One sickening rush of a journey later, I found myself standing… well, in a whole other world that definitely wasn’t Earth. Unless Earth had gotten a serious makeover while I was busy dying.

The sky above was a swirling vortex of angry reds and sickly greens, like a tornado and a toxic waste spill had a baby. Flashes of lightning streaked across the churning clouds, accompanied by the occasional rumble of thunder that sounded suspiciously like a demonic belly laugh.

The ground beneath my feet was a hellscape of jagged rock and soft, ashy terrain that seemed to shift and flow like some sort of infernal quicksand. With each step, my feet sank into the powdery surface, sending up plumes of fine, grayish-black particles that danced and swirled in the sulfurous breeze.

The air was thick with the stuff, a choking miasma of ash and brimstone that coated my lungs and stung my eyes. It was like trying to breathe inside a crematorium, the very essence of death and decay filling my nostrils with every labored breath.

Lovely. Just what I always wanted—to be traipsing through the remnants of countless damned souls, each ashy footstep a reminder of the eternal suffering that awaited me in this godforsaken place.

Behind me was a massive wall of jagged rock, its surface a twisted tapestry of obsidian spires and gnarled protrusions. The rock face seemed to pulse with an inner malevolence, as if the very stone itself was alive and seething with hatred for all living things.

But as unsettling as the wall itself was, it was the creatures that crawled and slithered across its surface that truly made my skin crawl. They were like slugs, but not like any slugs I’d ever seen before. Each one was the size of a small dog, their slimy, pulsating bodies leaving trails of luminescent mucus in their wake.

Some were a sickly, translucent white, their pulsing innards visible through their gossamer-thin skin. Others were a mottled green and black, their hides covered in pulsating boils and weeping sores. And then there were the ones with far too many eyes, their bulbous, unblinking orbs seeming to stare straight into my soul.

I watched, transfixed and horrified, as one of the slug-things slithered across the rock face, its eyestalks twitching and swiveling in my direction. For a moment, I swore it was grinning at me, its jagged, tooth-lined maw curling upwards in a grotesque parody of a smile.

Shuddering, I tore my gaze away from the nightmare fuel made flesh. As if I needed any more reminders that I was no longer in the land of the living. The wall of rock and its unsettling inhabitants were just another twisted piece of the hellish puzzle that was my new reality.

In the distance, I could see towering spires of twisted metal and pulsing, bioluminescent structures that defied any earthly architecture. It was like someone had taken a city skyline, fed it through a meat grinder, and then let a pack of deranged, alien toddlers reassemble it.

But perhaps the most unsettling thing of all was the sheer vastness of this place. No matter which direction I looked, the landscape seemed to stretch on forever, an infinite expanse of suffering and despair. It was like being stuck in a never-ending nightmare, only without the comfort of knowing you’ll eventually wake up.

And by the looks of things, I wasn’t the only damned soul to have taken a one-way ticket to the infernal realms. Though visibility was atrocious, I could still make out other figures dotting the hellish landscape, each one standing as still and confused as a vegan at a butcher’s convention.

They were spread out across the ashy wasteland, lonely islands of bewilderment in a sea of eternal damnation. Even from a distance, I could practically see the gears turning in their heads, each one trying to process the fact that they’d just taken a permanent vacation to the asshole of the universe.

One figure, a portly man in what appeared to be a tattered business suit, was patting himself down, as if checking to make sure he still had his wallet and keys. Another, a woman in a shredded sundress, was turning in slow circles, her mouth agape as she took in the bleak surroundings.

And then there was the closest figure to me, a lanky, bedraggled-looking man who seemed to be wearing nothing but a pair of boxer shorts and a single flip-flop. He was scratching his head, his face scrunched up in confusion.

For a moment, I felt a strange urge to wave at him, to establish some sort of connection with a fellow lost soul. But then I remembered where I was, and the absurdity of trying to make friends in literal Hell.

Besides, with my luck, he’d probably turn out to be some sort of cannibalistic serial killer or a damned telemarketer. And frankly, I wasn’t sure which one would be worse.

