When God said, "Let there be light," and creation was made, something else was born: Darkness equal to God, while normally they would have fought. Ending with darkness sealed away, this time God and Darkness fought; while Darkness could not create, it could destroy itself to create.
So God and Darkness, while fighting, made a truce; God will help Darkness cut itself, then they will have their own realms. God will have heaven, and the Darkness was cut into 4.
One piece will be locked in a nearly inescapable location, another will be sent to hell, and the last two's locations are unknown, with only complete darkness known.
With Earth will be free to be capable of good and evil, and that is the beginning of the world, while the other beings/primordials made their own creations different from heaven and hell.
(A/N: This was just a thought/synopsis for a story you can use this and the Darkness is Azathoth)
-Hell-
It was a dark red on the streets of Ira. Here, countless buildings of wildly varying architecture, gothic towers, well-kept houses, rust-eaten structures, and high-rise apartments and buildings fight for space, defined by the red sky above.
The inhabitants were as varied and mismatched as the buildings they dwelt in. Demons, imps, and creatures of nightmare moved through the narrow walkways.
Their bodies had a wide array of looks: some bore magnificent, spiraled horns like mountain goats, others had short, wicked points erupting from their temples, and a few had sets that curled menacingly from their jaws.
Their forms were equally diverse, from the hulking, broad-shouldered 'Brutes' who were both fat and tall, their skin the texture of rock, to the slender, twitchy 'Imps' who are both skinny and short, with bodies stretched out.
While others have goat-like legs, serpentine torsos, and chitinous armor plates were all common sights in this bustling, terrifying melting pot.
In a shadowed alleyway between a house and a forgotten shop, a figure huddled. It was a teen-like demon, barely more than a silhouette in the deep shadow. His features were sharp, his black hair framed a pair of modest, pointed horns that grew directly from his forehead, and a long, sinuous, snake-like tail twitched faintly beneath him.
He was curled into a tight ball, his thin frame barely covered by a tattered ensemble that looked like a black snakeskin shirt and matching pants. He shivered violently, but the trembling was not only from the mix of cold and hot but also from pain.
A sudden, amplified voice tore through the silence of the alleyway, cutting through the bustling of the district. It boomed with a theatrical tone.
"Hear ye! Hear ye! Come one, come all to the grand arena of the Wrath Region! Tonight, the iron gates are open for a fresh round of savage spectacle! Witness the clash of what everyone can find in the Gladiator Ring!"
The source was a towering, imposing demon, standing at 6 feet 8 inches tall, his skin a deep, blood-red; the curator of the arena. He was unnervingly well-dressed, his massive frame clad in a meticulously tailored, charcoal-grey suit that seemed completely out of place against the district's filth.
His own horns curved forward from his powerful jawline, framing a mouth that held a permanent, cynical smirk. He paused, scanning the passing crowd of residents.
No one stopped, no one even seemed interested. With a sigh, the curator adjusted his cuffs and leaned into the microphone again, his voice dropping to a more persuasive pitch.
"However," he continued, his yellow eyes gaining a predatory glint, "if you're feeling especially desperate, or perhaps lucky, consider this proposition: Join the Fights. If you step into the ring and emerge the victor of a fight just one, you earn not just glory or the thrill of battle, but a tangible reward.
You will receive five days of guaranteed shelter and food. So, step up if you think your meager strength can carry you to victory!"
He let the promise hang for a moment, then added, his tone sharpening with a grim tone: "But know this! This is the Gladiator Ring of the Wrath Region! We pay in full, win or lose. If you lose, there is no second chance. If you lose, you die; that is the only price of defeat."
The announcement's cruel tone was like a jolt of electricity to the shivering figure in the alley. The teen-like demon slowly, painfully, unfolded his limbs and pushed himself up.
His movements were stiff. He was shorter than most of the passing demons, standing at approximately 5 feet 6 inches with pale skin, golden snake-like eyes, and he looked kinda thin for his height.
He approached the curator, stopping directly beneath the towering demon.
"I would like to join the ring," he stated. His voice was not fearful or pleading; it was flat and even as if he wasn't going into a fight for his life.
The curator slowly looked down at him, his large head tilting in consideration. His gaze was clinical, assessing the boy's slim build, the subtle tremor in his stance, and the clean yet clearly recent scars visible beneath the edge of his snake-skin shirt.
The injuries were closed up, yes, but the pain was still there. Another desperate soul, the curator thought, stifling a yawn and a hint of disdain.
