"Damn it! It hurts so bad! I'm dying, help me. Please help! Evalyn, do something!!"
Damien, along with the rest of the Hellbound, watched the scene with muted detachment as the man writhed violently on the scorched ground—his body convulsing, soul unraveling.
Only Evalyn's gaze portrayed any emotion. Her sorrow ran deep, but even she said nothing. No one moved. No one offered aid.
The man's cries dwindled into silence, his body dissolving as though devoured by invisible flames. No ash. No blood. No remnants of his existence. Just a scarless patch of orange dirt.
Then came the thunderous boom—like a cannon fired from nowhere—rattling the glass dome. Immediately after, the System's voice intoned:
"Hellbound, Quintien Peel eliminated. Sin committed: Envy."
It was deep into the night of the Purge—sixteen hours had passed since Evalyn had announced the minigame. Ten souls had fallen into sin, and sleep remained a fantasy. Anxiety gripped the dome like a noose, tightening with each passing minute.
If they could simply sleep through the remaining hours, none would perish. But it was too late for that. Fear kept their eyes wide open. Only a few, it seemed, had managed to steal moments of uneasy rest.
Damien leaned against the dome's curved wall, the blistering glass burning his back. He didn't flinch. Hell's heat had long since become background noise to him—a constant, inescapable furnace.
He hadn't closed his eyes once.
Not from fear. Not even exhaustion.
He refused to be vulnerable among the damned. Even now, when most were too busy avoiding sin to do anything reckless, Damien kept his walls high. One look at the man who had just perished was enough to remind him—some fools still dared everything.
His eyes drifted toward Jack.
The fat bastard was sprawled out like it was a summer nap, snoring loud enough to rattle stones. Somehow, he'd slept through the chaos, unbothered, as though none of this mattered.
A soft curl of disdain touched Damien's lips.
'Truly a fool.'
Restlessness swept through the dome like wildfire. Hellbound souls began pacing or whispering in tight circles. A group of girls approached Damien, their steps practiced, their smiles sweet.
He recognized them immediately—former orbiters of the beautiful man marked by Lust.
Damien, who had known Lust in abundance in life, didn't need to hear their words to understand their intent. They were here for insurance, protection, and leverage.
He dismissed them coldly, without ceremony. He knew better than to tangle with desperation wrapped in a pretty face.
By then, he had already abandoned his earlier goal of earning an extra life. His conversation with Jack had made one thing painfully clear: tricking someone into sinning without deception was nearly impossible. And Jack… Jack had been an anomaly. Anyone else would've killed Damien the moment his true intent surfaced.
Still, something about the man gnawed at him.
'What does he mean he doesn't want to do the trials? Damien wondered. He can't escape them unless he kills himself.'
And Jack didn't seem the suicidal type.
The man had spoken of repentance, of atoning for his past, and dying would defeat the entire purpose. But why repent if you refuse to climb out?
It made no sense.
Damien found himself watching Jack more than he intended. Amidst the chaos and fear, the man's calmness had a gravitational pull.
Eventually, after fending off more Hellbound and shallow schemes, Damien eventually noticed the blood-red sky lighten. The day had come.
Only thirty minutes remained before the First Circle began.
The silence that followed was oppressive—thick and absolute.
Even Evalyn seemed different now. Her posture was stiff, her radiant armor dulled beneath a layer of tension. She closed her eyes for a breath, then whispered under it:
"Please protect these souls… let them find virtue."
Damien smirked faintly.
'Amen to that,' he thought, though he'd never been one for prayers. Still, with death on the horizon and no virtue to his name, even a divine favor wouldn't go unwelcome.
Time slowed.
His heartbeat was a steady drum. Sweat pooled under his collar. Every instinct screamed that danger was coming, but all he could do was wait.
Then Evalyn stepped forward and gathered them all once more.
Now, they stood apart, no longer huddled close or trusting—just wary eyes and nervous silences.
Her voice, though heavy, carried power.
"Good job surviving the Purge. You will be teleported to the First Circle shortly."
She paused. Her silver hair slipped across her cheek, veiling the sadness in her eyes.
"I won't sugarcoat it," she continued. "Many of you will die there. And your souls… will remain in Hell forever."
Damien gritted his teeth.
Great.
"When you arrive, look for the white beacon in the sky. It pulses every few seconds—visible from anywhere in the Circle. That beacon marks the gate. If you reach it, you pass."
Her voice hardened.
"Gather anyone you find. Work together. Find food. Shelter. Weapons. The First Circle is far more dangerous than it appears. Trust me when I say, you cannot survive it alone."
She offered a faint, tired smile.
"And lastly… survive. If you can reach that gate, you'll move on. That's all that matters now."
Her eyes searched theirs. Hope and sorrow danced in her gaze—and for some reason, Damien felt her words strike something deep inside.
'I will survive,' he told himself, as murmurs of determination rippled through the Hellbound.
Then a scream tore the world open.
Everyone turned. Damien's eyes shot toward the sound—and froze.
The lustful man—so confident, so adored—was on the ground, convulsing in raw agony.
But it wasn't that that chilled Damien's blood.
It was the figure standing over him.
Jack.
The fat man rested one hand gently on the man's shoulder, their eyes locked.
And then… Jack smiled.
A soft, sad smile.
What the hell are you doing?! Damien screamed in his mind.
Jack mouthed something Damien couldn't hear—but he saw it.
"With this gift, find redemption."
In that moment, Jack's final thoughts rang out—calm, unshaken:
Become the man I couldn't. Find a life worth living. This is my repentance… helping someone else find their path. I hope it's enough, even though I took the coward's way out. In the end, I couldnt live with my guilt.'
The lustful man let out one last, wrenching scream before crumpling. His life drained away—and then Jack… vanished.
A cannon fired again.
"Hellbound, Jack Pierce eliminated. Sin committed: Gluttony."
Stunned silence overtook the dome.
Even Evalyn didn't speak.
But there was no time to grieve or question it.
The glass trembled as the final phase began.
Every soul felt its body seize, pulled upward by an unseen force. Damien's vision blurred, and his feet left the ground.
And then, another voice spoke.
This time, it spoke only to him.
"Hellbound Damien Veyne: Extra Life Granted."
Meanwhile, in the Celestial Office…
A young woman no older than twenty stood across from a sleek, polished desk carved from stardust and silver. Behind it sat an older man, hair like white fire, robes blacker than any void.
He looked up slowly, irritation in his ancient eyes.
"I told you not to disturb me unless it was urgent," he said, voice smooth but dangerous.
The girl swallowed hard. "It is urgent, sir."
He slammed his fist down, thunder rolling from the impact.
"Then speak!"
She steadied herself. "The human man you asked me to track… he's entering the First Circle."
The Judge's face darkened. His hands stilled. For a long moment, the past returned in fragments—Damien's pale eyes, that mocking grin, his laughter echoing through the tribunal like a curse.
He laughed in my face. Mocked me in front of the others.
I cannot allow that soul to be reborn.
"I remember him," the man said quietly, a cruel smile spreading across his lips.
"Show him what Hell is truly like."