The boy opened his eyes to a deep red ceiling. He glanced around, realizing he was lying in an ornate bed with intricate gold details, draped in red fabric from the top and sides. As he shifted, his body sank into the soft black mattress.

  Pushing aside the deep red canopy, he sat at the edge of the bed, his feet touching the cool marble floor. The polished surface reflected his figure, a seamless blend of white, black, and grey marbles.

  A chandelier hung above, its crystals casting a soft, muted glow that bathed the space in elegance.

  Beside the bed, a lounge area held plush red couches and sleek tables, each piece of furniture exuding luxury.

  The contrast between this lavish setting and the hell-like place from before was almost surreal.

  He remembers every minute details of that wretched place. The gore piled, the flooded blood and the intense reek of rotting flesh still terrified him.

  The image of Selveria's cold smirk and the searing pain at the back of his neck still haunted him.

  He rose from the canopy bed and walked towards the massive mirror. He saw his image in the mirror wearing his birthday suit but he didn’t care. He turned his head to check the back of his neck, and sure enough, the mark was there.

  A pentagram was drawn with black lines. He tried to touch it yet nothing happened. This pentagram removes and doubtful thoughts he had on whether that place exists or not.

  That means that Selveria exists. If he remembers what he heard from her at that time, he was a slave now, bound to her will in a magical way. He doesn’t fully understand how the seal fully works yet which made him regret why he didn’t run away from her.

  He doesn’t know if his choice was right or not. If he could turn back time and disagree with her for turning him into a slave, what would be the consequence? Would he be displayed like the corpses in that place?

  He shuddered at this fact. For now, there is nothing he could do but move forward. Worrying endlessly would solve nothing, he remained positive.

  Just as the silence in the room grew overwhelming, he heard a caw. He turned around and saw some crows gathering to a specific corner in the room. It didn’t take that long for hundreds of crows to gather and encircle what an area.

  Before the boy could react to anything, the crows were disappearing a figure emerge. The figure wears a gothic red dress with frills and golden hair with curls. She had glowing red eyes and a protruding horns in her head. Selveria had arrived.

  That crows now disappeared and she was standing there with her usual composed expression. This was the first time the boy witnessed the miracle of magic here, ‘teleportation’ he thought. There was something else in her eyes—a mischievous glint that didn't match the concern on her face. She tilted her head slightly, observing him below and not meeting his eyes.

  The boy followed as to where she was looking at. He looked downward and realized that he is still in his birthday suit. He run to the bed to cover his wily with the blanket.

  She ignored this display and simply said "Well, well, looks like you're awake," she said, her voice teasing. The boy clearly embarrassed by such a shameful display. He was expecting more of her to at least blush but it felt more like Selveria was mocking him.

  This was her first reaction to him as if she hadn't just branded him with a seal that would bind him to her forever. "How's the bed? Not too shabby, huh? Better than that old rat's nest you were probably used to."

  The boy barely registered her words. His mind was still reeling from what had happened, but Selveria didn't give him a moment to process it all. She walked into the room, her eyes gleaming with a mix of amusement and something more dangerous.

  "I'm sure you've got a lot of questions and don’t worry I will answer all of them but first.." she continued, her voice dripping with sarcasm. "Don't worry. I'm not going to harm you… as long as you obey. You're a good pet, after all. But if you ever get any ideas about defying me, well…" She trailed off, the mischievous smile never leaving her face.

  The boy felt a searing pain where the pentagram seal is supposed to be and then it immediately stopped. The boy swallowed, still in a daze. Her words and that sting hit him like a punch to the gut. Her statement about him being a slave felt more real than ever.

  "You'll feel it," she said almost casually, as though she were talking about something trivial. "The seal. If you try to do anything... foolish. It'll burn like hellfire. But don't worry, I'll make sure you're comfortable as long as you follow the rules." The boy gulped hard at his fate in the hands of this woman.

  Selveria's gaze remained fixed on the boy, her eyes glittering with an unreadable expression as she awaited his response. The silence between them felt thick, almost suffocating, and the boy couldn't help but feel the pressure of the situation mounting. Selveria was making this scene awkward as much as possible as if encouraging the boy to say something to break this silence.

