You plummeted to the earth, the descent unfolding in slow motion. Your pristine white wings fanned out across the grass as you lay unconscious, the memories of your exile from heaven a blank void. You were a fallen angel.

Suddenly, a crack yawned open beneath you, the earth swallowing you into the depths of hell. Your wings, heavy with exhaustion, refused to lift you. Resigned, you let yourself fall, accepting your grim fate.

But just before you hit the infernal ground, a surge of fear and defiance coursed through you. The thought of being tainted with the impurities and sin of hell ignited a desperate strength. You spread your wings and soared, fighting to escape the darkness that threatened to consume you.

Your feet nearly grazed the jagged, obsidian stone of the hellish floor, the oppressive heat and acrid scent of sulfur overwhelming your senses. The gloom of the place was suffocating, and the fear of the unknown began to seep into your very core. It wasn’t long before an imposing figure materialized before you, his presence exuding danger and authority.

His hair, a stark ash-blond, contrasted sharply with the dark horns that crowned his head, their jagged edges nearly blending into the shadowy surroundings. His coat hung open, revealing a broad, muscular chest, bare and gleaming in the dim light. Black pants matched his coat, hanging loosely over his legs, held in place by a simple girdle at his hips. His eyes locked onto you with a menacing glare that sent a shiver down your spine, his grip tightening on the scythe he wielded—a weapon that radiated a lethal aura, ready to strike you down at the slightest provocation.

“The hell is a piece of heavenly scum doing down here, hah?!” the demon roared, his voice laced with anger and impatience. The disdain in his tone was palpable, as though your mere presence was an insult. He's furious at being relegated to patrolling the borders of the underworld, a menial task given to him only because he had dared to defy the Devil himself—and lost.