The neon glow of San Francisco flickered through the window as Lance Corporal Malgus Wren hunched over his laptop, fingers flying across the keyboard. The hum of passing cars, the occasional siren, and the creak of his temporary off-base apartment blended into background noise as he dove into his favorite escape: Demon Primordial.
On screen, his demonic avatar Diablo, the Primordial Demon stood atop a throne of obsidian and flame, issuing commands to hellish armies. Malgus grinned. Tonight, he'd finally unlock the last level of the Abyss and conquer the multiverse.
Then came the sirens.
Not in the game—outside.
High-pitched and panicked, they shattered his immersion. He yanked off his headset and rushed to the window.
A sudden flash.
A low boom that shattered the world.
And then—
Oblivion.
Pain.
A blinding ache behind his eyes like a drill burrowing into his skull. Malgus groaned, clutching his head as he tried to sit up.
"My Lord… it is time. You must awaken."
The voice was deep, sultry, reverent—female. Not human.
He opened his eyes.
She stood before him like a living nightmare wrapped in beauty: skin a dark, shimmering green, quills of fiery emerald cascading down her back like hair turned to living flame. Her crimson eyes glowed with otherworldly power, and claws curled at the end of long, graceful hands.
"Who… what…?" Malgus stammered.
The woman knelt instantly. "My Lord Diablo. You were struck by the Abyssal Spell. The Grand Dukes believe you weakened. They move against us. I am Lilith, your First Flame and Head Servant."
Malgus blinked.
Lilith.
From the game.
His heart pounded. Was I transported… into Demon Primordial?
Tentatively, he raised his hand and imagined the player menu.
[DISPLAY: TRUE DEMON LORD STATS]
A glowing panel appeared in the air.
Name: True Name: Diablo
Title: The Primordial Demon, Demon God
Tier: 1-C (Sealed) | High 1-A (Unsealed)
Power: 1,000,000+
Age: 500,000,000,000+
Abilities: Azure Primordial Fire, Existence Erasure, Resurrection, Dimensional Travel, Transduality, Self-Sustenance…
Weaknesses: None.
Status: SEALED.
Malgus stared, jaw slack. "I'm… him?"
Lilith tilted her head. "My lord? Are you unwell?"
He snapped out of it. If he was in the game, he couldn't let anyone suspect the truth. He had to play the part.
Malgus rose, adopting the regal sneer he'd seen Diablo use in countless cutscenes. "Must you pester me while I ponder strategies?"
Lilith's eyes widened. She bowed low. "Forgive me, my Lord!"
He stepped down from the blackened stone bed, her obedience rattling him, though he masked it well.
"Do not let it happen again. Bring me to the throne room."
"At once, my Lord," Lilith said, rising and leading him through a long corridor of writhing obsidian walls lit by floating braziers of azure fire.
He discreetly opened the World Map in his mind.
The Abyss. Dozens of sectors. Factions. Portals to dimensions.
His world. Just like in the game.
He remembered playing with his squadmates—blasting through dimensions after long days at the range or training, building this faction brick by brick, naming demon lords after each other for fun.
Now it was real. And he was in the body of a god.
The throne room loomed ahead—vast, cathedral-like, constructed of blackstone that screamed and sang with every step. He sat on the massive throne as if it had always belonged to him. A wave of memory—not his own—flooded his mind.
Diablo. Sealed for a millennium by jealous rivals. Now awoken.
He summoned the stat window again, reading his description.
The Primordial Demon is considered the strongest of the Three. He was sealed by the others, fearing his conquest of the multiverse. His Azure Fire erases existence itself.
Malgus smiled. "Looks like I'm not just a Marine anymore."
He lifted his hand. "Summon Duke Astaroth."
A flash of green flame—and a tall demon with a horned helm and fear etched into every movement knelt before him.
"My lord… I came at once."
"Why are rebel troops marching on our capital? Speak."
Astaroth trembled. "The Grand Dukes… they believed you dead after the Abyss Spell. You've been sealed in stasis for a year. They act now—to slay you in your sleep."
Malgus' smile vanished.
A year? They betrayed me already? Rage bubbled inside him, memories of long nights spent strategizing with his real-life friends. All their work—turning to ash.
The sky outside turned crimson, then black. Thunder rumbled. The very Abyss wept as Diablo's fury stirred.
He rose, voice like falling stone. "Astaroth. What forces remain?"
"A fraction of our former strength. One million lesser demons. Ten thousand hellhounds and succubi. Five hundred elite guards. Twenty Executives. Two Dukes."
Pathetic. Malgus clenched a fist. "We cannot stand idle."
Lilith looked up, eyes wide. "My lord… what do you intend?"
"We open the Tomb Prison."
Gasps echoed.
Astaroth stepped forward. "My lord, the Vault holds what was never meant to rise again… Are you certain?"
"I will not ask again."
Astaroth knelt low. "Yes, Lord Diablo."
The Tomb Prison sat beneath the capital like a buried god, wrapped in chains thicker than towers and sealed with runes of agony.
Lilith shivered as they approached. "Only the Grand Primordials can open it. You are the last…"
Malgus turned, eyes narrowing. "Do not speak of my comrades. My fury simmers still."
The great vault door creaked, ancient mechanisms grinding as glowing seals burst in arcs of unholy fire. The pressure in the air grew—weighty, suffocating, filled with slumbering hatred.
As the doors opened, Malgus felt the power within pulse in rhythm with his own dark heart.
"Let us awaken what sleeps. The Abyss has need of us once more."
Lilith and Astaroth bowed behind him, eyes glowing with reverence.
Behind those doors, legends stirred.
And the multiverse would soon learn—
The Primordial Demon has returned.