The antiseptic scent of the hospital usually felt like a shield to Jerkins.
At thirty-six, he had spent over a decade within these white walls, carving out a reputation as one of the most efficient surgeons in the city. His hands were steady, his mind was a steel trap of medical data, and his heart was supposed to be invulnerable.
He was a man of science and a man of long-term investments. The greatest investment of his life was sitting in a velvet-lined box in his pocket: a three-carat diamond ring.
He had known Sarah since they were twelve years old. Twenty-four years of shared history, childhood promises, and the slow, agonizing climb through med school. He had supported her when her father died. He had paid her rent when she wanted to pursue art.
He had been the anchor. Tonight was supposed to be the culmination of twenty-four years of loyalty. He had left the hospital three hours early, a rare move for a man who lived for his rounds, wanting to surprise her with a candlelit dinner and a question that had been decades in the making.
The silence of their shared apartment was the first red flag. The second was the trail of clothes leading from the foyer toward the bedroom.
Jerkins felt a strange, cold numbness creep up his spine. His medical brain began to analyze his own physiological response. Tachycardia. Shortness of breath. Cortisol spike.
He walked toward the bedroom door, the velvet box heavy in his palm.
The door was slightly ajar. The sounds coming from inside were unmistakable. They were the rhythmic, wet sounds of exertion that he had only ever imagined hearing with himself in the lead role.
He pushed the door open just an inch.
Sarah was there. The woman he had loved for two-thirds of his life was arched back, her fingers dug into the shoulders of a man Jerkins had never seen. She wasn't just participating; she was lost in it. Her face was flushed with a level of ecstasy she had never shown him.
She looked at the man above her with a hunger that made Jerkins feel like a ghost.
"More," she gasped, her voice thick with a satisfaction that felt like a scalpel to Jerkins' throat. "Harder. He never does it like this. He's too careful. Too soft."
The man laughed, a rough, mocking sound, and redoubled his efforts. Sarah's scream of pleasure shattered the last remains of Jerkins' world.
The box fell from his hand. The diamond hit the hardwood floor with a sharp, pathetic click. The noise was enough to break the spell.
Sarah turned, her eyes widening as they landed on Jerkins standing in the doorway. There was no immediate shame, only a flicker of annoyance that was quickly replaced by shock.
"Jerkins?" she stammered, not even bothering to cover herself. "You're home early."
The betrayal wasn't just the act. It was the casualness of her voice. It was the realization that while he was counting the years of their devotion, she was counting the minutes until he left the room. The coldness in his spine turned into a searing, white-hot coal in the center of his chest.
Jerkins clutched his shirt. It felt as if a giant hand had reached into his ribcage and squeezed his heart until it burst. He tried to breathe, but his lungs were filled with lead. He watched her scramble for a robe, watched the man beside her smirk with a predator's satisfaction.
"Twenty-four years," Jerkins managed to wheeze. The words were wet and jagged.
His vision began to tunnel. The edges of the room blurred into a gray haze. He collapsed to his knees, his forehead hitting the floorboards.
The last thing he heard was the sound of Sarah calling his name, not out of love, but out of the fear of a legal headache.
Then, there was the void.
It wasn't a peaceful darkness. It was a pressurized, screaming nothingness that felt like being crushed by the weight of the ocean. Within that nothingness, a voice resonated. It didn't sound like a god or a demon. It sounded like a system update.
[Death confirmed: Myocardial Infarction.]
[Soul scan complete: Trace levels of empathy detected. Extreme levels of nihilistic rage detected.]
[Compatibility: 99.9% for Void Hero Protocol.]
[Destination: Hypoxia.]
[Loading Cosmic Radar... Loading Consciousness Vacuum...]
Jerkins felt his awareness expand. The pain in his chest was gone, replaced by an hollow ache that was far deeper. He felt as though he was being stretched across light years.
[Summoning sequence initiated. Welcome, Jerkins. You are the Final Hope.]
Light exploded.
Jerkins gasped, his lungs burning as they took in air that tasted of sulfur and iron. He wasn't on the floor of his apartment. He was standing on a cold, obsidian dais in the center of a massive, crumbling cathedral.