“Sorry, guys,” I muttered, giving a mock salute to my fellow damned souls. “Looks like we’ll have to save the group therapy session for later. If there even is a later in this place.”

As I stood there, trying to wrap my head around the fact that I was now a resident of the universe’s worst retirement community, a sudden realization hit me—I had absolutely no idea what I was supposed to do next. The holographic entity had earlier said that I would be given further instructions by my designated ‘handler’ but I couldn’t see anyone who fit that description.

“Uh, hello?” I called out, feeling a bit foolish. “A little help here?”

Silence. Well, not exactly silence. More like the distant screams of tortured souls and the occasional roar of some unseen monstrosity. But no helpful voice guiding me toward my destination.

“Okay, Kade,” I muttered to myself, “you’ve got this. Just pick a direction and start walking. What’s the worst that could happen?”

Famous last words, as it turned out. No sooner had I taken my first step than the ground beneath me suddenly shifted, sending me tumbling head over heels down a steep, rocky embankment. I landed in a heap at the bottom, my body aching.

As I struggled to my feet, a voice sounded from somewhere. All around me? In my head? I didn’t fucking know. I just knew it was a different voice to the one the hologram spoke with. This one was male, and a good deal snarkier for some damn reason, as if it found my whole situation oh so amusing.

“Greetings, damned soul known as ‘Kade Dalton,’” the voice said. “Welcome to Infernum, you’re new home! Please proceed to make your way toward the Soul Intake and Processing Center, where your Orientation Officer awaits.”

“Where the hell is that?” I asked the voice.

“Ten o’clock. The towering, monolithic building. You really can’t miss it.”

I turned to look at the ‘building’ in the distance. It was like someone had taken a New York skyscraper, stretched it out like taffy, and then twisted it into a nightmarish spiral that made my eyes hurt just looking at it.

Pulsing veins of sickly green energy ran along the surface of the building, making it look like some sort of diseased, alien life form. And at the very top, a massive, unblinking eye stared down at the wasteland below, its gaze seeming to pierce right through me.

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” I muttered. “That’s the Soul Intake and Processing Center? It looks like the lovechild of Sauron’s tower and a tentacle porn studio.”

“Ah, yes, the architectural aesthetics of Infernum can be a bit... unsettling for newcomers,” the voice replied, sounding far too amused for my liking. “But I assure you, the SIPC is quite efficient in its purpose. Now, if you’d be so kind as to start making your way there? Your Orientation Officer is eager to meet you.”

I sighed, resigning myself to the fact that this was my new reality. A reality where I was expected to waltz into a nightmare skyscraper to meet some mysterious bureaucrat who probably had a delightful array of torments lined up for me.

“Fine,” I said, starting to pick my way through the jagged, uneven terrain. “But just so we’re clear, I expect a complimentary bottle of whiskey. And none of that cheap, gas station crap. I’m talking top-shelf, you hear me?”

The voice chuckled. “Oh, I like you, Kade Dalton. You’re going to be fun to watch. Now, do try to avoid getting eaten by the local wildlife on your way to the SIPC, won’t you? It would be such a shame for you to die before your real suffering even begins.”

If you find this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the infringement.

Die? I thought I was already dead!

Before I could voice this thought, I was startled by some sort of screen that suddenly appeared in my vision. A bluish information box with a little X in the corner, like something from one of those video games I used to play when I was in college. On the screen, white text appeared. At the same time, the voice spoke the words in my mind as they appeared on screen.

Con ID: KD-5168

Level 0

Race: Human

Class: Unassigned

I stared past the ephemeral screen toward the twisted building in the distance, wondering what fresh hell awaited me inside. Jesus, whatever awaited me there, it had to be better than this freezing wasteland.

As low whining sounds carried from the distance, more text materialized on the screen.

Your Trials contestant name is ‘Kade Dalton.’ You are contestant #5168.

Contestant? What kind of afterlife is this, anyway? It’s starting to feel like some reality TV nonsense.

You are free to chose a new name once you complete Orientation. You have been assigned the race of human. You are currently level 1. Upon completion of the First Circle you will get to chose a new race, as well as chose a class. To see your stat points, which have been allocated based on your current mental and physical profile, please see the stat menu.

