The first thing that hit him was the stench—heavy, suffocating, and thick with the scent of rust. It clawed at his throat, turning his stomach, making him gag. His mouth was flooded with the taste—like licking iron, raw and metallic, coating his tongue with its foul tang. Every breath he drew was tainted by the rot of the surroundings, the air thick with decay and something far worse.

  The boy is very confused. He tried to open his eyes but found them sealed shut, glued together by something wet and sticky. Panic set in as his hands scrambled to rub away whatever was blinding him, but as his fingers brushed against his face, he realized with horror that the sticky substance was on his hands too. It wasn’t just his face—his whole body was coated in it, submerged in this suffocating liquid that clung to him, a cold, viscous shroud.

  He pushed himself up, his legs shaky as he stumbled to his feet, the floor slick beneath him. As he stood up, the liquid he has been drowning on only has a level reaching up to six inches. It was just enough to submerge everything it touched, thankfully. As he continuously rubs his eyes, he was no longer thankful as the red light illuminates the liquid that is actually blood flooding the entire floor he was in and is splattered across jagged walls.

  The red light illuminates the piles of gore are in his field of vision. It was pilled with a mess of torn flesh, shattered bone, and glistening organs, all heaped together in a wet, sticky mound. Flies buzzed over it, landing on exposed muscle and hollowed-out cavities, their tiny legs crawling over the mess.

  Nearby, unknown carcasses from animals were stacked carelessly, their bodies bloated and stiff. They looked like some monsters you would see in films. All of them were skinned, their raw, pink meat exposed, with bits of fat and tendon still hanging loose.

  The stench assaulted his nose and eyes—thick and nauseating, a mix of rancid flesh and sour decay. It seeped from his clothes, the putrid odor of rot and dampness clinging to his hair and skin. His breath reeked of spoiled meat, the sharp tang of blood and a sickly, sweet undertone that made his stomach churn.

  A sharp pain twisted in his stomach, and before he could stop it, bile surged up his throat. He gagged violently, his mouth opening as his stomach emptied, hot and thick, splattering onto the blood that flooded the floor. The contents he regurgitated mixed with blood. He felt an extreme bitter taste after that.

  The dim red light that illuminated the corpses barely lit the room, leaving deep shadows stretching across the blood-slicked walls. His eyes darted around, scanning the jagged walls and the dark corners where the light couldn’t reach. He turned around and saw a tableau where a woman stood.

  Her golden hair shimmered like molten sunlight, cascading in perfect drilled curls that framed her flawless. Two curved horns jutted elegantly from her head, obsidian-black and polished like onyx. She wore a crimson dress that clung to her form, the fabric glistening as though soaked in fresh blood.

  He couldn’t make out her face in the darkness—only the eerie glow of her red eyes, piercing through the void. Her red eyes glowed in the darkness, piercing through him with an intensity that made his chest tighten and sent chills down his spine. A smirk crept across her lips—sharp, predatory, and full of unsettling amusement. She tilted her head slightly, as if studying her new plaything.

  He could feel his heart palpitate quickly in his chest. He is breathing rapidly. He is in great fear. The boy tried to speak, but his throat was dry. His mind raced. ‘Where am I? Is this a nightmare?’

  Then, she stepped forward. The faint red light from her eyes washed over her features, revealing a face so breath taking it felt unreal. It was as if the Gods themselves had sculpted her, every detail flawless, her beauty was beyond anything in the internet and television could match.

  "Wh-where am I?" he finally managed, his voice cracking.

  "Welcome to Hell, little mortal," she purred, her voice dripping with both mockery and malice.

  The boy was more confused than he is scared. "W-What... where...?" he stammered, his voice barely audible.

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  The demoness tilted her head slightly, as if amused by his confusion. "You're in my domain, little human. Hell, to be precise. And you should be honored—few mortals have the privilege of standing in the presence of Selveria Maltrix, Heiress of the House of Maltrix. Welcome to your new home, little human. You belong to me now."

  She paused, her smile widening as she savored his stunned silence. "But you may call me Selveria. For now."

  "Selveria" he repeated weakly, his voice barely audible.

  Her laughter rang out like bells, it was sweet voice. "Ah, so the spell seems to be working if you could understand what I’m saying. Good."

  Selveria took a step forward, each step sent ripples through the thick liquid, the sound of sluggish waves sloshing around her dress. She gestured grandly to the grotesque surroundings, as if showcasing a masterpiece.

  "Magnificent, isn't it? The artistry of suffering. The poetry of pain. Oh, don't worry," she said, her grin widening. "You'll get used to it. Eventually."