The air was frigid. Above him, the ceiling had partially collapsed, revealing a purple, bruised sky streaked with toxic green rifts.
"He has arrived!" a voice cried out.
Jerkins looked down. He was surrounded by a dozen figures in tattered, white and gold robes. They looked like priests, but their faces were gaunt, their eyes shadowed by terror. At the front stood a man in a rusted crown, clutching a scepter that looked as if it was made from bone.
"I am King Aldric," the man said, his voice trembling. "O Great Hero, you have been brought to Hypoxia in our darkest hour. For ten years, the Abyssal Lords have feasted upon our children. Our kingdoms are falling.
You are the light that will—"
Jerkins didn't hear the rest. His head was pounding. A translucent blue window flickered in his peripheral vision.
[Status: Jerkins]
[Energy: 100/100]
[Skills: Cosmic Radar (Inactive), Consciousness Vacuum (Inactive)]
[Note: Each skill use consumes 40% of current reservoir.]
Jerkins looked at the King. He felt nothing. Not relief, not confusion, and certainly not the desire to save anyone. He remembered Sarah's face.
He remembered the way she screamed for the other man. If this world was dying, it was only natural.
Everything he had ever nurtured had rotted. Why should this world be any different?
"Hero?" the King prompted, stepping forward.
"Do you understand the gravity of our plight? The demons are at our very gates."
Jerkins reached up and adjusted his glasses.
They were still there, somehow transferred with him. He looked at the King and saw not a ruler, but a collection of biological data.
"Quiet," Jerkins said. His voice was cold, devoid of the warmth he had used for his patients.
He didn't wait for a response. He closed his eyes and thought of the word: Radar.
[Cosmic Radar Activated. Cost: 40 Energy. Current Energy: 60/100.]
Suddenly, the world was no longer stone and shadow. It was a map. Jerkins could feel the heat signatures of every living thing for miles.
He saw the weak, flickering lights of the peasants in the town below. He saw the corrupted, oily signatures of the priests around him. But most importantly, he saw a concentrated, pulsing knot of pink and black energy just five hundred yards away in the cathedral's lower cloisters.
[Target Identified: Rank 1 Succubus. Infiltration Unit.]
She was currently feeding. Jerkins could feel the life force of a young human guard being slowly drained away. He felt a flicker of something he hadn't felt in a long time: a predatory hunger.
"Where are you going?" King Aldric shouted as Jerkins stepped off the dais. "The ritual of bonding is not complete!
You must swear your oath to the Holy Church!"
Jerkins ignored him. He walked toward the side door of the cathedral, his footsteps echoing like gunshots in the silent hall. He didn't need their oaths. He needed to test his tools.
He descended the spiral stone staircase into the darkness of the cloisters. The smell of sulfur grew stronger, mixed with the cloying scent of cheap perfume and blood. He rounded a corner and saw her.
The succubus was leaning against a stone pillar. She was stunning in a way that felt wrong, her proportions too perfect, her skin a pale lavender. Her wings were tucked tightly against her back, and she was currently occupied.
A human guard was pinned against the wall, his eyes glazed and rolling back in his head. Her mouth was pressed against his neck, drinking.
She heard Jerkins' approach and pulled away, a thin trail of blood and silver light connecting her lips to the guard's throat. She wiped her mouth and smirked, her eyes glowing with a malicious pink light.
"Another one?" she purred, her voice a melodic poison. "The King must be desperate to send such a pathetic specimen to interrupt my meal. You don't even have a sword, little hero."
Jerkins stopped ten feet away. He didn't speak. He reached up and slowly removed his glasses.
"What is this?" the succubus laughed, stepping away from the slumped guard. "Are you going to squint me to death? Come here. I'll make sure your end is much more pleasurable than your life was."
Jerkins opened his eyes fully.
[Consciousness Vacuum Activated. Cost: 24 Energy (40% of 60). Current Energy: 36/100.]
The succubus's laughter died in her throat. The cathedral basement was suddenly illuminated by a blinding, incandescent white light emanating from Jerkins' pupils. The light wasn't just visual; it was a physical force.
The succubus tried to scream, but she couldn't. Her jaw was forced open, her head snapping back as a stream of shimmering, translucent mist was ripped from her mouth and eyes. It was her ego. It was her memory.
