An aggressive, overwhelming, absurd sense of unwelcomeness seized control of Reynald’s body, preventing him from taking a single step further.

Behind him lay the country he’d sworn to protect… Not because the goddess told him to, or because he liked the culture, but because it contained countless lives. He was still unsure about many things, but there was one thing he knew for certain.

The ‘black’ side of this game of chess was overwhelmingly stronger.

The black king could massacre the entire white side on his own, without a doubt.

The thought of going to face that king filled him with dread… in actual fact, underneath his armour, he was covered in nervous sweat.

But he’d made up his mind.

He’d fight, he’d probably lose, and then, satisfied that he’d done his best, he would pass on… To put it simply, he had resolved to die here.

And thus, in front of him lay that absurd, ridiculous, ludicrous, monstrous castle. With every breath he took, it almost seemed bigger…

In fact, it almost seemed like a living, breathing organism, its breath pure, toxic miasma. Even the most magically talentless person in the world could figure out it didn’t like him.

And yet in spite of that-

No, perhaps he could only sense it because of that-

Its master, sitting in the deepest, most hellish reaches, was eagerly awaiting his arrival…

No, not just him.

After all, Reynald was far from alone.

First of all, by his side stood a girl… golden hair and eyes, just like him, and a white mage’s vestments. The girl he had fallen for. Ebstrea.

A whole group of Heroes, along with several knights’ orders, were accompanying them, too. To be honest, Reynald questioned how they would fare against those ridiculous monstrosities that insisted they were people… But at the very least, they’d be able to help out with the mooks.

And, in front of them, leading the charge.

The Seventh Saint. By Reynald’s expectations, the only Saint still of this world. The Saint of Purification. Rachiel.

Even the toxic miasma seemed to back off at her presence, as though retreating from her powerful holy energies.

She stepped forth, her sister’s garb flowing behind her, fluttering in the wind. With an almost fox-like expression, she spoke, her voice gentle but her tone stern.

“We have come seeking an audience with the demon king. Would you consider opening the gates?”

‘Or we’ll blow them open’—Reynald did not believe her implicit threat was worth much, considering whose castle this was.

Regardless… Would it be expected or unexpected? In any case, the gates opened without missing a beat, accompanied by a voice.

“You wish to see me? Very well. I shall allow a chance to strike me down. However, it cannot come for free, so I shall see to it that you overcome my subordinates’ respective desires, first. Prove to me that you are worthy of the chance and I shall give you it. Failure… Well, there is no particular need to state that result, is there?”

Just hearing his voice once more caused Reynald to take a step back. Ebstrea, next to him, only managed to remain standing by grabbing on to his arm and using him as a support.

From the open gate of the castle shone a bright, all-consuming light, blotting out Reynald’s vision.

He could tell, almost by instinct, what it was, despite his complete inability to look at it directly. The first hell they would have to overcome.

“Show me that you are worthy of my attention. Though you are no more than the entrée, any proper meal starts the moment one sits down at the table.”

This strongest possible division of elite heroes and knights was nothing more than the appetizer? Then what was even left to be the main course? Many would think this sense of scale… or rather, its complete nonexistence, to be the ramblings of a madman, but the demon king’s voice rang with nothing but indifference and anticipation, as though he was stating a simple fact. Though he might once have felt pity for the swindled, deceived Heroes, no such feeling was present in his current voice.

Looking into that light, burning brighter than his convictions ever could, Reynald pondered to himself…

Even if they overcame these trials, would they truly be worthy of a chance to strike down their source?

A complicated expression on his face, he followed after Rachiel.

***

As it turned out, that all-consuming light was a part of the first hell.

Reynald’s eyes, after stepping inside, were assaulted by the violent contradiction of all-consuming light and eternal darkness, and he almost felt it would be more pleasant to gouge them out to save himself the pain.

He decided, as a result of that impulse, not to look back when he heard wet splattering sounds behind him.

“This is…” he muttered to himself, trying to find his bearings amongst this ridiculous contradiction of blinding light and blinding darkness.

The goal was to get to the throne room… so they were probably looking for a door.

But no matter which way he looked, all he saw was a vast room full of white.

If that guy’s words were to be believed, then…

This was connected to one of those five subordinates’ resolve? Their desire? Their worldview?

One of his subordinates wanted this?

“Welcome.”

A voice he didn’t recognise. The one speaking it was…

A little girl? When had she gotten here?

Bluish hair, green eyes… A single horn and a single wing.

Rachiel glared at her, suspicion in her eyes.

“Who are you?”

“Mm… Well, I guess it’s fine. I’m Faust. The demon king’s… Well, I’m not exactly his subordinate… His ward? Something like that.”

