As the lid slowly lifted, I leaned forward, my heart pounding with anticipation and dread. What would I find inside? A powerful weapon? A game-changing artifact? Or just a pile of useless junk that the Overseers had thrown in as a cruel joke?

Only one way to find out...

Infernal Iron Weapons Box (1/7)

Iron Chain

I had a brief moment to examine the length of chain—rusted, not very thick, about three feet in length—before it disappeared into my inventory box. Curious, I checked its description.

A rusted, three-foot length of iron chain that’s seen better days. While it may not be the most impressive weapon in your arsenal, dealing only 5% damage, it’s still better than fighting bare-handed. The chain has a 10% chance to inflict the “Tetanus” status effect on enemies, causing them to take +2 damage per turn. As a bonus, it grants the user a +1 bonus to intimidation checks, because nothing says “don’t mess with me” like a person wielding a rusty chain.

Super. On to the next box.

Infernal Iron Pathfinder Box (2/7)

Healing Potion

Nibbles x100

And another of the same type.

Infernal Iron Pathfinder Box (3/7)

Mana Potion

Water x10

The healing potion and “nibbles” (whatever those were) went into my inventory, and then the next box appeared, which I was slightly more excited about because it was the next tier up and also slightly larger in size, giving off a bright silver light. Ooh, shiny!

Sinner’s Silver Imp Box (4/7)

Small Bomb x5

Lighter

Imp Ring

The bombs appeared to be the same ones the imps had thrown at me earlier, like the one I’d used to blow some of those little bastards to smithereens. No doubt they’d come in handy when I needed to unleash some explosive chaos, though I wasn’t sure how powerful they were on their own. Half the explosion among the imps was caused by the fuel in their trikes.

As for the Imp Ring, it was a tiny thing that looked like it might fit over the tip of my pinkie finger. It was obsidian with barely visible orange markings that looked like runes or some weird imp language. As I was examining the ring, it suddenly decided to make itself at home on my left pinkie, sliding itself just below the nail because it couldn’t go any further. It felt tight, and I wondered what it was for, so I checked the description.

This tiny, obsidian ring with barely visible orange markings is like a secret handshake for the imp community. Slip it on your pinkie (because let’s face it, that’s the only finger it’ll fit on), and suddenly, you’re part of the club!

Useful, I guess. At least I won’t have any more bombs chucked at me.

Another box appeared in my vision, one I was looking forward to opening because it was gold. Yeah, I’m a shallow bastard, but also because it was labeled as a “Boot Box,” and I was hoping to score some sweet new kicks. I was still wearing the same clothes as when I died—jeans, leather jacket, and a tatty pair of sneakers that should’ve been laid to rest ages ago. But what can I say? I wear shit until it literally falls off me, screaming for mercy.

Glutton’s Gold Boot Box (5/7)

Nike Air Max Kicks - Level 1

“Nice, Kade,” Grik said, fawning over the sneakers when they appeared on the ground. “They’ll look good on you!”

“These are actually pretty sweet,” I said, admiring the red, gray and white sneakers, which didn’t appear to be brand new or anything. Not that I minded about that. Though just in case, I gave the insides a quick sniff. They smelled okay, I guess.

“Try them on, Kade,” Grik said.

I kicked off my old sneakers, setting them aside before slipping my tired feet into the Nike ones. They were comfortable and just the right size. “These will make me faster?”

“Read the item description, genius,” Grik said, rolling his eyes. “It’s not there just for decoration.”

I shot him a look then focused on the boots, willing the item description to appear.

These aren’t your average sneakers – they’re the Infernum edition of classic street style! Forged in the fires of fashion hell and imbued with the essence of speed demons.

If you encounter this tale on Amazon, note that it's taken without the author's consent. Report it.

Effect: +50% movement speed for 1 minute. 1 hour cooldown.

Fun Fact: The “air” in these Air Max isn’t earthly atmosphere – it’s compressed souls of track and field athletes. Ethical? No. Effective? You bet your eternal damnation it is!

Remember: In Infernum, it’s not about outrunning the devil... it’s about looking good while you try!

“So, these things really make me go faster, huh?”

“Of course!” Grik exclaimed. “Combined with your Van Damme skill, they’ll give you a serious edge. You’re incredibly lucky to have them at this early stage of the game. Most contestants are still stumbling around in their ratty old sneakers, praying they don’t step on a rusty nail or a particularly angry imp.”

Speaking of my old sneakers, they had mysteriously vanished into the ether. I guess Infernum had no room for subpar footwear.

“You’ve got two more boxes to open, Kade,” Grik reminded me. “Better hurry. Time’s a-wastin’, and the showruners aren’t known for their patience.”

Glutton’s Gold Apparel Box (6/7)

Acid-Washed Denim Jacket of Fortitude

Transformers Autobot Logo Tee of Kinetic Absorption

“Jesus Christ, are you kidding me with this stuff?” I groaned.

With great reluctance, I shrugged off my trusty leather jacket and slipped on the acid-washed denim monstrosity. I felt like I should be hanging out at the mall, sipping on a New Coke and listening to Duran Duran. But as much as I despised the jacket’s dated appearance, I couldn’t deny the surge of power that coursed through my body the moment I put it on. It was like I’d been wrapped in a protective cocoon of pure ‘80s nostalgia.

