The first thing the Imp did was give a dry, wheezing cackle that sounded like someone shaking a bag of nails. "Tipping off the mark? Kid, you've got balls made of brass. Or maybe you're just too stupid to know how this works," The Imp grunted.
Outside, the sound of a muffled clatter followed by a string of demonic curses suggested the two thugs were close by.
Leaning over, Felix's slot-reel eyes subconsciously flickered for a moment. "I'm not with them. Short story is I died and they were threatening me. Judging by what they said, I figured you'd be more neutral and wouldn't kill me without reason. Was I wrong?"
To his subsequent surprise, the Imp lifted his fire-arm, quickly adjusting the position so it would aim at the boy. As it cocked, Felix eyes spun fast enough to become a blur. "W—Wait—"
—BOOM!
A shell from the shotgun created a hall into a wall, narrowly avoiding Felix's head. The ringing in Felix's ears was deafening. Dust and plaster from the wall peppered his porcelain skin, but he didn't move. He couldn't. His reels were still spinning wildly, a frantic click-clack-click-clack echoing in the sudden silence of the shop.
The Imp blew the smoke from the barrel, a toothy, unimpressed grin on his face. "Relax. That was meant to fool those dumbasses into thinking you probably have a hole in you." He set the shotgun back onto his lap. "And no. Anyway, you can leave now. They probably ran to their little dumpsters," He briefly stopped to reach for something in his pocket. "And thanks."
From his fingertips, he flung something small from his thumb in the direction of Felix, who managed to catch it.
Opening his palm, it was revealed to be a small silver coin. A sudden rush surged from his fingertips, racing up his arms and settling in his chest. It resembled a sort of adrenaline.
[SYSTEM INITIALIZED: PROTOCOL CONDITION FULFILLED]
A neon-pink window flickered into his vision, momentarily overlapping the dusty shop. The reels in his eyes, which had been spinning in fear, suddenly shifted to a frantic click-clack with a heavy thump-thump. The coin in his hand dissolved into a trail of digital-like embers that were sucked into his palm.
[1x SILVER SOUL-COIN COLLECTED.]
[USE 1X SILVER SOUL-COIN? — Y/N]
The Imp quinted at the boy's empty hand, then at his glowing eyes. "You've got a weird way of holding onto a tip, kid. Most folks just put it in their pocket, not. . whatever the hell you just did." He leaned back, his interest piqued. "You look like you just swallowed a lightning bolt."
That managed to get a snicker from Felix, who was still distracted by what he was reading. "Again, I'm new. Do you think you could tell more about where I am?" "Erm, sure. You're in hell."
𓋹
Felix listened as the Imp — who introduced himself as Barnaby — droned on. The more the old demon spoke, the more the reality of the situation settled over Felix like a heavy shroud.
He was in Pentagram City, the sprawling, blood-soaked capital of the Pride Ring. It was the only place in Hell where 'Sinners' like him were allowed to exist. Barnaby explained the hierarchy with a cynical bite. In the pride ring, the Overlords were the ones who owned everything and everyone below them amounted to slaves.
Yes, Hell was real. That meant the Sunday school stories were real. An Abrahamic God existed, a golden kingdom in the clouds existed — and Felix had been weighed on the scales and found less enough to be amongst the worst humanity could create.
A small, bitter laugh bubbled up in his chest, vibrating against his porcelain ribs. He wasn't surprised. He had spent his short life scratching at the dirt, lying to the only person who cared about him, and chasing a 'big win' that never came. Why would Heaven want a grimy rat like him?
But as the initial shock faded, it was replaced by a cold clarity. If this was the pit, then the rules of 'thou shalt not' were officially dead. Back on Earth, he was hardly anything. Here? Here, everyone was a monster. He felt a strange sense of liberation — an intoxicating freedom. If God had tossed him down here, then he'd take it as a promotion. He was unburdened by the need to be good because there was no longer any reward for it.
He looked at his pale, cracked hands. He was a new creature in a new world, and for the first time in his life, he didn't feel like he was waiting to die. He had already done that. Now, he was just playing the long game.
[USE 1X SILVER SOUL-COIN? — Y/N (beginners discount!)]
The rush he'd felt earlier — that surge of greed — redoubled. It wasn't just adrenaline; it was his very soul demanding to be fed. He had been a gambler in life, and it seemed Hell was prepared to give him the ultimate sensation. Fine, he thought, a predatory glint appearing in his glassy, reel-pupils.
If I'm already in the basement, I might as well try to own the building.
With a mental 'click', he selected [Y].
𓋹
What he had realized from being in metaphysical world was that time was a different thing to measure in terms of perception.
It felt like roughly a few hours had passed since he had left Barnaby's store, but telling if this was true was difficult due to the constant, oppressive red sky and the looming pentagram overhead.
