Awakening came with splitting pain.
Alex lurched upright, clutching his face as his breath tore from his lungs.
"I'm… not dead…"
One eye cracked open—and golden light knifed through the blinds, burning straight through his vision. He hissed and turned away, squeezing his eyes shut as another thought forced its way through the haze.
I'm alive.
Knock—knock—knock.
The sound boomed far too loud in the cramped space. Alex swallowed and forced himself to focus, taking in his surroundings. The room felt like a hastily assembled dollhouse—a narrow wooden chest barely large enough to qualify as a bedroom. A bed pressed against one wall. A cracked desk against the other. Bare planks. No windows beyond the slitted blinds.
Before he could steady his breathing—
"I do not have time for indolent brutes."
The woman's voice was sharp, clipped, and utterly devoid of patience.
"If you intend to sleep through your duties, then perish somewhere discreet and do not make it my problem."
The doorknob twisted—once, twice—controlled, irritated.
Alex flinched and looked down at his hands.
They weren't his.
The fingers were longer. The nails sharper. His skin was darker, warmer, veins faintly visible beneath the surface. His breath hitched—but he forced it down. Panic would get him killed faster than ignorance ever could.
"I'm coming," he said, voice rough and unfamiliar.
When he stood, the world dipped. He caught himself on the desk, suddenly aware that everything sat lower than it should have.
Taller. A lot taller.
Lean muscle shifted beneath his skin—unfamiliar, responsive. Not bulky. Coiled. Built to move.
Nearly six foot. Could use more weight… but I'll take it.
Better than whatever end he'd already met.
He crossed the room and pulled the door open.
And froze.
The woman standing before him was unmistakably a demon.
Tall. Refined. Draped in a dark academy uniform threaded with sigils and silver clasps. Her horns curved back in smooth, polished arcs, gleaming faintly in the dim light. Crimson eyes swept over him in one slow, surgical glance—like a blade testing balance.
She smelled faintly of ink and cold metal.
For a moment, she said nothing.
Then, flatly, "Close your mouth. Shock wastes oxygen."
Alex realized he was staring and snapped it shut.
Her gaze lingered on his horns—small, newly grown—then traced the half-formed markings along his neck. Something unreadable flickered behind her eyes.
"Oni," she said.
Not an insult. Not praise. A classification.
"And late."
"I—" Alex started, then stopped. He didn't know what he was late for.
She stepped past him without waiting for permission, heels clicking sharply as she surveyed the room. A gloved finger brushed the desk, the bed, the walls. Her expression remained unimpressed.
"Alex Mercer," she said, reading from the ledger in her hand. The ink shifted subtly as she spoke. "Oni-blooded. Barely sentient by standard classification. Recently elevated to Noble status due to Variant Bloodline emergence."
She turned to face him.
"I am Lady Shikiri no Kurohana. Dorm Assistant and Administrator for the Noble Tower Cohort."
Her eyes sharpened. "You have missed orientation, delayed your assigned domain entry, and demonstrated a concerning lack of urgency."
Alex swallowed. A dozen questions clawed at his throat—about demons, academies, towers—but instinct screamed at him to stay silent.
"I will not repeat myself," she continued. "You have been assigned to the Wilds Domain—a self-sustaining territory utilized for conditioning combat assets."
She snapped the ledger shut.
"Although monsters are infinite, threat levels escalate with depth. Retreat is permitted during sanctioned hours only."
Her gaze pinned him in place.
"Weekends are reserved for specialized training, invasions, or tower ascension. Your time is your own—but understand this: points are allocated by merit here. You will learn why that matters soon enough."
Alex nodded once. Slow. Controlled.
Piece by piece, he began assembling the reality of the body he now occupied.
He did not understand why demons did any of this, but her earlier words confirmed his suspicions. Hell was not chaos incarnate. It was structured. Civilized. Brutal in the same way any empire was brutal.
Different realm. Same rules.
And then there was the academy.
The uniform. The schedule. The tower.
A demonic imperial institution—either to forge Hell's elites or sharpen its weapons. The tower likely served as a crucible. The domain, a hunting ground. And if he was labeled a beast—
Then the Wilds were filled with monsters like him.
Lost in thought, Lady Shikiri turned toward the door, already finished with him.
"Do not embarrass your lineage," she said coolly. "Oni are not known for wasting potential."
She paused at the threshold and glanced back once.
"And Alex Mercer?"
"Yes, ma'am," he replied automatically.
A faint smile touched her lips—gone almost immediately.
"Try not to die before you become interesting."
Then she was gone.
Alex stood alone in the silence, heart pounding.
Not because of the semi-attractive demon who had just dismissed him. Not even because of the academy or the tower or Hell itself.
But because something glowed into existence before his eyes—like a pixie spawning in a video game.
Purple light spread outward, forming runic patterns and cascading symbols. A flat, translucent screen solidified in the air, text flashing across its surface.
[God Games Starter Pack Detected][Would You Like to Download Your Player Background, Spawn-ling?]