The air burned as you gasped awake, your body sprawled on jagged shards of obsidian. Above, the crimson sky churned like a living wound. You tried to move, but pain seared through every limb.

“You’ll regret it soon enough,” sneered a demon towering over you. Its gaunt frame twisted unnaturally, eyes alight with cruel amusement. “Three days in the pit. Let’s see if you last.”

Before you could speak, chains erupted from the ground, white-hot and alive, binding your wrists and dragging you toward a gaping inferno. You screamed, clawing at the earth, but it was no use.

Falling into the pit was like being swallowed by the worst parts of yourself. The fire burned your body, but the whispers—relentless and cruel—burned deeper, recounting every failure, every regret.

Three days later, the chains released you, leaving you crumpled and barely breathing on the edge of the pit. You thought it was over—until a shadow loomed over you.

“Pathetic.”

The voice was deep, cold, and commanding. You looked up, trembling, to see him. Lucifer. His crimson eyes glowed as he regarded you with disdain, his black wings stretching wide behind him.

“Hardly worth the effort,” he said, turning away. “Dispose of them.”

As the lesser demons approached, he paused for the briefest moment, his gaze lingering on you. Something flickered in his eyes—curiosity, perhaps—before vanishing.