----
Michael – Hell, Layer 5
It was quiet.
Too quiet.
Layer 5 didn't scream like the others. It didn't cry, crawl, or whisper.
It just waited.
Michael stepped onto the obsidian-black platform, his boots clicking against the glassy surface. The air was cold here, unnaturally still. The sky wasn't red or burning — it was a dome of black metal and silence.
In the center stood a figure.
The Iron Golem of Sin.
Towering. Monolithic. Humanoid only in shape.
It had no face. No mouth. No weapon. Its chest bore glowing lines etched with demonic scripture — prayers of suffering, commands of obedience, laws written by monsters.
The air around it was heavier than any aura Michael had felt.
He took a breath. A slow one.
"This one… won't fall easy," Michael thought to himself with anticipation.
---
Gatekeeper #5 – The Iron Golem of Sin
Height: 20 feet
Body: Forged from soul-metal and blood-iron
Core: Hidden beneath rune-etched plating
Power: Absorbs pain and turns it into force. The more it is hurt, the stronger it becomes.
Will: Absolute. It cannot be swayed, controlled, or broken by mental skills. A pure enforcer of Hell's order.
---
The Golem moved.
Not with speed, but with inevitability.
It raised one arm — and brought down a hammerfist.
The ground exploded.
Michael blurred to the side — the impact alone cracked the entire floor. Shards of black stone flew like daggers.
Michael dashed in. Fast. Focused.
His fist ignited red and slammed into the Golem's chest.
It didn't flinch.
It swung — a wide, brutal backhand.
Michael ducked under, rolled, leapt onto its arm, sprinted up its shoulder and drove a flaming knee into the side of its head.
No effect.
It grabbed him mid-air and slammed him into the ground.
---
Michael groaned, spine aching.
"Strong," he thought to himself with respect.
"Finally."
He rolled, dodged another stomp, and lashed out with a flaming roundhouse kick.
Still nothing.
He activated [Absolute Authority] — but it fizzled.
"Resisting even that?" Michael thought to himself, jaw clenching.
"Good."
He dove forward. The Golem raised both arms and brought them down like twin pillars of death.
Michael met it with a blast of red flame, firing himself upward.
A second slower, he would've been crushed.
---
They fought for minutes that felt like hours.
Michael's body was bleeding now — not human blood, but molten demon ichor.
His ribs cracked. His knuckles split.
Still he grinned.
"This is power," he thought to himself with burning focus.
"Not weakness. Not noise. Just force against force."
He liked it.
---
Michael circled the Golem.
His muscles ached. His stamina burned.
The Golem just stood. Waiting again. Silent.
"So that's how it works," Michael thought to himself, piecing it together.
"It grows stronger the more it feels pain. Every attack feeds it."
A creature of pure punishment. The embodiment of Hell's law.
You hurt it?
It hurts you worse.
Michael stopped moving.
Then he smiled.
"Then don't hurt it."
---
He leapt, feinted a blow — and instead grabbed the Golem's own arm, using it to launch himself higher.
Landing on its back, he reached beneath one shoulder plate and ripped at the rune bindings with pure force.
The Golem twisted violently — finally reacting.
"There," Michael thought to himself with savage delight.
"You can't feed off pain if I don't give you any. Let's tear you apart piece by piece."
The Golem began spinning like a storm.
Michael was flung off, skidding across the black stone — blood streaking behind him.
His eyes burned brighter.
His voice was low.
"My turn."
---
Michael roared — and the air around him ignited.
He didn't summon magic. He didn't cast spells.
He simply let his will burn hotter than Hell itself.
[Absolute Authority – Suppression Pulse]
He didn't control the Golem.
But he crushed the space around it.
The gravity. The pressure. The freedom to move.
The Golem faltered — just a second.
That was all Michael needed.
He shot forward — red hair trailing fire — and slammed both fists into the Golem's chestplate.
This time?
It cracked.
---
He didn't stop.
He punched again. And again.
Flesh tearing. Fingers breaking. But the metal gave in.
With a scream of pure fury, he plunged his hand into the cracked core and tore it out with a burst of flame.
The Golem twitched.
Froze.
And fell.
---
The arena trembled.
The silence was shattered.
The floor split.
And from the cracks, something rose.
---
Beneath the Golem… was not stone.
It was flesh. Burned. Twisted. Sewn together.
And within that flesh?
Souls.
Thousands of them.
Melted. Broken. Fused into the arena itself.
Their mouths were open in silent screams. Their bodies had been repurposed into flooring.
Michael stared at it.
And for the first time — he felt something strange.
"This whole floor…" Michael thought to himself with cold realization.
"It was made from them."
The Golem hadn't just stood on their corpses.
It had been feeding off them.
A battery of suffering.
He stepped back as the flesh began to unravel. The souls untangled. The screams turned to sighs — and the light came again.
Like before.
They rose.
---
Gratitude – The Freed Souls
From the sky came the souls of Layers 1 through 5.
Thousands of them.
They didn't speak.
They didn't beg.
They just stood… floating… looking at him.
Some cried.
Some smiled.
One bowed.
Michael stood still.
"Why?" he thought to himself with confusion.
"I didn't do this for you."
And yet, they reached toward him.
Not to take — but to give.
A warmth spread through his chest.
A surge of power unlike any he'd felt.
Peace.
Blessing.
And then — they vanished.
---
Meanwhile.... Heaven
High above the mortal realms, in a cathedral of starlight, the angels gathered.
Golden wings folded. Silver eyes closed.
An angel knelt before the throne of light.
"My Lord," she said softly.
"A power rises in Hell. Not of sin… but of freedom."
Whispers echoed.
Another angel spoke.
"Someone is breaking the Gatekeepers.
He frees souls not with mercy — but wrath.
And yet… the light answers."
The Head Seraph looked out across the cosmos.
"What is his name?"
Silence.
"He has none. He does not know his purpose.
But the souls call him…"
"The Breaker of Chains."
The angels bowed their heads.
And prayed for him.
---
Michael – At the Gate to Layer 6
He stood alone now.
The path to the next layer opened before him.
No fanfare. No speech. No revelation.
Only silence.
He flexed his fists. Looked at his palms.
Still red with blood. Still cracked.
He said nothing.
Just walked forward.
Eyes burning.
Hell was changing behind him.
And he was the reason.