Satou's breath came in ragged gasps as he trailed behind the dark figure. The oppressive heat of Hell weighed down on him, each step heavier than the last. His throat was parched, and his muscles screamed for relief, but something inside him forced him to keep going. He couldn't stop now—not when the stakes felt so high, though he still didn't fully understand what was happening.
The jagged, winding path they were on seemed to stretch forever. Molten rivers of lava bubbled and hissed to his right, illuminating the cracked, rocky landscape in an eerie red glow. The sky was a churning mass of dark clouds, as if even the heavens above Hell were in turmoil. The stench of sulfur was so thick in the air that it stung his nose and burned his lungs.
Ahead of him, the figure moved steadily, its ember-like eyes glowing brighter as they approached what looked like a massive, crumbling structure in the distance. The figure hadn't spoken since commanding Satou to follow, but the closer they got to the structure, the more uneasy Satou felt.
"Is that... a castle?" Satou whispered to himself.
The towering silhouette ahead looked like a castle torn straight from a nightmare. Dark, twisted spires reached up toward the sky, and the structure seemed to be built from the very rock of Hell itself, its walls jagged and uneven like the teeth of some long-dead beast. Faint red lights flickered in the windows, as if something unspeakable waited inside.
They reached the base of the castle's entrance, where massive stone doors loomed before them, engraved with symbols that made Satou's skin crawl just looking at them. His body shuddered as if instinctively rejecting whatever ancient language the symbols belonged to.
The figure stopped just in front of the doors, turning to face Satou once more. Its ember eyes stared deep into his soul, and for a moment, Satou felt like the very air had been sucked out of his lungs.
"The King awaits," the figure rasped.
Before Satou could respond, the massive doors creaked open with a sound that made the ground tremble. A gust of hot wind rushed out, bringing with it the faint echo of distant screams, like the wails of the damned. Satou's heart pounded in his chest. Every fiber of his being wanted to run, but he was frozen in place.
The figure stepped aside, gesturing for him to enter.
"Go. You have been summoned."
Satou swallowed hard, forcing his feet to move as he stepped toward the entrance. The darkness beyond the doors was suffocating, but he could see the faint flicker of torchlight in the distance. The doors slammed shut behind him with a deafening bang, sealing him inside.
The air was thick with tension. Each step he took echoed through the enormous chamber, and the walls were lined with grotesque statues of twisted, monstrous figures. Their eyes seemed to follow him as he walked, their stone faces locked in eternal expressions of torment. He had no idea how deep into the castle he had ventured when finally, he saw it—a massive throne at the end of the chamber, cast in shadow.
Sitting upon it was the King of Hell.
Satou stopped dead in his tracks, his body trembling involuntarily. The figure seated on the throne was massive, dwarfing even the largest humans Satou had ever seen. Its body was cloaked in dark, swirling robes, and though its face was partially hidden, Satou could make out glowing red eyes and a pair of long, twisted horns emerging from its forehead.
The King's voice filled the chamber, low and rumbling, like the earth itself was speaking.
"So this is the one who was chosen."
Satou's mouth went dry. He could barely muster the courage to speak, but the weight of the King's gaze was unbearable. He had to say something.
"Why... why me?" he asked, his voice barely a whisper.
The King leaned forward slightly, his burning eyes narrowing as he studied Satou. For a long moment, there was silence, as if the very air around them was holding its breath.
"You were the closest to death," the King said, his voice dripping with a sense of finality. "In the mortal world, life teeters on a fragile balance. You, Satou Nakamura, stood at the edge of the abyss. That is why you were chosen."
Satou's mind reeled. The closest to death? He hadn't been sick or injured—he had just been living his monotonous life, night after night, cleaning graves in silence. The King's words didn't make sense.
"I don't understand," Satou replied, his confusion growing. "I wasn't dying. I wasn't even sick. I was just... living."
The King let out a low, guttural laugh, a sound that seemed to reverberate through the very stones of the castle.
"You think death is only measured by the physical? No, mortal. Death is more than the end of the body. It is the withering of the soul. You have been close to death for far longer than you realize."
Satou's breath hitched. The words struck a chord deep within him. His lover's suicide, the years of living in numb monotony, the gradual fading of everything that once brought him joy—it all came crashing down on him like a wave. The King was right. He had been dying inside for a long time.
"I..." Satou began, but he didn't know what to say.
