The red-skinned one, with bat-like wings who rarely flap but float by some sort of magic—my teeth sank into her shoulder, tearing through skin with a feral snap born of nothing but survival.
She shrieked, a sound like shattering crystal, and thrashed to dislodge me, veering wildly toward a nearby spire.
We crashed through an arched window, glass and stone exploding inward, tumbling into a chamber cluttered with arcane oddities—vials of glowing ichor, tomes bound in what might have been skin and flesh.
The demon—her red flesh slick with my blood and hers—lunged, claws extended, but I rolled, snatching a jagged candelabrum from a pedestal.
It connected with a sickening crunch, silver meeting skull, and she crumpled, wings twitching in death throes.
I didn't pause to think, didn't register the gore on my hands. Just fled, bare feet pounding over debris, out into labyrinthine streets where shadows clung to walls like jealous lovers.
Hiccups plagued the escape—stumbling into dead ends, ducking patrols of lesser imps and all sorts of monstrosity.
Wounds from Caligula's betrayal throbbed painfully—but somehow I pushed on, collapsing in an alley reeking of decay.
I had no idea how I was still alive, whether it was adrenaline or my own desperation, my body moved like it was controlled by something.
I also remembered my right eye throbbed greatly back then, so maybe it had something to do with my survival at that time.
Eventually, trash became sustenance—scraps of dubious meat, puddles that passed for water.
A day blurred by, perhaps less, since my time was measured in heartbeats and hiding.
Until a group of brute-like humanoids found me on the alley and captured me.
The memories after that weren't as clear, but a priestly demon attended me then, horns curling like ancient scrolls, his hands weaving threads of light
For those Demons to hold the power of light akin to a healer in a fantasy game, it was quite shocking. Though, I had no idea if it was his Ego or something is different entirely.
After that, I was given to an entirely different demon whose face seemed blurry even in this unsealed memory.
Was it due to trauma? In a way, I had no strong way of discerning this individual.
She, I supposed, according to the feminine voice I heard, began to torture me endlessly.
Caligula was right, torture awaits me after she abandoned me here, and it was not fine in the slightest. From pulling my nail, to slowly skinning my wrist while I'm still conscious, I was subjected to many forms of excruciation.
And when I was knocked out unconscious after a single session, I woke up seeing all of my wounds healed again, possibly by the same means.
And then I was tortured again.
The purpose was to find information about me, but at one point I noticed that it was nothing but for entertainment.
Many days of pure agony passed by, until I was emotionally broken. I was sold by her after that, and was presented in an auction like an exotic animal.
Cries of bids in clinking Eidolon—the realm's form of monetary value, appeared in gleaming obsidian shards etched with infernal runes.
100 eidolon was a single dollar back home, enough for a cheap snack in Wheel-Forged District, for comparison.
Then again, the value of eidolon per-shard depends on the purity of energy etched on the rune, so a single eidolon shard could range from 10 eidolon to 100,000,000 eidolon or more, and that only those who could harness Demonic Essence is able appraise the value of a shard.
I learned that while waiting to be shown on the stage when the auction happened.
Eventually, I was sold for 670,800,000,000 eidolons.
It was so absurd that I briefly showed emotion in my mindbroken state.
The buyer was Yugash, a were-beast of rippling fur and amber eyes, his form can shift between lupine grace and brutish bulk at will.
He claimed me for novelty—a human rarity, cute in my fragility, and a curio for his collection.
In a way, it was like a pet.
To his mansion I went, where I ended up working as one of his many, demonic maids.
The work was grounded, not cruel in body but soul-eroding in a way that it didn't provide me with a single comfort.
I wasn't paid for it either since I was a slave to technicality.
Thankfully, he wasn't a pervert as I thought he would.
A month dragged, each dawn a reminder of how I could avoid Caligula.
Obviously, that moment of peace didn't last.
Because the mansion then got attacked.
Screams rent the night, walls buckling under siege. Raiders—rival beasts, eyes wild with conquest—they tore through guards, as Yugash's roar cut short by a blade through his throat.
I huddled in a corner, fresh gashes from fleeing the fray, with enough wounds that I was reminded of the torture I was subjected on by that unruly demon.
"I found it—!"
And right before I was captured by the raider, Surreal appeared—still in her maid's garb, expression remained blank as she wrenched the raider apart with bare hands, limbs parting like wet parchment.
Blood spilled on her maid outfit and it looked hot and disturbing back then.
Beside her, Lothair, followed along, unbothered by the gore on the surrounding.
"Such a pity. That Yugash, he hadn't settled his end of the bargain~"
Her gaze landed on me then, playful even amid the blood, as I lay curled and broken. "You, little one. I'll pull you from this hell you're in—if you owe me a favor in return."
Mental fractures from torture, the alien horror of this realm, pains etched too deep to fade—I met her eyes with hollow plea.
"Kill me… that should be enough to release me from this hell…"
Lothair's brow furrowed, almost gentle, however. "And how would you repay that? Debt unpaid leaves loose ends, and a lifeless corpse doesn't pay debt."
Surreal, wiping gore from her sleeves, suggested softly, "Try ask for something else, human, you might not find my Master be this generous in the future."
"Then… allow me to work for you, do whatever nasty favor you want from me," I said while holding on a most pitiful smile back then. "In exchange… Can you remove these painful memories that haunted me to no end?"
"No problem~!"
A flick of Lothair's wrist, and oblivion claimed me—slumber deep as the abyss, dreams mercifully blank.
And then I woke up.
Well, so much for removing my memories. In the end, my stubborn self ended up having them back after all that trouble.
"Even now, with it all back... do I still owe you? After what I asked to forget?" I asked with a wry smile.
Lothair's expression softened, not pity but understanding, as she gestured to Surreal.
The maid placed a small pouch on the table—leather, heavy with Eidolon clink—beside a card etched in silver.
It appeared to be an identity card, civilian class could be read on one of the lines, it was also stamped with demonic seals.
"Your debt not only consists of the memory sealing service, but it was also the fact that you're now a legal inhabitant of the Demonic Realm, regardless of your background or status. This means that you can start fresh, find a business venture, live among the demons, and access the facilities and necessities that you would otherwise be unable to claim as a mere slave~
"And that pouch there holds 100,000,000 eidolons to mark your beginning."
To make this world my new home and adapt to it, that was certainly a priceless opporutnity to someone who was nothing but a mere plaything in this unruly realm.
The trauma that I got from the torture might heal, hopefully, and I might also had a chance to return back to Earth somewhere in the future as long I stay alive.
She was right, that was a lot of debt to pay.
"What do you want from me, then?"
Her smile returned, cunning laced with that odd comfort, eyes gleaming like a predator.
"Become a Demon, Mesmer."