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Hell was never a quiet realm. It was crowded. not just merely populated, but overrun by demons and the damned.
A realm without horizon or edge, in layers of ruin and dominion, Hell sprawled wider than Earth had ever dreamed of being. Continents of scorched iron collided and drifted apart. Rivers of fire carved canyons so deep they swallowed screams before they reached the surface. Cities, if they could be called that rose and fell in cycles measured in eons.
Demons fought demons everywhere.
Not for good or evil, the battles were for for position and status.
Claws met blades. Wings tore from backs. Weapons the size of mountains trampled lesser hordes into paste while lesser lords screamed ancient names and died forgotten. Above it all, the sky burned, almost alive, veined with lightning that struck at random, indifferent to allegiance.
Every scream blended into a single, endless chorus.
Pain. Rage. Hunger. Triumph. Betrayal.
Hell thrived on it.
Lucifer was long gone. The Morningstar's throne is empty. And the Queen of hell who took over left it as well.
Power, once centralized, now bled outward.
And Hell, true Hell panicked.
Far beneath the open warfields, deeper than the arenas where demon princes butchered each other for sport, there stood a structure that did not burn.
A fortress carved from Hellish metal and bone, its towers spiraling inward instead of rising, chains thicker than rivers wrapped its foundations.
Inside the great hall, the floor was glassy black, reflecting not those who walked upon it, but their sins. Shadows crawled where no light existed. Braziers burned with pale, soulless flame.
At the center stood Neron.
Tall and menacing.
His form was humanoid only by concession, eyes glowing with the patient cruelty of a being who had never rushed anything in his existence. He wore no crown.
A demon was dragged before him in chains.
High-ranking. Armored in infernal sigils, wings torn and bleeding that hissed against the floor. Two executioners forced him down, claws digging into his shoulders.
The demon struggled anyway.
Out of pride.
"This.. this is madness," the demon rasped, lifting his head just enough to meet Neron's gaze. His voice shook despite himself. "Lord Morningstar would have never done this! the Pit tears itself apart!"
Neron regarded him in silence.
The demon swallowed, desperation sharpening his tone. "Hell requires order. A throne. A name to kneel to." His jaw clenched. "Tell us who it is."
Neron tilted his head, just slightly.
"Kneel," he repeated, tasting the word.
The demon leaned forward, seizing the moment. "Who do we kneel to?"
Neron moved.
He simply raised one hand.
The demon's scream cut off mid-syllable as his chest collapsed, ribs folding, heart crushed without blood or spectacle. His body dropped lifelessly to the floor, already cooling, already irrelevant.
Neron lowered his hand, unbothered by the corpse at his feet.
"Kneel," he said calmly, turning away, "is a human word."
The executioners dragged the body aside as if it were trash.
From the shadows behind one of the great columns, someone clapped, slowly.
The sound echoed far too loudly.
A woman stepped into view.
Tall, horns curved elegantly back through dark hair, the shape of a crown. Her wings were folded neatly, leathery and pristine, her crimson eyes bright with amusement rather than fire.
She smiled.
"Still allergic to theatrics, I see," she said lightly, strolling closer as though this were a courtly visit rather than the heart of damnation. Her gaze flicked briefly to the corpse. "Shame. He almost sounded brave."
Neron did not turn to face her. "You always arrive when blood is still warm."
"I find it clarifies conversations." She stopped beside him, studying the vast hall. "So the Queen you all feared because of Lucifer left as well. Hell eats itself alive. While they enjoy themselves up there." Her smile widened just a fraction. "And you remain here."
Neron's eyes shifted toward her at last. "What are you implying."
She chuckled softly. "I imply opportunity."
She stepped closer, voice lowering. "The Pit is truly restless. The lesser lords are already crowning themselves in their own minds. They need something to resist. Or follow."
Neron looked back out over the hall, "They will do neither."
She raised a brow. "Oh?"
