The next morning, Hubertus was startled awake as the sun rose—or what passed for a sun in the Abyss. Its strange mixture of green and amber light poured through the cracks of his window, the rays flickering and pulsating like a heartbeat. With each pulse, a faint rumbling sensation seemed to ripple through the air, unsettling yet oddly mesmerizing.

Groaning, he swung his legs off the living bed, which squirmed slightly in response. He rubbed his eyes and muttered, “Do they even have coffee down here?” The thought of facing this bizarre place without caffeine was enough to drag him, half-asleep, to explore the kitchen—or whatever demons called it.

When he arrived downstairs, he was greeted by the familiar, unsettling figure of the lady from yesterday. Her tendrils curled in what he assumed was a gesture of welcome, the tiny blinking eyes on them darting around independently.

“Good morning, Hubertus,” she said in her melodic voice, her too-wide smile revealing rows of razor-sharp teeth. “You look… alive, at least. Did the bed treat you well?”

“Alive is one way to put it,” Hubertus replied dryly, glancing around. “Do you, uh, happen to have coffee? Or something resembling it?”

Luxiria laughed, a sound that was oddly warm despite its inhuman edge. “Carl told me you’d ask for that. We do have something similar, though it might be a little stronger than you’re used to.” She reached behind a glowing cabinet and pulled out a steaming, black liquid that seemed to swirl unnaturally in its container.

Hubertus raised an eyebrow. “That’s… coffee?”

“We call it ‘Soulbrew.’ Don’t worry, it’s ethically sourced.” She winked—or at least the main eye on her face did, while the others blinked in disjointed harmony.

“Ethically sourced?” he asked, narrowing his eyes at the ominous liquid.

Luxiria chuckled. “Mostly. Try it. It’ll wake you up better than whatever mortal brew you’re used to.”

With a hesitant glance, Hubertus took the cup. It smelled faintly of burnt caramel and something he couldn’t quite place—something ancient and powerful. He took a cautious sip and immediately felt a jolt of energy rush through him, sharp and electric, like lightning in his veins.

“Wow,” he managed, blinking rapidly as the room seemed to brighten slightly. “That’s… potent.”

“Told you,” Luxiria said with a satisfied smile. “Carl always drinks a double shot before handling his apprentices. Speaking of which, he’s waiting for you in the training chamber. Better not keep him waiting.”

Hubertus sighed, glancing at the swirling coffee in his hand. “Right. Another day in paradise.”

The phrase stuck in his head like an earworm, and before he knew it, he was humming the tune to Another Day in Paradise by Phil Collins.

Luxiria tilted her head, a tendril curling inquisitively. “What’s that you’re humming?”

“Just a song,” Hubertus said with a shrug, smirking faintly. “Fitting, isn’t it?”

“Hmm,” she murmured, her tendrils curling in contemplation as she led him through the twisting hallways of Carl’s domain. She stopped in front of a massive, rune-etched door opposite the soul chamber. “Here we are—the training chamber. Try to survive.”

A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.

The door creaked open to reveal Carl standing in the center of the room, wearing a tracksuit. His usual intimidating presence was diminished slightly by the fact that the outfit was bright red, with “Inferno Athletics” printed in bold letters across the chest.

“Good morning, Hubertus,” Carl rumbled, his fiery horns flickering faintly as he grinned.

Hubertus couldn’t help but laugh, raising an eyebrow. “You look… fine,” he said, smirking. “But, uh, why the getup? Is this demon CrossFit or something?”

Carl glanced down at his tracksuit, brushing imaginary dust from the sleeve. “Oh, this?” He gestured grandly. “Just because. A demon’s got to stay limber. But we’re not here to talk about me.” His grin sharpened. “We’re here to talk about you. Have you thought about your demon form? Something that’ll make your clients think twice before messing with you?”

Hubertus set his coffee down on a glowing pedestal, his grin widening. “Of course.”

Closing his eyes, he focused on the power coursing through his veins, willing his form to change. Shadows rippled around him as his skin darkened, wings sprouted from his back, and his horns twisted upward like blackened thorns. His new body towered over Carl, his glowing crimson eyes narrowed in calculated menace.

“This,” Hubertus said, his voice deepened and rumbling, “will be my primary form.”

Carl whistled, stepping back to take in the transformation. “Not bad. You’ve got the whole ‘terrifying-yet-regal’ vibe going on. Clients are going to think you’re here to devour their souls—or charge them interest.”

Hubertus smirked, the sharp edges of his demonic grin gleaming. “I do aim to impress.”

“Good,” Carl said, clapping his hands together. “Now, let’s see if you can sell it. Being a demon isn’t just about looking scary—it’s about getting what you want. Time for a little roleplay.”

Hubertus raised an eyebrow, his wings twitching slightly. “Roleplay?”

Carl grinned. “Welcome to Demon 101. Let’s see how you handle your first ‘client.’”

“My first client? I thought you were going to wrestle with me,” Hubertus said, raising an eyebrow.

“No, the outfit is just ornamental. Gets me in the mood,” Carl replied, flexing his muscles with theatrical flair.

“In the mood for what?” Hubertus asked, already regretting his curiosity.

“For your demise!” Carl roared, his eyes gleaming with mischievous fire.

Before Hubertus could react, Carl’s form shimmered and shifted, morphing into that of an ordinary salesman. Dressed in a plain gray suit with a slightly crooked tie, he looked utterly mundane—except for the exaggerated expression of terror plastered on his face.

“Oh, mighty demon!” Carl began in a high-pitched, trembling voice, bowing dramatically. “I have summoned you to fulfill my wishes, and in return, I will grant you my soul!”

Hubertus crossed his arms, his wings twitching with annoyance. “Your wishes? What makes you think your soul is worth more than one?”

The “salesman” froze, clearly appalled by the implication. “I—I’m sorry! I thought—I mean—please, just give me two wishes?”

Hubertus let out a deep, rumbling laugh. “Maybe,” he said, leaning forward menacingly. “Tell me what you desire, and I’ll see what I can do.”

The salesman straightened his tie nervously. “My first wish is to be handsome! I want to look like… Michael Jackson!”

Hubertus blinked, his intimidating demeanor faltering. “Michael Jackson? And handsome?” He was gobsmacked, struggling to process the absurdity of the request.

He turned slightly, muttering under his breath, “Eh, Carl? What do I do? I don’t have the power to grant this kind of wish!”

The salesman’s form shimmered, shifting back into Carl’s towering demon shape. His fiery horns flickered with amusement. “This is your first lesson,” Carl said, folding his arms smugly.

“If you want to grant this wish,” he continued, “you need to buy the necessary tools to make it happen.”

Hubertus groaned. “And let me guess—tools cost souls?”

“Correct, my infernal friend.” Carl grinned wickedly.

Hubertus ran a hand through his hair, already regretting signing that scroll. “Maybe the welcome packet for demons can help?” he asked hopefully.

“Perhaps,” Carl said with a shrug. “It depends on the trinket you choose. Normally, you’ll only get summoned by someone whose wish you can grant. But if you want to be ambitious…”

“Ambitious, huh?” Hubertus muttered, staring at the salesman’s discarded tie still lying on the floor. “Great. My first client wants to moonwalk into hell, and I need a loan just to make it happen.”

Carl chuckled. “Welcome to the business, Hubertus. Now, pick your trinket wisely. The right tools make all the difference.”