Epsilon-7 stood atop the smoldering ruins of the Infernal King's citadel. The mighty demon lord lay defeated, his blackened form crumbling into ash. Around him, Hell itself seemed to groan in pain, as if the realm could not withstand the absence of its master. For the first time in his existence, Epsilon-7 felt hollow—not from his cyborg nature, but from a gnawing uncertainty.
The questions came unbidden, sharp and endless.
"Why am I here?
Who sent me to this cursed place?
What purpose could my suffering serve?"
As these thoughts consumed him, the air grew heavy and warped. Cracks formed in the fabric of the infernal plane, glowing with a blinding white light. Epsilon-7 reached out to steady himself, but the ground beneath him shattered like glass. A sudden, deafening silence enveloped him as he plunged into the void.