I slumped against the wall, my body screaming in protest as Yoclesh's footsteps faded away. The potion had stopped the bleeding, but every muscle still felt like it had been tenderized by a very angry troll.
Then it hit me.
"Wait… where the hell am I supposed to sleep?" I muttered, looking around the weapon storage turned battlefield. The bed I'd been given earlier was now a pile of splinters, courtesy of Numi's "warm welcome." "Oh, sure, just 'rest today,' like I'm gonna curl up on a pile of swords. Real cozy. Maybe I'll use a battleaxe as a pillow."
My grumbling was cut off as the door creaked open again. Two hulking demons, one with cracked obsidian skin and the other with horns like a bull, strolled in, looking down at me with expressions that screamed "ugh, more work."
"You alive?" the obsidian one grunted.
"Barely," I wheezed.
"Good enough."
Before I could protest, they grabbed me under the arms and hoisted me up like a sack of potatoes, dumping me onto a stretcher with all the grace of a pair of bouncers tossing out a drunk.
"Hey, wait, I can walk."
"Shut up," the horned one said, not unkindly. "Boss said to move you. So we're moving you."
And with that, they lifted the stretcher and started carrying me down the hall. The ceiling blurred above me as exhaustion finally won. The last thing I heard before passing out was one of them muttering,
"He's lighter than he looks."
Sunlight.
That was the first thing I noticed when my eyes cracked open. Not torchlight. Not hellfire. Actual sunlight streaming through a narrow window.
I bolted upright, then immediately regretted it as my ribs protested.
"Ow. Okay. Still alive. Cool."
I was in a new room, small but clean, with an actual bed (miraculously intact), a dresser, and a basket in the corner. No chains, no bloodstains. Progress.
I stumbled to my feet, wincing as my muscles screamed, and shuffled to the door. The moment I opened it, chaos greeted me.
The corridor outside was packed with demons of all shapes and sizes, some in armor, some in robes, all rushing around like they had places to be. A few glanced at me, but most ignored the disheveled human blinking dumbly in the doorway.
I reached out and tapped the shoulder of a passing demon, a lean, fox eared woman with a clipboard.
"Uh, hey. Where can I shower? And, uh… get new clothes?" I gestured down at myself. My outfit was ruined, torn, bloodstained, and reeking of sweat and smoke.
She blinked at me, then recognition flashed in her eyes. "Ah! You're the new one." Without waiting for an answer, she marched into my room and pointed at the basket. "Just drop your blue suit, pants, shirt, and underpants in here. While you were sleeping, a demon measured you, so there's fresh stuff in the dresser."
I froze.
"Wait. Measured me?" My voice cracked. "While I was—"
She smirked, her tail flicking. "Ohhh, getting all flustered, huh?"
"NO!" I sputtered, face burning. "I just, who—"
"Don't worry," she said, waving a hand. "It was a male."
"THAT'S NOT BETTER!"
She cackled and grabbed my arm, dragging me out into the hall. "Look, over there, that's the gym." She pointed at a set of glass doors farther down the corridor. "Showers are inside. Soap's provided. Just bring a change of clothes."
I stared. "You guys have glass doors in hell?"
She rolled her eyes. "Just go wash up, surface boy. You smell like a battlefield."
Then she shoved me forward and vanished into the crowd, leaving me standing there, bewildered, in a hallway full of demons.
Hell was weird as hell.
I grabbed the gym clothes from the dresser, a sleeveless black shirt and a pair of shorts that looked like they were designed for someone with slightly more demonic thighs than me. Whatever, it'll do. I snatched the towel draped over the bed and headed back toward the gym, trying to ignore the fact that I was basically wearing what amounted to demon workout pajamas.
The shower was… an experience.
I stepped into the stall and was immediately greeted by a control panel that looked like it belonged in a spaceship. There were at least twelve dials, each labeled in some infernal script I couldn't read, plus a lever that ominously said "PURGE" in Common Tongue.
Great. Guess I'll just… turn this one?