Stats? Stat menu? I had to try and remember what the hell all these terms meant. It had been years since I’d played any kind of game, especially the RPG style games this one appeared to be based on. But before I could think much on it, another wall of text hit the screen, read by that same male voice, which now I thought about it, sounded like a a frenetic TV personality on meth.

New Achievement Unlocked! Your first one! Welcome to Hell.

You arrived in Infernum and didn’t immediately curl up into a ball of existential despair! Congrats, you’re officially a resident of the worst place imaginable!

Gain: You’ve received a Bronze Sinners Chest!

Sinners Chest? What the fuck was that?

New Achievement Unlocked! Whiskey Haggler.

You asked for a complimentary bottle of whiskey from your afterlife overlords. Hey, if you’re going to be stuck in eternal torment, you might as well have some top shelf whiskey to calm the nerves a bit, right?

Gain: You’ve received a Gold Libations Chest!

Gold Libations Chest, huh? There had better be some good goddamn whiskey in there.

New Achievement Unlocked! Fast As Fuck.

Technically, you haven’t earned this one yet. But you’d better, or else you’ll be dead. Soon. Very soon. Better get running, slick.

“Run? Run from what?”

No answer.

But it didn’t take long to discover the answer myself, as I soon noticed a peculiar sight in the distance. Squinting my eyes against the harsh, otherworldly light, I could make out what appeared to be a dust cloud, rapidly approaching from the east.

“What the hell is that?” I muttered to myself, trying to discern the source of the disturbance. As the cloud grew closer, I began to make out individual shapes within the haze, as well as a noise like a dozen lawnmower engines all going at once.

And that’s when I saw them.

Half a dozen small, impish creatures, each one mounted atop what looked like a child’s tricycle on steroids. The trikes were fitted with tiny, sputtering engines that belched out noxious fumes as they tore across the dusty landscape.

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” I said, my eyes widening in disbelief. “Hell’s Angels: The Preschool Edition.”

But as the gang of diminutive demons drew closer, I quickly realized that they were no laughing matter. Each imp was armed to the teeth with an assortment of wicked-looking weapons, from jagged blades to spiked clubs that were bigger than they were.

And they were heading straight for me.

A tooltip suddenly appeared in my vision.

Imp Biker Gang.

Like Hell’s Angels, but more diminutive and nastier. They roam the Outer Reaches in search of newly minted damned souls to… well, you’ll soon find out.

Another tooltip appeared over the head of one one of the imps.

Imp - Level 1

Small, the color of whiskey vomit, and ugly as sin. Despite their diminutive size, these little guys can still do damage.

The little bastards looked like someone had crossbred a gremlin with a rotten tomato and then dunked the resulting offspring in a vat of hot sauce.

They appeared to be about three feet tall, scrawny, misshapen bodies covered in a patchwork of leathery reddish-green skin and coarse, wiry hair. Their oversized heads were dominated by a pair of bulbous, yellow eyes that gleamed with malice and a mouthful of jagged, needle-like teeth that looked like they’d been filed to points by a deranged dentist.

A pair of twisted, goat-like horns sprouted from their foreheads, adding an extra touch of “what the fuck” to their already nightmarish appearance. In my brief glimpse of them, I could tell they had a sort of manic, unhinged energy about them, like chihuahuas on crack. As they revved their engines, they let out a series of high-pitched, unhinged giggles. It was like someone had taken all the worst parts of a toddler’s temper tantrum and a rabid wolverine’s killing spree, mashed them together, and given the resulting abomination a Monster Energy drink and a fucking switchblade.

As I ran as fast as my tired legs could carry me, I couldn’t help but wonder what I’d done to deserve this. Sure, I’d made some mistakes in my life, but had I really fucked up badly enough to warrant being chased through the asscrack of the afterlife by a bunch of giggling, homicidal Keebler elves on meth?

But then again, I realized that trying to apply logic and reason to this situation was about as productive as trying to teach quantum physics to a goldfish.

