The Will that Remained

Silence.

The kind that seeps into your bones. That presses on your chest like invisible hands, making every breath feel like a crime.

Kairo lay on cold stone, body trembling, eyes half-lidded. The world around him was more shadow than space, some cracked chamber buried deep beneath the surface of Hell he'd collapsed here, dragging his broken limbs through a fissure to escape the demon that had nearly torn him in half.

Blood had long dried on his face. One of his fingers hung useless. His ribs felt shattered, spine sore.

His mind buzzed with a dull, constant static. Hunger gnawed at his thoughts. Everything hurt. Everything blurred.

Then..

"You still live, Vessel. Impressive."

The voice again. That same cold, thunderous murmur that had spoken to him before the demon attacked.

But this time, it wasn't angry.

It was watching. Studying.

Kairo's lips parted, cracked and dry. "W-Who... are you?" he rasped.

"That is a question I've waited millennia to be asked."

A pause.

"But not by you... Not until now."

The shadows around him stirred.

Not physically there was no breeze, no tremor. But somehow, the air felt like it shifted, like something enormous had just turned its attention to him.

"You are weak. Wounded. Barely a flicker in this abyss. And yet, I see it. In your spine. In your scream."

"The spark."

Kairo tried to push himself up, arms trembling, but failed. He spat blood instead.

"I didn't... ask to come here."

"No one ever did."

The voice pulsed through his skull like a drumbeat. Then silence.

No, not silence.

Images. Flashes. A vision, bleeding into his mind:

A towering throne of obsidian stood over a sea of fire, its dark surface reflecting the flames below. Seated was a figure of authority, no beast, no monster, just a ruler. His chest was bare beneath the armor, skin black as void, marked by glowing infernal runes that throbbed with life. His eyes, molten silver, burned with the cold, steady fire of Order not chaos.

Demons knelt before him in legions. Even the sky bowed.

Kairo gasped. His head throbbed as the vision cracked into ash.

"W-Was that... you?"

"Once."

A second flash. This time: the same throne. Empty. Blood dripping down its steps. Seven silhouettes standing where the kneeling demons once were. Seven voices chanting, binding, sealing.

The vision ended with a scream.

Not Kairo's.

His.

"They feared me," the voice whispered, softer now.

"I ruled Hell not as a tyrant... but as its will made manifest. I did not destroy for pleasure. I brought Order to chaos. Even the so-called God of the Underworld trembled before me."

The vision twisted. Kairo saw the tyrant taller than mountains, his body forged from obsidian and divine fire. His eyes bled stars. His voice could rupture realities.

And around him seven shadows. Seven kneeling figures, each radiating unimaginable power.

"They were my disciples. My pride. My legacy. I raised them from filth, from forgotten pits, shaped them into rulers of this realm."

One wore a crown of shifting faces. Another bore wings made from severed angels. One dripped blood that never touched the ground. Their forms were monstrous, divine, unique.

Kairo could feel the trust in the tyrant's voice.

"To each, I gave a fragment of my soul. I taught them to wield Hell's essence as their own. They were my family."

A pause. Something cracked.

"And they killed me."

The visions burned.

He saw the betrayal not as a moment, but a siege. Seven betrayals at once. Poison. Ambush. Binding spells. All launched the moment their master's guard dropped.

One disciple severed his arms. Another crushed his lungs. A third drove a blade through his immortal heart. The others tore his essence to pieces and scattered it across the depths.

"They believed I had grown weak. That I stood in the way of their ambition."

"So they took my body, shattered it into seven realms, and carved Hell into domains each ruled by one of the traitors."

"But they couldn't destroy my Will."

Kairo didn't respond. He was still processing. The pain, the cold, the voice—it was all crashing into him at once.

"But fear is fertile ground for betrayal. Seven of my disciples—my most trusted—ripped my body from this world. Burned my name from stone. Called themselves kings."

"They were insects once. Now they wear crowns made from my bones."

Kairo's jaw clenched.

The Seven Demon Kings.

The same ones whose soldiers now stalked him.

"Then... why help me?" he muttered. "What do you want from me?"

A long pause.

"Hope."

"I waited eons for the prophecy to come true. That someone would fall into Hell—not an angel, not a god. A human. One cursed by accident, blessed by paradox. A creature bearing the marks of Heaven and Hell. The Ghost of both realms."

Kairo saw it—the prophecy, not written in words, but in feeling:

A human, broken yet whole, will descend into Hell.

He shall carry no allegiance, wear no crown.

But in his blood will flow the fractured essence of balance Order that was shattered by The Tyrant's mistake.

He will lead armies, nor seek worship.

But by his hand, the Seven Kings shall fall, and the Tyrant's Will shall rise again.

"You are that paradox, Kairo Vale."

His heart skipped.

"Y-You don't know that."

"And yet… here you are. Alive. Where none should be."

The Will shifted again. For a moment, the stone beneath Kairo shimmered faintly, glowing with a dull, haunting light.

"You are not a savior. Not yet. But you are a vessel. My vessel. The world above forgot Hell's first tyrant. But I did not forget myself. I endured. My Will lingered in the marrow of this realm."

"You survived long enough to hear me. That alone proves you are not nothing."

Kairo gritted his teeth. His voice was a hoarse growl now. "So what… you think I'll just rise up and take revenge for you?"

"No."

A pause. Heavy. Final.

"I think you will do it for yourself."

The silence stretched. Then, the Will spoke again—this time, differently.

"I offer no salvation. No handouts. If you wish to become more, you must claw your way up. Just as I once did. In the catacombs below this ruin, you can find what remains of one of my old temples. Broken. Lost. But not dead."

"Go. Crawl, if you must. Eat the rot. Drink the flame. Begin there. If your spine breaks, then you were never the one. But if you endure..."

"You will become what they fear."

Kairo didn't speak.

He couldn't.

But something inside him moved. Twitched.

Not hope. Not belief.

Defiance.

He forced himself upright, muscles screaming. His broken hand dangled uselessly. He stepped forward anyway.

Toward the path the voice had shown him. Toward the catacombs below.

He didn't know what waited down there. Demons? Tests? Memories?

Didn't matter.

This world hated him.

And he was done being prey.

"I will not walk beside you. But I will watch. And I will remember."

As the stone swallowed Kairo's figure, the Will of Hell chuckled.

"Run, little brat. Your training begins now."