A name that struck familiar. Especially to Reynald and Ebstrea, who had figured out Mephistopheles’s name—

“Ah, it won’t do if you just attack me like that,” said Faust, jumping back to avoid a blade. “Killing me won’t do you any good… In the first place, this isn’t my hell. As for whose it is, well, I’ll leave it to you… I’m here to tell you the objective.”

The suspicion in Rachiel’s eyes grew ever deeper.

“Well, even though I say that, it’s basically the same in every hell… Find and reach the exit. That’s all. Good luck~”

Before another blade could be thrown her way, Faust turned on her heel and vanished into thin air.

“Tch… Spread out and-”

Rachiel turned around to give her subordinates an order, but cut herself off after looking at them. A little confused, she brought a finger up to her own eye, rubbed it as one would to rub away tears, and then brought it in front of her face…

To find it was covered in red blood.

Her loyalty was ever-lasting. No matter what harm it would do to her, she would forever gaze directly at His light, doing everything she could to catch up and reach him. No matter what she lost, how many wounds she took, how scarred her body got…

The Hell of Self-Destructive Loyalty, Daeva Buht. The manifestation of her desire to idolise Him and spread His faith.

“Tch… We can’t lose in the first room…!”

As always, at the critical times, his holy sword was proving fatally quiet. Despite the blood gushing forth from his eyes, Reynald pressed on, determined to make it through.

He’d made up his determination to die today… But not here…!

With the impossible moon above him shining its contradictory light directly into his eyes, Reynald yet pressed on, pulling Ebstrea along by her wrist.

***

It was little wonder they couldn’t find the door… After all, it had turned out to be inside the light-shining moon the entire time. It was fortunate no one had come to attack them, or they would have perished right then and there. Half of the knights were already dead, having gouged out their own eyes.

And yet, they were only just beginning. The moment they opened the door to the second room, they were immediately wrapped in flames.

The remaining knights screamed out in pain, their flesh and bone immediately seared and burnt. A good chunk of the Heroes dropped to the ground as well, skin and muscles melting away to reveal the putrid ivory below.

The second Hell.

The entire room was wrapped in flames, licking the walls and wrapping around anything they could find.

Pure, unsullied flames, turning all to ash… that were somehow inviting, as though becoming ash by their hand was the best fate that one could ever meet.

She was forever consumed by madness. From the moment of her birth, she had been raging mad, and rather than help, what she had eventually received was encouragement.

There was no curing her. She would forever fly closer to the sun, not caring about the burns… No, embracing the fleshwounds and scars as proof that she was approaching her goal.

The Hell of Careless Madness, Daeva Varun. Her unending, eternal quest for knowledge, given form.

This story originates from a different website. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

Even moreso than in the previous, they needed to hurry, or they would be burnt to a crisp. Fortunately, this one was not obscuring their sight, but…

The door was right in the middle of the blazing inferno, in the part where the flames raged the hottest and the brightest.

They would have to brave that…

Several Heroes dropped to the floor just from the thought. They had been trained for war, yes, but not to walk directly into an open fire!

“[Water-Attribute Magic: Icicle Rain]!”

But the ice evaporated into redhot steam before it could even touch the fire, instead planting fatal burn wounds on the face of the Hero who attempted the spell. Her madness could not be put out with a simple ice spell, especially not something any average fifth-grade magic user could use.

There really was no choice but to plunge into the flames of madness, head-first…

Looking at his charred—no, charring flesh, Reynald thought to himself how fortunate Heroes were for not being able to feel pain.

***

By the time they reached the door, another half of the remaining Heroes had dropped to the ground, likely never to wake up again.

And yet, of course, there would be no mercy, not until the very last drop of blood had been spilt and nothing remained.

The Heroes managed to take a step into the third hell, and then not one more.

The very idea of taking another step felt impossible.

She valued family and time with such more than anything else, to the point where she was unable to see anything other than them. Unable to work for any cause other than her family. Unable to work for herself, yet unwilling to admit it, she came up with selfish-sounding excuses for her selfless actions.

The third hell.

Taking a single step felt like more effort than saving the world. Several Heroes collapsed on the spot, unwilling to carry their own weight. Perhaps even unwilling to expend the effort required to breathe.

Lost in a haze of desire, Reynald turned to his side and wrapped his arms around Ebstrea, his eyes empty like those of a dead fish. Though her face flushed red, she quickly realised something was wrong.

The Hell of Single-Minded Affection, Daeva Niyaz. Her desire for family at the cost of all else.

“R-Reynald…!”

Ebstrea attempted to push him off, but she was a mage whereas he was a frontline fighter, so there was no possible way for her to overpower him. Locked in his embrace, she was forced to fall to the ground alongside him when he stopped supporting his own weight. He was supposed to be highly resistant to anything non-natural that influenced his mental state, so why…?!

In that case, there was only one explanation…

In this space, this was the natural state of mind…?!

