Chapter 11 - The Fall

The muffled screams of tortured souls echoed in the thick air as I stared at the boat that would take me to the next circle. The river before me boiled, emitting a nauseating stench of feces and rotting flesh. Gluttony, Wrath, and Greed floated around me—spectral shadows, ethereal but burdened with immense weight.

Wrath spoke first.

"We are shadows. We pass effortlessly. But you… you'll need the boat."

Gluttony and Greed nodded, their shadowy forms hovering above the river, disappearing on the other side without even disturbing the surface.

I took a deep breath, trying to ignore the fear and nausea, and stepped into the boat. Each stroke of the oar was a battle against the heat and stench, but I pressed on, keeping my eyes fixed on the distant shore. When I was nearly there, something coiled around the boat. Before I could react, I was pulled under.

The boiling water engulfed me like a second skin. Pain, weight, and a suffocating sense of despair consumed me. My body fought instinctively to surface. I broke through, the heat still searing my flesh as I crawled to the shore. My breaths came heavy, but I summoned all my strength to stand, only to be greeted by a sight that froze my blood: Azazel, Beelzebub, and Mammon, cruel smiles on their faces.

Behind them stood Gluttony, Wrath, and Greed. They looked at me with indifference, as though I were nothing more than a disposable obstacle.

Mammon was the first to speak, his voice dripping with mockery.

"Look at him. A pathetic human pretending to wield power. What can you offer them that we can't?"

I trembled, my bloody hands gripping the muddy ground. I raised my gaze, gathering what little courage remained.

"Not power. It was never about power. It was freedom."

My words echoed, but the demons didn't react. I turned to Gluttony, ignoring the others, letting my voice tremble intentionally, blending pain and desperation.

"You think Beelzebub will set you free? Look at me! I'm raw flesh, suffering, fighting… not for myself, but for you! Because I believe you deserve something better than this endless hunger."

Gluttony averted her gaze, hesitating for a moment. But Beelzebub stepped forward, trying to reassert his dominance.

"Don't fall for it, Gluttony. He's preying on your weakness. He just wants to use you!"

I turned sharply to Beelzebub, pointing to my mutilated body.

"Use? Look at me! I'm on the brink of death because I believed I could save them! And what have you done for her except keep her starving?"

I shifted my attention to Wrath, my tone changing to something heavier, as if a friend were speaking directly to another.

"Wrath, you are strength. You are fire. But what has Azazel done with that? He chained you, used your rage as fuel for his power. And now? Now he wants you to believe that's all you are."

Azazel laughed, trying to undermine me.

"You speak as if you know something about her. Wrath doesn't need your pity. She was born to burn!"

I ignored Azazel, locking eyes with Wrath.

"Burn for him, not for yourself. Think about it. You don't deserve to be just a tool. You deserve to be free, to decide for yourself what to do with your strength."

Finally, I faced Greed, letting my voice weaken as if on the verge of collapse.

"Greed… You know Mammon only gave you gold to enslave you. He wants you to think you're in control, but everything you have is what he allowed you to have. Don't you see? He's afraid of what you could be without him."

Mammon couldn't contain his anger, stepping forward.

"Enough of this! You're an insignificant human!"

Before I could react, he kicked me, sending me back into the boiling river. The pain was indescribable, but I didn't scream. I submerged completely, letting the heat consume my skin again.

I emerged, crawling back to the shore once more. My body was a horror: raw flesh, patches of skin hanging, blood mixing with filth. But my mind was clear, and my voice, stronger.

"You think this will stop me? You think what I feel now is worse than the pain of seeing them enslaved?"

The shadows hesitated. Even the demons seemed unsettled by my resilience. I seized the moment, my tone oscillating between desperation and determination.

"Gluttony, Wrath, Greed… I don't want you to follow me because I'm strong. I want you to follow me because I will never give up on you. Even if it kills me. Even if I have to be destroyed for you to be free."

I turned to the demons, my gaze defiant.

"Beelzebub, Azazel, Mammon. You know what's happening here. They're starting to see the truth. No matter how many times you throw me into the fire. No matter how many lies you tell. In the end, the truth is inevitable: you have no power without them."

The demons began to react, but before they could speak, Gluttony advanced, looking at Beelzebub with hungry eyes.

"He's right. I've never been satisfied. And you've always wanted it that way."

Wrath turned to Azazel, her voice low but charged with anger.

"I don't want to burn for you anymore."

Greed looked at Mammon, a calculating gleam in her eyes.

"You gave me gold. Now I want what you've hidden from me. Freedom."

The demons tried to fight back, but it was too late. The shadows had turned against them, fueled by the lies I had turned into truths. Gluttony devoured Beelzebub, her hunger finally satisfied as she consumed her former master. Wrath destroyed Azazel, her strength free of the chains that had bound her. Greed took everything from Mammon, leaving him with nothing but emptiness.

As the demons vanished, Lucifer appeared, a disconcerting smile on his face.

"Congratulations, human. You fooled them. But the real question is: do you believe the lies you told?"

I didn't respond. Because deep down, I knew he was right. The lies I had told, the masks I had worn, had fused with me, becoming my essence. It was no longer a matter of choice or purpose; I had transcended human limitations and rejected the constraints of any morality governing angels or demons. I was an entity forged in cold logic and indifference, a being that sought neither redemption nor glory, only the freedom to exist beyond laws, beyond right and wrong. Amoral, absolute, and resolute, I was no victim of Hell—I was its cruelest reflection.

"What's your name, human?" Lucifer asked, his voice carrying an almost casual interest but with the weight of someone who already knew all the answers.

I paused for a moment, feeling his piercing gaze, as if he were trying to extract something from within me. Finally, I raised my eyes, meeting the Prince of Hell's stare without fear.

"I'm just a librarian."

There was a brief silence, but it was heavy with meaning. Lucifer tilted his head to the side, as if trying to comprehend something, and then burst into laughter. His voice echoed like distant thunder, filling the entire circle with a sound that seemed both mocking and respectful.

"A librarian?" He repeated between laughs, his tone dripping with sarcasm. "You invade my kingdom, destroy my most loyal demons, challenge the very forces that shaped humanity... and tell me you're just a librarian?"

I kept my gaze fixed on him, unfazed. "A librarian is someone who organizes, who stores, but also someone who knows when to remove what doesn't belong on the shelves. You, Lucifer, and the other sins... You are merely outdated volumes. I'm here to reorganize this library."

Lucifer's eyes glimmered for a moment, something between fascination and irritation. He took a step forward, and the atmosphere around me seemed to grow heavier.

"I see... So you see yourself as the keeper of this chaos? Interesting." He smiled, but his white teeth gleamed like blades. "But tell me, librarian: what if this 'book' you're trying to erase is the foundation of all existence? What if, by reorganizing my library, you destroy everything you know? Or even destroy yourself?"

I didn't hesitate. "Maybe it's necessary to destroy in order to rebuild something greater. After all, what is a librarian but someone who challenges disorder and imposes meaning where there was once chaos?"

Lucifer's laughter stopped abruptly, and the smile he gave me this time was darker. "Interesting. Very interesting. But be careful, librarian. Sometimes those who organize end up consumed by the weight of what they store. And then, who will be left to remember you?"

I didn't answer. Because deep down, I knew he was right too.

The next circle awaited me, and I was willing to do anything.