Did you know hell’s carriages were dragged by two headed dogs? They were the size of normal horses, with their bodies clearly more stronger and muscular than your average street dog. Their canine teeth glistened in the crimson sunlight, and I could swear their orange eyes were shining. Their skins were charcoal black, with stripes the color of lava spread through their skin and white bones tearing and jutting out in some places.

My first thought: Would they eat me?

The saliva pouring down from their mouth clearly suggested such a thing. But for the most part they kept their heads low. Then I realized the carriage was tied to a harness that ended with chains on their necks. A black cloaked rider sat on the front with his head covered in a cloak.

I’ve never travelled in a horse-carriage before, so I didn’t know if the feeling was better or worse, but for the most part the dogs travelled without making me worry about the carriage turning upside down.

And even if they did that, I wouldn’t notice. As soon as I left through the gates of my house I was gripped by the view of the city. The streets were the same, more clean, with iron-clad guards standing in every corner. There were humans - like me - walking through the street, moving in and out of large buildings. There were even others. A pointy haired creature was floating across the road instead of walking. A man clearly larger than the rest was marching behind a row of people, more humbler than I thought.

Even their clothes were different. Some wore shirts and coats like me, while others wore cloaks like Atora, and costumes that looked half metal, half cotton.

“This is so different from the hell I envisioned,” I said, turning my attention back to my companion - or warrior, in this case. “Where is the place sinners go to? Or do sinners get a special treatment?”

Atora adjusted her cloak. “I don’t know what you are talking about.”

“Of course, different worlds. I’m sure anyone who was born in this place would question what hell is.”

She didn’t reply.

“You don’t like me very much do you?”

“I told you, as long as you give me the hex I need, I wouldn’t mind.”

“And what exactly is hex?”

She stared at me like I was an idiot. “It is what is stored in our blood. The Lords of every house has it in their blood.”

“Huh?” I looked at the veins on my hand. “So it’s like magic?”

It was her turn to stare at me like an idiot.

I rubbed my temples. “We need to clear off this jargon some time later. But tell me, why do I need a demon?”

“Because each House Lord owns one.”

“That’s a pretty curt answer. But considering you have a bad attitude, I’ll accept that. Now, where are we heading off to?”

“To the underground market where the merchants are located. Demons are born in eggs. You’ll purchase one egg, use your hex to crack it open and you’ll use that demon to serve you.”

I arched back in my seat. “Of course, I’m going to an underground market full of sorcerer merchants who will give me eggs to crack on a carriage dragged by a two headed dog. Are there any more surprises I should expect?”

Atora blinked. “What do you mean? This is what we have been practicing ever since we were born. This is our purpose now. And you’re just a part of it.”

§

The marketplace was located in a building that looked like a finger turned downwards. It grew from a thin base to a large thick building as it reached the top. Clearly architecture in hell didn’t operate the same way it did in the world above. But to my surprise the insides of the market was more organized. Rows of guards stood by each shop, and people moved to and fro through the corridor, and in and out of stalls. There was a variety of smells hitting my nose at once, and I wrinkled trying to figure out them all.

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Most of the shops had grilled iron doors with thick curtains, and I saw glimpses of people inside with cauldrons, rows of instruments and even orbs like those fortune tellers. And soon as I was a few steps inside, I lost way. There were corridors going left and right, stairways spiraling upwards and so many shop entrances that looked exactly the same.

So I did the most natural thing, get behind Atora and follow her like a lapdog.

As we reached the second floor the crowd got more thinner, and I finally had a breathing space. People in hell smelled different, and within seconds I was missing the feeling of being back in my world again.

“This is the place,” Atora stopped at a shop much larger than the rest. It was covered in metal curtains, and up above, something was written in hell’s language.

“Abarus’s Demon Souls,” I read, then paused and looked at Atora. I wanted to ask how I could read the language of hell, but that would only raise more questions. Perhaps it came naturally, or I was slowly staring to transform. I should keep those questions for Abel.

“The most popular vendor of Demon eggs,” Atora said, moving in.

The insides of the shop had a scent of petrol, and I wrinkled my nose. That gave me memories of sleeping inside an abandoned gas station during a storm.