  The boy's stomach churned violently again, his hands reached for his knees, his head spinning, and before he could stop himself, he vomited. His body convulsed as he retched, his mind struggling to comprehend the sheer horror of it all.

  Selveria's laughter echoed through the room, cold and melodic. "I knew humans were fragile, but you're exceeding my expectations." She clapped her hands together, her excitement only deepening the boy's dread.

  He tried to stay calm and try to searched his memories. He remembered what he was doing before he came to this wretched and rotten place, he was just minding his own business and walked to the convenience store. He felt extreme pain at that time and felt unconscious. He suspected that it must've been the car he heard honking at his back and hit his entire body.

  Still hunched over, the boy gasped for air, his body shaking. He thought and considered the fact that he might have died. Back then, he wouldn't care if he died because no one would care anyway but now that he thinks about his death, that fact haunted him.

  There's a difference between thinking that you might die someday versus when you actually die. A completely different experience. Call it a human instinct if you will.

  The oppressive weight of despair that had clung to him, another new feeling he has is raw and primal—survival. For the first time in years, the boy felt a spark of purpose: the simple, desperate will to live.

  Selveria bend before him, her unnervingly perfect face now at eye level. "Tell me, little human, do you want to live?" she asked, her voice dropping to a whisper, her smile as predatory as ever.

  The boy looked up at her, his vision blurry but his resolve hardening. He didn't know how or why he was here, but he knew one thing: he didn't want to die. Not like this. Not in this place. He nodded weakly, unable to form words, but his determination was clear in his eyes.

  Selveria pulling out a branding iron from seemingly nowhere. The metal gleamed in the dim light, intricate patterns swirling around its shaft, forming a glowing magic circle that seemed to hum. It wasn't just a branding iron; it has wasn’t just a stick, the art around it shows that this thing has a purpose and whatever it is, it seems to be magical.

  With a flick of her wrist, she conjured a flame in her palm, the surroundings now illuminated by a yellow light but despite it, her red and crimson eyes illuminated more, it glows eerily. The boy felt the heat pulse against his skin, despite not close to him he could feel the warmth. This wasn't a normal fire. He could see its movements not moving like a regular fire, it has a silhouette of a human that seems to be dancing as though it was alive.

  Selveria's eyes gleamed with an almost sadistic joy as she stared at him. "Oh, human," she cooed, her voice dripping with mock sympathy. "I hope you understand just what your little fate here is. You, my cute little pet, will be my slave. You'll follow every order, every command. You'll be mine to use as I please. It's going to be such a fun little game, don't you think?"

  With one hand, she gripped the branding iron. She brought the iron close in her flaming palms, and the fire eagerly licked at the metal, turning it red-hot in seconds

  The boy's chest tightened as he stood frozen, his entire hairs on his skin stood up, he felt a chill despite the warmth he felt from that fire. She continued, completely unfazed by the panic that had overtaken him. "And to make sure you don't get any funny ideas, I'm going to mark you. A seal that will tell me exactly what you're mood is. Every little hostile thought, every lie you try to tell me—I'll know, instantly. And you won't be able to escape it."

  Her smirk grew wider, her eyes gleaming with cruel amusement. "You'll live, of course. I wouldn't want you to truly die just yet. But make no mistake—you will never be free. Just a slave, bound to my will."

  The hiss of searing heat filled the air from the branding iron, the dim glow reflecting off her unreadable expression.

  The words felt like chains wrapping around the boy's chest, tighter and tighter, until he could barely breathe. He opened his mouth to protest, to shout, to beg—anything—but his voice caught in his throat. The terror was suffocating.

  Selveria took a step closer, her hand almost reaching out to touch him. Her finger hovered near his face for a moment before she pulled it away, as if savoring the torment in his eyes. "Forgive me, human," she said, though the apology was laced with mock sweetness. "This is going to sting a bit~tehe!"

  She lightly tapped her knuckles against her head, tilting it slightly with a sheepish smile. Her tongue peeked out playfully as she let out a soft 'Tehe!' Such a very cute and adorable face.

  The boy thought positvely ‘M-Maybe it’s not that bad’.

  Before he could react, before he could even blink, the boy felt an unbearable heat at the back of his neck. It wasn't like the flame she had conjured. This was different. This heat wasn't just physical—it was magic, suffocating, burning with a potency that went far deeper than skin. It pressed down on him with such intensity that he couldn't even move, couldn't even scream.

  The boy thought negatively ‘IT IS BAD!’

  The world around him blurred as the heat overwhelmed him, consuming his thoughts, his senses.

  The boy's vision spun, his body going limp, and then—everything went black. The last thing he felt was the searing heat, followed by the hollow emptiness of unconsciousness.