Welcome To Hell

EP 2: The Gauntlet

Episode 2

Vassago's POV



The dark, smoky air of Hell filled my lungs, fueling me with adrenaline for the fight ahead. Other demons, some lesser than others, gathered at the gates. All of them wanted the same thing: a chance to prove their worth and fight for the hand of the coveted tribute.

On horseback, I inched closer to the ring, my armor-covered frame towering over my closest competitors. My gaze swept across the other demons--Baphomet, Gorgon, Belial, Leviathan, and Asmodeus--unable to contain my amusement at the lesser demons, a peal of hearty laughter passed my lips.

"This is it, brothers," I growled out the words, then straightened the golden crown on top of my head. I'd won countless battles and wasn't about to lose this one.

With a roar, I kicked my mount forward, ready to take on any challenge fate had in store for me. I was determined--no one was getting the tribute before me!

A jew-encrusted quiver sat on my back, holding poison-tipped arrows coated with wildfire made in the lowest level of the pits of Hell--handcrafted by none other than the defiant Greek Titan God, Prometheus. My other weapons included a longsword, crafted by the Dark Lord himself, and a magical axe with an enchanted blade and a longbow.

As I rode closer to the battlefield, I felt an intense rush of energy surge through my veins. The crowd was cheering and jeering at the same time, eager to see who would gain the honor of glory or fall at the end of a blade.

The battle began with a deafening clash as swords and axes clashed against one another. The air filled with the sound of metal against metal, and I felt a surge of power and adrenaline course through my body. As the battle raged on, I continued to fight and wield my weapons with consummate skill.

Eventually, it all came down to me in one final round against Mammon–the Lord of Greed. We clashed for what felt like hours, neither of us giving an inch. But in the end, I emerged victorious and was given the chance to enter the gauntlet to earn my spot.

The crowd roared with approval at my victory, and I was filled with a sense of pride and accomplishment. The battle had been fierce, but I hadn't won the war, not yet.

In the wake of the bloody c*****e, the trumpets blew once more, signaling the next phase of the fight was slowly moving to the center of the arena for hand-to-hand combat. As soon as my defenses were up, I charged forward into battle. I was in my element--the power of dark magic coursing through me like lightning,

My white steed exhaled a puff of smoke from his nostrils and beat the ground with his hooves, allowing me to plow down ill-prepared fighters. He, too, knew it was almost time to claim the coveted prize of this century's games. Already, my veins burned with the lustful need that only my mate could quench. For years, I waited patiently for the prophecy to unfold, the one that would bring her to me. And now, the time drew near.

The spectators of hell had graced the coliseum to watch the gladiators and warriors of hell compete for the hand of the prized tribute--our shared goddess.

Dark energy surged through my body, intensifying with each passing second.

My gaze shifted to my brothers-in-arms--War, Famine, and Death--who now ushered their mounts to the forefront of the crowd. They had a distinct air of confidence and power about them, no doubt earned by their past victories in these and other battles.

I was determined that this time, my name would be added to the list of competitors, as would those of my brothers. With the age-old prophecy laid out, I wouldn't let another demon, fallen angel, or creature steal away my chance to win her heart. She belonged to me--to us, even if she didn't know it yet.

Over the years, we'd taken on other names--names feeble humans had bestowed upon us.

My name is Conquest. Sure, over the span of several millennia, I had assumed many others, such as the one I used now. My demonic power swirled through me, which enabled me to control the power of deviation. My ability came in handy, allowing me to predict the outcome of battles and aid in military strategy. And today, I'd use my gifts to ensure my brothers and I had a seat at center stage.

A combined horde of hellish ghouls and goblins parted, making way for War, otherwise known as Kalki in Hindu mythology. He sat proudly on top of a red horse in nothing but a loin cloth. His sword anchored to his back, ready to slice and sing among the blood and c*****e to come? He would spread conflict and strife in abundance.

Famine, a food merchant from long ago, had assumed the given name of Apollyon. In his glory days, he took an oath unto our God and became the Angel of Destruction. His fall from grace had surprised all, including me. He had grown tired of the greed of man, and as such, he punished God's pet humans by spreading disease and sickness to thin the most corrupt among the herd. His steed, as black as night, breathed fire from his mouth.

Last but not least of my brothers was Death, accompanied by Hades. He rode upon a pale white horse, and together, they govern over a quarter of the human world, killing with the sharpened edge of a sword, the cries of famine, and the ghastly decay of plagues, as well as by means of the hell beasts unleashed on earth.

Each of them took their place in front of the line to lead the charge of battle inside the arena.

"Are you ready, brother?" A wolfish grin split Death's lips.

"Always." I cracked my knuckles.

The trumpets sounded, bringing joyous music to my ears.

It was time to prove my worth and wield the power of Vassago. The Dark Lord of Deviation. I had come for blood and glory, but most of all, for her.

My beloved goddess awaited me at the end. I wouldn't be denied.

"Let's go," I yelled, then took off at a steady gallop, leading my brothers into the night.

It was time for Vassago to unleash his power of deviation and show the world who truly reigned supreme in hell.

Swords clashed, and blood spilled, and one by one, demons and creatures alike fell at my feet.

Those hiding in the shadows, Death fleshed out, exposing them to the gladiators who used hot pokers to burn the flesh from their bones. The doors to the gauntlet obstacle course opened, and a horde of beings rushed inside.

Together, my brothers and I dismounted, then left a line of bleeding corpses in our wake.

The first ascending platform of the course swung into action. Screams filled the arena, and I charged into the fray.

My brothers-in-arms surrounded me, slicing through any and all who dared try to stop our progress. By the time we emerged from the gauntlet, victorious, with a head in each hand of those who fell by our hands and swords, I, along with my brothers, had earned a place at center stage.

"Come, brothers." With a smirk, I marched forward. "It is time to claim our prize."