"I have traversed this earthly realm for more than a millennium, dwelling in a world steeped in magic. However, I found myself perpetually shunned by the magical community due to the unconventional path I treaded – one that delved into the shadows rather than basking in the light.
I bear no ill will towards anyone, for I firmly held the belief that the essence of magic lies not in its inherent nature but rather in the intentions of its wielder. Light magic, I argued, could be employed malevolently, while dark magic could serve benevolent purposes.
It is not the brand of magic that defines us, but the purpose to which we put it. Despite my convictions, the Magic Council saw fit to blacklist my services, leaving me no recourse but to eke out a mundane existence. In the relentless grind of everyday survival, the memories of my magical prowess began to fade.
Yet, one cannot fault the world for utilizing me as the punchline to its cosmic jest. Humanity possesses an inherent proclivity for darkness, reveling in the spectacle of the macabre. Throughout my enduring existence, I've harbored an uncommonly high threshold for pain – a toll exacted by the relentless pursuit of black magic.
The power of masochism, the more pain inflicted upon me, the stronger I became until I became the strongest mage on earth," I conveyed to the three individuals before me. However, for some inexplicable reason, they appeared perplexed, signaling that I had misinterpreted something.
"What was the question again?" I inquired, endeavoring to salvage what remained of this conversation.
"Why do you want this job?" inquired the bald but hairy man, a walking contradiction in his own right.
"Ah, yes. I desire the job because I find myself in dire financial straits," I stated with an unwavering countenance. It was indeed a rather frivolous question, for who would venture here if not burdened by financial woes? Applying for a dishwasher position hardly stemmed from a deep-seated passion, did it?
"Yeah... Get out," retorted the bald man, prompting me to clench my teeth.
"You know what? Screw you all! I don't need this job!" I snapped, though in truth, my heart plummeted, for I required the job as if my very life hung in the balance. I was on the brink of sinking to my knees in supplication, yet my pride prevented me from doing so. I couldn't help but envy those born with the gift of magic, given the utter absurdity of my prior statements.
If only I possessed magic, I could lead a life of opulence, but fate had a different plan, condemning me to the life of a mere mortal.
"Yo, what the hell are you doing out here?" inquired a man holding a microphone.
"I'm just rehearsing my lines. I can't quite grasp the essence of this scene," I replied, shaking my head. The script was rather convoluted.
Damn, I haven't even introduced myself amidst all this narration. That handsome man you all see in the mirror? Yeah, I'm the troll standing beside him. Fortunately, success in this industry isn't solely determined by looks.
What truly mattered here was the size of a certain anatomical feature, and in this aspect, I was indeed fortunate. This is what I, Drake, had learned.
"Man... Who watches porn for the plot?" I bitterly inquired, struggling to comprehend why the director aimed to elevate this production into a masterpiece.
"We're compensating you for precisely this, not for backtalk! Now, get back to work!" my director snapped, though little did I know that this would mark the final day of my existence. Perhaps I would have sought redemption if I had foreseen it, but then again, I didn't hold any belief in an afterlife.
Maybe this could clarify why I found myself in hell.
I gazed down at my lifeless body sprawled on the ground, surrounded by chaos, with the Grim Reaper hovering beside me, informing me that my time had come.
What an inconsequential life I had led. The only thing I could claim was a mounting body count attributed to my profession.
I trailed behind the Grim Reaper and arrived in hell, a surge of fury accompanying my descent. After all, I had caused no harm in life; my only occupation had been as an adult star. There was no conceivable reason why hell should have been my final destination.
If only I had been born in a different era or dealt a different hand in life, just maybe, I could have evaded such a fate.
[Congratulations! You have been chosen by the sisters of fate to participate in the Game of Second Chances! Would you like to accept?]
Drake had no idea what was going on but there was no way that he would pass up on this opportunity to cling onto any form of life he could.
"I accept," I muttered.
[New player registered!]
[Total registered players 150!]
Drake was surprised that there were so many people that wanted a second chance at life but this also meant that whatever this game was, it was definitely going to be difficult.
[Player Interface Downloading…]
[Download complete!]
[Welcome to Hell!]
I had an innate sense that whatever this was, it couldn't be auspicious. Nevertheless, I remained receptive to the idea, for this was far removed from the hell I had envisioned. The flames surrounded me, yet they did not sear or inflict torment.
[Player identified as Drake]
[Do you wish to proceed tp the objectives, Drake? Y/N?]
Without hesitation, I pressed "yes." After all, who wouldn't yearn for a second chance at life?
[You must conquer all the demons in the underworld without fail, and only after your triumph will Lucifer grant you the elixir of resurrection as a reward for your conquest!]
The system responded, and I arched an eyebrow. This all felt incredibly surreal, and if I were to be honest, I still believed it to be a dream. However, I wasn't waking up. I was already dead, so what was the worst that could happen?
I made a vow that day, and that is I will use the very thing that condemned me to such a harsh fate to conquer the underworld and that was my PP.
I was going to make these demons understand just how helpless I was when living because I knew these demons must have had a hand to play in my demise to bring me here.