Jason Bartel's life ended the moment it began. When he lived, he lived as a dead man—no different from a walking corpse. He was, perhaps, the unluckiest soul ever born. Not because he deserved misfortune, nor because he committed some unforgivable sin before birth. It was simply because he belonged to the Bartel family—a dynasty woven into the veins of the mafia.
His father, the boss of the era, wasted no time. As the firstborn, Jason was the heir, whether he wanted the throne or not. His father didn't train him. He forged him.
Jason learned to pull a trigger before he learned to walk straight. He spoke seven languages by the time he was thirteen. By twenty, he was a master of every discipline forced upon him—weapons, strategy, torture, business, diplomacy… all of it.
At twenty-three, his father died in a humiliating fashion—an overdose of cocaine. And so, Jason inherited the family business.
As the mafia boss, he killed thousands—guilty, innocent… it didn't matter.
Life held no value, and eventually, neither did his own humanity. His heart rotted away. His soul turned to ash. Pleasure meant nothing. Pain meant nothing.
He was invincible—a master of martial arts, lethal with any weapon… even a spoon. People whispered that even Death feared him.
But all things end. Jason's life changed the moment his own wife pointed a gun at him.
He died at twenty-seven.
And strangely, the night he died… was a good day—both for his enemies and for him.
Jason hated the mafia, hated his life, hated the man he had become. Death felt like freedom.
He floated in an endless void, accompanied only by his thoughts. Then, without warning, light tore open the darkness—so bright it stung his eyes. From it stepped a figure with long golden hair, great wings spread wide, and white robes that draped only his lower body.
"This will be interesting," the figure murmured, and with a snap of his fingers, the void vanished.
Jason now knelt in what resembled a courtroom—
but nothing like the earthly ones he had bribed his way through.
Three figures sat upon high seats. On the left, the winged man from before. On the right, an old man with a long grey beard, robed in black. And at the centre, a woman in flowing white robes, her hair midnight-black, her smile gentle. "Poor soul," she whispered.
Jason raised an eyebrow. "Where am I? Who are you people?" The blond one glared. "We ask the questions, mortal."
Jason sighed. "Judgement, then. Thought so."
"I'm surprised you're so calm. Most people—" Jason yawned loudly, cutting him off. "Sorry. Could we hurry this up?"
The blond man bristled. "You little—"
The woman raised a hand. "Relax, Erendel. Give the mortal what he asks for." She turned to Jason, her voice soft but absolute. "Jason Bartel, you have committed countless atrocities.For your sins, I sentence you to an eternity in Hell." Jason didn't flinch. He simply looked around the courtroom, noting statues of the three figures and a glowing orb above them. "So… gods, I suppose," he said flatly. "What?" Erendel snapped. "You're gods," Jason repeated. "Yes, mortal. Now stay silent!" Erendel barked. "Enough," the woman said. She lifted her hand to snap. "Now, sinner… descend to your hell."
"Wait," Jason said. "One question." She paused. "Speak." "You punish sinners, right?"Jason asked. "We do." She said. "So you're pure of heart? Fair? Just?"
"Yes," she replied without hesitation. "Then tell me," Jason said quietly, "would you punish a father who steals to feed starving children? A mother who kills to protect her baby? They are sinners too… aren't they?"
Silence fell in the room. the three didn't answer, only stared at Jason in confusion and disgust.
Then, the old man who had spoken nothing so far burst into deep, echoing laughter. "Just as I expected," he said—and with a snap of his fingers, Jason fell.
Hell
Jason awoke chained to a wall in a cavern. A ring of fire surrounded him, inching closer. He didn't scream at first, but as the flame engulfed him, his composure shattered. He screamed, cursed, begged—and eventually, whispered regrets into the darkness.
"If I had a choice…I'd change everything," he muttered. That was when she appeared. A woman—if she could still be called one—with charred, cracked skin and a black veil. Her eyes glowed red, and silent tears streaked down her ruined cheeks. "Oh… how sad," she whispered. "You've been a prisoner your entire life."
Jason, burning, didn't respond. With a gesture, she extinguished the flames and broke his chains. He collapsed, scorched but alive.
"Who are you?" he croaked.
"I am your salvation." She said. "What do you want?" Jason asked. "To offer you a proposition." "What kind?" "Follow me." She led him out of the cave. From the mountain's edge, Hell stretched before him—a churning, volcanic abyss filled with screams.
"Beautiful," Jason muttered. "This is Hell," she said. "So I gathered."
"You wish to be free, don't you?" She said."Yes."
"Then obey me, and I will free you."
"Depends," Jason said, lowering himself to the ground. "Do I have to kill?" She tilted her head."Death is inevitable. Especially for you… and for me."
"What does that mean?" She lifted her veil slightly. "I am the Goddess of Death. And you are my chosen one." "…Chosen?" "Yes. I choose you to act in my name." "How? I'm stuck in Hell." "I am the ruler of Hell. I have pardoned you." Jason exhaled. "Hurrah," he said dryly.
She continued. "The primordial gods imprisoned me here. I can kill anything that exists—and for that power, they banished me, sealing my powers away. They sealed Hell's doors so none may leave except by their permission… or through hidden ripples in space. I will use these ripples to reincarnate you… secretly."
"So what's the plan?" Jason asked. "The key to Hell's doors lies somewhere on Earth. Find it. Free me."
"And if I refuse?" She silently pointed toward a bubbling lake of lava. "…Right," Jason said. "Deal." She extended her pale, skeletal hand. Jason took it. A burning mark appeared on his forehead. "Excellent," she whispered. "Take my blessing. It will guide you. Now go."
She snapped her fingers. "I'll see you soon."
Jason vanished.