Deep in Hell, where the living had no place, the endless Desert of Samathi stretched out. It used to be empty, but now it was filled with twisted bodies and the heavy smell of blood.
An army had stood here not long ago, a group of ruthless devils who terrified anyone in their way.
Now everything frozen.
Only time moved on. Blood slowly thickened. The wind picked up again. The hot sand kept forming new dunes, erasing the traces of the desperate battle.
In the dead silence, a lone male figure knelt amid a sea of corpses.
He looked like a broken statue, surrounded by grief and loneliness. His eyes were lifeless, his arms hung at his sides, and his face was smeared with blood and ash. He stared at the horizon where his fallen comrades lay as far as he could see. Pain kept him from moving.
A single clear drop slid down his dusty cheek.
That broken figure was the new ruler of Hell, called "Sir."
He was a legend. His name alone made devils kneel in respect and sent monsters running in fear. He was praised and feared.
But now, only a broken shell of that legend remained.
Driven by his ambitions, he challenged the lord of Hell, Lucifer. He wanted the throne. At his command legions raised their banners. Every soldier was eager for blood. Their violent energy seemed strong enough to tear the heavens apart.
And he achieved his goal. He won. He brought Hell to heel.
But Sir could never have imagined that he would be the sole survivor…
What a ridiculous joke. He started a war that wiped Hell clean. On the Ninth Layer, not a soul was left. The strongest devils fell in the Desert Samathi. He had won, but there was no one left to rule. Hell was empty. Even the Creator didn't dare to dream for such a result.
Was he prepared for the sacrifices?
Yes.
It would have been foolish to think he could defeat Lucifer without those sacrifices. That much was clear.
The fallen archangel had ruled Hell since the dawn of its existence. He was the embodiment of authority, an unattainable peak. All the dissidents who dared to claim his throne were conquered two eras ago. The Seven Deadly Sins served as his generals. Bamal, Mammon, Asmodeus, Beelzebul.
He ruled with an iron hand. No one even attempted to consider challenging him. No one except Sir.
His troops were well aware of the danger, but they followed him anyway.
Madmen. Fanatics. Idiots.
They knew survival was nearly impossible, but still rushed into battle.
Life for life is an equal trade. Life for two is an obvious benefit. For them, it was an honor to give their lives for Sir's ideals and glory. And they gave them. They gave their bodies, their blood and sweat, their hearts and souls. They gave him everything.
And all of them fell...
Only Sir kept fighting. He stood alone against countless legions. He tore across the battlefield like a tornado, fearless and merciless. He stayed relentless, like death itself.
Thousands of commanders fell by his hand. Dozens of generals lost their heads. He personally overthrew Lucifer. He tore victory from his grasping claws! And as proof, he held the black, jagged crown, its sharp spikes biting painfully into his skin.
Yes, he achieved his goal. However at what cost?
His loyal army. His comrades-in-arms. All were dead.
For three days, Sir had been kneeling, unable to stand. He thought he was ready for this outcome and believed he would accept it without hesitation. But now, surrounded by the ruins of victory, he could not stop doubting.
Why had he started all this? Why had he gathered countless armies? Why had he sent them to certain death?
He had quite literally sacrificed everything to achieve his goal and was utterly broken.
Yes, this was Hell. Yes, killing was commonplace here, and mercy didn't exist. Existence here was synonymous with the words "pain," "despair," and "fear."
But even the most merciless devils had limits. Limits that Sir had crossed.
He had to remember what for.
A faint tremor ran through the motionless body.
The Sir curled up on the sand like a shrimp, clutched his head, and burst into manic laughter.
"This is it, fuck it? Game over? Time to roll the credits? AHAHAHAH," bloody tears streamed from his eyes.
"I'd give the game a nine out of ten. The setting's realistic, the combat's solid, and the lore's interesting. The ending's a bit too grim, though, and Lucifer needs a nerf! Can I replay?"
He fell silent, as if he truly expected to load a save, but the bleak surroundings showed no sign of fading.
"Can I? Hey, why aren't you answering?"
"Ah, right… This isn't a game. And those weren't NPCs dying. They were my subordinates."
He broke into hysterical laughter again.
"Ahahahah, what a bitch fate is… How did it come to this?"