Chapter 3 city of pride

The next morning, I woke to an intense vibration that seemed to rattle the entire manor.

I hadn't slept much the night before. My thoughts kept drifting back to my past life, circling memories I'd rather have left buried. Now, the entire house seemed to pulse with raw, overwhelming power.

So much for getting a little extra rest.

I dragged myself out of bed and hurriedly threw on some clothes. Whatever this bastard was up to, I had a feeling I wasn't going to like it.

Following the vibrations, I made my way to the grand foyer.

And stopped dead.

The room had undergone a drastic transformation in a remarkably short time. All the furniture had vanished, along with the chandelier and every other trace of the manor's usual aristocratic elegance.

In their place stood a pair of massive double doors at the very center of the room.

Candles burned in black holders at each cardinal point, their flames glowing a faint violet. Between them, intricate circles of demonic script had been carved into the floor, forming an elaborate pattern that encompassed nearly the entire room.

The symbols pulsed with every passing second.

Each surge sent another vibration rolling through the manor.

"Well, good morning, sleepyhead. I hope you dreamed the most horrifying nightmares."

Mephistopheles stood beside the circle, looking irritatingly well-rested.

"It's too early for you and your face."

"Actually, it's a little late. We should have departed hours ago."

"Then why in the world did you let me sleep?"

"I didn't have the heart to wake you. Besides, while you're asleep is the only time I find your company enjoyable."

I responded with a frown.

He tilted his head, studying me with amusement.

"See? You haven't been awake for ten minutes, and you're already thinking about killing me."

"Let's just hurry up and leave."

I turned before he could come up with another reason to make me regret waking up.

An hour later, with my few meager possessions packed, I stood in the center of the circle.

My heart raced.

Nervous. Excited. Ready.

At least, that's what I kept telling myself.

Mephistopheles stood beside the double doors, looking as though he'd performed this little ritual a thousand times before breakfast.

"It's simple. I've already set our destination. All you have to do is walk through those doors."

"Got it."

No questions. No hesitation.

I stepped forward and passed through the doors.

Instantly, my stomach lurched.

A sickening sensation swept through me, as though every organ in my body had decided to relocate at the same time. My vision twisted. The world folded in on itself, and a flash of violet light swallowed everything.

Then, just as suddenly, it was over.

The gray manor was gone.

And the sight before me stole my breath.

Golden towers rose above the city, their glittering spires dwarfing every skyscraper I'd ever seen in my human life. Streets paved with polished precious stones stretched between magnificent buildings, while enchanted crystal signs bathed the avenues in brilliant neon hues, advertising shops, restaurants, and businesses I couldn't begin to imagine.

The streets teemed with demons of every conceivable shape and size.

Some possessed wings and claws. Others had two heads, scaled bodies, or horns curling from their skulls. Yet, surprisingly, most looked almost exactly like me.

I wandered toward a nearby shop window.

Inside, a young demoness stood before a mirror, admiring the dress she wore. Her mother stood behind her, smiling with the unmistakable pride of someone watching her daughter discover something wonderful.

Next door, a bakery filled the street with the most incredible aroma I'd ever encountered. The pastries displayed behind its glass counters resembled nothing I'd seen on Earth, but the smell alone was enough to make my stomach growl.

Children raced past, laughing and chasing one another through the crowd. Couples walked hand in hand, sharing private jokes and stealing kisses as they went about their day.

For a moment, I simply stood there.

This was Hell?

"This is Satrieal?!"

"Amazing, isn't it?"

Mephistopheles appeared beside me.

I didn't even flinch. My attention was too firmly caught by the city around us.

Its beauty. Its people. The sheer impossibility of it all.

For the first time since arriving in Hell, I wasn't thinking about fighting, dying, or finding my way home.

I was simply looking.

Mephistopheles watched me with a genuine smile.

"Come along, Dontae. We have business to attend to. You'll have plenty of time to explore the city during the tournament."

I glanced at him reluctantly before following.

The deeper we traveled into Satrieal, the more extraordinary the city became.

Every building seemed designed to outshine the one beside it. Every street, every monument, every glittering crystal had been crafted with painstaking care.

This wasn't merely wealth.

It was pride made tangible.

The people who lived here didn't just believe their city was superior to the rest of Hell.

They'd built an entire civilization to prove it.

And then I saw it.

A massive stone structure rose ahead of us, commanding the space around it despite being surrounded by the city's gleaming towers.

It was, strangely enough, the plainest building I'd seen since arriving.

And somehow, that made it even more impressive.

Its immense walls were carved with intricate designs and sculptures depicting ancient Archfiends, legendary warriors, and battles that had shaped Hell's history. Demonic runes covered the towering pillars in elegant calligraphy, each symbol radiating a power far beyond anything I'd felt since my arrival.

The coliseum.

A deafening roar erupted from within, rolling through the streets and drowning out the city's usual noise.

Above its towering entrance, seven enormous banners snapped in the wind.

Each bore the crest of one of Hell's Great Houses.

I slowed, taking them in one by one.

House Gamliel.

A purple raven perched atop a mountain of gold, its wings spread protectively over a hoard of treasure.

The Architects of Greed.

House Satrieal.