  The boy felt like this is the chance she had given him to speak, to explain himself, and in a way, it felt like the only lifeline he had left.

  This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it.

  In that moment, it struck him: ignoring her was the worst thing he could do. Sure, he could be terrified, confused, and uncertain about this place here, but shutting himself off is never the answer. Selveria was the one holding all the cards right now. She could make his life miserable or offer him some strange kind of mercy, and the only way to navigate that was through communication. If he was going to survive, he had to talk to her, engage with her, and understand her, even if every part of him wanted to avoid her after that brutal encounter.

  With that reasoning in mind, the boy took a deep breath, trying to steady his nerves. He wasn't going to let fear paralyze him, not this time. This was unknown place, after all—there were no guarantees. He had to make the most of what little control he had left.

  "I'm Aiden Carter" he finally said, his voice slightly trembling but steady enough to be heard. "I'm 17 years old."

  Aiden hesitated for a moment, not sure how much to reveal. "I, uh… I don't really have an occupation. I used to go to school. A pretty normal life, I guess. Nothing extraordinary. I was just... me." Aiden thought that perhaps he misunderstood something and maybe he should’ve stayed silent.

  Selveria's eyebrow quirked, urging him to go on. "Is that all, Aiden?" Her voice was playful, almost taunting, as though daring him to go deeper.

  Aiden glanced away, his heart racing as his mind drifted back to his last memory. The pain was vivid, sharp—a flash of blinding light, the screech of metal against asphalt, and then… nothing.

  "I remember… there was pain," he muttered, his voice growing distant as his mind raced. "I felt this sudden pain in my chest, and then… the world went dark."

  Aiden was walking along the street—he remembered that much. The memory wasn't clear, but the sensation of a car speeding toward him, the sound of horns, was unmistakable. That was it, wasn't it? He had been hit. He'd been killed.

  "I think… I think I died," Aiden finally said, his voice soft but filled with a sense of dread. "I must've been hit by a car or something. That's the only thing that makes sense. The pain, then nothing… and now, I'm here."

  He looked up at Selveria, searching for any signs of recognition in her expression, wondering if she had any answers, if she could confirm or deny what he had just realized. But her face remained unreadable, though there was a flicker of something—maybe curiosity or amusement—dancing in her eyes.

  "How… how did I get here?" Aiden asked, the weight of his own confusion pressing down on him. He remembered her words about him being in Hell. "Did I commit some kind of sin? Is that why I'm in Hell?"

  He needs more information what is Hell exactly? Which faith is truly right on Earth? Will he be punished for all eternity? Is it possible for him to be reincarnated? Various questions attacked Aiden’s mind.

  Selveria's laughter was the first thing Aiden heard in response, the sound light and almost mocking, as though his question had been a simple misunderstanding.

  "Sin? Oh, Aiden, you think that's why you're here?" she asked, her voice laced with amusement. "No, no. I summoned you here in Hell after you died."

  Aiden blinked, taken aback. "Summoned? You… summoned me?"

  Selveria’s red eyes studying him with an intensity that made him feel even more exposed. "Yes, I wanted a companion," she said, the words nonchalant but filled with a strange, hidden meaning. "Not just any companion, though. Someone special. Someone who could entertain me." She let that last part hang in the air, the weight of her gaze making Aiden feel uncomfortable.

  Aiden frowned, trying to understand what she meant. There was something off about it, something more than just wanting company. But before he could ask, another question came to mind—a bigger question that he couldn't ignore.

  Selveria said “Hmm… I am sure you are curious as where you are currently, as I have said to you, you are literally in Hell. This world is Hell. You died and I summoned you into this dimension.”

  Aiden hesitated for a moment, unsure whether to ask her how he could leave. This place was already creeping him out. Asking how to escape would contradict her desire for him to be a slave, and he didn't want to annoy her by asking the same question over and over. Who knows what she will do when she gets annoyed, Aiden clearly doesn’t want to find that out.

  So instead Aiden could just bitterly ask "what is Hell really about? I mean, what's the point of all this? Why are we all here? What was its history?"

  Selveria could only nod happily as if she was waiting for Aiden to ask this question to her.