This stylish, stone-washed denim jacket not only makes you look like a badass from an ‘80s movie, but it also grants +3 to Constitution and resistance to acid and explosion attacks. Perfect for those times when you need to walk away from an explosion without looking back, or when you find yourself in the middle of a spontaneous, over-the-top action sequence. The jacket’s tough denim fibers are infused with a secret blend of alchemical compounds that absorb and disperse the energy from explosions, keeping you safe and looking cool as hell. Whether you’re facing down a mad bomber or just want to make a dramatic entrance, the Acid-Washed Denim Jacket of Fortitude has got you covered (literally).

“Oh, did I forget to mention that 1980s human culture is all the rage throughout the galaxy?” Grik said, running a tentacle over the denim jacket as if he were appraising a fine work of art. “There are entire planets dedicated to the aesthetic.”

I stared at him, my mouth hanging open in disbelief. “What? Whole worlds? Get the fuck outta here, Grik. You’re pulling my leg.”

“Cross my heart and hope to die, Kade,” Grik said, making a strange gesture with his tentacles that I could only assume was the octopus equivalent of the classic childhood vow. “Certain viewers are going to absolutely lose their minds when they see you rocking this ensemble. Go on, try that t-shirt on. I bet it’ll look totally tubular on you.”

I couldn’t help but cringe at Grik’s attempt to use ‘80s slang. It was like watching your grandpa try to rap—equal parts endearing and embarrassing.

Shaking my head, I slipped off the denim jacket and the plain black t-shirt I’d been wearing underneath. Then, I picked up the Transformers tee, which was also black but faded, as if it had been through the wash a few hundred times over the years. It looked like something you might find in the back of a thrift store, nestled between a Members Only jacket and a dusty old Cabbage Patch Kid.

As I pulled the t-shirt over my head, I braced myself for the inevitable rush of magical energy. Sure enough, the moment the fabric settled against my skin, I felt a strange tingling sensation spread across my upper body, like I’d just been zapped by a low-voltage electric current.

“Whoa,” I said, looking down at myself. “This feels... different.”

Grik nodded sagely. “That’s the power of the ‘80s, my friend. It’s like mainlining pure nostalgia directly into your veins.”

Transformers Autobot Logo Tee of Kinetic Absorption.

Roll out in style with this classic ‘80s Transformers t-shirt featuring the iconic Autobot logo. But there’s more than meets the eye with this radical top! When some Megatron wannabe tries to melee you, 15% of that damage will be absorbed and transformed into a temporary 5-second shield, just like Optimus Prime’s trusty Matrix of Leadership.

“Looking good, Kade!” Grik said, more excited than I was. “Those garments will certainly help protect you during combat. Quite the find for a gold box, I must say!”

There was one more box left.

Glutton’s Gold Libations Chest.

Glenfiddich 18yo whiskey x1

“Damn,” I said when I eyed the bottle of whiskey. “I didn’t think I was actually going to get it. The good stuff as well.”

“More than good, Kade,” Grik said. “Read the description.”

I did when the info box popped up.

Ah, the Glenfiddich 18yo Whiskey of Regeneration – a true marvel of both distillation and mystical enchantment. This exquisite single malt, aged for 18 long years in the finest oak barrels, is imbued with the power to mend even the most battered and bruised of adventurers. With just a single shot of this golden elixir, you’ll feel a warm, tingly sensation coursing through your veins as your body’s natural regenerative abilities are kicked into overdrive, granting you +7 Regeneration for a full hour.

“And that’s a wrap,” Grik announced abruptly, clapping two of his tentacles together with a sound that reminded me of a wet towel slapping against a tile floor. “Your orientation is complete, Kade. Now, if you’ll be so kind as to follow me, it’s time for you to take your first steps into Limbo and embark upon your thrilling tutorial round.”

I felt a sudden surge of panic at the thought of venturing back out into that wasteland. “Wait, that’s it?” I asked, my voice tinged with apprehension. “Will I... will I ever see you again?”

“Of course you will, Kade,” Grik reassured me as he glided out of the room, beckoning me to follow him into the corridor. “You can summon me in your Safe Circle whenever you need to chat or seek guidance. I’m your very own demonic octopus helpline, available 24/7 for all your afterlife support needs.”

Despite the fact that these words of comfort were coming from a creature that looked like it had crawled out of a Lovecraftian nightmare, I couldn’t help but feel a small sense of relief. In this place, Grik was the closest thing I had to a friend and ally. I found myself growing oddly attached to the quirky cephalopod, even if he did have a penchant for terrible jokes and obscure pop culture references that he hardly understood.

As we made our way down the corridor, an exit door slid open with a hiss, revealing the desolate wasteland that I had previously escaped. The sight of that barren, unforgiving landscape made me shudder, and I could feel my newly acquired boots quivering in anticipation or… maybe that was just me.

“Off you go, Kade,” Grik said, giving me a gentle nudge with his tentacles. “It’s time to show the galaxy what you’re made of. And remember—give ‘em hell!”