DIABLO_01

*THIS STORY WILL BE SLOW PACED, I REPEAT THIS STORY WILL BE SLOW PACED* 


Betrayed. Broken. Trapped in the abyss.

Derrick Steins was just another high schooler with dreams—until those he trusted tore his world apart. Left beaten and bleeding, he fell into a deep coma, his consciousness slipping into darkness…

But when he wakes, it isn’t in a hospital bed. It isn’t in the world he once knew.

It’s Hell.

A realm of nightmares where the air stinks of blood, monsters feast on the weak, and the only rule is survival. Here, the strong reign as gods, and the powerless are erased without a trace.

Derrick should be terrified. He should despair. But instead, something within him awakens—something dark, something hungry.

He was cast aside once. Never again.

If Hell wants a monster… he’ll become something far worse.

This is his descent. His rebirth. His reckoning.

This is Demon God’s Requiem.

Demon God’s Requiem

Chapter 16: The Breaking Point

A Hollow Meal

The aroma of roasted chicken and potatoes fills the air, but it barely registers.

I sit at the dinner table, surrounded by the familiar warmth of my family, but it feels like I'm somewhere else.

The dull ache in my ribs, the heavier weight in my chest—they consume my thoughts.

Lily talks, her voice bright, trying to keep the mood light.

"So, Derrick, guess what? I totally destroyed my friend in that math quiz today." She grins, nudging my arm. "She thought she had me, but nope—big brain Lily wins again."

I blink, forcing myself to react. "That's… great," I say, my voice flat.

She frowns slightly, studying me, but doesn't press.

Mark, usually teasing, is quiet tonight. He hasn't said much since I sat down.

It's subtle, but I catch it—the silent conversation between them, the growing concern they're not voicing.

Mom clears her throat. "Derrick, honey, you've barely touched your food."

I look down at my plate. The food sits there, untouched, heavy and unappealing.

I force a small smile. "Not that hungry."

Dad sets his fork down. "Everything okay?"

I nod quickly. "Yeah. Just tired."

They want me to say more. To explain.

I mumble a quiet, "I'm gonna head up. Got some homework to finish."

But I feel their eyes on my back as I walk away.

The Isolation of a Bedroom

The moment I step into my room, I shut the door behind me, the soft click echoing in the silence.

My sanctuary—my space—should feel safe.

The desk cluttered with unfinished assignments.

They all feel cold. Distant. Unwelcoming.

I toe off my shoes and collapse onto my bed.

The mattress gives beneath my weight, but it doesn't comfort me.

I stare at the ceiling, my breaths slow, controlled, measured.

A Flood of Emotions

The first tear slips down my cheek before I even realize it.

A raw, trembling sob forces its way out of my throat.

I clutch my pillow, pressing my face into the fabric, as the weight of everything crashes down.

The sheer, unrelenting loneliness.

I'm just a boy who got beaten up in a library while the world kept turning.

The sobs wrack my body, harsh and uncontrollable.

Because if I stop—if I let the silence return—

That I don't know how much longer I can keep doing this.

Consumed by Darkness

The darkness of my room mirrors the despair inside me.

By the time sleep finally claims me, the tears have left my pillow damp.