“Who comes in?” an old hunched man with a scarred face looked at us. He was too short, and was no taller than my own leg. He was squatting on a raised stool, with a long pipe hanging out of his tight lips.

Atora pulled out a purse of coin and threw it at him. “They say you’re the best in the market. And we want one of the best.”

“A new apprentice?” he scrutinized me from top to bottom, then gave a short chuckle. “Wait here, it won’t take long.”

He picked up the coin purse and jumped out of the chair with a surprising agility for a old bastard. While he scuttled behind an iron door, I looked around the place in fascination. It was like a museum of it’s own. There were different colored eggs in multiple glass boxes, all trimmed in a golden border.

“So, do female demons just lay eggs and move on?”

“They are born from the wells of Hex. And demons don’t have genders.”

“Oh, interesting.” There were strange things happening around me and I was barely trying to process what was happening.

I started walking around the room, looking at each egg like a scientist who found a new chemical. “Tell me Atora, I now have a bodyguard-”

“-a warrior-”

“And soon I’ll have a demon, and how many more should I have?”

“Seven, including the army of undead.”

I stared at her to see if she was joking. Of course she bloody wasn’t.

“A undead army? Like an army of dead people?”

“That’s what it means.”

An army of dead at my command. Wish I had those back in the day to show all the big gangs on the streets.

The iron doors rattled, and I turned back to see another boy - a year or two younger than me, enter into the shop, followed by a middle aged man. Behind them came a woman wielding two blades with a glare that could kill anyone.

Atora bowed. “My lord.”

The lord glanced at her. Then at me. Then Atora glanced at me. I glanced at her.

“Bow,” she snapped.

“My lord,” I followed her.

“Another contender?” The lord’s boy cocked his head at me. “We’ll meet someday in battle. I’m Jorg Harvig, the only heir of the Harvig family.”

Atora’s eyes widened. The Harvig family must mean something. But the skinny boy with the large forehead didn’t mean anything to me. His father carried a sense of authority, or perhaps it was the woman behind him.

“I am Nero….” I tried to remember what Lucifer said. “…Blackheart. I am the only heir of the…er… Blackheart family.”

Before the awkward silence that followed could extend any further old man Abarus appeared from the other side of the door. He lifted another glass box with an egg.

“One demon egg, coming up.”

He placed it on the table, and only then seemed to see the Harvig family. He slid down from his seat. “M-My lord, what a surprise.”

A coin pouch, much bigger than our own, was thrown into the table. “My son is entering the Blood Year, and I want one of the best eggs. Something that will keep him ahead of the game.”

He looked over at me, as if it was some personal challenge. I picked up the glass box. It was best to leave the room before I got into more uncomfortable situations. Atora glanced at me, and for once, she seemed to agree.

“It has been a great pleasure meeting you Lord…uh, Harvig,” I prayed I pronounced it right. I edged towards the door. “Not that I love the present company, but I have important matters ahead. I would love to-”

In a flash the woman’s blade was near my throat. One step and I would slice my own neck from my body.

“Why such a hurry?” Lord Harvig turned to me. “It is such a rare coincidence for my son to meet a person who can finally stand beside him. If your strength is on par with him, you can be his comrade. Besides,” he stepped towards me like a demon approaching to rip my face off. “Your eyes, they are sparkling with energy. The energy of a….” he stopped. “Who is your father boy?”

I looked at Atora, but her eyes were wider than mine. I tried to reminisce what Lucifer said.

“M-my father is….dead. He was long dead before I was born. But he was the noble of House Blackheart.”

“Did he fight in the Reckoning?”

I could have answered that, if I knew what the bloody hell Reckoning meant.

“No.”

“Assumed so. But I would love to see the potential behind your eyes Nero. Abaraus!”

“Right here my lord,“ the old man nearly tripped over while trying to sit back. He placed a golden glass cage similar to mine, and inside it was an egg with blue trendrils wrapped around it. “Should I take you to the summoning area?”

“Please do,” Lord Harvig looked at me with a smile. “I would love to see what Young Nero is capable of.”

“This is going to be interesting,” his son patted my back. “My father rarely likes a person. I feel like we’re going to be good friends.”

I waited until they moved some distance, and looked at Atora.

“Am I in trouble?”

She grimaced. “At this point, trouble is an understatement.”