Inside an ancient throne room that had once been magnificent but now stood worn and weary from neglect, a man sat in silence. The roof beams of the throne room groaned faintly with age; the red-painted pillars were chipped, the lacquer long faded, and cracks crept like veins along the tiled floor.
Dust dulled the gold trim of lanterns that still clung to the walls, their flickering light casting uneven shadows that danced like restless spirits.
Upon a plain wooden chair that served as a throne was ordinary to the eye, yet centered in this decrepit grandeur and there sat a figure who looked anything but ordinary.
His body, bare and unconcerned with modesty, radiated divinity. His hair spilled dark and smooth as midnight sky, his eyes gleamed redder than blood, sharp and luminous, as if burning with some inner fire.
He sat with a thoughtful expression, but his mind was far from still. It raced in circles, chasing answers that did not exist. Why had the previous God of Death abandoned his throne so abruptly? And why had he,of all souls been chosen as the next ruler of Hell?
That ordinary drifting soul from moments ago was gone. In its place was something else entirely: a vessel divine, sculpted into authority whether he liked it or not.
*Sigh~*
The man exhaled, the sound echoing faintly in the cavernous room. His thoughts brought nothing but dead ends. He glanced at the seal resting in back of his right hand—a mark of swirling darkness laced with threads of divine light. Its design was intricate, almost too perfect, carrying an aura of majesty that demanded reverence. More than that, it was proof that all of this was real.
Even if he wanted to deny it, to spiral into panic, something in him had hardened an indifference strong enough to keep him steady.
*Sigh~.*
He sighed again, leaning back against the plain throne and shutting his crimson eyes. The earlier torrent of knowledge forced into him by the
Authority Seal still rattled through his mind. One thing was clear: this place truly was Hell. And somehow, absurd as it sounded, he had become its ruler.
His head throbbed whenever he tried to make sense of it all, so he stopped trying.
The second revelation from the Seal was stranger still. His name, his earthly name,was gone. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn't recall it.
His memories of life on Earth were mostly intact, but they were drained of warmth, stripped of their emotions. They felt distant, detached, as though they belonged to someone else entirely.
In their place was a new name, carved into the core of his soul by divine law itself:
Morvathos Renavyr Oathgrave.
He couldn't deny it sounded absurdly cool. A small smirk tugged at his lips.
If nothing else, he had to give credit to the Divine Laws. At least they handed out names with style. Even that scammer Abrosis had carried one dripping with ominous grandeur. Somehow, thinking this way made Morvathos feel a little better.
He rose from the throne, the seal in his hand pulsing with thick black mist. The vapor coiled around him, swallowing his form whole. After a few seconds, the mist dispersed, revealing him clothed.
Not in regal robes or divine armor.
In a simple hoodie, plain trousers cut at the ankle, and Adidas-style shoes. Comfort over pomp.
Morvathos admired his transformation with faint amusement. This was one of the Authority Seal's basic functions—Armor of the Reaper. An auto-adjustable wardrobe, designed to shift appearance according to the culture of the souls a reaper encountered.
That way, the dead wouldn't feel alienated or start questioning the fabric of reality during harvest. Fractured souls were a headache to manage, apparently.
Practical, and stylish enough.
Without stopping, Morvathos strode across the throne room toward its great doors. They opened automatically at his approach, heavy wood groaning on ancient hinges.
He stepped outside.
The world of Hell stretched before him. Above was a sky that defied logic—clear, star-strewn, infinite, yet bathed in a light as bright as day despite the absence of any sun. The strange brilliance washed over the land in a pale, unearthly glow.
Morvathos guessed there was no such thing as day or night in Hell. Which made sense. Who cared about time when you were literally burning in damnation?
He descended the palace steps, determined to inspect the realm he had inherited. Not by choice, but now bound to it by existence itself. If Hell fell, so would he. The Authority Seal had made that much abundantly clear.
Worse still, Hell was already in critical condition. The reincarnation cycle had cracked, disrupting the flow of souls. That imbalance was even reaching Earth—Japan's declining birthrate was one symptom.
The Seal granted him the ability to sense such things instantly. Hell Inspection, it was called. A feature meant for a god, though he felt more like a confused bystander handed the keys to a collapsing building.
He wandered through the palace gardens, though "gardens" was generous. Overgrown plants strangled one another, flowers bloomed wild without pattern, and vines crawled unchecked along cracked stone pavement. Grass pushed stubbornly through every fissure. Once cultivated beauty had surrendered to decay.
Turning back, Morvathos studied the Crimson Descent Palace itself. Its sweeping roof curved in the style of ancient Chinese palaces, tiles blackened with age, edges sharp against the pale sky. The red-painted pillars and walls gave it a regal air, though neglect had left them faded and scarred.
Knowledge from the Seal explained its layout. Four interconnected wings made up the palace:
The throne room at the front.
An empty courtyard behind it, centered around a strange architectural structure and a solitary tree.
To the left, the god's personal quarters.
To the right, the treasury and showroom.
And opposite the throne room, guest quarters—for reasons that baffled him.
Guests? In Hell? The thought itself was absurd.
He shook his head, turned away, and kept walking. His destination lay ahead: the Pit of Karma and Punishment.
The true Hell. Where sinners were broken down and remade, purified through suffering.