  Selveria seemed to pause for a moment, her expression shifting to something more serious, more contemplative, as if she were considering how much of the truth she wanted to reveal.

  "Hell, Aiden," she began, her voice turning low and almost thoughtful, "Hell is a place born from a divine mistake." She straightened, her hands folding together as she spoke, her words almost matter-of-fact. "Originally, We demons didn’t really originated from this dimension, we came from another world where the lands were fertile, life is abundant, sentient races lived together and where Gods walked together with mortals. The most troublesome race—the demons—was sealed in this dimension and we call it today as Hell.”

  “Hell was meant to be a dumping ground—a place where the gods could cast off everything they deemed vile and undesirable. We the demon raced nearly came to extinction due to the harshness of Hell’s environment. The Gods thought that by throwing more troublesome creatures besides the demons, they could end every problem that is in their pantheon.”

  Aiden was curious, "Races besides the demons?"

  Selveria nodding, "Yes. Dark elves, witches, dragons, vampires, werewolves, ogres, goblins, gorgons, harpy, minotaur, orc—even angels. Anyway there are a lot more. In present-day Hell, many bloodlines are a mix of these races"

  Aiden's eyebrows furrowed as he listened, his mind trying to wrap around the idea that Hell wasn't always this chaotic, endless wasteland. Aiden asked her

  "But they were wrong," Selveria continued, her eyes gleaming with something almost amused. "Instead of extinction, Hell is actually a sentient dimension. Hell could give blessings to living beings here and those blessings is what had given the demons and other races the ability to adapt to its world. They didn't perish. They evolved, built societies, and began defying what the Gods expected of them. It evolved from pure chaos into something more structured, a civilization in its own right."

  Aiden’s eyes widened as he leaned in, the questions mounting. “A blessings? What do you mean?”

  Selveria explained, “Hell’s Miasma is both bane and boon. It forces those who dwell here to mutate—to evolve in order to withstand its corrosive touch. The demons that survived, the ones who embraced the miasma, did not just live—they transformed. They acquired extraordinary powers, abilities far beyond what mortal nature would allow. But nature, as you know, always exacts a toll. With this newfound power came corruption. The gift of adaptation rendered them mighty, but it also sowed the seeds of their darker tendencies. It’s why many demons bear negative, even downright cynical personalities. They are, after all, shaped by the very essence of corruption.” She paused, letting the gravity of her words sink in. “Miracles, if you will, aren’t exactly rainbows and unicorns here. They’re mutations—bizarre, often unsettling changes that give rise to demonic strength at the expense of their very souls.”

  “Over time, the demons grew stronger and stronger with each generation" Selvaria continued, "There had been bloodlines born. Multiple battles and wars that had occurred. Many kingdoms and races fell, that was the state of Hell more than 500,000 years ago."

  She paused for a moment before continuing. "During those times Hell was divided into countless primitive kingdoms, far less advanced than what we know today."

  Aiden listened intently as Selvaria’s voice took on a darker, almost reverent tone.

  "Once upon a time, there was a Demon," she said. "A Demon born into the lowest caste, a group known as the 'untouchables.'"

  Aiden raised an eyebrow. "Untouchables?"

  Selvaria nodded. "They were considered impure, their touch believed to taint those of higher status. But that didn’t stop this particular demon. The Demon was different. The Demon had ambition—an insatiable hunger to rise above his station and claim ultimate power."

  Her expression hardened as she spoke. "That Demon was charismatic and talented, rising through the ranks at an alarming rate, defying everything society expected of The Demon. That Demon very existence threatened the upper echelon, but to those at the bottom, The Demon was an inspiration. And so, an uprising began."

  "In The Demon’s quest for ultimate power," Selvaria continued, "Hell itself recognized The Demon's will. That Demon was granted Hell's blessings—again and again, a million times over. Until finally, The Demon became the one most favored by Hell itself. That Demon was no longer just a Demon."

  She leaned closer, her crimson eyes locking onto Aiden’s. "That Demon became the embodiment of Hell’s malevolence, the very essence of corruption. They worshipped The Demon. The Demon's followers swelled in numbers as more and more enslaved souls joined his cause. They became an unstoppable force, toppling the very kingdom that once oppressed them."

  "That Demon… became the only Demon King."