A black-winged peacock stood beneath a crimson sky, its feathers crowned with gold.

The Ascendant Lords.

House Thaumel.

A three-jawed beast devoured a ring of fruit, coins, and jewels against a backdrop of burgundy and amber.

The Devouring Kings.

House Morvael.

An obsidian wolf with curling horns and a flaming mane bared its fangs against a field of black.

The Beasts of Rage and Blood.

House Zarethul.

A sleeping lion rested beneath a silver crescent moon, its midnight-blue banner rippling in the wind.

The Idleborn Children.

House Vorashen.

A jade serpent coiled around a crown, its emerald eye gleaming with predatory intelligence.

The Green-Eyed Fiends.

House Arabast.

Magenta moth wings surrounded a violet rose, delicate and beautiful enough to conceal whatever danger lay beneath them.

The Sirens of Beauty.

Seven Houses. Seven powers. Seven legacies woven into the fabric of Hell.

And judging by the noise coming from inside the coliseum, they were all about to collide.

I was still trying to take everything in when a voice drifted from somewhere behind me.

"Beautiful, isn't it? All that money, power, and political posturing. Thousands of years of history, and somehow everyone still thinks they're the main character."

I turned.

A young man lounged against one of the stone pillars, a half-eaten pastry in one hand and a silver flask dangling from the other.

His dark hair was a mess, his clothes were expensive enough to feed a small village, and his expression suggested that standing upright was an unreasonable demand.

His eyes settled on me.

"First time in Satrieal?"

"Is it that obvious?"

"You're staring at the buildings instead of judging everyone walking beneath them."

He took another bite of his pastry.

"Give it an hour. You'll fit right in."

I glanced at the flask.

"You always drink this early?"

"Only on days ending in a letter."

I stared at him.

He grinned.

"Enoch Cain. Prince of Greed, professional disappointment to my father, and occasional embarrassment to the family name."

He extended his hand, apparently expecting me to do something with it.

I looked at his hand, then back at him.

"Dontae."

"Just Dontae?"

"Unless you've got a better suggestion."

"Give me a few drinks. I'm excellent at making bad suggestions."

I shook his hand.

His grip was surprisingly firm. The lazy posture, careless grin, and general impression that he might fall asleep standing up were all rather convincing disguises.

But there was something sharp behind his eyes.

He'd noticed everything about me before I'd even finished introducing myself.

"So," he said, taking another bite, "which unfortunate House has the pleasure of dealing with you?"

"None, technically."

His eyebrows rose.

"Oh, that's interesting."

"Is it?"

"Very. Either you're spectacularly important, spectacularly stupid, or someone has made a truly terrible decision."

"I'm starting to think it's the third one."

Enoch laughed.

"Excellent. You'll fit in beautifully."

Mephistopheles appeared beside us, wearing the sort of smile that usually preceded a problem.

"Enoch."

"Mephistopheles."

Enoch's grin widened.

"I was wondering when you'd show up. I see you've brought a stray."

"I assure you, he's house-trained."

"Shame. I was hoping for something entertaining."

"Then I suggest you look in a mirror."

Enoch placed a hand over his heart.

"Cruel. And in public, no less."

I looked between them.

"Do you two always talk like this?"

"Only when we're awake," Enoch replied.

"Unfortunately," Mephistopheles said, "he's rarely awake enough to be interesting."

"Yet you keep coming back."

"Much like a recurring illness."

I couldn't help it.

I laughed.

Enoch looked delighted.

"Oh, I like him."

"Of course you do," Mephistopheles muttered. "You like anyone who laughs at your jokes."

"I also like people who buy me drinks, people who bring me food, and people who don't ask me to attend council meetings."

"Your father has been looking for you."

Enoch's smile faltered.

Just for a moment.

Then he took another bite of his pastry.

"Tell him I'm dead."

"You're standing in front of me."

"Then tell him I'm very convincingly dead."

Mephistopheles sighed.

I glanced at the prince.

"You know, for someone from the House of Greed, you don't seem particularly interested in acquiring anything."

Enoch studied me for a long moment.

For the first time, his grin softened.

Then it returned, a little quieter than before.

"Who says I haven't already got everything I want?"

Before I could answer, the coliseum erupted.

A deafening roar rolled through the streets as the massive gates began to open. Magic flared across the seven banners, illuminating the ancient symbols woven into their fabric.

Enoch straightened just enough to peer toward the entrance.

"Oh, good. The entertainment's starting."

He shoved the last of his pastry into his mouth and brushed the crumbs from his expensive coat.

"Come on, Dontae. Let's find you a seat before the nobles start fighting over who gets to sit closest to the people they secretly hate."

He started walking without waiting for an answer.

I glanced at Mephistopheles.

"Is he always like that?"

Mephistopheles watched the prince disappear into the crowd.

"I'm afraid that was him making an effort."

"Fantastic."

I followed Enoch toward the roaring coliseum.

I'd been in Hell for barely a few weeks, and I'd already met a demon who enjoyed beating me half to death, discovered a city that looked like it had been built by people competing for the attention of the gods, and somehow befriended a prince who considered basic responsibility a personal attack.

Something told me my life in Hell was about to become considerably more complicated.