Chapter 45

Fourteen months had passed since the beginning of the Chrysalis game, and I could still remember the smell of my father’s tobacco, the taste of my mother’s porridge. I had even grown grateful to Rachel and Bernard for sending me here. Eliza had been right—for what I’d done, my karma in Chrysalis would’ve plummeted. I’d be cursed by all the gods, but here, there were no gods—only the Devil.

My abilities had expanded far beyond natural limits. My experiments in magic, forbidden arts, skills… I had surpassed all my own expectations. In Chrysalis, there were almost no zones with constant physical damage like the aura-inflicted Hell. Only a few areas where monsters exceeded level 1000. I had overcome all my weaknesses from that world.

But I had lost the most precious things—my parents, my friends.

As soon as I logged in, I decided to see what I had created. The hilt of a sword emerged from my right palm, and I had to pull the rest out with my left hand—a guardless blade, bone-white with a short grip. I could channel mana into it, making it glow with a cold, pale light. At my will, all the energy stored in the sword could be released in a single slash—a shockwave in the shape of a blade. Fire, darkness, light—I could shape the energy however I wanted. Healing, however, was impossible. Logically, it could also take the form of water or earth. Essentially, it was like a bow, but with no cooldown.

That clone rampaging across the island had managed to cleave it in half, while I had only managed to cut through a root—though one three meters thick. His level must have been absurdly high. If not for his showboating and the time limit, he would’ve killed me in one hit. Or was that a warning from those entities? Either way, I’d better stay out of the Astral—they’d kill me and not bother replacing me.

I’d been forbidden from performing such rituals, but I doubted they’d punish me for creating a bone hound. A seven-meter dog, modeled after Cerberus, sprinted across the swamps and leaped into the pit with me.

Current Location: 6th Circle of Hell. The Graveyard of the City of Dis.

Fields of Ash.

Poor dog—it wasn’t allowed in. Only I was transported. Now this was what people imagined Hell to be. Everything burned—even the ground. If not for my experiments with damage immunity on the first circle, I would’ve died instantly.

Damage Taken: 50,000 units. (Ignored: 280,515 units.)

22,560/22,560 HP.

And this was just the outskirts! What awaited me at the center? Ah, my guardians. Hm, not just one—three Furies, each resembling a pissed-off Ms. Donovan.

Oh, they shouldn’t have turned their backs on me. I wasn’t about to fight fair against three level 550 enemies. I crawled into one of the burning graves. The fire damage here was far worse, reaching 150,000 per tick. I needed time to prepare my shot—and just one second to fire. Even at full charge, I only killed one. The remaining two were stunned, and I finished them off with basic spells. A second bow shot would’ve been impossible to calculate mid-battle. And dying from stupidity wasn’t on my to-do list. They dropped two rings and a pair of earrings.

This circle was unlike anything before. Sinners suffered endlessly in the flames—appearing in graves, burning to ash, then resurrecting to burn again.

Fire resistance was a nightmare to grind. The local Furies were level 400. I had to gather victims one by one for a combined health ritual. The closer I got to Dis, the hotter it became. I had to rely on demons—the sinners died too quickly. Experience paid off—I maxed my fire resistance and reached the pit in two weeks. 500,000 heat became tolerable, but breathing was still hard.

The pit lay right before the city walls. And then—chaos. I fell into a pool of scorching blood, blind and disoriented. The moment I surfaced, centaurs shot at me. Big mistake. A dolphin leap from the water, and I was already beside one. He never expected a sinner to move like that—or to wield a charged blade. The first died in one strike. I threw rupture spikes at the second, then shoved him and the third centaur into the moat. Their loot: a bow and arrows.

Then I checked the minimap.

Current Location: 7th Circle of Hell. First Zone. Phlegethon.

Trenches of Boiling Blood.

Oh, this was bad. Guards on every tier—sometimes three at once. Oh well. Time for a blood bath!

Back in medieval times, there was a countess who bathed in blood. I bet she’s here somewhere. Honestly? Relaxing, with 550,000 thermal resistance. Thick, warm… water. I nearly dozed off from pleasure. The screams? I barely noticed them anymore.

