City of Sodom

Brittany ran through the barren landscape of mutated rats and bugs, crawling on the ground, and seeking refuge from their prey. Countless insects, the size of eagles, swarmed overhead in a flock—searching for their meal as the malicious grunts of demons pulsated behind her.

She was being chased.

Over a dozen demonic brutes sprinted after her; some the size of imps while others stood seven feet tall with red skin and horns, laughing at her despair.

These evil barbarians fed off of fear and empowered themselves with the concept of sin. It didn't matter how fast Brittany ran; if she was scared, they'd eventually catch up and enslave her among the rest of their so-called "cattle" which were humans.

"Stay away from me!!" She begged for them to leave her alone, but they were merely empowered by her dread—enhancing their acceleration across the toxic wasteland.

"Meat, fresh meat!" The horde of demons were catching up in a short amount of time, despite their enormous hulking size. "Will eat!" Eventually, one of the imps jumped onto her leg and tripped her face first.

"Aaaah!" Brittany fell, throwing her hands forward to break her fall, "Let me go, you little shit!" She used her other leg to kick the imp in the face, but it didn't budge. "Get the fuck off of me!!" It laughed at her struggle, now opening its maw to bite into her calf. "Gaaaahh!"

She was at the mercy of these brutes as she crawled forward, digging her nails in the tarnished soil. Tears swelled up in her eyes, gritting her teeth as it chomped again, but this time, it bit a chunk of her flesh off.

"Aaaaaghh!" She arched her head—yelling to the nonexistent heavens above—nobody could hear her except for the creatures of sin. Brittany refused to accept her fate. "I won't die! You fuckers won't kill me!!" She mustered up all her strength, kicking the imp once more, but it bit again in retaliation, resulting in significant blood loss.

Brittany wailed in agony, feeling the hopelessness of her situation.

"Someone, please!" She begged for someone to save her, but it would only attract more demons from afar. An entire swarm surrounded her; many having different depraved thoughts. "Someone kill me! Just Fucking kill me!!"

Brittany didn't want to die by these creatures. Perishing by the hands of a demon results in being sent to the depths of hell to be tortured for all eternity. She wanted to prevent that outcome at all costs—but there was nothing she could do but plead.

"S-Spare me, please! I'll do anything you want! You can even make me your breeding sow, just don't kill me!" She looked up at the demonic horde, many of which laughed, while others advanced forward, grinning.

"We mate with lady. Lady have our offspring! Lady will be pounded good!"

Tears fell from her eyes, glancing at the hulking beast in front of her.

"By… all of you?"

There were at least thirty demons waiting to use the human as their plaything. There was no empathy within these creatures.

"Lady will breed good!" The demon grasped her head, picking her up with relative ease. Brittany struggled in its grasp, but in the end, it was futile.

She could only scream, shout, and kick her legs as she tried to escape.

And then—there was a bloodcurdling scream as the sound of demons laughed in unison.

+

A jet-black motorcycle traversed the vast wastelands of a lost civilization, resonating with the sounds of its heavy engine. Atop the motorbike was Ishmael; a Demon hunter who managed to come across a city full of these creatures.

He slowly came to a stop, feeling the dust blow in the wind before kick-standing his bike, and advancing on foot. Many demons were unaware of Ishmael's arrival; too busy playing with their "cattle", and feasting upon human flesh and bone. The city smelled of rotten corpses and feces, with the demonic brutes laughing like pigs.

The Demonkind were known to kidnap humans and use them as slaves—often telling them to build houses, villages, and entire cities if possible. Most humans who decline are usually eaten alive, and or tortured until they die, before being sent to the depths of hell. That was the harsh reality people had to accept.

The City was known as Sodom; a place of sin where demonkind get together for all sorts of depravity. Their culture was immoral, taking pleasure in human suffering and making entire holidays based on it. Some even have traditions of wearing human skulls around their waist as a sign of their hatred for mankind.

But there was one thing that stood out the most about this city; it was ruled by a human.

She went by the name "Witch of Endor", and was a devoted follower of Lucifer himself.

She was well-known among demonkind and often feared for her powerful sorcery that only Arch Demons were capable of manifesting.

Lucifer trusted her the most—out of any human on earth—so she remained loyal and obedient. But Ishmael knew of this information and decided to pay her a little visit.

Ambling through the City in his black attire, Ishmael would stand out the most, but with him smelling of demon blood as a hybrid, they outright ignored him, making it easier to bypass their security.

The Demon hunter came to a stop, glancing at a massive building in front of him that was crafted from otherworldly material. It was the largest building in Sodom, where politics and city planning were held. A meeting room is inside where the Witch of Endor hosts important meetings with intelligent demons of a higher class.

This city was organized. Perhaps even more organized than Angel-X.

"So this is it." Ishmael glanced at the entrance in front of him before lifting his gloved hand, planting it against the door. "It's made out of Malignantnite. This shouldn't be a problem."

Malignantnite is a metal made by combining Steel and an element from Hell known as Inferlion, at high temperatures. Steel is melted in a furnace before Inferlion is added to the molten steel to create Malignantnite.

This metal was known for its devilish properties, infecting people with hatred and sorrow, and brainwashing them into an immoral monster, but Ishmael remained unaffected.

His gloved hand began to glow as the cross on the dorsal side released a dark miasma.

"Tarnish." Upon command, a jet-black energy shot from his palm and infused with the door, rotting it away. The Malignantnite door was no more, having its wicked effects decomposed into nothingness.

Ishmael stepped over the crumbled door and ambled his way into the Capital of Sodom, analyzing his surroundings to be met with three demons standing far in front of him.

"Who the hell are you?" One of the demons asked, slouched over carrying a mace.

"Three middle-class demons?"

Ishmael was surprised. He expected Arch Demons to be guarding Sodom's Capital, but he was far from wrong.

"You three won't be enough to stop me. Where are your Arch Demons?"

"Arch Demons?! Kehehe!" The other demon, holding a pitchfork, laughed. "Don't need 'em for fools like you!"

"Very well." Ishmael took a step forward before vanishing into thin air, leaving behind an afterimage. The demons were unable to react in time—watching the world spin in circles as their heads were severed from their body.

Ishmael pitied them not as he continued his advancement, holding a bloodied longsword in his hand.

More middle-class demons came from the shadows, ambushing the demon hunter, but he would smite them down with the flick of his wrist, cutting their bodies in two.

It was a dance of blood—and death was the harmony.

No demon could match Ishmael's strength, not even those with logic and strategy. He was simply too fast - too strong.

He was in another league of his own.

Eventually, he reached a corridor that led into the meeting room of the capital. Over a dozen demons were in the hallway, holding all sorts of weapons that would kill any normal man in one hit.

"I've come to see the Witch of Endor. If you value your lives, I would ask you to step aside and drop your weapons."

The demons wouldn't budge. They stood their ground and guarded the door with utter determination.

"We were told to protect the Witch of Endor by Satan at all costs!"

The demons were frightful, yet obedient to their master.

"If that is what you wish."

Ishmael lifted his longsword to the side and shrouded it in a fiery mantle. The demons gasped, watching the hunter prepare his attack as he took the stance of a rapier fencer.

"Inferno Blaze."

Ishmael jabbed forward, launching a linear wave of flames that burnt the demons into a crisp, despite their innate fire resistance. Such was the outcome of sorcery and skill within the arcane.

Each demon fell to their knees, baffled as their souls returned to hell.

There was no remorse in his eyes as he sheathed his blade, ambling towards the door.