Weeks passed and everything came back to normal. Jarvis received an information that a new demon will be coming on earth and should be welcomed by her and Jaceon.
The earth trembled softly that night, not with violence but with a haunting rhythm, like the breath of something ancient awakening from slumber. The veil between Hell and the human world peeled open—slowly, agonizingly—as if reluctant to tear itself again. A rip in the fabric of reality, like a rotting wound, glowed with crimson light under a moonless sky.
And from its fiery depths, a figure stumbled forth.
Zyren.
He gasped as if he were drowning in air—air too pure, too cold for someone born of embers and screams. His horns were small, curling back barely like frightened fingers. His wings, charred at the tips and dragging in the dirt, bore the soot of punishment. No demon glory. No flames in his eyes. Just fear.
He collapsed to his knees just outside the city's edge, clawing at his chest, as though the heartbeat of the human world was too loud for a soul used to silence.
"Welcome to Earth, baby demon," came a voice behind him, smooth as ice and just as unforgiving.
Zyren flinched and turned.
Jarvis.
Her long coat billowed despite the still air. Her presence was smoke and sharp edges—eyes gleaming like onyx under the city lights. She stood with arms folded and a cruel curve tugging at her lips.
"Hell must be running low on monsters if they're sending you."she said.
"I-I didn't ask to be here," Zyren stammered, trying and failing to rise. His knees buckled again. "I was punished… They said I had to take souls. I don't know how—I've never—"
Another figure emerged from the shadows—taller, broader, with his cloak trailing the stench of brimstone.
Jaceon.
His eyes narrowed as he scanned Zyren, the disappointment on his face almost tangible. "You're the one they sent?" he muttered. "You can't be serious. You're shaking like a sinner on judgment day."
"I was never meant for this," Zyren whispered. "I was a gatekeeper. I watched over the Gate of Regret… I only ever watched the souls. I never touched them."
Jarvis tilted her head, amusement dancing on her face before she broke into a sharp laugh. "Oh, this is rich. A demon with morals? A bleeding heart? What's next, a succubus in love?"
Jaceon sneered. "More like a coward. You'll never survive here like that."
But Jarvis didn't look away. There was something about Zyren that intrigued her—a contradiction, a fragile shell within a world of devourers. She stepped closer, her boots crunching the gravel, circling him like a vulture sensing hesitation.
"No… wait. Maybe this will be fun," she purred. "They sent you to us for a reason. If you can't kill, then you'll learn. And I…" She smirked. "I'll be your teacher."
Zyren's breath caught in his throat. "No, please—"
"Begging?" Her voice turned icy. "Wrong world for that. Here, you take. Or you're taken."
With a snap of her fingers, the air split again. From the shadows, a mortal man appeared—bound in chains of fire and shadow, eyes wide with silent terror. The mark of damnation burned across his chest. He was already claimed.
Zyren's entire body went rigid.
"Go ahead," Jarvis said softly. "Take his soul. It's yours. Do it."
"No," Zyren said, trembling. "He's scared. He doesn't deserve—"
"Deserve?" Jaceon barked. "He's ours. That's how this works. You think you'll get to pick your assignments? Hell is not merciful. We don't deal in 'deserve.' We deliver fate."
Zyren took a step forward, his heart pounding painfully in his ears. His claws twitched. The air seemed to darken around him.
Jarvis leaned in, whispering like a devil on his shoulder, "Feel the terror. Let it melt into your skin. That's how we're made. Terror isn't your enemy. It's your source."
Zyren raised his hand.
But froze.
He couldn't do it.
Not even now.
The mortal's eyes met his for a single heartbeat—and Zyren saw not sin or weakness, but the same fear that clawed inside him. The same fear that had burned him from the inside out when he was dragged from the Gate and cast down among hunters.
Jarvis sighed, exasperated. "Looks like we have a long way to go."
Jaceon turned away. "He won't last a week."
"Oh, he'll last," Jarvis replied, eyes never leaving Zyren. "Because I won't let him not last. When I'm done, he'll be a masterpiece of damnation."
Zyren staggered back, breathing hard. He wasn't ready for this life. But readiness no longer mattered.
Hell had spoken.
And now, he had to walk among the monsters he used to pity from afar.