The Flaming Hall – Infernal Realm
The massive obsidian doors groaned open, their deep, eerie sound echoing throughout the vast infernal chamber like the cry of a dying beast. Azreal stepped forward, his long black cloak trailing behind him, each step deliberate and heavy with presence. Orvath followed silently, his hands clasped behind his back, his eyes unreadable.
As they entered, the temperature in the hall seed to shift. Every soul in the room stood, the tension thickening instantly. The Five Pillars, Damantia, Laisa—even the prideful demons who served as Hell guards bowed in unison. The air itself seed to hold its breath.
Azreal's crimson eyes swept across them, sharp and detached. "Let's begin... the second Infernal eting."
He moved with calm authority, sitting on the Flaming Throne, its dark flas curling around him like loyal serpents. With a small nod, he gestured to Orvath.
The silence in the hall deepened.
Orvath moved to the center, placing a sealed containnt tube on the obsidian table. Inside, a grotesque, eye-like creature floated, pulsating and twitching unnaturally. Its veins bulged against the glass, glowing faintly with a sinister light.
A chill swept through the room.
Malphas narrowed his eyes. "What the hell is that thing?"
Xaltheon leaned forward, his gaze sharp. "Why bring such a thing here?"
Orvath raised a hand, his voice calm and composed. "I know you all have questions. I'll answer them."
He cleared his throat before continuing. "I've discovered the reason behind the Infernals' evolution... into Demon Infernals."
A ripple of shock passed through the hall.
Dragos crossed his arms, flas flickering across his pauldrons. "As expected from the Hell's Archivist."
Selmora gave a lazy grin, resting her chin on one hand. "Way to go, old man. You're not my type, but the Fourth Gate welcos you anyti." She winked.
Orvath exhaled slowly. "Appreciated... Now, listen closely."
He pointed at the creature, his voice dropping an octave. "I found sothing strange while examining the ash left behind by a Demon Infernal. Sothing ancient. Sothing sealed."
The room grew still, every eye on him.
"The cause... is Y'tharion's Mark."
The silence was imdiate and absolute.
Xaltheon stood, his eyes blazing. "That's impossible. The Gods sealed Y'tharion deep within the Infernal Realm! I even strengthened the seal myself with my magic. How can his mark appear now?"
Orvath shook his head, his eyes shadowed. "That's still a mystery."
Veymar frowned deeply. "But... they're supposed to die. Why did that thing form?"
Orvath's voice turned colder. "They aren't dying. They're evolving."
Shock hit like a thunderclap.
Laisa turned toward Azreal. "My Lord, how do we deal with this?"
Azreal leaned forward, elbows resting on the throne's burning arms. His eyes glowed ominously. "I wasn't the Guardian back then. I don't know much about Y'tharion or his mark... But we should have more information in the Dark Library. For now, we'll depend on Xaltheon's magic."
A heavy stillness followed his words.
"I know you feel left out," he added. "But Orvath will continue the investigation. Xaltheon, you'll lead the suppression."
Xaltheon nodded solemnly. "As you wish, my Lord."
Orvath added gravely, "We haven't figured out how the mark appeared. But I'll keep digging."
Dragos suddenly spoke up, "Wait. Doesn't the Lord have a mark like that too?"
Orvath paused, nodding slowly. "Yes. But that's... different."
His eyes lingered on the grotesque creature in the tube. "By the void... Y'tharion is using the dead to build sothing new. We don't know what he's planning, but whatever it is—it's dangerous."
He turned back to his seat.
Azreal scanned the room. "Xaltheon, handle the Infernal threat. Orvath, keep investigating. As for Y'tharion... I'll go et the Gods myself."
Selmora smirked. "Send my regards."
Malphas scoffed. "Do you really think they'll tell you anything useful?"
Azreal leaned back, his voice calm but firm. "I have to try. This is getting out of hand."
A voice suddenly rang out—Damantia's. "Speaking of the Gods... What about Aria?"
Laisa blinked. "Who's that?"
Malphas answered, "She's the girl who caused trouble in the Soul Gate three years ago."
Selmora raised an eyebrow, intrigued. "Ohhh, that girl. What about her?"
Damantia crossed her arms. "When she arrived, she said she wasn't supposed to be here. That there was a mistake. And her Sin Value was... extrely low."
All eyes turned toward her.
"She even tried to seduce a hell guard during the chaos," Damantia added flatly. "But since she wasn't dangerous, I placed her in the First Gate."
Malphas nodded. "We began her punishnt—but sothing was off. She's resistant to flas."
Gasps passed through the hall.
Veymar stood, alarm in his voice. "What?! That's impossible!"
Dragos slamd his fist into his palm. "Only those with the Gods' Mark can survive hellfire. How does a soul sent to Hell have that?"
.
Selmora tilted her head. "Did you check for the mark?"
Malphas looked away, voice low. "No... we didn't expect it."
Damantia narrowed her eyes. "If she does have the Gods' Mark, then why was she sent here? Was it the Gods themselves... or soone tampering with the Gate System?"
Xaltheon asked, "Any suspects?"
Damantia shook his head. "None yet."
Azreal leaned back in his throne, his eyes glowing with an ominous light. "I'll handle the Aria case myself. If she really has the Gods' Mark, then my visit to the Gods will cover that too."
He stood, the flas around him flickering higher. "There's one more thing..."
The room fell silent once again.
"In the Final Gate today... Azroth was caught trying to free so souls."
The Five Pillars froze.
Malphas growled. "What?!"
Xaltheon leaned forward. "You said he was freeing souls. For what reason?"
Azreal glanced at Orvath. "It lines up with the mark. We know Infernals co from souls. If the mark causes evolution, then soone is using those souls to create Demon Infernals."
Orvath nodded slowly. "But how are they marking them...?"
Selmora chuckled darkly. "You should've sent him to . Torture's my thing."
Azreal gave a bitter smile. "I was angry. Betrayal deserves my judgnt."
Veymar spoke, his voice low. "If soone has the power to erase mories... then sothing big is happening in Hell."
The room went quiet.
The flas flickered, and the shadows deepened. In the heart of Hell... a storm was brewing.
To be Continued.
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