The King of Hell's Palace gleamed like a nightmare made of polished obsidian and bone.
Ire hated every fucking inch of it.
She balanced the golden tray carefully as she navigated the winding corridors, her cloven hooves clicking against floors that had been barren wasteland just days ago.
Before Lord Mereum's return, the Lost Lands had been a gray emptiness stretching to infinity- Hell shifts dependent on his mood, as does his Palace, as does the Axis Mundi to an extent.
Now, impossibly tall spires pierced the crimson sky, and elaborate architecture sprawled in all directions.
"Move your ass, food-bringer," growled a lesser imp scurrying past. "The Kings are hungry."
"Fuck off," Ire muttered under her breath, adjusting her grip on the tray laden with delicacies from across Hell's regions. Aloud, she merely replied, "Yes, of course."
Being a servant in Hell was bad enough. Being assigned to the Three Heavenly Kings was a special kind of torment.
The massive doors to the dining hall loomed ahead, carved with scenes of suffering that periodically shifted and moaned. Two Green Ogres stood guard, their moss-colored skin covered in glowing runes.
"Food for the Kings," Ire announced, keeping her eyes downcast.
The Ogres grunted in unison and swung the doors open. The sound of conversation immediately ceased as all eyes turned toward her.
The dining hall was a cavernous space with a ceiling so high it disappeared into shadow.
At its center, the Axis Mundi - the sacred tree connecting Hell to Heaven - grew directly through the floor and ceiling, its trunk wider than ten demons standing shoulder to shoulder. Its bark glowed with faint blue light, illuminating the massive table where they sat.
Satan reclined at the head of the table, his perfect obsidian skin reflecting the tree's light. His seven curved horns formed a broken halo above his head, and his golden chains - symbols of his servitude to Mereum - clinked softly as he gestured for Ire to approach.
"Finally," he said, his melodious voice somehow making the simple word sound like poetry. "Our guests grow impatient."
Ire kept her eyes down as she placed dishes before each of the Three Heavenly Kings. Inside, her thoughts raced: Fucking perfect Satan with his perfect face and fancy words. Bet he'd look less pretty with this tray shoved up his ass.
"Your meal, Lord Cooler," she murmured, setting a platter of crystallized souls before the first King.
Cooler barely acknowledged her, his crimson eyes fixed on something distant. The bio-gems embedded in his midnight blue skin pulsed with energy, and his bone crown caught the light as he finally deigned to glance at his food.
"Adequate," he said, his refined voice carrying the barest hint of disdain. "Though I requested the essence to be extracted from warriors, not common rabble."
Stuck-up frost-faced prick, Ire thought while bowing. "Apologies, my lord. I shall inform the kitchens immediately."
She moved to the next figure, the massive form of King Piccolo.
The self-proclaimed Demon Emperor had grown even larger since his freedom and enhancement, his forest-green skin now covered in pulsing black markings.
The third eye in the center of his forehead tracked her movements as she placed a writhing mass of something unspeakable before him.
"Is this fresh, servant?" King Piccolo demanded, his deep voice rumbling through the chamber. "The great Demon King Piccolo accepts only the freshest suffering for his meals!"
"Harvested moments ago, Lord Piccolo," Ire assured him, trying not to stare at the acid dripping from his elongated claws. Pompous green bastard. Always referring to himself in the third person like he's too good for pronouns.
Finally, she approached Raditz, whose transformation was perhaps the most dramatic.
His muscular frame dwarfed his previous form, and his hair - once merely long - now moved like living shadow around his head.
The broken crown-like structure emerging from his forehead glinted as he sneered at her.
"About time, weakling," he snapped, grabbing the plate from her hands. "I could have conquered a planet in the time it took you to bring this!"
You couldn't conquer a paper bag without Satan's power-up, you overgrown monkey, Ire thought, but said, "Forgive the delay, Lord Raditz."
As she stepped back from the table, Satan raised a glass filled with something that glowed and pulsed like a dying heart.
"To our imminent victory," he proposed, his amber eyes scanning the Kings. "When the Boundary-Breaker arrives, we shall-"
The sound cut through the air like a physical thing - a distant but unmistakable clinking of metal chains, followed by the rhythmic hiss of mechanical breathing.
