Belphegor shot up from the musty mat that had served as his bed, gasping. His hands ran across his body, checking for injuries. None. Yet unease coiled in his chest like a living thing.
"Where am I?" he growled, eyes scanning the squalid inn room. The dingy walls, the creaky bedframe, and the faint scent of stale ale felt alien compared to the battle-scarred lands he had known.
As memories flooded back, Belphegor's hand instinctively went to his chest, where the lingering remnants of Michael's divine light still seared his skin. The archangel's sacred weapon had felled him, leaving an indelible mark.
"Michael..." he muttered, his voice dripping with venom. The archangel's face swam before his mind's eye, taunting him with his defeat. Belphegor ground his teeth together, his anger and humiliation burning hot in his chest.
But as Belphegor's anger simmered, a startling realization dawned on him.
He should be dead.
That blow from Michael's divine light had been decisive. A killing strike.
Yet, here he was, breathing. His heart pounding in his chest.
The incongruity sparked a reckless thought:
"Or am I really unkillable?"
A manic laughter burst forth from Belphegor's lips, echoing off the dingy walls.
Just as he savored the absurdity, a sudden, piercing blue light illuminated the room.
A disembodied voice, laced with sarcasm, declared:
> [System Activation.]
Notification: You were killed, moron.
Reason: Divine Light-based attack by Archangel Michael.
Revival Mechanism: Activated.
Belphegor's laughter died abruptly. He jolted upright, stunned.
What sorcery was this? A floating light with words on it? Revival Mechanism?
The words swirled in his mind, defying comprehension.
"Explain," Belphegor commanded, his voice low and menacing. "Michael's attack should have ended me. Why am I still alive?"
The floating light responded sarcastically.
"First of all, I'm not a floating light. You can call me a System."
The voice continued, "The Most High granted you a second chance. You were revived for a greater purpose, to restore balance to the celestial realm."
"The System went on: 'Lucifer's power threatens the universe. Your strength is the ideal counterbalance. The Most High seeks to protect humanity, and your role is crucial.'"
Belphegor's lips curled into a wicked grin.
He burst into laughter, the sound echoing through the inn's room.
"Ha! You really think I care about your Most High?" he scoffed.
"The moment I step out of this room, I will wage war against the heavens. The Most High's mercy will be my ticket to unleashing chaos."
The System's tone remained unchanged.
"That's why I'm here, to keep your deranged brain in check. Your powers are suppressed. You'll earn them back by saving people and doing good deeds."
Belphegor's jaw clenched, a thick cord of muscle standing out along his neck as the words sank in. "What do you mean my powers have been suppressed?!" he thundered.
The System went silent.
Enraged, Belphegor attempted to cast his signature spell, Infernal Annihilation, despite knowing its catastrophic consequences. But it was as if the spell had vanished from his memory, leaving only a hollow, frustrating silence.
He screamed, his voice echoing through the inn's walls.
"Restore my powers, you bastards!
May the Most High rot in eternal darkness!
May the System be consumed by an endless abyss of nothingness!"
Just then, a man walked into the room, drawn by the noise.
"Sir, what seems to be the issue?" the man asked, halting by the door cautiously.
Belphegor's grin sharpened, but this time it wasn't blind fury. It was deliberate.
Before the man could blink, Belphegor bridged the distance, his speed astonishing.
The man's eyes widened as Belphegor's hand closed around his neck.
"You want to know what's wrong?" he growled.
With a swift motion, he snapped the man's neck.
The man died with his mouth still agape, eyes wide in disbelief.
His lifeless body crumpled to the floor, limbs splayed awkwardly.
Belphegor stood over the body, chest heaving. His act was defiance, a message to the System: he would not bend blindly.
> "It's not even up to 30 mins since you woke up and you already went astray,"
the System lamented.
"As expected. You'll be a pain in the ass."
> "I hope you can last through the punishment for your actions," it added coldly.
Belphegor sneered, but before he could respond, a searing pain erupted in his veins. It was more than simple fire. It was the accumulated agony of a thousand years crashing down at once, every wound he had ever inflicted upon others now carving itself into his own flesh.
"Agony Protocol Engaged."
Duration: 2 minutes. Subjective experience: 2 hours.
Molten lava seemed to run through him, organs aflame, invisible needles piercing his flesh. But beneath that, something ancient stirred. Every scar he had ever earned across millennia, from battles fought in the celestial war to skirmishes in mortal realms, reignited simultaneously. Old fractures screamed. Long-healed bones remembered the moment they broke. Tendons that had mended centuries ago tore open again.
His vision blurred. Muscles stretched beyond endurance. Joints dislocated with sickening pops. The weight of his own violent history pressed him into the floor, a millennium of inflicted pain now fully realized in his own body.
Time warped. Two minutes stretched into two hours of unrelenting torment.
Belphegor had inflicted suffering for a thousand years.
For the first time, he understood what it meant to receive it.