My name was Alex Carter, and the match ended before my opponent even understood what had happened.
Less than three seconds. That was all it took.
The man crumpled at my feet, hacking wetly as blood splattered onto the already ruined mat, his pride shattering louder than his ribs ever could. Around us, the warehouse erupted like it always did. Cheers, curses, the stink of sweat and cash and raw appetite packed tight beneath Brooklyn's concrete skin. The sound washed over me and slid right off.
I barely registered it.
I looked down at the broken thing I had made and waited for something to stir inside me.
Nothing did.
'So that's it,' I thought. 'This is the edge of the world.'
I had sculpted my body into something wrong. Something obscene. Strength that ignored common sense. Control measured in fractions of a millimeter. I decided when fights ended, and they obeyed. I decided when people lost, and they complied. That applied outside the ring too.
Women lined the walls like decorations, leaning forward just enough to be noticed. Cleavage pushed up. Lips wet with gloss. Eyes heavy with want. They always stared at me the same way, like I was an object waiting to be handled.
I let them use me.
And I used them right back. Far too often.
Sex had gone dull. The sensations were still there. Warm skin. Slick heat. Bodies pressing and grinding against mine. Fingernails raking my back as if that might make it matter. It felt good in the moment, sure. But it never stayed. The aftertaste was always empty.
No challenge. No resistance. No teeth.
I wanted something that pushed back. Something dangerous. Something that made my blood actually move instead of just circulating out of habit.
I wanted excess.
I wanted monsters.
That desire clung to me as I left the warehouse and disappeared into the night, boots echoing through streets that felt smaller than they used to. Neon and headlights slid past until I stopped in front of a narrow storefront wedged between a boarded up deli and a nail salon that had not seen customers in years.
There was no sign. No light bleeding from the windows. Just a black painted door, its surface layered with chalk sigils and symbols that made my skin prickle the longer I looked at them.
I went inside.
The air was thick and warm, saturated with incense that clung to my lungs.
She stood behind the counter.
The woman looked like she had stepped out of a summoning circle and straight into a photo shoot. Black lipstick curved into a knowing smile. Dark eyeshadow smudged just enough to feel intentional. Her pale skin made the low cut top she wore impossible to ignore, her breasts barely contained, pierced nipples faintly visible through the thin fabric when she leaned forward. Leather straps hugged her waist and thighs without any practical purpose beyond being seen.
Her eyes locked onto me, sharp and curious.
She smiled slowly.
"You look bored," she said.
I let out a short laugh. "That obvious?"
She tilted her head, resting her elbows on the counter. Her cleavage shifted with the motion, unapologetic. "Men only find this place when they are looking for Hell."
My gaze dragged over her without restraint. She noticed. She didn't stop me. If anything, she leaned closer, inviting the inspection.
"And what makes you think Hell is what I want?" I asked.
Her smile changed. Thinner. Meaner. "Because Hell doesn't submit. It tempts. It fights. It breaks people who believe they are special."
Something inside me responded immediately. My body, bored all night, finally woke up.
She reached beneath the counter and slid a thin black book toward me. Her fingers brushed mine on purpose. Hot. Lingering just long enough to register.
"Descent," she said. "If you are strong enough, Hell gives back everything this world refused to offer."
Power. Lust. Conflict. Endless resistance. Endless bodies that wouldn't kneel unless forced to.
'Perfect,' I thought.
I paid without asking the cost. As I turned to leave, she laughed softly, like she already knew the ending.
"Enjoy the fall, Alex," she said.
I didn't ask how she knew my name.
Back in my apartment, I shoved furniture aside and cleared the floor. I drew the circle exactly as the book instructed, every line precise. The ritual was almost insulting in how simple it was. Candles placed at specific points. Words that felt thick and heated as I spoke them aloud. Not a prayer. An invitation.
'If Hell exists,' I thought, 'it will either kill me or finally entertain me.'