Ebstrea tried to push the thought out of her head, lest she be taken by it and fall into desire, but found herself unable to purge it from her mind completely. She could not help but wonder what it would be like to wrap her arms around him, and snuggle into his breast, right here, right now…

“Get up. You will have all the time in the world to flirt later,” Rachiel said, poking Ebstrea with her foot.

“Ah!”

At once, Ebstrea returned to her senses… was probably not the right phrasing, but she could not think of a better way to put it. In any case, she was roused from her thoughts of desire and, as quick as she could, cast a mental barrier on Reynald.

“Ungh… Ebstrea…?”

Some semblance of consciousness returned to him, but it was far from perfect… The exit door was in plain sight, but the effort they would need to expend to reach it was…

***

In the end, the only ones who even managed to make it to the fourth hell were Reynald, Ebstrea and Rachiel. And even then, Reynald didn’t manage to take a single step himself—Ebstrea practically carried him all the way to the door.

For once, when the door was opened, the Heroes were pulled inside, rather than repelled by some obstacle or another. But by no means did that make this a pleasant experience.

There was no fire, like there had been in Daeva Varun, but it was still unbearably hot, to the point where Reynald felt like he was boiling alive just by laying on the floor.

Indeed, he was laying on the floor.

From the ground emerged countless chains, wrapping around him tighter than could be good for him and forcing his entire body to the ground.

He couldn’t exactly turn his head to see, but judging from the rattling sounds, the same applied to Rachiel and Ebstrea.

The fourth hell.

The chains binding Reynald’s body to the ground clattered and jingled as he struggled against them, but no matter what he did, he couldn’t get free.

Since she had had her parents taken from her even before her birth, she found herself wanting for family, for a parental figure, and she would spare no expense to find one.

For his sake, she would gladly become his weapon or his shield-

The Hell of Everbound Family, Daeva Akatash. Her very own peaceful days.

She wouldn’t let them get away. She finally had a family to call her own, so no matter what she had to do, she would never let herself be separated from them.

Despite Reynald’s best efforts, it took him more than ten minutes to so much as draw his sword, and another ten to cut through his and his allies’ chains, wearing down the edge of the blade all the while…

And not five steps later, he was once more shackled to the floor, forced to endure that miserable, sweltering heat.

“Ghk…!”

It was getting hard to breathe… And this was just the second set…!

Under the chains’ heavy pressure, Reynald could hear a few heavy, surprisingly loud, wet cracking sounds, and he could feel holes being pierced in his lungs—

Which is to say, the chains were tight enough to…?!

His mind filled with panic and his heart filled with haste, he cut through the chains as fast as he could, but he could tell it wasn’t enough—several of his ribs were broken, their fragments scattered around in the flesh of his breast.

“I have to, at least… Reach him…!”

His steps were getting heavier, but he managed to steel his determination to save Ebstrea, get himself healed up and progress, no matter what it took…!

***

Even compared to the first four hells, the fifth was an unorthodox challenge.

After all, at first glance, there did not appear to be any sort of obstacles.

But it would take only a few minutes for anyone to notice the true suffering of this hell…

The air was filled with toxic, invisible miasma, and unlike normal miasma, it did not appear to be hindered by any sort of barrier Ebstrea or Rachiel could erect, so it continued to eat away at the Heroes’ bodies and psyches alike, making every step more difficult than the last.

The fifth hell.

The miasma was even starting to eat through the Heroes’ blessings, and although it was not much—it felt, perhaps, akin to a rain of pinpricks—it was the first pain they had felt in years, so they had completely lost their tolerance.

For the sake of being with the family who had raised and, essentially, created her, she would remove all she deemed unnecessary, whether that involved theft or murder.

For the sake of her family, who she loved more than anything else, she would destroy everything.

The Hell of Love-Brought Death, Daeva Asto-vidatu. Her love and all it broke.

In addition, this hell was more akin to the first than those that followed… That was, not only did the Heroes have to endure this gradually-worsening pain, they had to search for the exit while doing such, and though they were not bathed in blinding light, the room was, instead, so dark that they could barely see their own hands.

“Where… Where is it…?!”

Under the pressure of pain that threatened to increase with every second and consume his consciousness, coupled with the fact that he was getting weaker every moment and would soon be unable to even move, Reynald searched and searched…!

***

When they finally found the door, all they could manage was to stumble through.

Though it was the most fatal of moves to lie down and rest in enemy territory, they found themselves completely unable to lift their bodies… At most, they could lift their heads and eyes, to see what lay before them.

In the background, a throne cloaked in shadows, and a variety of figures on and around it…

But more importantly, right in front of them, looking down at them, as though threatening to step on them and crush their heads, and with them, their lives, underfoot—

The masters of the five hells, none of which looked the least bit friendly.

[https://i.imgur.com/PyIpw1a.png]