Into The dirt

Hell was a pitiful place now, more so than it had ever been. The fiery landscape that once roared with infernal energy now simmered weakly, its flames subdued, its skies dull with a smoggy haze. The rivers of molten lava were drying up, and the air reeked of defeat. The demons who remained alive wandered aimlessly, scavenging for power, purpose, or scraps of pride.

Kikidori trudged through the ruins of what used to be a bustling infernal city. The streets were cracked and uneven, littered with shattered weapons and abandoned corpses. Buildings that once stood tall and menacing had collapsed into heaps of rubble, their skeletal remains stretching out like twisted claws.

It was pathetic.

He stuffed his hands in the pockets of his tattered coat, his hood pulled low over his face. Every step he took kicked up dust and ash, and he muttered curses under his breath.

"This place is a fucking dump," he said to no one in particular. "And they call this home?"

The demons around him didn't even glance his way. Most of them were too beaten down to care about anything other than surviving another day. Others avoided him intentionally, their fear of his sharp tongue and sharper claws keeping them at a distance.

But not everyone feared Kikidori.

He turned down an alley, the narrow path choked with smoke and the faint glow of embers. It was quieter here, and for a moment, he thought he could enjoy the silence. Then, something slammed into the back of his head.

The force sent him stumbling forward, and pain exploded in his skull. He spun around, his hand already reaching for the knife strapped to his thigh, but before he could react, a heavy boot connected with his ribs.

Kikidori hit the ground hard, the jagged stones scraping against his skin. A gang of demons emerged from the shadows, their faces twisted into cruel grins.

"Well, well," said the largest of them, a hulking brute with curved horns and glowing yellow eyes. "If it isn't the big-mouthed fallen angel."

Kikidori groaned, spitting blood onto the ground. "The fuck do you want?"

"What do you think?" another demon sneered, his forked tongue flicking out as he cracked his knuckles. "You embarrassed Lucifer in front of everyone yesterday. Someone's gotta put you in your place."

Kikidori smirked despite the pain radiating through his body. "Oh, I see. You're his lapdogs. How cute."

The brute didn't like that. He grabbed Kikidori by the front of his coat and hauled him to his feet. "You've got a big mouth for someone who's about to get their ass handed to them."

"Yeah?" Kikidori wheezed, his crimson eyes locking onto the brute's. "Well, at least I'm not a bootlicking bitch."

The first punch landed squarely on Kikidori's jaw, snapping his head to the side. The second drove into his stomach, forcing the air from his lungs.

They didn't stop there.

Fists and boots rained down on him, each blow accompanied by jeers and laughter. The gang of demons took turns beating him, their anger fueled by envy, resentment, and the opportunity to assert dominance in a world where they had lost everything else.

Kikidori tried to fight back. He lashed out with claws and kicks, managing to land a few hits, but he was outnumbered and outmatched. The gang was relentless, their combined strength overwhelming him.

His vision blurred, and blood dripped from his mouth and nose, but he refused to cry out. He wouldn't give them the satisfaction.

"Not so tough now, are you?" one of the demons taunted, kicking him in the side.

Kikidori coughed, a laugh bubbling up from his throat despite the pain. "Still tougher than you," he croaked.

The brute growled and raised his fist for another strike, but before he could land it, a deafening roar echoed through the alley.

A massive flame erupted nearby, casting the gang in a searing light. They froze, their eyes widening as a figure stepped out of the fire.

It was an enforcer demon, one of the few who still retained some authority in the broken hierarchy of hell. His towering form and fiery eyes radiated power, and the gang scattered like cockroaches at the sight of him.

"You dare brawl in the streets?" the enforcer bellowed, his voice shaking the ground. "Leave, or I'll drag you to the pits myself!"

The gang didn't need to be told twice. They fled, their tails between their legs, leaving Kikidori sprawled on the ground.

The enforcer glanced down at him, his expression one of mild annoyance. "You should be more careful, fallen one. Hell is not kind to those who make enemies."

Kikidori wiped the blood from his face and glared up at the enforcer. "Yeah? Well, hell's not kind to anyone."

The enforcer snorted and walked away, leaving Kikidori to pull himself to his feet. His body ached, his clothes were torn, and he was pretty sure one of his ribs was broken, but he was alive.

"Fucking assholes," he muttered, limping out of the alley.

As he made his way back to his quarters—a dingy cave carved into the side of a cliff—he couldn't help but think about how far he'd fallen. Not just from heaven, but from everything he used to be. Once, he had been powerful, feared, and respected. Now, he was just another punching bag in a dying world.

He collapsed onto the crude bed of stone and sighed, staring up at the cracked ceiling. His mind wandered, and for the first time in a long while, he found himself thinking about heaven. About what it had been like to fly under a golden sky, to hear the songs of angels, to feel… whole.

And then, unbidden, another thought crept in: the angel on the battlefield.

Her face flashed in his mind, her golden light, her piercing gaze, her voice.

"Fuck," he muttered, closing his eyes.

He didn't know why he had spared her, and he didn't want to think about it. But no matter how hard he tried, he couldn't get her out of his head.

The end of Chapter 6