Spending some of his time on the street, he quickly noticed the accumulated stares he had began receiving. They were hungry looks. There was no doubt it was due to his appearance; in a place of grime and rot, his polished, porcelain skin came off as wealthy.
To avoid being robbed — or worse — he quickly ducked into an empty alleyway. He pulled a heavy dumpster bin to block one of the two entrances, the screech of metal on pavement set his teeth on edge.
After making sure he couldn't be taken from a position he wouldn't see coming, he jumped inside the filth.It was hard, but he ignored the stench, laying down to focus.
Luckily, his skin seemed to be naturally resilient to the filth; the slime and ash seemed to slide off his white arms like water. His eyes began to change again.
[PULL COMPLETE!]
[RARITY: UNCOMMON (RANK: U)]
[DESCRIPTION: A small leather pouch that generates a new pair of dice every hour. They are rigged to land on whatever the user desires. . 70% of the time. Use with caution; Hell's gamblers don't like cheaters.]
Felix stared at the floating text, a small, worn leather pouch materialized in his lap as he imagined it. He picked it up, feeling the weight of the ivory cubes inside.
Dice?
He thought, his brow furrowing. To his trivial pouch, he recounted how armed or powerful everyone around him seemed to be.
For all in tense and purposes, he was a fragile doll. How could die help him? He felt a flicker of frustration, but then his mind began to churn. A predatory glint appeared in his reel-pupils alongside dollar signs.
He stood up, brushing a stray piece of trash off his shoulder with a detached indifference. As he stepped out of the dumpster, his posture shifted into a haughty, elegant stroll. Not long after, he noticed the first one who cause his eye.
He wouldn't be a street rat today.
He spotted his first target: a spindly, avian Sinner leaning against a lamp post, clutching a handful of crumpled green paper. "You look like you're waiting for a miracle," Felix purred, his voice smooth and strangely melodic as he approached.
Seeing the demon look at him with curiosity and desperate desire, he suggested. "How about a wager instead?" "What's the wager?" The avian sinner was quick to ask.
Good.
"Simple," Felix said, his thumb tracing the rim of the pouch. "I have a pair of ivory dice. We roll. If the total is an odd number, I take your wager. If it's even, I pay you double what you put down." The demon's beak twitched. His talons crinkled the cash before loosening.
"Double?" the avian croaked, his voice cracking. He looked at the few bills in his hand. Strangely, the face on the bills was a creepy, bloated clown.
"You. . you look like an Overlord's brat. You got that kind of cash on you?" "I have more than enough to cover a bird like you," Felix sneered, his voice dripping with a bored, aristocratic poison. Clearly, he was insulted by the question. "Ready to see if it's your lucky day?"
He took out dice and tossed it into the air and onto the flat top of a nearby crate. He followed the dice and knealed down in front of the crate. Typical, the avian followed, putting a few of the hell currency on the table. "Just roll the damn dice." With a smirk, Felix did as told.
Seven, Felix thought, his mental focus narrowing like a laser. Land on odd.
The dice tumbled, them revealed a five and two. The avian sinner stared at the seven with a hollow, gut-punched expression. Before he could even register the loss, Felix's hand swept across the crate with a fluid speed, snatching the crumpled bills into his palm.
"Ouch," Felix whispered, though his tone held no sympathy. "Looks like the miracle is taking its sweet time today." As he tucked the bills away, he began to analyze the cash. The texture felt less like paper and more like dried, thin skin. It was still surprising to believe hell had a currency, ironically named 'soul'.
The avian demon's talons scraped against the crate, his desperation reaching a boiling point. "Damn it. . ." What must have been seeing Felix's amusement, he quickly slammed the rest of what he had onto the crate. "Again!" However, Felix's smile only grew wider, revealing his sharp and intimidating teeth.
𓋹
Felix had found a relatively 'safe' corner in a grease-stained diner and was sitting in a cracked vinyl booth. He had spent the last few hours scamming poor souls for their, well — souls — after he has begun forming a small crowd of unfortunate players.
Eventually, he found it better to leave his garnering attention in hopes of not attracting the big predators.
As he sat there, the Interface flickered to life in his vision, sensing the wealth he was carrying. It was disappointing to see, but his hard work has suddenly vanished in his fingertips all at once.
[11x SILVER SOUL-COIN COLLECTED!]
[27x COPPER-SOUL COINS COLLECTIONS!]
[12x SINGLE SOUL-BUCK'S COLLECTED.]
[ACCUMULATED CURRENCY: 94 SOULS]
11 Silver-Soul coins at 5 souls each, 27 Coppers at 1 each, and those 12 bills. It was a 94-soul total. He was beginning to understand the currency.