Inside a large hall-like basement, the air was scorching—thick and suffocating like fire itself. The heat was so intense that even a raw chicken could've toasted within minutes.
The moment the soldiers stepped in, sweat poured down their faces like waterfalls. Still, they held their composure, trained to endure worse—or so they thought.
Outside the furnace-like hall, Diablo stood by the larger stainless steel door, a slow, smug smile curving on his lips as he watched the soldiers shuffle in, some visibly irritated. What made it worse was the fact that he was the reason for this punishment, yet they were the ones suffering for it.
As soon as the last soldier stepped in, Diablo exhaled in relief, ready to carry out his own share of punishment.
Finally, he could breathe, free from these men and their angry, irritated gazes.
"Commander James," he greeted with a respectful nod, surprised to find the commander standing there.
"Join them," the commander ordered flatly.
Diablo blinked. What? That wasn't part of the plan…
"Uh… Commander, I think there might be some sort of mistake, you—"
"Don't make me repeat myself," the commander cut him off, his voice colder than ice.
Damn, calm down man. Why so cold?
"Yes, Commander," Diablo muttered, bowing his head in defeat.
'What's wrong with this man? Is he on his period or something? No wonder you got a head like that.'
He chuckled internally, dragging his feet toward the dungeon door.
The moment he stepped in, the heat smacked him in the face like a nightmare. Before he could react, the heavy door slammed shut behind him.
The soldiers, seeing Diablo enter, smirked in amusement—but their smiles didn't last. The heat was becoming unbearable. Sweat soaked their uniforms. Breathing felt like inhaling fire.
This wasn't just punishment.
This was hell itself—torture. And there was more to come.
Diablo stood there, hair drenched, sweat dripping down his face in thick droplets. The heat was merciless.
At this point, even the commander's cold tone would've been better.
A soldier suddenly raised his voice, stepping forward.
"If we all want to leave this place alive, we have to work together. Including Mr. Failure over there."
Silence fell across the massive, blazing basement.
"We're not working with that fool," another soldier snapped, clearly annoyed. And honestly, most of them agreed. Diablo's carefree, lazy attitude irritated them to no end. No matter how many times they corrected him or tried to teach him something, he always seemed to fall right back into his pit of unseriousness.
"He's just lucky to still be alive," one muttered bitterly.
"We have to work with him!" the first soldier shouted back.
"We won't—" But before he could continue, Diablo suddenly shoved him aside.
Gasps rippled across the hall.
PHEW!
An arrow zipped through the air, whizzing past exactly where the man had just been standing.
PLASH!
It embedded itself deep into the wall with a sickening thud.
No one had seen it coming. The sound of it hitting the wall was the only warning they got. Every eye turned to Diablo, who stood upright, holding something in his hand.
"Found it," he muttered, scratching the back of his head, casually holding up a leaf. "It was on your hair."
The entire hall went still.
Had Mr. Failure… just saved a life unknowingly?
There was no denying—from the way that arrow had hit the wall—that the man was as good as a dead corpse.
But before the soldiers could even react, Diablo suddenly shouted, his voice echoing in the space:
"NOBODY MOVE!"
Every soldier froze.
Diablo's face was unusually serious now. The kind of serious that none of them had ever seen before. It made their hearts skip.
"This is a very serious matter," he said solemnly, pausing as they waited anxiously.
Then—
"The leaf is hot too," he added, a small smile playing on his lips.
The tension popped like a bubble. The men stared, wide-eyed, realizing they had been played. Again.
What had they even expected from Diablo?
"This is no joke," someone finally muttered.
Jake, one of the soldiers, snapped.
"What's wrong with you? Do you ever take anything seriously? I wonder if your mother ever took you seriously!"
The insult hit the air, but Diablo's grin only widened.
Jake frowned. Why wasn't this boy ever serious?
Even the insult didn't land the way it should have—no gasps, no reactions. Everyone was too hot, too exhausted, too overwhelmed. The heat in the room had intensified further. One of the men dropped to his knees, clutching his head as sweat sizzled off his skin like it was boiling. Smoke emitted from his scalp.
Then—
The second door—the exit—finally swung open.
"Everyone to the exit!" someone shouted. It seemed the commander had gotten pity on them because it was surprising for him to open the exit.
"This man is in his f*cking period," Diablo muttered to himself.
Hope sparked in their chests. They rushed forward.
Then a scream.
"AHHHHH!"
The ground trembled. The floor gave way.
DUNNN… SCRSHH!
Ashes burst up from the collapsing floor—smoke everywhere.
One of the soldiers had fallen. Eyes widened. Beneath the floor… fire.
"J…Jake is down!" a voice cried out in horror.
Everybody stood frozen—except one figure, whose lips curled up into a smile.
"Jackpot" the figure whispered.