Hell and Everyday Life [2]
The fact that I was once human, or the concept of reincarnation, would be incomprehensible to them—and if it got out, it would spark an uncontrollable disaster.
The demons here weren't beings who reached this state through reincarnation. They were born as demons from the start, living in accordance with Hell's laws. In such an ecosystem, someone with an "alien origin" like me would be rejected just for being different.
Difference breeds fear, and fear breeds murderous intent. Especially in this Hell, where rank and strength were everything, revealing a unique "flaw" or "peculiarity" was as dangerous as standing before a pack of starving wolves, reeking of blood.
This was my fatal flaw compared to other demons, and a weakness I absolutely had to hide. I opened my mouth with the most indifferent expression I could muster.
"It's not really knowledge... I just happened to glimpse other worlds flickering in and out of existence in the void before the mortal world was born, long ago."
"The... process of other worlds?"
Bael's eyes darkened deeply.
Well, it wasn't a lie. I did remember documentaries on cosmic mysteries I'd watched when I couldn't sleep in my past life, along with the births and falls of worlds from countless novels and movies.
As I thought that and looked at Bael, her gaze held the reverence one might give a saint who had witnessed the Creator's design of another universe.
"Yeah. There, laws took precedence over force, logic over destruction. I just remembered those bizarre scenes and forcibly pieced them together with my Sloth Force and Hell's energy to imitate them."
"To call it mere imitation belies its profound caliber."
Bael's eyes gleamed fiercely. She nodded gravely and murmured softly.
"...No falsehood."
Did she just use some lie-detection Authority? I flinched for a second, but immediately hypnotized myself hard: 'I've never lied.'
"Eh... it's not that impressive. I just saw it for a long time, that's all."
"To manifest laws from beyond the reach of causality upon this land... You truly are the 'Witness of the Abyss,' unknown to us."
I'd repackaged my past-life memories as observations from the abyss, but since I had indeed witnessed other worlds' laws, I let it slide. As the silence stretched, I changed the subject.
"Oh, right, Baelzahar. I've got a question too."
"...Speak. And Baelzahar is too long to call me. Just Bael will do. One of your stature deserves that much."
Surprised by the unexpected offer, I nodded and asked.
"Got it, Bael. I want to know about Hell. Its structure, how many powerhouses like you there are, the ecosystem here, the souls—everything."
At my question, Bael gazed into her teacup, as if gauging where to begin. When she finally lifted her head, her red eyes traced faint trails in the air.
"Hell is far vaster—and more brutally simple—than you imagine."
With a light snap of her fingers, black mist coalesced above the table, forming a three-dimensional map.
"Hell consists of seven vast domains and one central hub encompassing them."
The misty map divided into seven zones, each glowing in distinct colors. At their center emerged the largest, darkest land.
"The outer seven domains are ruled by the Roots of Sin. From Satan's [Wrath] to the [Sloth] domain where you now reside. They claim souls fallen from the mortal world according to their sins and exact fitting recompense."
At Bael's explanation, I paused with my teacup halfway to my lips.
"...Huh? Me too?"
At my abrupt question, Bael stared blankly before giving a faint, resigned bitter smile and nodding.
"...Indeed. You too should receive souls and demand payment for their sins. But Sloth is... a bit different."
Bael glanced toward the grassy hill where I'd been sleeping and continued.
"You just sleep. But consider it: as a Root, that's fulfilling your duty most faithfully. What could embody Sloth more perfectly than the King of Sloth lazing about? No fault there—worry not."
Her words felt like comfort, yet also like resignation.
'Whew, lucky. Sleeping's my job? Perfect fit for my talents.'
I inwardly sighed in relief and set down my cup. No need to judge souls and mete out punishments? What better assignment?
Sipping my tea, I pointed to the central dark domain.
"Then what's that in the middle? Yours?"
"Yes."
Bael's reply was curt. I sensed an odd dissonance in her voice—not the sternness of Hell's overseer, but a profound loneliness words couldn't capture.
"I, Baelzahar, am unbound by the yoke of sin. I exist solely to safeguard and manage Hell itself. When the Roots of Sin chase their desires and cause chaos, I merely watch alone to ensure this land's order endures."
Her eyes gazing at the map turned hollow—not the eyes of a ruler, but those of a prisoner serving an eternal sentence.
