In the depths of Hell, the ground shakes with the constant rumble of explosions. Lower-category demons are always training, blasting massive craters across the endless, barren plains. Some of their blasts are strong enough to vaporize whole countries—if Hell had any countries. But Hell is infinite, boundless. What’s a few blasts here and there?

What really bothers me isn’t the chaos outside, though. It’s the monotony of this post—the Gates of Hell. My job in general is to make sure none of the inhabitants escape and that the newly arrived dead souls in the waiting list don’t find their way back to their home planets as ghouls or ghosts. That would be a waste of good soldiers. If trained properly, they could serve a real purpose in this realm.

Paperwork. Endless, tedious paperwork. I can’t even remember the last time I left this gate. Before Earth even existed, I was promoted to manage this section of Hell, overseeing all souls from countless races across the universe.

Suddenly, a familiar sound breaks through the endless din—a series of heavy stomps echoing from miles away. The ground trembles, but this isn’t the usual chaos of Hell. These footsteps are deliberate. Calculated.

I know power when I sense it. And this... this is no lowly demon. I stand, straightening my back just as the building’s roof begins to crack. Massive hands tear the ceiling apart as if it were parchment. A colossal figure looms overhead, then slowly shrinks until its size matches mine—though still taller.

A booming laugh fills the air. “Still buried in paperwork, Azazel?”

I glance up. Astaroth. Second only to Lucifer in this realm, his grin stretches wide, his eyes gleaming with amusement.

“I wasn’t expecting you for another ten billion years,” I mutter, tossing aside the latest scroll. “What brings you to my corner of Hell?”

“Not all news are bad, my colleague.” His deep voice drops, turning conspiratorial. “Lucifer wants to see you.”

My brow furrows. “Lucifer? Now? But... What about the paperwork? The souls?”

Astaroth waves his hand dismissively. “That’s why I’m here. I’ll cover your duties for the time being. You don’t really want to keep Lucifer waiting, do you?”

Lucifer—the ruler of Hell. The strongest being in this realm, and not one for casual conversations. He rarely speaks to any of us. I hesitate for a moment, then nod.

“Fine. I’ll go.”

As I make my way toward Lucifer’s throne, I can’t shake the feeling that something is... off. Lucifer never calls for me. For anyone, really. What could he possibly want now?

I approach the throne room, an immense structure carved from obsidian, surrounded by rivers of molten lava. Kneeling before his grand seat, I keep my head down, waiting for his command. In his presence, no one speaks unless permitted.

“Azazel” Lucifer’s voice is calm, but it carries a weight that would crush lesser beings. “Rise and look at me. This will be a long conversation.”

I stand, my eyes meeting him. His gaze is cold, piercing.

“I am leaving this realm,” Lucifer says, his tone leaving no room for doubt. “And I want you to rule Hell in my place.”

For a moment, I can’t speak. Me? Lucifer, the ruler of all Hell, leaving? The thought alone shakes the foundation of my being. “My lord” I begin, dropping to one knee again, “I am honored, but—”

He raises a hand, silencing me. “This is not a choice, Azazel. You’ve proven your worth over millennials. But this task won’t be simple. I’m not just leaving Hell; I’m leaving this dimension.”

My eyes widened. The multiverse. This Hell is but one of the infinite hells across the multiverse, and the thought of Lucifer venturing beyond it fills me with both awe and unease. “Where exactly will you go, my lord?”

“To realms beyond this one” Lucifer replies, his voice echoing as though it stretches across the dimensions themselves. “There are other Hells in my command, other universes, I rule, and it’s time to visit the next one. This Hell will be your responsibility now while I'm gone.”

“Astaroth will remain at your side as your guide.” Lucifer continues. “He will help you maintain order. But you are the king of this Hell. All the demons and forces here answer to you.”

Astaroth, as my advisor? That... eases the weight slightly, but the pressure still looms large. I nod. “My lord, I accept.”

“Do you have any questions?” Lucifer’s voice softens, though it carries the weight of a being who has already made up his mind.

“No, my lord. Your will is clear.” I bow deeply, but inside, my mind races. Why me? Why now? Lucifer doesn’t make decisions lightly, and if he’s leaving Hell to explore the multiverse, there must be far greater forces at play.

“Then I will take my leave.” In an instant, Lucifer vanishes, the throne room once again enveloped in stillness.

Enjoying this book? Seek out the original to ensure the author gets credit.

Astaroth appears at my side, grinning. “Well, well. Looks like you’re the boss now.”

I stare at the throne—Lucifer’s throne—a sense of uncertainty tightening in my chest. “Nothing has changed, Astaroth. I’m still a demon lord under Lucifer.”

He chuckles, slapping a hand on my shoulder. “Yes, but here, you’re not just a demon lord, Azazel. I am a demon lord but you, you are THE DEMON LORD “

“Wait, if you’re here, who’s in charge of the paperwork?” I ask, raising an eyebrow.

Astaroth laughs. “Do you really think this is the first Hell I’ve visited? I have underlings—experienced ones, brought from other dimensions. They can handle the paperwork for a while. But I won’t be able to stay out of that position forever, so let me guide you to the Council of Wizards to help you settle into your new position.”