FWOOOSH.
A jet of scalding hot water blasted me straight in the face.
"GAH—WHAT THE—HOT, HOT, HOT—" I flailed at the dials, twisting them wildly. The water switched instantly to arctic freeze, making me yelp and leap back like a cat that had been sprayed.
Five minutes of frantic knob turning later, I finally found something resembling a tolerable temperature. By the time I was done, I was pretty sure I'd experienced every extreme of liquid hell possible.
I dried off, slapped on some deodorant (which, to my surprise, smelled like embers and something faintly cinnamon like—hell had good hygiene products, apparently), and trudged back to my room to dump my ruined clothes in the basket.
Now, time for the real horror.
The gym.
I stepped into the gym, still drying my hair with the towel, when the sheer absurdity of the place hit me like a runaway cart.
Everywhere I looked, demons were lifting weights that would make a human strongman cry. A petite succubus with bat like wings was casually bench pressing what looked like an anvil chained to two boulders. A hulking oni nearby was doing one armed pull ups with a literal boulder tied to his waist. And in the corner, a lanky imp was deadlifting a stack of iron slabs taller than he was.
Okay. Either this world has different gravity, different materials, or demons are just built different.
I glanced down at my own arms. Probably the last one.
Then I spotted Numi again. She was now doing overhead presses with those same basalt dumbbells, her muscles flexing like coiled steel. The ground trembled every time she dropped them between sets.
I took a deep breath and walked over.
"So," I said, trying to sound casual, "is this, like... a normal workout here, or is today 'ego lift day' or something?"
Numi smirked, not even pausing her reps. "This? This is warm up weight."
I blinked. Warm up. Right.
A nearby demon, a jacked lizardman with scarred scales, grunted in agreement as he loaded more plates onto his barbell. "Newbie's gotta start light," he chuckled. "Don't wanna pull something."
Start light. I looked at the smallest dumbbells I could find, a pair of dark iron blocks that looked like they weighed at least 50 kilos each.
Yeah. No.
Numi finally set down her weights (with a thud that cracked the floor) and wiped her hands on a towel. "Yoclesh wants you on endurance first. So you're doing laps."
"Laps?" I repeated, relieved. Okay, running I can do.
Then she pointed.
At the ceiling.
There, suspended above us, was a floating track made of jagged rock, with no rails, no safety nets, and because why not, occasional jets of fire bursting up from below at random intervals.
Numi grinned. "Try not to fall."
I stared.
...I miss planet Earth.
I craned my neck, staring up at the floating obsidian track suspended near the gym's vaulted ceiling. Flames occasionally burst from gaps in the stone floor beneath it, casting flickering shadows across the sweating demons below.
"Uh...how exactly do I get up there?" I asked, already dreading the answer.
Numi turned to look at the lizardman spotting her bench press. They locked eyes for half a second before bursting into deep, belly shaking laughter that echoed through the gym. The lizardman nearly dropped his weighted barbell (which looked like it could crush a car) as he doubled over.
When Numi finally caught her breath, she wiped a tear from her pink eyes. "Oh man, that's rich. Normally," she gestured to a launchpad like platform near the wall, "we'd just jump from there. Or fly. But since you're a pathetic surface dweller..."
She pointed to the far wall where the most sadistic staircase I'd ever seen spiraled upward. The steps were uneven chunks of basalt, each one a different height, winding in a tight corkscrew that disappeared into the shadows near the ceiling. There were no handrails. Just sheer drops between gaps in the steps.
"Think of it as a warm up," Numi said, slapping my back hard enough to make me stumble forward. "I'll check your progress between sets." She pointed to a floating crimson orb near the track. "Blood tracker's up there. Prick your finger when you arrive."
Then suddenly she loomed over me, her full 248cm frame casting me in shadow. Her playful demeanor vanished, replaced by a look that made my survival instincts scream.
"Listen close, surface boy," she growled, her breath hot on my face. "Do well? You get a meal fit for a warlord." A fanged grin. "Do poorly?" The grin turned vicious. "Let's just say you'll be begging for prison gruel."
