‘Whether on the surface where the seekers reside, the abyss wherein strength prevails, or here in hell where keepers dwell—equality is nothing but a mirage.’

These were the last words of my human father before passing away. Those words of his that I despised so much are ironically the only words of his I now agree with. This is the fundamental principle of our world. How foolish of me to oppose destiny!

Those at the top of the hierarchy monopolize and whimsically distribute all the resources to us peasants. We can only relent and submit since what could we realistically do?

I have denied it to this day—those tyrants will have to amend if we collectively rebel—what wishful thinking. Fate gives me another reminder today.

“So you are the infamous Hellraiser who’s stirred trouble in our territories,” the woman says.

I slowly lift my gaze as my fingers twitch. The strength for further retaliation eludes me as I lay broken on the rain-soaked grass. Still, I raise my body. It’s just that her condescendingly downcast glare irks me. I will die standing.

The relentless rain continues to stream down from my mud-drenched hair to my eyes and into the bloodied ground. I lock my blurred gaze onto my enemy, who’s taken the lives of all my comrades with their corpses now lifeless beneath her feet.

The storm carries her silvery white hair tied into two ponytails past her demonic red eyes and shoulders. Black horns curve on her head, her ears as pointed. The paleness of her porcelain skin contrasts with her dark armor and bat-like wings extending behind.

“I’m sorry, Zaria,” she says emotionlessly.

My body barely and shakingly holds me up as my eyes shiver and my legs tremble.

Tears well up with the downpour.

“For being a terrible mother.” She steps closer as her boots pound the graves of my friends.

“You do remember…”

I extend my hands toward the lifeless bodies of my comrades by using the last bits of spiritual energy inside of me. Transparent strings form at the tip of my fingers as they sneak and snake their way to reach the weapons dispersed around and across the battlefield.

Spears and swords and daggers, sharp and short or long and piercing, lift off the ground both tenaciously and treacherously by afterward hovering mid-air as blades gleam wetly. I can feel the weight of each one—the tears shed and bloodshed—the memories of their wielders fueling my resolve.

“This is the requiem for all the fallen.”

The weapons move as one as they fly toward her and cut through the rain like arrows. Mother takes a step back with hesitation in her eyes yet devoid of any hesitancy in her moves. She raises her sword to block with deft movements without any sweat whatsoever.

Sparks of the clashes fly only to be drowned out by the storm. Too many weapons come at her from all sides. She moves in an agile manner as her wings provide her with extra nimbleness. A sword that cuts across her side is followed by a dagger that slips past her guard to graze her arm.

Yet I fall to the ground shortly after. Helplessly.

I gaze toward the night sky. Hopelessly.

TapTapTapTap.

The drips flow.

Cunch. Cunch. Cunch.

The steps approach.

Tears trace down my cheeks as I gaze at my mother standing atop my head and close the view to the heavens.

“Kill me,” I say despite my utmost fear of death. In hell, what awaits the vanquished is vanishing. Keepers don’t possess souls, unlike seekers. We perish after our death with no sight of the afterlife.

But does it matter? There’s nothing that awaits me in living with my beloveds dead and my family destroyed at the hands of my mother either.

Even if I were to turn back time or reincarnate like the seekers do—

I would’ve still followed the same path.

This stale societal system where our future lies in the hands of those who couldn’t care less—

I would’ve razed it to the ground!

This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.

Mother raises her sword high with her hands flinching and her expression unreadable. She thinks I’m out of spiritual energy and has let her guard down!

I will at least take your life with me!

“AAAA!”

I put all my remaining spiritual energy into the dagger with a cry that runs through the storm. I raise it and hurl it with all my might in complete disregard of the pain and fatigue. Time seems to slow as it arcs toward her.

Our reddened eyes lock—both filled with unyielding resolution.

Her wings unfurl. The sword comes down.

Wzihh.

There is a moment of blindingly confounded pain as the blade cuts through flesh and bone and then—

And then my head tumbles to the ground.