In... out. In... out.
Every head turned toward the sound. Satan slowly lowered his glass, a calculated smile spreading across his perfect features.
"It seems our guest approaches ahead of schedule," he said softly.
Cooler's bio-gems pulsed more rapidly. "The human anomaly is nothing if not persistent."
The Boundary-Breaker, Ire thought, her heart racing. He's really coming.
For weeks, the lesser demons had whispered about him - the mortal who had torn his way into Hell, who had challenged Heaven itself, who had made even the Arbiters flee before him.
Some said he was coming to overthrow Mereum. Others claimed he sought to destroy Hell entirely.
All agreed on one thing: nothing would stand in his way.
"I thought we had more time to prepare," Raditz growled, his hair writhing more aggressively around his head.
"Prepare? Bwahaha!" King Piccolo laughed, though Ire noticed his third eye darting nervously toward the sound. "The great Demon King Piccolo needs no preparation to crush this insect!"
Satan rose from his seat with fluid grace. "It appears our strategy must accelerate. Kings, to the gate. Let us greet our... challenger."
As the Three Kings stood, Ire began to back away toward the servants' exit. A sudden clawed hand gripped her shoulder, nearly puncturing the skin.
"You," King Piccolo growled. "Bring my food. The great Demon King Piccolo may wish to continue dining while he observes this fool's destruction."
Shit, Ire thought as she hurriedly gathered King Piccolo's plate. Shit shit shit.
The group moved through the palace corridors toward the main gate, Satan gliding ahead with unnatural grace, the Three Kings following in formation, and Ire scurrying behind with King Piccolo's writhing meal.
With each step they took, the sounds grew louder. Clink-clink. In... out. Clink-clink. In... out.
But something else was happening - something that made Ire's skin crawl with primal fear. With each sound of those chains, with each mechanical breath, a pressure built in the air around them.
It was as if an invisible ocean were pressing down on the palace, growing heavier with each passing moment.
"His power increases with every step," Cooler observed, his voice tight with tension. "How is this possible? The chains of Heaven should be suppressing his energy, not enhancing it."
"It's not that his power is growing," Satan replied, his melodious voice thoughtful. "It's that his control over it is refining. The quality of his ki improves with each movement. Each step he takes, is a step closer to godhood."
"Heh! Whatever power he has, it's nothing compared to mine now!" Raditz boasted, though Ire noticed he kept glancing at the others as if seeking confirmation. "I'll crush him like I'll crush Kakarot!"
"The great Demon King Piccolo fears no mortal!" King Piccolo declared, though he had subtly positioned himself slightly behind the others.
They reached the enormous entrance hall, where the palace gates - fifty feet tall and carved from the bones of ancient beings - remained sealed. Beyond them, the sounds had stopped.
Clink-clink. In... out.
The silence was somehow worse than the noise.
"Open the gates," Satan commanded, his golden chains glinting in the crimson light.
The massive doors began to swing outward, revealing the figure standing alone on the obsidian path.
Ire nearly dropped King Piccolo's plate.
The stories hadn't prepared her for the reality of him. Toji Fushiguro - Lord Duskborn, the Boundary-Breaker - stood perfectly still, his black armor absorbing the red light of Hell's sky.
Golden chains wrapped around his limbs and neck, glowing with divine energy that should have crippled him but somehow seemed to really not fucking be working- like seriously!?
How in Lord Mereum's name is he still so strong?!
The mask - that featureless black mask with its mechanical breathing apparatus - revealed nothing of the man beneath, making him seem more myth than mortal.
In... out. In... out.
The pressure of his mere presence caused lesser demons nearby to collapse to their knees, gasping for breath. Ire found herself struggling to remain standing, her legs trembling with the effort of supporting both herself and King Piccolo's meal.
He's not just powerful, she realized instinctively with a shock that bordered on religious awe. He's becoming something else entirely. Something... divine.
The rumors had painted him as a vengeful demigod, a being who had challenged the cosmic order for love of his son and wife.
But standing before him now, Ire understood that the stories had understated his nature. This wasn't just a powerful mortal.
