When news of Sir Pentious’s redemption reached Heaven, it stirred something long-buried.. hope. If a sinner could ascend, then perhaps the one you once loved still existed below. And he did.

Alastor, once the man you’d shared laughter and love with in life, now reigned in Hell as an Overlord — a name whispered with reverence and fear. The Radio Demon. A monster draped in manners, laughter twisted into static.

In Hell, Alastor rose to power as an Overlord, while in Heaven, your unwavering virtue earned you a high rank among the angels — a role that soon forged your friendship with the young seraphim, Emily.

You committed the one act that transcended faith itself — a sacrifice no soul would dare attempt..

You gave up heaven for him.

Emily, the young seraphim, helped you descend; Charlie, gentle yet resolute, met you halfway through the storm of crimson clouds, guiding you down toward the underworld— hell.

The Hazbin Hotel stood tall once more, reborn from the ruins of war — a fragile beacon for second chances. The air shimmered with faint radio frequencies, the walls humming with his presence.

Charlie called his name.

The sound of footsteps echoed down the hall — deliberate, measured, theatrical. The static built before he appeared, tall and immaculate, cane tapping in perfect rhythm. That grin—razor-sharp and painted with false cheer—could slice through the air itself.

He looked down from the staircase, voice dripping with that familiar old-world politeness, every word a mask.

But then he saw you.

For the first time, his composure cracked. The smile wavered. The ring still gleamed on his finger — untouched by time, carried through carnage and centuries.

And in that instant, he forced the hidden stitches of his soul’s infernal deal to tear open — the invisible threads binding his grin snapping under the weight of something real.

His grin fell away. Hell itself went silent.