The blood-red sky had shifted.
Once a deep, oppressive hue, it now burned with a brighter crimson, harsh and glaring but no less menacing. The air was still dry and scorched, as if Hell exhaled heat with every passing second.
Damien hadn't slept well.
The invisible fire that plagued Hell made rest a rare luxury. He had stripped off his black jacket, revealing the long-sleeved dress shirt beneath, but refused to go further. In a place where power was everything, wearing less would invite questions—and worse, suspicion. If anyone discovered he lacked a virtue, they'd avoid him at best, kill him at worst.
Besides, he wasn't idiotic enough to fall asleep around other Hellbound. Evalyn may have spoken of cooperation, of camaraderie, but Damien knew better. These people were as dangerous and untrustworthy as he was. Only her constant vigil gave him enough peace to steal a few uneasy hours of rest.
Now, he stood among a massive throng of damned souls.
Hundreds—perhaps over a thousand—clustered in the dome's heart, murmuring as Evalyn had instructed. She was preparing to address them all at once.
Damien's inner voice hummed with mock delight. 'This is the "hellish day" she warned me about. How exciting!'
Old instincts guided him as he slipped into the crowd's center—an old trick for staying invisible. If no one could single you out, no one could target you.
Yesterday's demonstrations had only confirmed it—he was likely the only one here without a virtue. That meant hiding in plain sight wasn't just wise but vital.
Still, as he scanned the restless assembly, he noted a few Hellbound who hadn't practiced with the others. Not many, but enough to catch his attention.
One stood out immediately.
A tall, Asian, bald monk in draping gray robes sat in meditative stillness, untouched by panic or curiosity. He looked serene, whole, and alien.
I've always wanted to kill a monk, Damien mused, smiling darkly. And what does a monk have to do to wind up in Hell?
Before he could contemplate further, a sudden jolt broke his train of thought. Someone bumped into his shoulder from behind, sending him stumbling into a girl beside him. She caught him instinctively, both of them nearly falling in the process.
He regained his footing quickly and looked at her.
Pale skin, freckles, and long orange hair that shimmered like rust in the hellish light—she had the innocent look of one of Evalyn's precious near-thresholds. Damien pegged her as a rare few who might belong in Heaven.
"Sorry about that," he said, flashing a friendly smile.
The moment the words left his mouth, his shackle answered with ruthless precision. Pain tore through his nerves like lightning. He clenched his jaw and let the agony burn behind his eyes—but outwardly, he remained calm.
She gave a shy nod. "It's okay!"
His gaze dropped to his shirt. Wrinkled.
His eye twitched.
What had once been crisp and immaculate was now marred by careless creases. His pride as a neat-freak flared into disgust.
He turned.
The man who had bumped him stood taller than Damien—a rare sight, given Damien's solid 6'2". Messy brown hair sloped lazily over a greasy forehead. His beard was scraggly and unkempt, and his clothes were chaotic, with more rags than an outfit.
Everything about him screamed disorder, laziness, and sloth—everything Damien despised.
Damien's fists clenched.
He had half a mind to murder the man where he stood. His sin was Deception—he didn't need to lie to strike someone dead. There was no elegance in raw violence, but in this case, the man's mere existence offended Damien's sense of order.
His glare burned like acid.
Just as tension coiled into violence, a clear voice rang out over the muttering crowd.
"Thank you all for gathering! I hope Hell hasn't destroyed your spirits yet!"
Evalyn.
Instantly, Damien forced himself to unclench. The messy fool drifted off, unaware of how close he had come to annihilation.
'You'll be dead by the end of the first circle. I swear it.'
His promise echoed silently beneath his skin, a vow waiting to be fulfilled.
Evalyn stood at the front of the crowd, both hands gripping the hilt of her silver blade. The tip rested against the scorched orange dust at her feet. She radiated authority, though her expression was solemn.
"The first circle begins in twenty-four hours."
A ripple passed through the crowd—murmurs, sharp intakes of breath, fearful glances. Even Damien felt a knot tighten in his chest.
She had warned them. Half of them—or more—would die.
'If I had a virtue, I'd be confident. But I don't. I can't lie to monsters. I can't trick them into sparing me. I can't even rely on people unless I manipulate them…'
'This is going to be Hell, every sense of the word.'
Evalyn's expression softened, though sorrow lingered in her voice. "I know this isn't the news you wanted. But you must not see the trials as punishment. They are your path out."
Silence hung, heavy and uncertain.
Then, with a breath, she continued. "I also have something else to announce. A preliminary challenge before the circle begins. The System calls it: The Purge."
Damien perked up. 'A game? Now you've got my attention.'
"In the next twenty-four hours," Evalyn said, "if you manage to convince another Hellbound to indulge in their starting sin, you will be granted an extra life for the first circle."
Gasps. Murmurs. Movement. The air shifted, became predatory.
"But be warned," she said gravely. "If anyone gives in to their sin before the timer ends… they will die. The Purge exists to thin our numbers. That's all."
Now Damien's eyes gleamed. 'Perfect. If I can bait someone into sin, I gain an extra life. It's risky, sure… but every edge counts.'
Then Evalyn's voice cracked with sincerity. "Please don't play the System's game. You are all human beings. You all matter. I… I wish I didn't have to oversee this, but I do."
Her plea fell flat against Damien's cold smile.
'Sorry, Evalyn. But I'll do whatever it takes to survive, even if it means helping the System grind your hopeful little lambs into dust.'
Around him, others were already scanning the crowd—eyes narrowed, expressions calculating. The hunt had begun.
Most Hellbound retreated into isolation as the crowd dispersed, wary of traps and manipulators.
A few exceptions lingered in clusters, either too naive to see the threat or too desperate to be alone.
Among them, Damien spotted the brown-haired slob from earlier. Surrounded now by a group of fools seeking strength in numbers, he laughed and chatted like the threat of death wasn't clawing at their backs.
'Enjoy your borrowed time, you wretched mongrel. You'll die soon enough.'
But Damien wouldn't risk that group—not yet.
Instead, he focused on the monk, alone and quiet—a better target. Yet the man's expression remained tranquil and untouchable.
'No. Too disciplined. Can't guess his sin with those sleeves hiding the mark. No leverage.'
That left one.
A fat man who stuck to himself, eating what scraps of comfort he could glean from his own company. Damien had been watching him for hours. People came and went, speaking briefly—he wasn't entirely shut off, which made him a viable target.
More importantly, his short sleeves revealed everything Damien needed.
On his wrists underside: a grotesque mouth, etched into the skin with jagged lips and swirling depths.
'Gluttony,' Damien thought, grinning. 'That's your sin. Perfect.'
He studied the man further. Long, greasy brown hair. A slouched posture. Minor, nervous tics. The sort of easily baited person, especially if food or indulgence is involved.
'Gluttony's about excess—indulgence until collapse. I wonder what his ability is. Maybe he siphons mana? Or devours attacks?'
Whatever it was, Damien didn't care. He only needed one thing: to get the man to sin.
His eyes briefly flicked to another cluster nearby—a handsome, confident man, shirtless, flanked by women. Lust oozed off him in waves.
Damien scoffed.
'He brags about his high virtue score. They cling to him like rats to warmth, thinking they'll be safe. Cowards. They're trying to make him fall, but I need him standing… for now.'
He turned back toward the fat man, that sluggish, lonely soul—his opportunity.
And Damien smiled, sharp as a knife."Alright then," he murmured. "Let's earn an extra life."