It was the very essence of her demonic self.
Jerkins stood firm, his mouth slightly open as he inhaled the mist. It tasted like ash and copper. As the last of the mist entered him, he felt a jolt of energy hit his core.
The succubus collapsed. The pink light in her eyes was gone, replaced by a terrifying, vacant stare. She slumped to the floor, her breathing shallow and mechanical. She was no longer a predator. She was a hollow shell.
Jerkins put his glasses back on. The white light faded, leaving only the dim torchlight of the cloister.
He walked toward the fallen demon and looked down at her. She blinked, her gaze wandering aimlessly until it landed on him. There was no fear in her eyes. There was nothing.
"Who..." she whispered, her voice cracking.
"Who am I?"
Jerkins knelt beside her. He reached out and grabbed her chin, forcing her to look at him. His medical training told him her heart rate was stabilizing, her body seeking a new anchor now that her mind was gone.
"You are Aria," Jerkins said, his voice low and steady. "You are my devoted slave. You have been by my side since the beginning. You live only to serve me, to protect me, and to provide for my needs. Do you understand?"
The demon's eyes searched his. For a moment, there was a flicker of resistance, a ghost of her former self trying to fight the vacuum.
But there was nothing left for her to hold onto. The vacuum had been absolute.
"Aria," she repeated, a small, fragile smile forming on her lips. "I am Aria. I... I serve you. I love you."
"Good," Jerkins said.
He felt the drain on his system. 36% energy was not enough. He could feel the cold void within him starting to pull at his own consciousness, a warning that he needed to recharge. The rules of Hypoxia were clear.
To grow, he had to take.
He grabbed Aria by her lavender hair and pulled her toward the dark corner of the cloister, away from the unconscious guard. He kicked her legs out from under her, forcing her onto her hands and knees.
"I need to recharge, Aria," Jerkins said, unbuckling his belt. "And you are going to provide the fuel."
Aria looked back at him over her shoulder, her eyes wide with a mix of confusion and a programmed desire to please.
"Yes, Master. Whatever you need."
Jerkins stepped behind her. He didn't feel lust. He felt the cold, clinical necessity of a man refueling a machine. He reached down and gripped the back of her neck, his fingers digging into her skin, forcing her head down.
He entered her with a brutal, sudden force. Aria let out a sharp, jagged scream that echoed off the stone walls. It wasn't just a scream of pain; it was the sound of her demonic essence reacting to the void within him.
Jerkins redoubled his pace, his movements rhythmic and unforgiving. He kept his hand clamped firmly on her neck, choking her slightly to keep her focused on the sensation. Every time she tried to move or adjust, he slapped her thigh hard, the sound of flesh hitting flesh echoing in the small room.
"Scream," Jerkins commanded, his voice a harsh growl. "Let the Abyssal Lords hear what I am doing to their pet."
Aria sobbed, her body shaking as the dual sensations of agony and forced ecstasy washed over her. The biological friction was working. Jerkins could feel the energy beginning to flow back into him, a warm, golden stream of power that filled the cracks in his soul.
[Recharge initiated. Current Energy: 42%... 48%... 55%...]
He didn't stop. He pushed her harder against the cold stone, his fingers tightening on her throat. He watched the way her wings fluttered pathetically, the way her skin flushed a deep, bruised purple. This was the only loyalty that mattered. The loyalty of the broken.
As he reached his peak, he felt a surge of energy that far exceeded his starting point. The system chimed in his mind, a cold, triumphant sound.
[Recharge complete. Energy: 100/100.]
[Bonus: Essence of Rank 1 Succubus absorbed. Strength +2. Agility +1.]
Jerkins pulled away, leaving Aria collapsed and shivering on the floor. He buckled his belt and adjusted his glasses, looking down at the broken demon with total indifference.
He looked toward the stairs.
The King and his priests would be coming soon. They wanted a hero. They wanted a savior.
Jerkins looked at his hands. They were steady. The void was full.
"Let them come," he whispered. "I have a kingdom to build."
Beyond the cathedral walls, a massive rift in the sky pulsed with a violent green light, and a roar that shook the very foundation of the world signaled the arrival of something far worse than a Rank 1 succubus.