She straightened up, her cheerful demeanor snapping back like nothing happened. "I'll be over here if you need me!" she called over her shoulder as she sauntered back to her weights. "But you won't, since you'll be too busy climbing all the way back down those stairs after!"
The lizardman and Numi shared another laugh as he handed me a small wooden box. "Don't worry, man," he rumbled, his forked tongue flicking in amusement. "We've all been there."
I opened the box to find a single black fruit that looked like a raisin dipped in tar. "Eat it when the pain starts," he advised before returning to his workout, effortlessly curling what appeared to be an anvil tied to a boulder.
Taking a deep breath, I approached the staircase from hell. The first step came up to my knee. The second barely reached my ankle. By the tenth uneven, jagged step, I was already sweating.
Somewhere behind me, I heard Numi call out: "Clock starts now, surface boy! Try not to die before the real workout!"
The demons' laughter followed me all the way up.
I finally dragged myself onto the floating obsidian track after what felt like an eternity climbing those godforsaken stairs. My legs trembled, my back screamed, and my lungs burned like I'd inhaled a bonfire. The floating crimson orb, the so called "blood tracker," pulsed ominously as I approached.
Gritting my teeth, I pricked my finger on the sharp edge of the track and let a drop of blood fall onto the orb.
FWOOOSH!
The orb flared to life, a beam of red light scanning me from head to toe. Glowing runes materialized in the air:
SUBJECT ANALYSIS:
Species: Human (Pathetic Surface Dweller)
Height: 6'2" (Adequate for a Worm)
Blood Type: O+ (Boringly Normal)
Minimum Laps Required: 10
Track Length: 0.25 Miles per Lap (Try Not to Cry)
Estimated Survival Probability: 78.3% (Good Luck)
78.3%?!
Before I could process that, more text appeared:
WARNING:
Stopping = Pain So Bad You'll Wish For Death
Quitting = Pain So Bad Death Will Wish For You
Death Possible But Unlikely (Probably)
Then, the orb chimed cheerfully.
"PAIN TOLERANCE TEST INITIATED! SAMPLE: 10% INTENSITY."
"Wait, wha—"
AGONY.
It was like every nerve in my body had been dipped in molten metal. My muscles locked, my vision whited out, and I barely bit back a scream. It lasted only a second, but it was the longest second of my life.
That was 10% ?! A full dose would liquefy my insides!
The orb, now floating ahead of me, displayed:
"PAIN TEST SUCCESSFUL! BEGIN TRAINING, MEATBAG."
COUNTDOWN:
3… 2… 1…
GO.
I took off at a jog, the orb gliding alongside me like a sadistic cheerleader. The first lap wasn't too bad, just a steady pace, dodging the occasional fire plume.
Then came Lap 3.
A jet of flame burst up right beneath me. I tried to dodge—
FWOOMPH!
"GAHH—!"
The fire licked my calf, searing through my pants and scorching my skin. The pain was instant and brutal, like someone had pressed a red hot brand against my flesh. I stumbled, gritting my teeth so hard I thought they'd crack.
The orb chimed.
"FIRE CONTACT DETECTED! MINOR BURN. KEEP GOING, WEAKLING."
Minor?! My leg felt like it had been deep fried.
Then I remembered the lizardman's weird raisin thing. I fumbled in my pocket and shoved it into my mouth.
BAM.
A surge of energy shot through me. The burn on my leg dulled to a throb, and my muscles stopped screaming. Holy hell, this thing works!
I pushed harder, my pace evening out. The orb updated:
LAP 5/10
SPEED: SLIGHTLY LESS PATHETIC
FIRE DODGED: 18/19
One miss. Damn it.
By Lap 8, the demon raisin's effects were fading. My lungs burned, my legs felt like lead, and sweat poured down my face. The orb wasn't helping:
"DECELERATION DETECTED. PENALTY: 15% PAIN IMMINENT."
