INFERNAL CORE, KING'S CHAMBER – HELL [ANOTHER REALM]
The King of Hell did not bleed.
He fractured.
His skin peeled in plates of light. Bones shimmered like shattered logic. His throne pulsed not with fire, but with a kind of soundless scream.
Equations hovered around his disintegrating body—strings of infernal law, time syncs, soul ownership.
Each one cracking.
Each one failing.
He slumped on his obsidian chair, held upright only by the chains fused to his spine.
Three steps away stood Judas, commander of demons, arms crossed, eyes burning with disbelief.
He did not kneel.
He never did.
"I've commanded armies of sin," Judas muttered. "Torn angels from the sky. Burned gods into silence. But this?"
He stared at the King, jaw set.
"This is different."
The King coughed—no blood, only glowing symbols dripping from his lips.
"A… crack… in the field…" he rasped. "The equation… no longer holds…"
Judas stepped forward. "Then write another."
The King laughed—a harsh, metallic sound.
"I tried… I failed… I am bound to the law. And someone… someone broke the law…"
His eyes, half-gone to static, locked on Judas.
"…from outside time."
The demon general's face twisted.
"The throne must live," the King whispered, "even if I die…"
He raised a trembling, bone-thin finger.
And pointed upward.
"It must go to the next candidate."
Judas snarled, "There is no other candidate."
A fading smile crept across the King's face.
"Yes, there is."
He coughed again, chest folding inward like paper burning in reverse.
"A human…"
Judas snapped, "WHAT."
The King didn't flinch. "His name… is Koushik."
"Executioner… Clanless… Merciless…"
"He will do what I never could…"
"Survive the equation… without a soul to lose."
Judas roared, "No! You cannot give the throne to some carbon-stained mortal—"
"It's done," the King whispered.
"The throne has been chosen… Judas."
His body dimmed. Eyes turned black.
Equations carved themselves into the throne as his body disintegrated into flickering static.
Final words etched in light:
Hail Koushik.
The next Demon King.
EARTH – KOUSHIK'S ROOM, HOURS LATER
The motel room groaned in silence. A black flame sparked in the corner—unnoticed.
The bed creaked with effort.
A bottle tipped on the nightstand.
Koushik's hand gripped a barmaid's thigh like he was trying to hold onto silence itself.
She laughed softly, breath warm against his skin.
"You're not like the others," she whispered.
"I know," Koushik muttered. "I charge double."
She rode him with robotic rhythm.
He smoked mid-thrust.
The mattress squeaked beneath them.
His mind wasn't on her.
It was on money.
Then—BOOM.
The motel door exploded inward.
Three silhouettes stepped into the smoke: Samar, Vaibhav, and Kovida.
The barmaid screamed, clutching a towel around herself.
Koushik turned, still inside her, cigarette between his lips.
"Busy," he said. "Come back in five."
Vaibhav whistled, eyes widening.
"Damn. She's got that Limited Edition Demoness Vol. 6 body type."
She threw a pillow. Missed.
Samar didn't flinch.
Kovida glared. "You're disgusting."
Koushik pulled out lazily, dragging a sheet off the bed as if clocking out of a shift. "Not the first time I've heard that."
He crossed the room naked, grabbed a black pair of boxers, slid them on without care.
Lit a new cigarette.
"Unless one of you plans to pay me for lost time," he said, "talk fast."
Samar stepped forward. "You've been named."
Koushik blinked. "By who? The girl? She doesn't know my name."
"By a demon," Vaibhav replied. "Not one from this world. One that bled like it already knew you."
Kovida's voice was steady. "It said—'Hail Koushik. The Demon King.'"
Koushik froze for a beat.
Then exhaled smoke, casual.
"…Well."
He walked to the sink, splashed water on his face.
"That sounds like someone else's problem."
The barmaid backed toward the exit—no one stopped her.
She knew she was out of her depth.
Now dressed, weapons holstered, Koushik strapped his vest, his Khanda blade, and his Desert Eagle in place.
"You done staring?" he asked.
Samar watched him with sharp, unblinking eyes.
Vaibhav sat on the bed, flipping demon logs.
"Your name wasn't just said," he muttered. "It was declared. Like prophecy."
Koushik scoffed. "Cool. Still not a crime."
Kovida stepped closer. "You were there. Before the rift. Before the kill. You did something. Or were something."
Koushik said nothing.
Then—
All electronics flickered.
His wristband buzzed.
The room warped, ever so slightly.
Everyone froze.
Inside Koushik, something stirred.
Old. Ancient. Burning.
Like a throne made of iron now resting quietly beneath his lungs.
Then—Creak.
The half-broken door opened once more.
Chetan stepped in.
Long coat. No expression. A file he never opened.
He stared directly at Koushik.
Said one thing:
"Something has chosen you."
Then—
BUZZ.
Koushik's system lit up.
A screen appeared.
SYSTEM ALERT: DIMENSIONAL RIGHT TRANSFER INBOUND
Entity Type: KING OF HELL
Status: Binding Complete
Target: KOUSHIK
➤ Accept
➤ Reject
➤ See Later
Koushik didn't hesitate.
He clicked:
See Later.
The glow faded.
But the fire inside him didn't.
He looked at Chetan.
Nineteen years old. Rank 2.
Koushik was twenty-six. Still Rank 4.
One day, I'm gonna surpass this asshole.
Chetan said nothing.
Turned. Walked out.
Vaibhav finally broke the silence.
"Well… that was light."
No one laughed.
"I feel like we just survived a metaphor," he added, sitting on the still-warm bed.
Samar watched Koushik.
"Something's changed," he said.
Kovida didn't speak. But she saw it too.
His eyes don't blink the same anymore.
Koushik lit another cigarette.
Breathed in slow.
Now just the four of them remained.
And the game had just begun.