human and twist their will. Every family had their seeds. Velzira sowed Lust. Korav spread Violence. But in Ezraphor store there was nothing but a single, cheap stealth ability and mundane weapons. Maybe it was because he was the only Ezraphor here. That thought gnawed at him, if the lineage had already died out, why had he even become one? Why was there nothing left for him? He tried not to dwell on it.
He closed the store with his jaw locked, letting the silence carry his anger. He was already mapping his approach, tallying his near-nonexistent resources, when his phone buzzed.
A message from an unknown number lit the screen:
"I know ya wonder about the truth behind ya new identity. If ya want answers, go to Kurohama Pier. From there, I'll send the real meeting location. What ya learn could change ya life as a demon."