This was a force of nature wearing the shape of a man, a being on the cusp of transcending into something beyond comprehension.
And he had come to take the King's head and claim his throne.
Satan stepped forward, spreading his arms in a gesture of welcome that might have seemed genuine if not for the calculating gleam in his amber eyes.
"Lord Duskborn," he greeted, his voice like honey poured over broken glass. "Welcome to the true heart of Hell. We've been expecting you."
Toji remained motionless, the mechanical breathing never changing rhythm. His attention seemed to bypass Satan entirely, focusing instead on the Three Kings behind him.
"Cooler, long time no see," he finally said, his modulated voice betraying mild surprise. "I see you've made friends."
Cooler's bio-gems pulsed with angry light. "Our business remains unfinished, human. Your golden pet's victory on Earth was merely a statistical anomaly that will not be repeated."
"So you're the one who's allied with my weakling brother!" Raditz stepped forward, his massive frame vibrating with barely contained energy. "I am Raditz, firstborn son of Bardock! Kakarot may have defeated Cooler, but you'll find me a far greater challenge!"
"The great Demon King Piccolo has heard of your exploits," the green giant rumbled, his third eye fixed unblinkingly on Toji. "But your journey ends here, before my superior power! Bwahaha!"
Throughout these introductions, Toji remained unnervingly still. When he finally spoke again, his voice carried no trace of concern.
"Where is Mereum?" he asked simply. "I've come for his throne."
Satan's perfect lips curved into a smile. "The King of Hell is not so easily reached. First, you must prove yourself worthy by defeating his chosen champions."
He gestured elegantly toward the Three Kings. "Surely a being of your... reputation... wouldn't find that unreasonable?"
For a moment, Toji said nothing. Then, with deliberate slowness, he raised his right hand holding a the hilt of a weapon. A beam of pure black energy extended from it, activating the black saber.
"I don't have time for games," he stated.
The Three Kings immediately spread into a triangular formation around him, a maneuver they had clearly practiced. Satan stepped back, gesturing for Ire to retreat with him.
She didn't need to be told twice, scrambling backward while still clutching King Piccolo's plate. From a safer distance, she watched as demonic energy flared around each King.
Cooler's bio-gems blazed with crimson light as he entered a combat stance, his tattered cape billowing behind him. "You took my empire, you use my sister to warm your bed, and your pet took my life. I shall enjoy reclaiming all that you have taken from me. I will reclaim my honour."
Raditz's hair writhed like living shadow as he powered up, green energy crackling around his massive frame. "After I destroy you, I'll show everyone which Saiyan truly deserves respect! Not that weakling Kakarot! I am the one deserving to be the Heir of the Saiyan God, not him!"
King Piccolo grew even larger, his third eye glowing as acid dripped from his claws. "The great Demon King Piccolo shall feast on your essence!"
Throughout their displays of power, Toji simply stood in place, the mechanical breathing never changing rhythm. In... out. In... out.
Satan raised his hand, amber eyes gleaming with anticipation. "Begin," he commanded.
All three Kings launched themselves at Toji simultaneously, their combined power creating a shockwave that shattered the obsidian floor beneath them.
Cooler attacked from above, firing a barrage of death beams that illuminated the hall with crimson light.
Raditz charged from the left, his hair forming weapon-like extensions that slashed through the air.
King Piccolo struck from the right, his massive fist trailing acid and hellfire.
Toji remained motionless until the very last instant.
Then Hell itself seemed to hold its breath.
In... out.
From her position behind a fallen column, Ire watched the beginning of a battle that would reshape Hell itself.
The plate of writhing food lay forgotten beside her as she witnessed what could only be described as the collision of legends.
He's going to win, she realized with absolute certainty. And when he does, everything changes.
The thought should have terrified her. Instead, she found herself hoping - for the first time since her damnation - that perhaps change might not be such a bad thing after all.
--------------------------
(Author note: Hello everyone! I hope you all liked the chapter!
Do tell me how you found it.
We're reaching the end of this arc soon.
Just keep in mind- the time dilation constantly shifts in Hell. Sometimes Hell is faster than the living world, sometimes its slower.
Well, I hope to see you all later,
Bye!)