Chapter 1
The corner of the cell was damp.
Not with water—with something darker. Something that had seeped into the stone over decades until the stench became part of the air itself. Felix pressed his back against the cold wall, knees drawn tight to his chest, arms wrapped around his legs as if they could shield him from the nightmare surrounding him.
He didn't know where he was.
But he knew exactly what this place was.
The demonic continent.
Horns. Claws. Eyes glowing like dying embers in the darkness. The creatures surrounding him needed no introduction. Terror wrapped around his heart like a second skin—cold, suffocating, relentless. He curled into an even smaller ball, wishing he could shrink until he simply ceased to exist, until he could slip through the cracks in the filthy stone and disappear forever.
I have no bloodline.
The thought cut through his mind like a blade.
His mother had died giving birth to him. His father, once a man of means, was gone now—along with their entire village. Everyone he had ever known had vanished.
His breath hitched.
Should I just kill myself?
The idea of death came not as terror, but as a strange, hollow relief. A door he could walk through. An end to feeling. An end to everything.
Not far from him, half-hidden in the shadows, lay a small, jagged stick.
Felix reached for it with trembling hands. His vision blurred with tears. How pathetic.
He pressed the sharp end against the center of his throat, the wood biting into his skin.
Do it.
His hand shook violently.
Do it.
In the background, the prisoners jeered and cheered, their voices a cruel chorus urging him on.
But he couldn't.
His arm dropped. The stick clattered to the floor.
"I'm too much of a coward," he whispered, his voice cracking in the heavy silence.
The tears came then—hot, shameful, and endless. He had come from a well-to-do family. He had no special bloodline, true, but he had once been content. Safe. Happy.
That life was over.
Now there was only this cell. These demons. This endless darkness.
In the opposite corner, a small demon with tiny horns let out a mocking laugh. He elbowed the much larger, scarred demon beside him—a hulking brute whose eyes burned with a hunger that never faded.
"I told you," the small demon hissed, grinning wickedly. "He doesn't have the balls. Hehe."
The larger demon didn't laugh.
Instead, he moved with terrifying speed. His massive fist slammed into the smaller demon's skull—once, twice, three times. Wet, sickening cracks echoed through the cell as bone shattered and flesh gave way. The small demon collapsed into a bloody, unrecognizable pulp.
None of the other demons dared speak. They didn't even look.
Felix watched through tear-filled eyes, horror twisting in his gut.
"Aye!"
The voice sliced through the corridor like a blade through silk.
A humanoid demon stepped into view, one hand resting casually on the hilt of a blood-stained blade. His posture was relaxed, almost lazy, but his pitch-black eyes held the abyss itself. He moved with the effortless confidence of someone who had never encountered a problem he couldn't solve with violence.
"What is going on here?"
The noisy cells fell deathly silent.
Demons who had been whispering, laughing, and tormenting their prisoners froze. Heads lowered. Bodies stiffened.
The sound of clashing metal rang out—slow, deliberate, and menacing.
Clang.
Clang.
Clang.
The demons understood the warning perfectly.
They remained silent.
Felix, however, continued to sob quietly, lost in his grief.
"Ohhh…"
The guard's voice dripped with mock sorrow, but underneath lay thick sarcasm and cruel amusement—the casual enjoyment of someone who had watched thousands of humans break and had savored every moment.
"Human. Why are you so saddened?"
The guard leaned down, pressing his face close to the bars. His abyssal eyes locked onto Felix, ignoring the crowd of demons as if they were insignificant insects.
Felix shivered violently. Pure terror sank deep into his bones. His sobbing stopped—not out of bravery, but because his body had simply forgotten how to produce sound.
He kept his head bowed, not daring to look up.
"Did your whole family die?" the guard asked, his tone almost gentle. "Did your lover betray you? Tell me." A smile stretched across his face—too wide, too sharp, revealing rows of pointed teeth. "You might just get out of here… if your story is entertaining enough."
Felix slowly raised his eyes.
His face was blank. Dead. Empty. The face of a boy who had already died inside and was merely waiting for his body to follow.
But deep in his chest, a small, fierce wish burned:
The death of this demon.
The guard saw it.
He always saw it.
"You're looking at me like you want me dead," he said, still smiling.
Then he stepped back, his expression shifting to bored indifference.
"Guard," he called out lazily. "Fetch this pathetic pig of a human and throw him into a random pit."
Two flying-type sinners drifted into the cell. Their bodies were twisted and unnatural, yet their malformed wings carried them effortlessly. They wrenched open the heavy cell door as though it weighed nothing.
One of them entered and grabbed Felix like a ragdoll. A clawed hand wrapped around his thin arm, lifting him clean off the ground without effort or care. He dangled helplessly in the air.
"Where are you taking me?!" Felix cried, his voice cracking with raw desperation.
The sinner answered with a brutal punch to his ribs. The blow wasn't strong enough to break bone, but it drove the air from his lungs and reminded him exactly where he stood.
"Do not damage my product," the lead guard said coldly, not even bothering to look up.
The sinner hissed but obeyed.
Felix collapsed to the wet floor, clutching his side, gasping desperately for breath. Before he could recover or even attempt to stand, the sinners hauled him up again and carried him out of the cell.
Whispers followed them down the corridor.
"He's dead."
"They always die."
"Another human gone."
The demons lining the passage watched him pass. Their eyes gleamed with wicked delight. Their smiles stretched unnaturally wide in the darkness.