Chapter 6: Welcome to Nefarion

The descent into Nefarion was like stepping into a wound carved into the flesh of Hell itself.

Kael and Lilith walked along a narrow, spiraling road that wrapped the inside of a canyon wall. Far below, the city spread like a cancer—twisting towers, broken bridges, chimneys spitting black smoke into the crimson sky. Faint screams and chimes echoed from deep beneath the city's surface.

"You ever been here?" Kael asked as they moved through the mist-choked path.

Lilith kept her hood up, her silver eyes scanning every shadow. "Once. To kill someone. Got paid in soulglass. Left before the city swallowed me."

Kael glanced over the edge. "How pleasant."

At the bottom of the slope, a massive obsidian archway marked the entrance to the city proper. Two hunched demon guards in mismatched armor leaned against the walls, eyes glowing dimly with suspicion. They barely acknowledged Kael and Lilith, except for a guttural snort.

No questions. No inspections.

Just silent approval of more damned souls entering the pit.

Nefarion was divided into three rings: the Outer Scars, the Crimson Coil, and the Core Flame District. Kael had memorized this from the scroll. The relic they sought—the Heart of Ruin—was last rumored to be somewhere in the Crimson Coil, beneath an abandoned war temple.

But first, they had to survive the Scars.

The Outer Scars were filled with broken buildings, makeshift markets, and half-dead demons barely clinging to existence. Fires burned in oil drums. Blood ran in gutters. Children with horns and hollow eyes watched from shadows.

Kael and Lilith moved in silence, but the weight of eyes on them was constant.

"We're being followed," she whispered.

"Let them," Kael muttered. "They'll regret it."

A ragged figure stepped into their path—a vendor, if the rickety stall of bones and torn banners behind him could be called that. He wore a mask made from stitched skin and held a tray of... eyeballs?

"Fresh memories," he rasped. "One bite, live someone else's death. Half off for first-timers."

Kael didn't break stride. "I'll pass."

Lilith, however, paused. She stared at the vendor for a moment before sliding a coin of soulglass onto his tray.

"Payment for silence," she said. "Forget our faces."

The vendor grinned, bowed, and vanished into the mist like he'd never been there.

Kael raised a brow. "You've got weird ways."

"I'm alive. That's all that matters."

---

They reached an old chapel half-sunk into the street and ducked inside. The interior was abandoned, its stained-glass windows shattered. Dust clung to every surface, and the air smelled of rust and old magic.

Lilith kicked open a trapdoor beneath the altar and climbed down into a hidden room. Kael followed.

It was a small hideout—probably used by smugglers or rebel agents in the past. There were old maps, broken weapons, and crates filled with half-rotted supplies.

Kael unrolled the scroll Duchess Virelia had given him.

Symbols lit up faintly—markings of the city's ley lines, showing where magic converged. The temple they needed was two rings deeper, guarded by a cluster of corrupted spirits bound to the ruins.

Lilith examined the scroll, tracing a clawed finger along one of the ley lines.

"If this is right," she murmured, "that temple isn't just abandoned. It's sealed. This convergence would've buried it beneath soulstone."

Kael nodded. "We'll need to break the seal. And that means finding a Keybearer."

"Or making one talk."

He sat back, eyes focused.

"First step… we get into the Crimson Coil."

Lilith tossed him a curved dagger. "Then let's get bloody."

---

The entrance to the Crimson Coil was a fortified gate lined with cursed ward-stones. Each one glowed faint red and projected a barrier that burned unauthorized souls.

To enter, you needed a sigil—a binding crest from one of the minor noble families, or a forged one good enough to fool the wards.

They had neither.

"We could fight through," Kael offered.

Lilith rolled her eyes. "And raise every alarm in Nefarion? Brilliant."

He smirked. "Was worth a shot."

Instead, they followed a group of low-level mercenaries entering a tavern called The Hollow Flame. Inside, the atmosphere was tense. Smoke filled the air. Demons and outcasts whispered over drinks brewed from corrupted blood and soul vapor.

Kael sat at the bar and dropped a silver coin.

The bartender, a four-armed demon with molten eyes, slid over. "What'll it be?"

"Information," Kael said.

"That costs more than silver."

He dropped a shard of soulglass. "We're looking for passage into the Coil."

The bartender leaned close. "There's a smuggler. Name's Varnyx. He moves people through the gates using illusion tags and forged sigils. But he won't deal with just anyone. You'll need to prove your usefulness."

"How?"

"Go to the Bone Pit. Win a match. Varnyx watches. Impress him."

Kael clenched his jaw. He wasn't in the mood for games—but they had no time to waste.

---

The Bone Pit was exactly what it sounded like—a circular arena carved into a hollowed section of street, filled with sand, bones, and blood. Spectators lined the rim, cheering as demons fought with claws, blades, and raw magic.

Varnyx sat in a private booth, hidden in shadows, surrounded by masked bodyguards.

Kael stepped into the pit as the announcer shouted:

"Next challenger! A no-name servant who thinks he can earn a sigil!"

The crowd jeered.

Then the gate on the other side opened—and a hulking creature lumbered out.

Nine feet tall. Chains wrapped around its arms. Eyes burning green with fury.

"A soulbound berserker," Lilith muttered from above. "Lovely."

Kael smiled grimly. "Perfect."

The moment the match began, the berserker charged.

Kael dodged under a massive swing and unleashed a flare of Soul Flame from his palm. The fire hit the creature's chest—and burned.

The crowd gasped.

He followed up with a punch to its knee, then a backflip to avoid a counter-slam. The berserker roared and swung wildly—but Kael was faster.

He activated Infernal Resonance, and each movement crackled with red fire. With a final leap, he landed a spinning kick to the creature's jaw, igniting its head in flames.

It dropped, unmoving.

Silence.

Then—cheers. Deafening, bloodthirsty cheers.

From the shadows, Varnyx's voice echoed.

"Impressive."

Kael looked up.

"Come see me. You've earned your passage."