Jack Storm did not wake up.
He was reassembled.
There was no pain at first. Pain required nerves, and nerves required a body that remembered what it was supposed to be. Jack existed as fragments — awareness without edges, thought without direction, instinct stripped bare.
Then Hell began to build him.
Not gently.
Not cruelly.
Methodically.
THE FORGE BELOW FORGES
The place he drifted within was not the platform.
It was deeper.
Older.
A vast chamber stretched in all directions, its walls formed of black stone veined with molten gold and violet flame. Colossal chains hung suspended in the air, each one etched with contracts so old the symbols had eroded into meaning rather than language.
At the chamber's center floated something that used to be Jack.
Or what remained of him.
Broken bones hovered in careful alignment. Torn muscle fibers rewove themselves thread by thread. Shattered organs rebuilt from glowing schematics, each iteration stronger than the last.
And at the heart of it all—
His infernal core.
Or rather…
What replaced it.
Jack's old core lay cracked and inert, floating nearby like a discarded organ. It pulsed weakly, purple flame leaking from fractures like blood from a dying heart.
The Infernal Broker stood beside it, arms folded, watching without expression.
"That core served its purpose," the Broker said calmly. "But it cannot contain what you have seen."
Something answered from the darkness.
A presence far greater than the Broker.
Older than Hell's hierarchies.
"You were broken by truth," the voice said. "And truth cannot be unlearned."
Jack's awareness sharpened.
I'm not dead, he realized.
That should have comforted him.
It didn't.
THE NEW CORE
The shattered infernal core collapsed inward, folding into itself until it became a single point of violet-black light.
Then—
It was crushed.
Not destroyed.
Compressed.
Reality warped around it as pressure beyond physics forced the essence of Jack's power into something denser, heavier, hungrier.
A new structure formed.
Spherical.
Layered.
Fractal.
At its center burned a flame that was no longer purple.
It was void-violet, edged with black.
The chamber trembled.
"This is a Nether Core," the ancient presence intoned. "It does not merely draw from Hell."
"It processes it."
Jack felt it settle into his chest.
The moment it locked into place, sensation flooded back violently.
Pain.
Heat.
Weight.
Jack screamed.
REGENERATION — THE BODY THAT REFUSES
Jack's body hit the ground hard.
Not collapsing — impacting.
Stone cracked beneath him as his mass reasserted itself. He curled instinctively, gasping as every nerve ignited at once.
Then—
The pain faded.
Not vanished.
Processed.
Jack stared at his hands as shredded skin sealed itself, muscle knitting seamlessly, bone reforming beneath it all in seconds.
He slashed his palm reflexively on instinct alone.
The wound closed before the blood hit the floor.
"…Regeneration," Jack whispered.
The Infernal Broker inclined its head.
"Gold coin investment," it said. "Durability and recovery. Permanent."
Jack's breathing slowed.
He should have felt relief.
Instead—
He felt distance.
The pain hadn't taught him anything.
It hadn't lingered.
It hadn't mattered.
That scared him.
THE COINS ARE SPENT
The air filled with weight again.
Jack felt it before he saw it.
The coins.
All of them.
Silver Soul Coins dissolved first, shattering into raw upgrade essence that streamed directly into the Nether Core.
Branches ignited:
Advanced Force Manipulation — Tier II
Regenerative Authority
Soul Density Compression
Void Flame Stability
Perception Beyond Physical Time (Dormant)
Then the gold tokens emerged.
All of them.
Three suns hovering in judgment.
"You earned these," the ancient presence said. "Now choose."
Jack didn't ask for menus.
He felt the options.
And the costs.
GOLD UPGRADE I — REGENERATION: INFERNAL REWRITE
Not healing.
Replacement.
Damage would no longer weaken him — it would be converted into reinforcement.
Jack accepted it.
The Nether Core flared violently.
Jack doubled over as something fundamental shifted — pain pathways rewritten, survival instincts sharpened into certainty.
He would not bleed out.
He would not fade.
He would continue.
GOLD UPGRADE II — FORCE: DOMINION VECTOR
Force no longer needed motion.
Jack could now apply pressure, gravity, and kinetic collapse without moving.
A thought.
A direction.
The environment obeyed.
He accepted it.
The chamber groaned as invisible forces bent inward.
Jack felt something snap into place inside his mind.
Control.
Cold. Perfect.
GOLD UPGRADE III — SOUL AUTHORITY
This one hesitated.
Even Hell paused.
"With this," the presence warned, "you cease to be merely reactive. Souls will recognize you."
Jack swallowed.
"What's the cost?"
The presence did not hesitate.
"Distance."
Jack understood instantly.
Emotion dulled.
Attachment thinned.
Human reactions slowed.
But souls — demons, possessed, corrupted beings — would respond to him like gravity responds to mass.
Jack closed his eyes.
"…Do it."
The last gold coin burned into the Nether Core.
Something left him.
Subtle.
Quiet.
Important.
WHAT REMAINS
Jack stood slowly.
His body felt wrong.
Not heavier.
Not lighter.
Final.
He flexed his fingers and felt force ripple outward, stone cracking in perfect lines. He focused on a distant chain — it bent without sound, folded inward as if apologizing for existing.
He focused inward.
His heartbeat was slower.
Calmer.
Efficient.
Too efficient.
The Infernal Broker studied him closely.
"You are drifting," it said.
Jack met its gaze.
"I know."
The Broker's voice lowered. "If you continue upgrading at this rate, your contract's humanity clause will be… tested."
Jack looked down at his hands.
They didn't shake anymore.
"…How much have I lost?"
The ancient presence answered.
"Almost nothing."
A pause.
"And soon — everything that hurts."
Jack exhaled slowly.
"That's the problem."
RETURNING WRONG
Hell released him.
Jack emerged on Earth standing upright, not falling, not staggering. The forest clearing where Crowe had found him was untouched now, as if reality itself had been corrected around him.
Jack looked around.
He could feel the land.
The gravity.
The life.
The weaknesses.
A bird landed on a nearby branch.
Jack glanced at it.
The bird froze — instinct screaming — then fled instantly.
Jack frowned.
"…They can tell."
That was new.
He turned toward civilization.
Toward people.
Toward danger.
And for the first time since his rebirth—
He wondered whether he would still care why he was saving them.
CROWE SENSES IT
Miles away, Crowe looked up suddenly from a briefing table.
His chest tightened.
"…He's back," Crowe said quietly.
An aide frowned. "Sir?"
Crowe didn't answer.
He just knew.
HELL RECORDS THE CHANGE
Deep below, contracts updated themselves.
Jack Storm's classification shifted.
Not rank.
Not threat.
Status: Transitional Entity
The Infernal Broker watched the change occur and, for once, did not smile.
Jack walked out of the forest toward the road.
Stronger.
Faster.
Unkillable — for now.
And every step felt just a little quieter than the last.
Not empty.
Just…
Less human.