"They will break," Neron said evenly. "Or adapt to the changes."
Her tail flicked once behind her, betraying interest. "And what of the Shadow that walks our soil now?" she asked casually. "I'm sure all of the Lords have noticed that being by now."
That..
earned her his full attention.
For the first time, Neron smiled.
"Ah," he said. "So you feel him too."
Her eyes gleamed. "How could I not?"
Neron walked to the edge of the great hall, hands folded behind his back, gaze fixed on a fracture in the air far beyond the fortress walls. Through it, distant wars bled through, entire legions clashing, infernal banners burning as quickly as they were raised.
She watched him for a long moment before speaking.
"You're quieter than usual," she said lightly. "That's never a good sign."
Neron didn't look at her. His eyes remained on the distant chaos. "Tell me something," he said at last, voice smooth. "Do you think the Shadow walks this realm for the same reason as mine…"
He paused.
"…or because of that fool's soul?"
Her lips curved. She was amused.
"Oh," she said softly, stepping closer, heels clicking against the floor. "That remains a problem indeed."
Neron turned to face her fully. His eyes burned brighter, "I'm afraid he sent him here."
The demoness laughed quietly. "No," she disagreed. "He doesn't care anymore."
She straightened still amused, "Whether he came for dominion or for one stubborn, unfortunate soul…" Her eyes flicked back toward the distant wars. "I'm sure we'll find out soon enough."
Something stirred in the fortress walls at that.. The chains rumbling faintly, she clasped her hands behind her back and began to pace, slow and graceful. "What truly interests me," she continued, "is how the others are reacting."
Neron followed her movement with his eyes.
"The self-crowned," she said. "The ones who smelled vacancy and mistook it for destiny." Her lips curved again. "Especially him."
Neron's expression hardened.
"So," she went on casually, "what do you think he's doing right now? Rallying his pet legions? Declaring himself the new axis of damnation?" She stopped pacing and looked back at Neron. "Or hiding, hoping the Shadow doesn't look his way?"
Neron stepped forward. The hellish air parted around him, his voice, when it came, was no louder than before.
"I will crush them all."
She felt it ripple through the fortress, through the chains, through the contracts carved into the walls. Old sigils flared briefly, reacting to the promise.
Her smile widened, genuinely pleased.
"There it is," she murmured.
****
The Demoness lingered near one of the columns, watching him closely. The faintest smile tugged at the corner of her lips, though her eyes glinted with something unseen by any but herself. She had watched him for centuries, seen him rise to power, seen him crush challengers, and yet he still left himself vulnerable, to her.
"To think," she thought to herself, "The lord of Hell… is truly a fool."
Neron's attention was elsewhere, focused entirely on the distant rifts where demons clashed and the Shadow's presence rippled through the world.
He had spoken moments ago with finality, promising the annihilation of all who dared claim authority in the absence of Lucifer or the Queen.
'A fool who trusts too easily… a fool who believes the Pit bends to his will simply because he wills it… There are too many 'Lords' fighting for the same thing, he may be one of the strongest, but he cannot defeat them all.'
Her thoughts twisted, delicate and lethal. Her children, Blaze and Satanus, twins of cunning and malice, were a different faction to gain control of Hell, they needed more than just power. They needed a mother who would seize opportunity where he saw loyalty. Neron's hubris, his confidence in his ability to "crush them all," was exactly the opening she had been waiting for.
'He's so sure of himself… so certain that no one can match him. So blind to the subtleties…'
She folded her arms, tail flicking lazily behind her, and allowed herself a small, satisfied sigh. she stepped away, her eyes glowing red with a heat that was full of betrayal, ambition, and a reckoning centuries in the making.
/-\
If you Like this story! Check out my other stories! Solo leveling in Westeros.
&
If you wish to read more or simply support me than check out my patreon at
"https://www.patreon.com/FrenzyAren"
You can Get Access to 3 More Chapters OR 7 More Chapters if you want