This was hell. No, this was beyond hell. In hell, there was at least the comfort that there was helplessness in the suffering you endured. In hell, there was solace in the fact that nothing you did could harm another. Here, though? This place was worse. Far, far worse. Here, not only did you suffer, but your actions, words, thoughts, and more had consequences. You were in suffering, but you had just enough agency to be able to turn on your fellows to get out of some small torment here and there.

Anyone and everyone could and likely would use any given chance they could to narc you to the masters. And, if they did, they would escape some of the hellish torment that they would normally have to endure. To make matters worse, the masters did not care in the slightest if what they were told was a lie. They knew if it was a lie, but they didn’t care. This led to everyone who was enslaved by these eldritch monsters being unable to trust each other.

Any word could be taken out of context and used as ammunition against you. Any action, no matter how mundane, could be reported as rebelliousness or a slight against the aberrations themselves. And, when you realized that you could avoid some of the worst pain simply by ratting out your fellows or simply making things up? It did not take more than a few days before even those with the strongest of bonds turned on each other like madmen.

But the masters didn’t seem to care about that. All they wanted was to keep the cycle going. A few thousand people reported each day was a common occurrence, and even if the majority of them were innocent they would still have their minds eaten while they were still conscious and alive regardless of such truth or fiction. And death, the only solace in this realm of twisting, madness-inducing insanity was always just out of reach. The moment they were made into the slaves of these horrors, death became a goal that all aspired to reach yet none ever could.

Work was long, painful, degrading, humiliating, backbreaking, and more, and yet if they slacked off there would be torment awaiting them. Quotas increased on a monthly basis, always being just out of reach, always allowing for the masters to punish them for their failure. Statues were erected, only to collapse overnight. And, of course, that must have been due to rebellion and sabotage, and so people would be pulled to have their minds ‘examined’.

Was it any wonder that everyone would point fingers whenever they could? This was the Prisoner’s Dilemma taken to its most horrifying extreme. There was no escape, and there was no true way to avoid torment. All that could be done was to accuse everyone else of anything you could, hoping beyond hope that they would not accuse you as well. Nd, since everyone did accuse everyone else, the master could simply pick who they wanted.

It was a game to them. They would have some few people be their ‘favorites’ for a while, letting them avoid the worst of things until their former fellows turned on them. It was a vicious cycle with no end or way out, and all understood that fact.

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Rations were minimal and people routinely gave in to their hunger and thirst and became cannibals. Gangs were formed and disbanded on a daily, sometimes even hourly basis, with people coming together for self-protection, only to turn on each other when one or more got ‘special treatment’.

And the worst part about it was that you ALWAYS had to look the masters in the eye(s) when they came by. Though it would break the mind immediately, you were not permitted to look away. The madness would quickly fade, all at the whim of the malign deity that ruled this realm, but in that moment of insanity, men would become mere beasts. Even if you had never accused someone before, the moment your sanity slipped you would endlessly spew things about your former fellows as though you had no inhibitions at all.

Friendships died quickly, hatred and distrust became the norm, everyone was an informant, and everyone was an enemy. With all around you trying to avoid harsh treatment, both they and you yourself would put more effort into the work that would be given, even if only to avoid the punishment for slaking.

The masters liked it this way, and no one had the strength to resist it. And, of course, people dealt with the stress in their own neurotic ways. Some began to worship their new masters. Some became serial killers. Some decided that the flesh of their fellow slaves was much more delicious than the rations that they were given. Everyone had their own issues, and this further divided them, making the number of reports skyrocket.

Whatever gods had been worshipped by those who were slaves before they came here were quickly abandoned. No god of that place would save them, and so the madness grew deeper and darker, with new, more sinister deities being invented to help the slaves deal with that which they were forced to endure.

More ‘meat’ came in almost every month like clockwork, and most got used to abusing them until they learned the ways of this horrid realm. None could leave once they arrived, and, despite the ramblings of those who believed themselves ‘touched’ by divinity, no one and nothing would help you avoid the torment that this hell hefted upon you.

There was only one way out, and no one wanted it. Because death was an impossibility, there was only a death of a different kind that could be seen as a way out. Rarely, very rarely, someone would be pulled aside and turned into one of the monstrous masters in a gruesome and horrific procedure. While it was an escape, none, not even the insane, were mad enough to see it as a preferable alternative to death or continued suffering.

They called it a ‘reward’ for hard work and dutiful behavior, but no one saw it as such. If you worked hard enough, they would turn you into one of their own, but if you didn’t work hard enough, they would punish you. It was a Catch 22 of the worst kind, where you were damned if you did and damned if you didn’t.

And the days, weeks, months, years, decades, centuries all blended together, for time meant nothing here in this hell beyond hell. All that awaited those that came here was suffering and humiliation. Either that, or a cursed fate as a being that was even more insane than the person they once were. There was no hope in the Elder Realm, and the bonds and power of friendship had no chance of surviving there, and the masters liked it that way.