I spoke the final word.
The air grew heavy, pressing in from all sides. The room twisted, walls stretching and folding. Gravity lost interest in me altogether.
I fell.
Heat wrapped around my body, pressure bearing down as if the world itself was testing whether I would break. It did not work.
I laughed as darkness swallowed New York without ceremony.
'At last,' I thought. 'Somewhere worth conquering.'
—
The fall ended without any warning at all.
One moment I was wrapped in heat and pressure, my entire body vibrating like it had finally found a purpose worth answering to. The next, my boots slammed into solid ground with enough force to spiderweb the stone beneath me. The impact should have snapped my legs like dry twigs.
It did not.
The force bled away into the floor itself, vanishing as if the ground had chosen to yield. It felt less like I had landed and more like Hell had braced instinctively, flinching around me.
I straightened up slowly and drew in my first breath of Hell.
The air was thick and warm, heavy in my lungs. It tasted of perfume and iron, layered with something sweet that sank low in my stomach and stayed there. Everything was bathed in red light. Not a lamp. Not a sun. It simply existed everywhere at once, like the world itself was constantly flushed. The ground beneath my feet was black stone streaked with dull crimson veins, each one pulsing faintly, almost like a heartbeat.
I rolled my shoulders. Flexed my fingers.
My body answered perfectly.
'Still on shape,' I thought.
'So this is Hell.'
I let my gaze travel, taking it in without hurry.
'Feels honest.'
I didn't have time to appreciate it further.
Something shifted to my left.
Fast. Low. Hungry.
I turned just in time to see a flash of red skin and bared teeth flying straight for my throat. I stepped aside without effort and caught her wrist mid lunge, using her momentum to spin and drive her face first into the stone floor.
She cried out sharply as she hit.
An imp.
Short and lean, with small horns curling back from her temples and a tail snapping wildly behind her. She was naked save for a few leather straps that framed her body instead of covering it. Her perky breasts bounced as she struggled, nipples stiff in the heat. Her thighs clenched around empty air, slick with sweat or something that smelled a lot more intentional.
She snarled up at me, eyes bright with fury. "Human bastard. You picked the wrong place to fall."
I tightened my grip just enough to make her gasp. "You're the first thing that tried to kill me. That makes you brave. Or stupid."
Her yellow eyes flicked down my body despite herself, lingering openly. Her lips parted.
"Both," she said.
I laughed and shoved her away, letting her stumble instead of crash. She recovered quickly, dropping into a low crouch, claws scraping against the stone. Lust poured off her in thick waves. It soaked into the air and crawled under my skin.
My member was hard now, heavy against my jeans. I didn't bother to hide it.
She noticed immediately. Her tail flicked faster.
"Yeah," she purred. "You'll break nice."
She lunged again.
This time I didn't move aside.
I grabbed her by the horns and slammed my knee into her stomach. She folded with a sharp cry, body crashing into mine. Her breasts pressed against my chest, hot and soft, nipples dragging across fabric. I kept my grip, twisted, and pinned her against a jagged wall. I leaned in close enough to feel her breath stutter against my skin.
Her body shook.
"Still think you're breaking me?" I asked quietly.
Her breath hitched. Her thighs clamped around my leg on instinct. I slid my hand down her side, fingers digging into her hip, then lower, finding heat and wetness between her legs. She moaned before she could stop herself.
"Fuck," she whispered. "You're strong."
I pulled my hand away and stepped back.
She sagged against the wall, panting, eyes blown wide with something that hovered dangerously close to need.
"I'm Alex," I said. "You're going to tell me where I am."
She swallowed, hard. Her gaze never left me.
"First Layer," she said hoarsely. "Lust."
A slow smile spread across my face.
'Looks like I picked the right place to start,' I thought.
She watched me walk away, tail twitching, desire and fear knotted together as tightly as Hell itself.
And I knew, without question, that this was only the beginning.