The Council gave me a tour of my new responsibilities, it was more tasks than I'd expected, and I have to adapt to all of them.

A few years passed. I managed to master every aspect of being the Demon Lord of this Hell. But… It's too much work. I escaped my own hell, only to find myself trapped in an even worse one. My thoughts whirl like a hurricane, but when I catch my reflection in the window, my face is calm. It’s as if I can’t show what’s really going on inside.

Now, I sign endless papers, visiting the three sections of Hell every few days, and worst of all, I have to watch all the planets with living creatures through a magic screen, a magic tv to be exact. One of my jobs is to keep an eye on demons who break the rules, skimming off sacrifices for themselves by watching in a magic tv that streams Live.

It’s not that I think my own underlings they’d betray me. But I follow Lucifer’s rules to the letter even if it means sitting and watching the monotonous actions of my demons underling in the living realm. Lucifer once told me, as a demon, there are things I’ll never understand—like love, missing someone, or empathy.

But… I think this feeling I have is close to missing something. I miss the days before this job, when I fought angels and demons to prove my power. Those were good times. Yes, Responsibility clearly isn’t my thing.

As I sit before the vast screen, trying to kill the boredom I start deeply thinking about concepts while the tv streaming the lives of countless beings scattered across the universe, a sense of weariness grips me. Every day, the same races play, their dramas predictable, their struggles monotonous. I know their pain intimately—the terror etched on their faces as they face destruction, their physical and emotional suffering. After all, I was trained to execute such things to perfection. Torture is an art I mastered long ago, so their agony holds no mystery for me.

But there is one thing I cannot understand.

Over and over again, —past, present, and future—I witness something incomprehensible. In the midst of apocalyptic events, as meteors rain down or alien invaders tear apart their worlds, I see parents clinging to their children, shielding them with their bodies instead of running for themselves. Or a boy sacrifices his life for his girlfriend, throwing himself in the path of annihilation, and in countless instances, I see similar acts.

They call it love.

I know the definition, of course. Love—a deep affection, a bond between individuals. But why? Why does love seem to demand sacrifice? Why, in their final moments of terror, do they choose to give their lives for those they cherish?

What reward lies in that choice?

I’ve seen more planets burn than I can count. I've heard the screams of billions as their worlds crumble into nothingness. And they still have courage to do such an act.

“At least pondering complex topics kills some of my boredom,” I mused. Finally, an idea for an experiment crossed my mind. I summoned one of my underlings—x19345, a lower-ranked demon, but still aware of his actions.

“Sir, anything you command, I’ll do without fail! No mistakes on my watch!”

“x19345, I grant you permission to leave Hell, go to any planet, and... fall in love.”

His face contorted with sheer terror.

“M-my Lord?... Ah, I see! You mean to deceive a female, twist her mind, and inflict torture? I’ll transform into the ideal male of her species, and then use—”

“No,” I interrupted. “I mean, literally go and find love.”

He screamed in horror and promptly exploded, not even leaving a trace of dust.

"I knew that would happen, but still, I wanted to be wrong." x19345 couldn’t comprehend love. He could act like it, make others feel lust, but to truly feel this emotion? It was an impossible task. In my presence, he chose to cease to exist rather than disappoint me. Now my new tv show would not happen, even if I call another demon it would be still useless.

“What's wrong, Boss?” I barely registered Astaroth’s approach to the throne. Perhaps I didn’t see him as a threat because I was so wrapped up in my own thoughts.

“Nothing, Astaroth.”

“You may hold the title of Lord in this realm, but under Lucifer's wings, we are equals. I can read expressions and deep thoughts, even in entities like you, Azazel. You're unfocused, and that’s not a posture that can be permitted while you sit on the throne of Hell.”

“Astaroth, I’m bored,” I admitted, trying not to sound too nonchalant. I wondered how he would respond.

“I see. Azazel, you’ve been chosen for your incredible skill in management and commanding power—no devil can compare, not even me.” He wore a mischievous smile, but there was truth in his words.

“But Azazel, you can have fun too! According to Lucifer’s rules, you can leave the throne as long as you inform the Council of Wizards before taking action.”

“Fun? I don’t recall ever being able to achieve that kind of action.” I replied, a hint of skepticism lacing my tone.

“What I’m saying is, you have heavy responsibilities, but you can also carve out time for yourself. Just tell the Council, and they will take care of your throne whenever you decide to take a break.” With that, he started to leave, his wings unfurling gracefully.

Fun stuff? Even if Astaroth told me I had the freedom to step away from this throne, it felt futile. Combat was out of the question; even the most formidable demons preferred to self-destruct rather than face me. I had become a god among gods—feared, untouchable. Yet here I sat, drowning in my own invincibility, trying to find amusement in an existence devoid of challenge.

Boredom clung to me like a second skin. My power, once intoxicating, had become a prison. Another hobby, I mused. Something to distract me from the crushing weight of eternity. In a fit of idle curiosity, I thought of an idea. I conjured a bingo machine. As the gears clicked and whirred, I watched with anticipation, waiting for the ball to emerge. When it finally did, I picked it up and saw the name printed onto its surface.

"Earth?"