Without a word, he reached into the inner pocket of his suit and withdrew a single piece of parchment.
It was a standard liability waiver written in infernal script, which essentially means that the signatory or their associates understood the terminal risks involved, relinquished all legal claims against the establishment for injury or death, and they entered the arena at their own peril.
"Sign here, little boy," the curator said, offering a pointed pen. "It simply affirms that you know what you are getting into, and that we are not liable for anything that may or may not happen to you."
The teen took the paper and the pen. He quickly read the scroll, making sure there weren't any secret clauses; he just quickly scribbled his signature.
[Kaelen Nightingale]
"Good. Follow the signs through that door to get to the waiting room, and then when you hear your name called, go out umm'k," the curator instructed with a patient tone like he was talking to a child, pointing with his finger toward a heavy, reinforced steel gate beside the stage.
"Welcome to the Gladiator Ring, contestant. Try to make it interesting before you die," he said, like he had rehearsed it before, then ended with a teasing tone, not even hiding the disdain
Kaelen simply nodded, not caring about the man's disdain, handed back the signed paper, and walked toward the dark, disappearing into the depths of the competitors' staging area.
When he passed, a light washed over him, but he did not notice it because it blended in with the lights of the corridor.
As Kaelen walked down the corridor, following the signs to the waiting room, he arrived to find many demons. Some imps were practicing their skills, and some goat demons were fighting over a succubus.
She was looking at her nails but also discreetly checking out the competitors. A large, rock-like demon just sat, head down, waiting for his name. Other demons also waited, minding their own business.
"Hey, the fuck are you looking at, you little punk? You see something you like or don't? I don't give a flying fuck, just look somewhere else, you shit face," an imp hissed. Seeing a pale teen looking at him, the imp grew agitated and approached, trying to scare the kid off to reduce his own competition.
"Hey, leave the kid alone, little imp. He looks weak; he'll most likely die when he enters the ring, so let's let him have a somewhat peaceful rest of his life," the succubus interjected. She walked over to the imp and the pale teen.
The two goat demons, angered that the attractive succubus had left to protect another male, also approached, though they intended to harm the teen rather than help.
"Thank you, ma'am, but I don't need your help," Kaelen stated. After saying that, his snake tail wrapped around the little imp's throat, pulling him close to his mouth. His canines grew and bit into the imp, which struggled with his golden eye glowing.
Kaelen used his arm to help keep the imp still until it stopped moving. He then released it, and it fell to the floor. The other demons looked surprised, but some, aware of the imps' trickery, just waited for the teen's downfall, and the 2 goat demons just backed away, not wanting to die over a sluty succubus.
As Kaelen walked away to find a place to sit and wait to be called, he sensed something and lashed out with his tail, but it missed.
"HAAAAA take this, you fucking brat, die, die, die, die, HAHAHAHAHA!" The imp, now wielding a knife, lunged at Kaelen. Just as he was about to be hit, Kaelen extended his claws and moved so that the knife would only hit his shoulder, while his claws would hit the imp's center mass, or his chest, for dummies, a fatal strike.
However, before either attack could land, the succubus stopped both with her bare hands, leaving both the imp and Kaelen in shock.
She said, "Now, now, my darlings, leave this for the ring. My Moth- ahem, boss would not be happy with me if I just let the contenders cause trouble or die before getting to the ring."
The imp still looked on in shock even after being dropped to the ground. Kaelen now understood why she wanted to help him; she was an employee of the Gladiator Ring. Realizing this, he tried to pull his hand out, but it wouldn't budge. Seeing that she let the imp go, he wondered why she wouldn't release him.
"You little one, I will be betting on you, after seeing that trick you pulled." After saying that, she leaned in very, very close, her hands over the teen's neck. She was 5 inches taller than he was, so it was a little weird, but it was to ensure only he heard what she was about to say.
"So if you even think about fucking losing, I will save you from death, then give myself a dick or get the biggest dildo I can find and fuck your asshole up so bad that even when you're dead from the fucking they can still see your insides, ok?" she said with a deadly but beautiful smile and a cheerful tone, making it even stranger.
Kaelen simply looked at her and replied curtly, "Understood."
"Perfect, now I will give you some time to rest up. You will be going last, so have fun," she said loud enough for every other demon to hear in a pleasant tone as she walked away.
When the demons heard what she said, they all looked at Kaelen with anger, but they wouldn't or more accurately couldn't do shit because after she left, other guards arrived.
