Inferno

  As the Inferno began to take shape, stronger demons rose above the weaker ones. They fought viciously, tearing at eyes, skin, and horns in a bid for dominance. Among them were the Ravagers: tall, lanky demons with long fingers, bright red skin, and a typical demonic appearance. Despite their slender frames, they were formidable opponents, capable of knocking down even the strongest soldiers.

  One Ravager, Azrath, sat quietly on a rock, observing the chaos around him while writing in a notebook. He was watching the other demons fight.

  "Aren't you going to do something?" a sly succubus asked, poking at him.

  Succubi were known as the most powerful species in the Inferno, and their ability to manipulate and drain life forces made them dangerous predators. However, this species decided to appoint a queen instead of fighting for leadership. She was like a loving mother to all her subjects... lacking boundaries. They were ruled by Queen Selena, a seductive and beautiful succubus whose insatiable hunger for souls had infected her subjects.

  Like most demons, succubi got their strength and power from the sinkhole in the center of Hell. However, the Queen knew how to use this aura to her advantage, making her the most prominent entrepreneur the realm has seen. Selena had chosen to centralize power, harnessing the energies of the Abyss

  As her studies continued, each subject contributed to the abyss, channeling their darkest desires, fears, and ambitions into the pit. Every curse, hex, and magic ever uttered adds to the potency of the abyss, making it a spring of power. The abyss became known as the heart of Hell itself, and Selena formed the first kingdom, Abyssalth, around it.

  Azrath knew all this. He suspected the succubus was trying to provoke him to feed off his energy.

  "Beat it," he muttered.

  "What? A strong Ravager like you isn't willing to fight?" she teased, tracing her finger down his tight muscles.

  Azrath shifted away, groaning in annoyance. The succubus pulled back, feigning offense.

  "Whatever," she scoffed, "I’m sure I'll find someone dumber than you." A sly smile appeared. "Besides strength, I've heard Ravagers aren’t too bright."

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  Azrath shot her a cold look, "What's your name?"

  "What?" she asked, confused.

  He rolled his eyes and gestured to the notebook he was holding—an auburn leather book with lined paper. At the top of the page, it read, "Names of monsters that piss me off."

  "Name?" he repeated.

  "Salem," she answered after a brief pause. "And if you're going to be like that, I don't want to play with you anymore."

  Azrath glanced up, but she had already turned away, heading into the middle of the fight.

  She tapped a lesser demon on the shoulder, distracting him just long enough to land a punch in his gut. Azrath didn't realize that Salem had teleported him into the fray, setting him up to take the fall.

  The lesser demon, now enraged, squared up with Azrath. "Why, I oughta—!" he growled.

  "I don't think you want to do that," a Ravager intervened.

  The demon swung at Azrath, but he stood unfazed. Azrath raised a finger to signal for a pause.

  "What's your name?" he asked.

  The demon began to answer, but Azrath smashed his book into his face, stunning him. The fight quickly escalated. Azrath took a few hits, but his opponent’s blows had no lasting effect. Azrath saw an opportunity to prove his worth, fighting back more aggressively. Blood spilled from the lesser demon’s mouth.

  "I'm done with this," the lesser demon gasped. He pulled out a blade and slashed Azrath across the eyes.

  Azrath collapsed, clutching his face as blood poured from the wound. But the demon didn’t stop. He pushed Azrath to the ground, gouging at his face like a sculptor carving wood.

  There was nothing but silence.

  "I did it! I did it! I beat the strongest demon! Let alone a Ravager?" the demon shouted in awe.

  Azrath slowly rose, blood pooling around him. His flesh began to knit itself back together, healing over the wound with a grotesque speed. Scars marked the place where his eyes once were. He turned towards the demon and tilted his head to the side.

  "Let it be known," Azrath said, his voice cold and steady, "that I stand here before you, unscathed by this savage beast. I am not like any other Ravager. I will always be left unscathed."

  The demon dropped his blade with a clatter, but Salem, now hovering above the ground, grinned as she levitated him. He struggled, gasping for air.

  "What should I do with him?" she giggled, "King Azrath?"

  Azrath gave a slight gesture, instructing her to place the demon back down.

  "Avernus," Azrath spoke, "is a city on the outskirts of Hell. A place of shacks and rotting structures. The walls are patched with wood and metal, roofs sagging under the weight of neglect," he paused, "It is the home of the Condemned. Where the strong prey on the weak and morality holds no sway."

  He leaned close to the lesser demon, whispering, "I hope you cling to whatever scraps of humanity you have left, seeking redemption in a world devoid of mercy."

  From that day on, the name Condemned spread throughout Hell—a whispered term reserved for those cast beyond hope. A harsh, final name reflecting their irreversible fate. Sinners beyond repair.