"Oh, come ON—"
I forced myself to speed up, the threat of agony outweighing my exhaustion.
Finally, Lap 10.
I crossed the finish line and collapsed onto the track, wheezing like a broken accordion. The orb hovered over me, its message glowing:
"TRAINING COMPLETE! PERFORMANCE: NOT COMPLETELY EMBARRASSING."
"REWARD: MEAL UPGRADE UNLOCKED (YOU'RE WELCOME)."
I lay there, gasping, my entire body a symphony of pain.
Then I remembered I still had to get back down.
I looked at the stairs.
Then at the orb, which now displayed:
"...JUST TAKE THE DAMN SLIDE, IDIOT."
I didn't argue.
I jumped.
The slide materialized beneath me just as I jumped, a smooth, polished chute spiraling down at a terrifying speed. The world blurred around me as I shot downward, my stomach lurching into my throat.
"WHOOOOOAAAA—"
I landed hard on my ass in the middle of the gym, skidding several feet before coming to a stop right at Numi's feet.
She looked down at me, her pink eyes gleaming with amusement as she checked a stone slab in her hands.
"Huh. You did... decent." She smirked. "Good. Now, fighting training starts."
I blinked up at her, still trying to catch my breath. "Wait, another training—?"
Numi burst out laughing, her massive frame shaking. "Oh, you didn't think it was over, did you?" She wiped a tear from her eye. "Adorable."
She jerked her thumb toward a heavy iron door on the far side of the gym. "We're going over here."
I groaned but dragged myself to my feet, my legs still wobbly from the run. The door creaked open, revealing a massive chamber with walls of smooth basalt, lit by flickering torches.
And the dummies.
They weren't normal training dummies.
These things looked like nightmare marionettes, humanoid figures made of woven demonhide and reinforced bone, their empty eye sockets somehow watching me as I stepped inside. Some were suspended from the ceiling by chains, others stood motionless on the floor. All of them had fists.
"Time to throw some punches," Numi said, cracking her knuckles. "Since you're doing so well."
She gave me a look I couldn't quite read, then muttered under her breath, "That drug the lizardman gave him... he'll find out eventually."
Before I could ask what that meant, she clapped her hands.
"Alright, listen up!" she barked. "These dummies? They're gonna come at you all at once. Your job is simple—punch, kick, and survive. They will hit back. And they won't stop until you're knocked out."
She leaned in, her grin widening. "And knocked out means reduced meal. So don't pass out."
A familiar crimson orb floated into the room, pulsing ominously.
"Oh, great," I muttered. "You again."
The crimson orb pulsed with malicious glee as it recognized me. "WELL WELL," it boomed in a voice that echoed off the basalt walls. "IF IT ISN'T THE PATHETIC SURFACE DWELLER COME TO HUMBLE HIMSELF FURTHER." Its glow intensified as it circled me like a shark. "TODAY'S ENTERTAINMENT: ONE HOUR OF UNINTERRUPTED COMBAT AGAINST FIVE DEMON GRUNT SIMULACRA. LET'S SEE HOW MANY BONES YOU CAN KEEP UNBROKEN, MEATBAG."
I wiped sweat from my brow with a trembling hand before pricking my finger. As my blood made contact, the orb flared like a miniature supernova.
"ATTENTION WORTHLESS FLESHSACK," it crackled, projecting bloody runes into the air. "RULES OF ENGAGEMENT: FIRST - STOPPING MEANS AGONY BEYOND YOUR PITIFUL COMPREHENSION. SECOND - KNOCKOUT MEANS YOU DINE ON SCRAPS FIT ONLY FOR THE LOWEST IMP." A sadistic pause. "THIRD - BLEEDING IS ENCOURAGED BUT CRYING IS NOT."
Numi clapped me on the shoulder, hard enough to make my knees buckle. "Have fun!"
Then she strolled out of the room, the door slamming shut behind her.
The orb pulsed.
COUNTDOWN:
3…
I tensed, raising my fists.