They could only glare at Kaelen, but he looked unfazed and sat down to rest, for while he appeared undisturbed by her words, he was shaken deep down.
Kaelen leaned back against the cold stone wall, his gaze fixed distantly on the commotion of the waiting room, yet seeing none of it.
The previous level shock from the succubus's threat had faded for Kaelen.
But for the rest of the demons, a layer of cold calculation went through some of the smarter demons, and rage, shame, lust, and fear from the less intelligent demons.
He saw the look of pure, undiluted anger on the other demons, especially the two goat demons and the imp, who was now being tended to by a fellow lowlife, his face pale with humiliation and fear. They saw him as a favored contender, a target, perhaps even a potential meal, given the nature of this place.
'Favored.' The thought was bittersweet. It wasn't protection she had offered him, but a transaction that would mostly benefit her. She hadn't saved him from that brawl; she had seen his skill and made her bet, but she did help by giving him some time to rest and make up a few strategies.
The casual brutality of her warning was still disturbing, not because of the nature of the threat itself, Kaelen had faced far worse simply staying on the streets, but because of the feeling that she would completely act upon her threat, that easiness in her voice that she could do it and no one could stop her was scary.
It was a forced promise, made with a pleasant smile, and it chilled him more than any snarl. He had secured a reprieve from dying on the cold streets of the Ira or the region of wrath, only to be bound to a commitment far more terrifying: he could not lose.
Losing meant something far worse than death; even though he had grown up on the streets, he wasn't a demon born from the lust region, or so he thinks, but he wasn't gay or liked it up his ass if it was up to him; anyone who insinuated that would be punished with death, depending on who they were.
He closed his eyes briefly, concentrating on his breathing, the slow in-and-out designed to settle the adrenaline that had spiked with the imp's second attack. The imp had been a fool, predictable, and clumsy.
Kaelen's reaction was good, but it had been impulsive, a risk he can't afford to take again. He had wasted energy and drawn unwanted attention.
His strength was not in brawling, but in speed and exploiting openings. The succubus, whoever she was, had seen enough to single him out.
'Why me?' His appearance certainly didn't scream 'champion.' He was smaller than most, pale, and lacked the massive horns, heavy musculature, or raw demonic energy of the rock-demon and others.
He was a normal demon, maybe even a half-breed, judging by his less-defined features and lack of overt infernal traits beyond his snake tail, pointed horns, and growing canines.
But perhaps that was the point. An underdog bet, a dark horse. Or, more likely, she had simply observed his quick ability against the imp, recognizing his talent.
The noise of the waiting room, the sharp, metallic sound of the imps' practice weapons, the low, guttural arguing of the goat demons, the occasional heavy sigh of the rock-demon began to filter through his focus. He had been given time. He needed to use it. Not to rest, but to prepare.
He subtly scanned the room, cataloging the contenders.
The Rock Demon: Immense, slow, like a tank. Target the joints or the head if possible. Likely relies on sheer durability.
The Goat Demons: Fast, horned, probably fighters who rely on charges and grappling. Need to stay out of their close-quarters range.
The Imps: Small, quick, unpredictable, often sneaky, and relying on cheap tricks or poison. Low durability.
Other demons: Some have fire, others have water, and some have unknown elements. Be careful and keep your distance until you find a clean hit.
Conserve: The succubus had made him the last combatant. This meant he would fight potentially injured people or fresh opponents who had just witnessed the brutality of the fights before him. Either way, he had the advantage of watching their styles.
Finally, get to that room and have peace for 5 days: His ultimate goal remained unchanged, but the stakes had been drastically escalated. He wasn't just fighting for his life and comfort anymore; he was fighting to avoid the succubus's personalized attention.
The guards began to move, their heavy armor scraping against the stone floor, signaling the start of the events. The first name was called, a deep sound booming through the speakers. The tension in the room instantly heightened.
Kaelen lay back on the cold wall, letting the chill seep into his skin, then into his bones, then into his blood, and finally into his core, his heart, looking at the TV screen as he watched the fight between a small ash Imp with small wings, horns on his forehead and tail and a tall, muscular fire demon with long horns coming from his jaw and a tail with a spike on the end.
[End of chapter, so leave a comment, please support me on Patreon to get early chapters, and if you're reading from here, thank you for the support, and have a blessed or great day/night. This is my first novel, so please give comments to help me get better.]
[A/N: I split the chapters into 2,000-word or more; they were at 4k, so yeah, if you don't like it, don't read.]