As I ran, I noticed other gangs of imps riding in from the opposite direction, seemingly heading toward the other damned souls in here with me, a couple of whom had already started to run in terror. Until one of them got mown down by trikes. The Imps launched themselves off their still moving trikes and landed on their downed prey. Screams suddenly filled the air.

Jesus fucking Christ, these little bastards are serious.

Behind me, I could hear the high-pitched, manic laughter of the imps as they revved their engines and continued giving chase. The ground shook beneath my feet as they closed the distance, their trikes kicking up clouds of ash and brimstone.

Suddenly, a small, round object whizzed past my head, missing me by inches. I glanced over my shoulder just in time to see one of the imps lobbing another object in my direction.

“What the fuck?” I panted, ducking and weaving as the round object sailed past me and suddenly detonated against a nearby rock formation, sending bits of shrapnel flying at me that punctured my skin like needles and made my ears ring. “Who gave these little bastards explosives?!”

I kept running, my lungs burning and my legs pumping like pistons.

Goddamn. This is what I get for quitting training five years ago to become a full-time alcoholic degenerate. I’m fucked already.

The imps continued their assault, hurling bombs and taking swipes at me with their blades whenever they got close enough.

“Fuck off, you little bastards!” I shouted, as if they would listen.

The SIPC still seemed like a long way away. Given that I was tiring quickly, I started to think I wasn’t going to make it. These impish bastards were going to take me down before I even got there. Or blow me to kingdom come with their goddamn bombs.

Just as I thought I was done for, I saw one of the bombs go sailing over my head. Acting on instinct and against all logic and concerns for safety, I dived forward and caught the bomb before it landed, half expecting it to explode in my hands as I hit the ground and rolled.

Coming up, I turned and immediately hurled the bomb back at the gang of imps. The bomb exploded when it hit the ground, and to my surprise, the imps’ trikes exploded along with it. Whatever fuel was in their engines must have been incredibly potent because the resulting combined explosion of all the trikes was massive. The force of the blast took me by surprise, and I was blown back, struggling to maintain my footing. Trikes flipped end over end, their riders screaming in rage and pain as they were tossed like ragdolls amidst the fiery chaos.

“Take that, you little shits!” I crowed, feeling a surge of satisfaction as bits of shrapnel and imp body parts hit the ground with a dull thump.

I was now seeing bars above the heads of the imps. Most of the bars were in the red. Health bars, I was guessing, signifying how much damage each imp took. The ones without health bars were dead, I assumed.

A couple of New Achievement notifications appeared as I got to my feet, but they didn’t fill up my screen like before, instead appearing as little messages in the top right. Clearly, the System didn’t think now was a good time to crowd my vision with a wall of text. Not that I cared much about notifications, but I told myself if I made it to the SIPC building, I would check them then.

After the explosion, one of the imps, apparently more resilient—or just more pissed off or less dead—than the others, managed to keep his trike upright and came speeding toward me, a wicked-looking blade clutched in his clawed hand.

I braced myself, waiting until the last possible second before sidestepping and lashing out with a vicious roundhouse kick. My foot connected with the imp’s chest, sending him flying off his trike and tumbling head over heels across the unforgiving ground. The imp’s health bar went from green to read in a heartbeat, with only a small amount of health left.

The trike, now riderless, careened past me and exploded against a nearby boulder, showering me with bits of twisted metal and infernal shrapnel.

Jesus, what’s in those engines? Rocket fuel?!

“And that’s why you always wear a helmet, you little shit,” I said, pausing for a second to peer down at the imp I’d kicked. Watching it writhe and groan in pain, I suddenly felt bad, as if I’d kicked an eight-year-old child of its trike. But then I reminded myself the imp was trying to kill me, and my guilty conscience went away. No room for that shit in this place.

Most of the imps seemed to have died in the explosion, their smoking remains scattered across the ashen ground. The few that didn’t die in the explosion started to haul themselves to their feet, dazed and bleeding. A few were missing limbs. One even appeared to be crying as it held another lifeless imp in its arms.

Oh Jesus, I thought, as my guilty conscience returned with a vengeance. This place just turned me into a murderer. A mass murderer.

Shaking my head, I turned away from the scene of carnage and resumed my run toward the SPIC building.