It was common to imagine a realm of suffering. A place of torment where only the wicked faced eternal judgement for the sins they had committed. But Hell isn’t like that, the only current truth at the time was the place was an inferno wasteland. A realm where it was required for the strong to survive, a realm fractured by fiefdoms wrestling for control, a realm that lost its hope.
Every demon born in Hell was taught two lessons before they could be allowed to fend for themselves. Information is currency, and one must do what it takes to survive. Ambition, depending on the regions of Hell was encouraged, while others prioritised the safety of communal support. In a land of toxic oceans, dead trees, and poisoned air. A demon's only right was the right to live off the land. It was a joke some might say, for the land they’ve inherited was of ruin and sorrow. A breeding ground for some to desire to escape Hell and find residence on Earth, or desperate enough that they might go for Heaven.
At the North of Tartarus, inside the fortress-monastery of Bravia. One such demon wanted that escape. Daylan planned for the heist for months, he mapped out every entrance and remembered every guard’s rotation and movement. He was just a boy, a 14-year-old child, but one with the drive to do anything to escape Hell. There is no future here! He would always tell himself, a strong justification to leave.
Unfortunately, he was on the run. His hooved feet slammed against the black stone as a squad of armed guards chased him. Some of their limbs were replaced with steel prosthetics, their ribcage was replaced with an iron carapace.
‘Get him!’ One shouted, his demonic hiss rang with the intent to kill the boy.
They were known as The Metallurgy, zealots that believed in the certainty and predictability of steel and iron. To be enlightened would mean the follower of the faith must follow the rigid and malleable nature of metal. That while flesh can rot and decay away due to the chaotic nature that was life and its unpredictable threads of fate. The maintenance of metal in their eyes created certainty, certainty that outlines every consequence of one’s action. Failure to maintain metal would lead to poor outcomes, but the popper maintenance could have the metal last for centuries. Compared to flesh that would always decay even if you looked after it.
But what the boy stole was a sin that needed to be rectified. In his hands was the Koncradam, a book of their faith and the book that held the knowledge of Living Metal. However, that was one item Daylen needed, a bargaining chip that would serve him.
An arrow whooshed passed him, Daylan shielded the back of his head with his hand while he ran to the other side of the fortress. Everyone knew he was there; the place was locked down making escaping the facility through traditional means impossible. Yet that wasn’t a problem to him, he had other plans.
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A demon emerged from the corner, Daylan jumped to the side as they swung their sword at him. They narrowly missed him, but they were able to cut the back of his shoulder. The guards were closing in on him, and the other half of the guards were almost where he was. Daylan knew he couldn’t outrun them.
The guards of the Metallurgy stopped as Daylan entered the other half of the fortress. A section where they were forbidden to set foot on regardless of the circumstances. The floor squished and splashed with every step he took, the other half of the fortress now replaced with a biological design. Daylan’s heart raced as the war horn rang just before he entered the artefact room of the Succulabra and locked the door behind him. The room was dark, barely lit up by bioluminescent lanterns. From what Daylan could tell, the room had curtains made of skin and bricks made of bone. Yet the room smelt oddly pleasant, having an odour reminiscent of lavender and rosemary.
But what made the boy smile was the device at the centre of the room. The item he needed to escape. On the altar lay a red wooden tablet, on it was an ancient language the demons spoke during a bygone era. It was believed that the contents of the tablet spoke of Hell’s rich history, but Daylan didn’t care about that. All he needed was what the device could do.
The door banged, the demons outside shouted for Daylan to open the door. Panicked, he rested the tablet on his chest and tried to recite the commandments to activate the device. ‘Drala, Kieva-orla, Wragalia!’ He closed his eyes, expecting something to happen. But was left with sweat trickling down his brow. I must’ve said it wrong, he reasoned to himself.
The door was dented, white liquid oozed out as the demons outside tried to break down the door of flesh.
‘Drala, Kieva, Orla, Wragalia!’ He recited the commandments, trying his best to activate the device. Something is wrong, what is it? A roar was heard outside, the door groaned and snapped as sharp claws scraped against the surface. The guards were close.
‘Draga, Kieva-orla, Wragalia!’ He recited one more time, that time getting it right. Right before they had a glimpse of the monster that tore down the living door and lunged at Daylan. Only to find the thief missing as they were teleported to the home of humanity. Earth.