Things were not going according to Doom's plan.
The device he had painstakingly built—his masterpiece—was supposed to transport him directly to Hell.
Instead—
His soul was violently ripped from his body.
It felt like he was strapped to a runaway carriage, his very essence whipped by an invisible storm, as if a hurricane had seized his soul and was hurling him into the unknown.
The sensation was indescribable.
His consciousness twisted and churned, as if he were inside a giant dryer, spinning relentlessly.
Then—
A sudden, forceful ejection.
His soul was launched like a cannonball, fired straight out of his universe.
__
Colors.
Countless colors—blinding, swirling, chaotic—filled his vision.
For a mont, he felt like he had been dropped into a nightclub of endless neon lights, flashing in incomprehensible patterns.
Then—
The pressure intensified.
His body was compressed, as if being squeezed into a rubber tube.
Then it was stretched—elongated like a sausage—distorted beyond human understanding.
Doom's mind reeled.
For a fleeting second, he felt flattened, as if he had been reduced from three-dinsional existence to two dinsions—trapped within so cosmic plaything.
He was no longer in control.
He was rely a speck, drifting through the vast, infinite void of dinsions.
Finding Hell in this endless sea of realities was like searching for a single grain of sand in the Sahara.
But—
Doom refused to be lost.
His will was too strong.
His resolve was unyielding.
His soul surged forward, breaking through one dinsion after another, navigating through realms beyond human comprehension.
Weeks seed to pass.
Or perhaps it was re monts—ti had lost all aning.
But then—
He sensed it.
The place he had dread of.
The place that had haunted him his entire life.
Hell.
__
Doom's breath shuddered as he stood upon red-hot sand, the air thick with the stench of suffering.
In front of him—
A monstrous cavern, its entrance radiating an eerie glow.
The Gates of Hell.
A never-ending green fla burned through the gate's threshold—
And yet, it gave off no heat at all.
Doom's hands curled into fists.
He took a step forward.
Then—
A deafening roar shattered the silence.
__
A shadow lunged forward—
A massive, nightmarish hound, its fur pitch-black, its fangs dripping with fresh, steaming blood.
The stench of death clung to its massive form.
It was unclear whether the blood belonged to past intruders—
Or if it was simply drool, anticipating its next al.
Doom's eyes narrowed.
"The Gatekeeper."
Without hesitation, Doom raised his hand, chanting an ancient incantation.
Dark green energy crackled in his palm—
A longsword materialized in his grip, its blade pulsing with malevolent energy.
This was Gypsy black magic, passed down from his mother.
Even the creatures of Hell were vulnerable to it.
Doom was not here unprepared.
__
The Hellhound lunged.
Doom's body reacted instinctively—
He sidestepped, his blade flashing through the air.
CLANG!
The monstrous beast blocked the strike with unnatural speed, its eyes burning with an unholy light.
Then—
It opened its jaws.
FWOOOOOSH!
A column of fire erupted from its mouth—
A torrent of burning agony, aid directly at Doom.
The sll?
Like rotting garbage, set ablaze in an infernal furnace.
Doom twisted his body, leaping to the side—
Just in ti.
The ground where he had stood monts ago was obliterated, a massive crater left in its place.
But Doom was already on the move.
He rushed forward—his blade poised for the kill.
With a single, powerful thrust, he drove the longsword deep into the Hellhound's gaping mouth.
The creature let out a howl of agony.
A second pillar of fla exploded from its throat—directly engulfing Doom.
His body convulsed in pain.
But—
This fire was not ant for the flesh.
It was ant for the soul.
Doom scread—but he did not relent.
Gritting his teeth, he twisted the sword deeper—
With a sickening crunch, the Hellhound's skull shattered.
The beast collapsed, twitching once before finally going still.
Doom fell to his knees, gasping for air.
Every inch of his body ached—
But he was still alive.
__
Doom pushed himself to his feet.
The path forward awaited him.
As he trudged through the floating desert, he could hear them.
The screams.
The agonized wails of the damned, piercing into his skull.
Even covering his ears was useless.
The voices clawed into his mind, gnawing at his sanity.
But he pressed forward.
Kiloters passed.
His face pale, his strength waning—
But then, in the distance, his eyes widened.
A cage.
Hanging in the air.
Inside—
A figure.
His heart pounded.
__
Long, silky black hair.
A face frozen in ti.
"Victor…?"
The voice shook him to his core.
"Why are you here? You must leave! You do not know phisto's power!"
His mother.
Grace.
Doom's hands trembled.
"Mother!" he choked out.
"I ca to save you!"
"We can escape!"
Tears shimred in her eyes.
"My child," Grace whispered, "just open the cage. We must leave before phisto awakens."
Doom's breath hitched.
It was happening.
Everything—
Everything he had done—
Led to this mont.
__
Doom levitated, his body glowing with dark green energy.
His magic sword slashed downward.
The rusted lock snapped.
The cage door creaked open.
Grace stepped forward, her hands gently cradling Doom's face.
A mont of peace.
A mont of victory.
And then—
Laughter.
__
A voice, mocking and cruel, echoed through Hell.
"Such touching affection… HAHAHA! Mortal emotions are truly amusing."
Doom froze.
He looked up—
And his blood ran cold.
Grace's hands—
Had turned into clawed, red talons.
Her face—
A demonic mask.
Standing before him—
Wrapped in flowing crimson robes, eyes gleaming with malice and delight—
Was the true Lord of Hell.
phisto.
--------------
T/N:
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