In my last moments before embracing eternal nightfall, for the first time since childhood, I see sorrow on her face.

Wh—---.

My eyes pop open as I breathe heavily. I push my stiff body up and look around in confusion.

Why am I not dead? What in the world happened and where in the world am I?

It appears I am in a desolate cave filled with the stench of a nauseating blend of blood and rot. The ceiling above is barely visible. Twisted and broken corpses are scattered across the cave floor. Some humans are in armor, others in simple clothing, all dead.

My head throbs as the memories of the battle and my mother's blade flash through my mind. Again, how did I survive? And why am I here in this devilforsaken place?

The fresh blood seeps through cracks on the uneven ground. A sight stops me cold as lying among the corpses is a living body. She is still breathing with her chest rising and falling in exhausted and excruciating breaths.

Her glassy half-lidded eyes stare unseeingly at the ceiling. I kneel beside her as I reach out to check her pulse and feel a strange connection to the bleeding human figure before me.

Suddenly, a transparent gray screen spreads across my view.

—Familiar Hellrazer |D+|—

Race: Succubus

Pathway: Obstruction

Class: Puppeteer

Soul |D+|

Strength |D|

Stamina |D-|

Agility |D+|

Affinity |C-|

Active: |Mindstring |D+||

Passive: |Charm |D||

“WHAT!?”

No way—there’s no way in hell this is real.

Demons worship Demon Lords who stand at the peak of hell. Becoming their familiars is the greatest pinnacle a keeper can achieve—an honor.

Thi—this human is an archdemon!? Undoubtedly. I can tell from the elemental energy surrounding her.

Having many questions bulging inside of me and no speculations whatsoever leads me to shift my focus and try to digest the information the gray screen presents.

Is this thing the legendary interface? To think that I’d one day have access to the Akashic records. But something is wrong.

Obstruction? There’s no such authority among the 98 established ones.

Puppeteer? Isn’t this the class unique to the Control pathway?

Why do I have a soul!? Who is Hellrazer?”

The questions only rise in numbers. I refocus on the scrawny human splattered on the ground. She certainly has an inkling as to what is going on.

“Hel…”

Huh, did she try to say something?

“Help.”

Hmm? Oh, she’s talking to me. Why would she call—

Right, she’s dying.

Wait! She’s fucking dying!

I hurriedly run my hands through her corpselike body. If an archdemon dies, their familiars will also die. No matter what, I have to take revenge for my father and comrades! No matter what, I have to change the accursed system!

So don’t die, please? I have no healing abilities! I’m only good at killing—ehm, protecting people.

“Stop shaking me, I’m in no danger,” she says weakly.

The archdemon then reaches her delicate fingers out to my face. Her hand is surprisingly warm. Her thumb brushes away a tear. “Why are you crying, young man?”

Hmm? Am I? Hah. The people who’ve put their trust in me—I’ve let them down, haven’t I?

I wipe the tears away. I may have let them down in the previous life, but I will repent for my sins in this one. Until then, I can’t join them, I cannot cry.

Did she say a man? Succubi have a racial trait that allows them to switch sexes on a whim. Though I much prefer being in the body of a woman, it’s of no significance at the moment.

I still have the same body—my injuries have healed. Not only that, my clothes have also been restored. I take out the dark glasses that are familiar to the touch after running a hand through my pocket. I put them on and then stand up with a gentle bow.

“How may I be of help, my lady?”

The archdemon shakes her head. “We have no time for the chitchat. Save the small talk for later. I’m currently regenerating from my injuries, so I can’t move. Carry me through the corridor while I’m incapacitated. We both have lots of questions, so let’s talk while on the move,” she says emotionlessly.

“Understood.” My bow deepens.

“Oh, and one more thing,” she adds. “Stop using your ability on me.”

I nod as my red eyes revert to their almond color. I’ve tried using my new Mindstring ability to control her mind. Yet it didn’t work. A pity.