The King rose from his throne, standing to his full height. His towering presence cast a long shadow over Satou, and the temperature in the room seemed to rise even higher.
"You will fight for us," the King declared. "You will stand against the rebellion that seeks to destroy the balance of Hell. And in doing so, you will reclaim what little remains of your life."
Satou's heart pounded in his chest. Fight? In Hell? Against a rebellion?
Before he could fully grasp the enormity of what the King was asking of him, the ground beneath his feet began to tremble. The chamber shook, and distant roars echoed through the air.
The King's eyes blazed brighter as he stared down at Satou.
"The revolution is coming."
Satou stood in stunned silence, his mind spinning. The King's words echoed in his head—closest to death, slow dying of the soul. He felt exposed, like the King could see right through him, every buried emotion and regret laid bare. He didn't know what to say, didn't know how to react.
Then, the King's burning gaze fixed on him once more.
"You will be granted power, Satou," the King said, his voice dark and cold. "But do not think of this as a gift. Power comes with a price, especially here."
Satou's mouth went dry. His hands clenched into fists at his sides. He wasn't sure he wanted power, but there was no escaping now. The King of Hell had chosen him, and Satou could feel the weight of that choice pressing down on him like an invisible hand squeezing his chest.
"What kind of power?" Satou asked, his voice barely above a whisper.
The King raised one massive, clawed hand, and from the air around him, shadows began to swirl. They twisted and coiled like black smoke, slowly taking shape into something solid. In front of Satou's eyes, a strange object appeared—something small, glowing faintly in the dark room.
It was a key.
The key floated in mid-air, its surface shimmering with an eerie, golden light. It looked old, ancient even, but there was something deeply unsettling about it. Satou could feel the power radiating from it, like it was alive. The sight of it sent a chill through his bones.
"Take it," the King commanded.
Satou hesitated. His instincts screamed at him to run, to refuse, to do anything but take the key. But the King's red eyes bore down on him, leaving no room for refusal. His hand reached out on its own, trembling as his fingers closed around the cold metal of the key. The moment he touched it, a wave of energy surged through his body, making him stumble backward.
Pain shot through him like lightning. His vision blurred, and for a second, he felt like his entire body was on fire, burning from the inside out. His knees buckled, and he fell to the ground, gasping for air.
"This is your power," the King's voice thundered above him. "Do not waste it."
Satou's breathing was ragged, his heart pounding in his chest. Slowly, the pain began to fade, replaced by a strange sensation—a hum of energy beneath his skin, like something new had taken root inside him. He gripped the key tightly, his knuckles white, trying to make sense of what had just happened.
"What... is this?" Satou muttered, still on his knees.
"The key to your survival," the King replied, his voice deep and commanding. "You will need it to face the revolutionaries. Without it, you are nothing. With it, you may stand a chance."
Satou stared at the key in his hand, feeling its weight. The energy it carried was overwhelming, yet somehow, he knew it was connected to him now. A part of him, just as much as his beating heart. But what exactly was he supposed to do with it? He looked up at the King, questions swirling in his mind.
Before he could speak, the ground beneath him trembled again. This time, it wasn't just a distant rumble. It was closer, louder. The whole castle seemed to shake, the stone walls groaning under the pressure.
"The revolutionaries are on the move," the King said, his voice growing sharper. "You do not have time to waste."
Suddenly, a massive door at the far end of the room burst open. Satou turned to see another figure stepping inside—this one much different from the cloaked guide who had brought him here. The new arrival was tall and armored, a warrior with dark, twisted armor that seemed to pulse with dark energy. His helmet obscured most of his face, but his eyes glowed the same deep red as the King's.
"Your first test awaits," the King said. "Go with the Warden. He will show you your task."
Satou's heart sank. He barely understood what was happening, but there was no time to argue. The Warden stepped forward, his heavy footsteps echoing through the room, and gestured for Satou to follow. Satou pushed himself to his feet, his legs shaky but holding him up.
Without a word, he followed the Warden through the dark halls of the castle, his hand still gripping the key tightly. His mind raced, trying to process everything—the King's cryptic words, the power he now felt pulsing inside him, and the looming threat of the revolution.
The Warden didn't speak as they walked, and Satou didn't dare ask any questions. But as they moved deeper into the castle, Satou couldn't shake the feeling that he was stepping into something far bigger than he could imagine.
The revolution had begun, and now, he was caught in the middle of it.