A position no one could join, no one could understand. Bael felt like the sole inmate in the vast prison called Hell's King.
Watching her, my past-life self flickered in my mind. Days crushed by tasks just to survive, trapped in a prison-like routine. Nothing for me; suffocating in ashen gray.
After losing family young, even my sole pillar—Grandma—passed, leaving only her dying words.
'Live. You must live happily.'
To honor them, I strove with all I had, yet ended with nothing. Never saw the outside. Just a bleak gray world shrouded in black. From Bael before me wafted that same acrid gray scent I'd known then.
'...Gotta take her out sometime.'
A sense of duty welled: drag her around for a mood boost. But for heavy consolation now? We'd barely shared tea. I briskly shifted the air to shake off the weight.
"What about the souls? What happens to mortals who come to Hell?"
Bael erased her loneliness with a faint smile.
"Not just humans. Elves, dwarves, beastkin... Countless mortal beings arrive. They scatter to domains by the weight of their sins."
I narrowed my eyes. Fantasy novel races actually fell to Hell?
"Do they get punished right away?"
Bael nodded calmly.
"Yes. But methods vary wildly by sin. Do you know, that the path to Hell is far easier—and more futile—than one thinks?"
Setting down her cup, Bael stared vacantly ahead, eyes scanning countless souls wailing on Hell's scales.
"Harming others to protect oneself leads here. But harming to protect others does too. Acts hailed as 'justice' above become mere cold 'evil' before Hell's absolute causality."
With a wave of her finger, wretched soul vignettes floated above the tea like illusions.
"A family man stealing bread for his starving kin goes to [Greed]. A hero slaughtering thousands to save his nation from invaders falls to [Wrath]. Even a filial son granting euthanasia to free his suffering mother is branded a murderer here. Even benevolence, if it hinders independence and leads to ruin, becomes sin flowing to us."
Bael's voice was calm, laced with skepticism from long witnessing "contradictory justice" as Hell's manager.
"Intentions matter not. Only the results of actions and causality's threads. That is Hell's law, the order I uphold."
A bitter taste filled my mouth; I downed my tea. The mortal world might be colorful, but Hell was a merciless purgatory of black-and-white causality.
"Brutally fair. So fair it's unlovable."
Bael gave a tiny, sad smile.
"Indeed. The Roots of Sin are swamped to the point of rampage. Though it's the underlings suffering—we're fine."
Her pointed joke made me cough awkwardly—"Ahem"—and avert my eyes. As Sloth's King who'd just woken from sleep, my conscience stung. But the unease that followed was unavoidable.
"Still doesn't sit right."
I frowned. If Hell was so easy to reach, how many made it to Heaven? Even the good by mortal standards ground by causality's gears—it irked me.
Seeing that, Bael smiled oddly.
"Bear with it a bit. I plan to change this system."
"...Huh? You can?"
Her eyes blazed at my puzzled question.
"Of course. With enough power. Ask Satan—he's arriving now."
Who? Before I could react—
BOOM—!!!
A roar louder than thunder shook the ground. Something plummeted, shredding my sanctuary's barrier and cratering the floor. From the dust cloud came a boyish voice.
"Simple story."
Dusting off his clothes emerged a boy looking about fifteen. But his aura—icy and savage—froze the serene tea gathering in an instant. A chill sharp as blades enveloped the table. He was the King called "Cold Wrath"—Satan.
"Can't stand those uppity bastards claiming the Creator—our Father—'s world as theirs, ruling to their taste. Just kill the vermin all."
Satan claimed a seat at the table as if my wrecked barrier meant nothing, eyeing my and Bael's cups. Summoning a huge wine goblet from thin air, he plunked it down like he wanted a sip too.
No teacups in Hell, so he'd grabbed the most plausible vessel-shaped thing.
"Lemme try this 'tea' thing."
Pushing a massive wine goblet for tea after his murderous rant. I gawked, alternating between my ruined barrier and his goblet.
'...Do all these guys smash others' homes as a hobby?'
The King of Wrath eyed me eagerly for a pour. Bael, accustomed, merely fiddled with her cup and chuckled softly.
Resigned to the absurdity, I lifted the teapot and filled his goblet with dark brown tea—glug, glug, glug.
Hell’s King, Wrath’s King, and Sloth’s Root. An ill-matched trio's bizarre tea party began.