[London, Earth B067 — 2036]
The towering buildings stood broken, their walls crumbling into the streets.
Smoke rose from the fire, lit by the meteors raining from the sky. Roads were split open, filled with acid and ash.
The sky was gray, heavy with smoke and dust.
Crimson clouds rolled beneath the sun, their shadows stretching over the corpses littering the streets.
A human slumped against the rubble, a molten blade pierced through his chest.
A couple of crimson-skinned creatures surrounded and dwarfed him.
Not a soul moved, except for the one facing the human. Magnus—The Infernal Lord and Infernum's Monarch.
"A-a-a-any last words, human?" Magnus spoke, his voice erratic, yet calm and intimidating.
The human coughed a mouthful of blood, then smiled, drawing Magnus closer.
Magnus crouched and brought his ears closer to the human.
The human said, "My name is Nate... Now tell me, who created this cursed, unjust system?"
Magnus sniffed, inhaling the hatred radiating from Nate's emotions.
"Why bother with such a pointless question? They don't matter. They're out of your reach."
He spoke sensibly, as if to a lost, powerless child.
Nate grinned weakly. "That's unfortunate indeed... But what can I do?"
Crimson light glinted in his pale eyes as he stared up at Magnus.
Suddenly, he spat blood, smearing Magnus' face.
"Fuck you. And them. I despise everything you stand for!"
Magnus grinned, whipping the blood off his face. This was not his first victim, nor the last.
He relished in the negative feelings of his victims, depressing them further.
"I would love to chat, but alas, payment is due..." Magnus muttered, cracking his knuckles.
Magnus formed a fireball at the tip of his index finger, pointing it at Nate's face.
It started small, then slowly enlarged, turning into a miniature sun before Nate's eyes.
He couldn't believe his eyes. He knew Magnus was strong, but that was a completely different level.
It was horrific, yet admirable in a sense.
'Just how high is his level to manage something this incredible?' Nate thought, envying the monster before him.
His current level was 117, and he couldn't even stand his ground against Magnus for five minutes.
He felt like an ant trying to nudge a mountain, realizing it was truly futile...
Nate closed his eyes, anticipating the warm embrace of death.
The silence dragged on.
His heart started beating louder and faster.
He frowned deeply. Was Magnus toying with him?
No... Magnus had no free time to waste.
Otherwise, Earth wouldn't have crumbled in three days.
Thus, he opened his eyes.
Magnus, the infernals, the building, and everything around him were frozen under a thin grey fabric.
Nate looked at himself, noticing he felt none of the inflicted wounds.
He looked down at his fading hands, then back at the battlefield.
His friends—his comrades, none remained. Not even ashes.
'Was this all I could do?' He thought, rage erupting.
'Just die… and be forgotten?' He questioned, refusing his cursed fate.
However, a dreadful voice rippled around him, sending a shiver down his spine.
"Hmmm, took you long enough."
It laid waste to all of his thoughts.
It was an old—no, an ancient voice. Its tone was calm, chilling, and extremely detached.
Shock and fear pinned him to the ground. He trembled, unable to stop himself.
It was far more horrific than Magnus' demonic voice, commanding fear and majesty.
But this... primordial fear?
It felt truly natural, not like the one caused by the despair he experienced from Infernum's army.
Nate tried his best to calm down.
There was no point in fearing whatever that was. If it wanted him dead, then nothing could hold it.
"Reveal yourself..." Nate muttered, anticipating a dramatic entrance.
"Mundus."
The word reverberated, shattering the grey fabric around Nate.
Nate turned around, witnessing the scene unfold. However, it didn't last long.
He found himself warped inside a dark layer, yanked and pulled further as Magnus screamed angrily at the sky.
"WHO TOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOK IT? WHO STOLE MY KIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIILL?!"
Suddenly, the space around Nate faded alongside Magnus' horrific roar.
Darkness stretched across the horizon, bathing it in silence. Two crimson, vertical eyes hung high, staring intently at Nate.
"I'm Mundus Abyssborn, your benefactor and savior."
The space shook, and Mundus' eyes began shrinking ahead of Nate. Darkness swirled, morphing and solidifying into a humanoid form.
From the void, white fabric materialized, a shirt that clung to his form. A black tuxedo followed, warping smoothly around his slim, adult form.
In his right hand, a blue suitcase flared into existence, hanging as if it were always there.
His face was pale, bore a small nose sat below his unnaturally large forehead, an odd detail that made him unsettling...
Mundus looked like a human, but felt nowhere near. The ominous aura he radiated stuck with him, making him intimidating.
Of all things, Nate imagined, Mundus looked like a businessman.
'Really? A businessman?'
Nate blinked. It was bizarre, something he never expected in this situation.
Mundus chuckled, "I can see your hate; it surrounds you," revealing his razor-sharp teeth.
"And I love it!"
He exclaimed, waving his hand as two seats and a table appeared in the vicinity.
"So how about we make a deal?!" He continued, inviting Nate to take a seat.
Nate trembled.
'Is this truly a second chance?' He thought and hesitated, feeling extremely suspicious of Mundus.
Mundus smiled, feeling intrigued by the mortal before him.
He sensed doubt and smelled hesitation, but not enough to prevent Nate from accepting.
He grinned, his teeth gleaming brightly like blades.
"But be warned... Your soul, your fate—— everything is on the line!"
Mundus slowed down and then paused momentarily, allowing Nate to understand the situation he was in.
Nate questioned himself. Did he even have any reason to accept?
Earth was destroyed, everyone around him was dead, and there was barely anything to salvage.
However, Mundus had another plan.
He smiled, knocking on the table to get Nate's attention.
"One year back in time." He offered, opening his suitcase.
Nate's chest tightened as images flashed before his eyes.
The screams, crushed bodies, burning flesh, and cities in ruin.
He stared at the offered seat, gritting his teeth.
"They're all gone..." he muttered, his voice thick with grief and rage.
He asserted boldly, "We have a deal," clenching his fists tightly.
One year was barely enough, but wasn't this a deal?
That meant he could bargain for something better!
He smiled coldly, sliding into the chair and sealing his fate.