Hell did not welcome Jack Storm.
It never did.
The descent began the same way every time—no tunnel, no firestorm, no dramatic fall. One moment Jack stood on a rain-soaked rooftop, city lights humming beneath him. The next, gravity inverted and the world folded inward like a collapsing lung.
His feet touched ground.
Stone. Blackened. Warm.
The sky above was not a sky at all, but a vast, fractured ceiling of crimson light and drifting embers, as if the world itself were burning from the inside. Spires of bone and obsidian rose in the distance, some shaped like cities, others like corpses frozen mid-scream.
Jack exhaled slowly.
The infernal core in his chest pulsed—stronger here, louder. Hungry.
"This place never gets prettier," he muttered.
Something laughed.
Not from one direction. From all of them.
"Pretty is not our function."
The voice slithered into existence ahead of him, followed by a shape assembling itself piece by piece. A tall figure emerged, humanoid in outline but wrong in detail—skin like molten brass etched with runes, eyes like bottomless pits stitched with faint red light.
It wore a smile carved too precisely to be natural.
The Infernal Broker.
Jack flexed his fingers. "You're early."
The Broker inclined its head. "You are punctual. That is… appreciated."
Around them, the ground shifted. A circular platform rose, engraved with symbols that made Jack's teeth ache. Hooks of black metal jutted upward, glowing faintly as demon souls—compressed into ember-like orbs—floated from Jack's chest, orbiting him slowly.
Twenty-three.
That was how many he'd collected this cycle.
The Broker's smile widened.
"A productive month."
Jack didn't return it. "You know why I'm here."
"Yes," the Broker said softly. "To grow stronger. To survive. To delay your inevitable failure."
Jack's eyes flared red. "Careful."
"Oh, I am always careful," it replied. "You are the one walking a blade's edge."
The souls drifted closer to the platform, humming like trapped insects.
"Let's get this over with," Jack said. "What are my options?"
The Broker raised a clawed hand. The air rippled.
Three symbols ignited in the air between them.
First Offering: Infernal Reinforcement
"Your body," the Broker began, "remains inefficient. You bleed. You fracture. You tire."
One of the symbols flared brighter.
"Trade five souls. Gain accelerated regeneration. Your flesh will remember itself."
Jack frowned. "What's the cost?"
The Broker's eyes glinted. "Pain will no longer teach you."
Jack stared at the symbol for a long moment.
Pain kept him human. Pain reminded him he could still lose.
He waved it away. "Next."
Second Offering: Dominion of Fear
The second symbol pulsed slowly, like a heartbeat.
"Trade eight souls," the Broker purred, "and lesser demons will kneel. Possessed humans will hesitate. Fear will precede you."
Jack's jaw tightened.
Crowds. Civilians. People already terrified.
Fear would make his job easier.
Too easy.
"No."
The Broker tilted its head. "You refuse power that saves lives."
"I refuse power that takes choice," Jack said flatly.
Third Offering: Stormbound Manifestation
The final symbol ignited violently.
Lightning and flame intertwined, tearing at the air.
"Trade ten souls," the Broker said, voice reverent now, "and your storm will evolve. Hellfire and lightning unified. Your signature refined."
Jack felt it immediately—the pull, the resonance. This wasn't domination. It wasn't erosion.
It was expression.
"What's the cost?" he asked.
The Broker hesitated.
Just a fraction.
"Your presence will become… unmistakable."
Jack snorted. "It already is."
The Broker's smile returned. "Not like this."
Jack closed his eyes.
He saw the alley. The woman. The crowd. Crowe's cold stare burned into his memory.
Being seen had consequences.
But being too weak had worse ones.
"Do it," Jack said.
Ten souls surged forward, screaming silently as they dissolved into the platform. Lightning crashed downward, striking Jack dead center.
He roared—not in pain, but in defiance—as the storm carved itself deeper into his core. Fire didn't just burn now.
It answered.
When the light faded, Jack stood breathing hard, smoke curling from his skin.
The Broker clapped slowly. "Excellent choice."
Jack straightened. "We're done."
"For now," the Broker agreed. "But know this, Jack Storm—"
Its voice dropped, echoing unnaturally.
"Hell is learning you."
Jack met its gaze. "Let it."
The return was harsher.
Jack slammed back into his body like a fist into glass, collapsing to one knee on the rooftop. Lightning crackled briefly across his skin before fading.
He stayed there for a long moment, breathing through the ache.
Below, the city moved on, ignorant and fragile.
He stood.
And immediately felt it.
Eyes on him.
Not demonic.
Human.
Commander Elias Crowe lowered the binoculars slowly.
"There," he said. "That's confirmation."
Around him, his team worked in silence, surrounded by monitors and data feeds. Thermal spikes. Electromagnetic anomalies. Atmospheric distortion.
Hell wasn't subtle.
Crowe folded his arms.
"So," he murmured, "you do come back."
An analyst glanced over. "Sir, if he can leave and return at will—"
"He can't," Crowe interrupted. "Nothing that powerful is free."
He turned away from the screen, jaw tight.
"Prepare Phase Two."
Jack didn't notice the surveillance drone until it was too late.
It hovered above him silently, lenses adjusting.
He didn't run.
He raised his eyes—and lightning flashed.
The drone disintegrated midair.
Jack exhaled.
"So that's how it's going to be," he muttered.
As he disappeared into the city once more, he didn't see Crowe watching the feed cut to static.
But Crowe smiled anyway.
"Good," he said softly. "Now I know where to aim."
End of Chapter 5