2…
The dummies twitched, their limbs creaking to life.
1…
FIGHT.
The room exploded into motion.
Dummies lunged from every direction, swinging fists, kicking out with terrifying precision. I ducked the first punch, countered with a sharp jab to the second dummy's ribs—
CRACK.
The bone reinforced frame barely budged.
"Oh, come on—"
A fist slammed into my side.
WHAM!
I staggered, gasping.
Okay. No holding back.
I spun, driving my elbow into the closest dummy's jaw, then pivoted to kick another square in the chest. It stumbled back—
—just in time for a third to clothesline me across the throat.
I hit the ground, wheezing.
The orb hovered overhead, its message glowing:
"GET UP. OR SUFFER."
Gritting my teeth, I forced myself up—just as another dummy's fist came flying at my face.
The next hour was pure, unrelenting hell.
The dummies moved with terrifying precision—no wasted motion, no hesitation. They struck in perfect synchronization, their woven demonhide fists slamming into me from every angle. I blocked, countered, ducked, but they learned. Every time I found an opening, they adjusted. Every time I thought I had a rhythm, they shattered it.
First 10 Minutes:
A dummy feinted left, then drove a fist into my ribs. I barely rolled with the impact, retaliating with a sharp elbow to its jaw. It barely flinched.
Another swept my legs out from under me. I hit the ground hard, barely avoiding a stomp to the face.
20 Minutes In:
My arms burned from blocking. My knuckles were split and bleeding from punching bone reinforced frames.
The dummies started ganging up—two would pin my arms while a third slammed a knee into my gut. I wheezed, tasting blood.
30 Minutes:
I was moving on instinct now, my body adapting. I noticed something—the dummies had patterns. Slight hesitations before certain strikes. A tiny delay when resetting.
I started copying them. Mirroring footwork. Matching their pacing.
Numi, who had been lounging on a basalt bench, watching with mild interest, suddenly sat up.
"Huh."
Her pink eyes narrowed as she observed. I wasn't just surviving now—I was syncing. Every time a dummy stepped forward, I was already shifting to counter. When they swung high, I was already ducking low.
A smirk curled her lips.
"Maybe this'll be interesting after all."
45 Minutes:
I was exhausted, but I'd found a groove. I weaved between two dummies, driving a palm strike into one's chest while sweeping the other's legs.
They retaliated instantly—a fist grazed my temple, making my vision swim. But I stayed up.
Final Minutes:
The orb chimed. "ONE MINUTE REMAINING."
I pushed harder, ignoring the fire in my lungs. A dummy's punch clipped my shoulder—I grabbed its arm and yanked, using its momentum to hurl it into another.
The last few seconds were a blur of motion, fists and feet and desperate dodges.
"TIME. TRAINING CONCLUDED."
The dummies froze mid swing, their limbs locking.
Numi stood, clapping slowly. "You did well, Astro."
I opened my mouth to respond—
And then my legs gave out.
THUD.
I hit the ground face first, unconscious before I even realized I was falling.
Numi sighed, shaking her head. "I see." She turned to the orb. "Results?"
The orb pulsed, projecting glowing runes into the air:
TRAINING RESULTS:
Opponents Simulated: Below Average Demon Grunts (x5)
Survival Probability: 62% (Up from Initial 28%)
Knockout Ratio: 3:1 (You Got Knocked Out Once, Them Thrice)
Endurance: Surprisingly Stubborn
Adaptability: Unusually Fast Learning Curve
Fighting Style: Started Pathetic, Ended... Less Pathetic
Numi read the report, her smirk widening. "Hmm. Not bad for a surface dweller."
She crouched beside my unconscious form, poking my cheek. "Guess I'll have to make the next session harder."
Then she hauled me over her shoulder like a sack of potatoes and carried me out, the orb chiming behind her:
"RECOMMENDED NEXT TRAINING: FIRE DODGING WHILE BLEEDING."
Numi chuckled. "Oh, we'll get there."