The exit to the next zone? Right—a giant blood lake. More like a bottomless pit leading deeper.

Current Location: 7th Circle of Hell. Second Zone. Forest of Suicides.

The Grove.

I expected another city, but instead—a forest where trees grew from still-living sinners, while flaming hounds chased those who could run. Harpies perched in the branches, watching me with unnerving stares. I lost count of the demons I killed, stopping only when they stopped attacking. Weak as enemies, but fast. Though stun worked even mid-air. At one point, it rained harpies. Killing stunned foes was easy, and I gladly absorbed their lightning gifts. It had been four months since I’d last felt that thrill.

Interesting trees… with faces. Wonder if they’re related to the Walking Tree? For science, I shot one with a minor healing arrow. I ended the suffering of the man beneath it—but the tree itself came for me. I didn’t burn it. Instead, I split it in half, broke off branches (a gift for Father), and collected its fruit. Then I took revenge on the harpies for their ambush. In the next grove, I found a few dozen of the vicious things. Stunned them, planted a seed, and fired a healing arrow. Wow—the tree took on the victim’s face and their death grimace!

First rule of any Hell circle? Always head for the center.

Current Location: 7th Circle of Hell. Third Zone. Burning Sands.

The Desert.

Thermal damage—again. A desert stretched before me. Sinners ran aflame while fire rained from the sky. I burned, but felt no pain. The damage was negligible—lava would’ve been different, but this? Just a warm drizzle. The closer I got to the center, the heavier the rain fell. Then came a downpour, turning blue against the bloody sky. Beautiful.

And there it was—the pit to the next circle.

Current Location: 8th Circle of Hell. First Zone. Endless Passage.

Path of Pain.

The entire eighth circle was boring compared to my experiments in chimeralogy and necromancy. The only memorable part? The guardian—Geryon. Our fight lasted an entire day. His only flaws? Slowness and his nine-meter height. In melee, this level 700 death machine was unstoppable—six arms, six legs, three shields, three spears. I had to kite and snipe him. He only died because I shattered one shield. The other two dropped as loot.

When I first saw him, I thought I’d die. Mistook him for a statue—until he swung his spear. He hit, but in demon form, I blocked, reducing the damage.

The tenth zone took two weeks. Diseases everywhere—75,000 simultaneous physical and mental damage, even at the edges. The tiers shrank until I could cross them in six hours of sprinting. The far end was a veil of thick, plague-ridden air. Without the guards, I’d have stayed longer.

First time seeing classic devils with pitchforks. With great effort, I "convinced" a pair to merge health for my resistance training. Their level 600 was nearly insurmountable—I had to cheat with blood magic and seals. One ritual reinforced the other. I had to stake them with paralysis spikes—otherwise, the effect duration was too short.

For two weeks, I sat in that miasma, grinding mental and physical resistance to 1,100,000. At least there was no poison—I’d have died without noticing.

Geronimo!

Current Location: 9th Circle of Hell. Lake Cocytus.

The Shore.

I remembered Death. That same overwhelming aura of power.

He stood at the lake’s center. I felt him with my entire being—his strength, his gaze. Ten kilometers apart, yet I knew exactly where he was.

A man in a lightweight suit—short sleeves, shorts matching the vest. He radiated absolute hostility. Approaching him would kill me. No aura—just pure force. The air trembled around him; snow fled his presence.

A force grabbed me, pulling me toward him. I saw the pits between us, saw titans—50 to 100 meters tall, level 900. They watched indifferently, as if I were already dead, then kept trudging over faces frozen in ice.

And then—I stood before him.

No nameplate—unusual for a mob. Now, he wasn’t radiating power. Just standing there, watching me. Snow began falling on us both.

"Congratulations, Saji. Trial complete. You may return to your world."

His voice was calm.

"You cannot take anything you’ve gained here. All changes to your body will revert to their original state upon entering Hell."

…

I thought I’d die. Everything I’d achieved—gone. One wrong thought, one lifted restriction on my power, and my very existence would unravel.

"Farewell."

My body dissolved into a stream of light.