Journey to the underworld: How I became the demon king

My breath came in ragged gasps, each gulp of the sulfurous air burning my throat. The creature's glowing eyes bore into me, its skeletal form rippling with malicious intent. But I stood my ground, my fists clenched so tightly that my nails bit into my palms.

I had seen its pattern—its brief pause before lunging, the twitch of its claws before each swing. All I had to do was time it right.

The creature lunged again, its claws carving through the air like scythes. I waited until the last possible moment, then dived forward, rolling beneath its bony frame. The motion sent pain lancing through my shoulders, but I gritted my teeth and spun to face it.

The creature hesitated, disoriented by my sudden move. This was my chance. Without thinking, I grabbed a jagged piece of obsidian from the cracked ground and charged.

With a roar that surprised even me, I plunged the shard into the creature's glowing eye. It screeched, its body writhing as shadows bled from the wound. The force of its thrashing knocked me to the ground, but I refused to let go.

"Endure," the figure's voice echoed in my mind.

With one final heave, I drove the shard deeper. The creature let out an ear-piercing wail before collapsing into a pile of ash and bone. The silence that followed was deafening.

I collapsed beside the remains, my body trembling from exhaustion. My chest heaved as I stared at the faintly glowing fragment left behind—a shard of the creature's essence.

The figure's voice returned, cold and emotionless. "Lesson one: Survival. You've passed."

I wanted to retort, to shout at them for putting me through this hell, but I was too drained to speak.

The ground beneath me shifted again, and I scrambled to my feet as a new structure emerged from the ash—a glowing archway carved with runes that seemed to pulse like a heartbeat.

"Enter," the voice commanded. "Your next trial awaits."

I hesitated, staring at the archway. Every instinct screamed at me to run in the opposite direction. But where would I go? This was Purgatorio. There was no escape, no turning back.

Clutching the glowing shard in my hand, I stepped forward.

The moment I crossed the threshold, a wave of energy washed over me, filling me with a strange warmth. The wounds on my body began to close, but the ache in my muscles remained—a reminder of how close I'd come to death.

The room beyond the archway was vast and dimly lit, its walls adorned with ancient murals depicting battles and monstrous figures. At the center stood a pedestal, and on it rested a weapon—a simple but elegant blade with a faint, fiery glow.

"This is your reward," the figure said, their form materializing before me. "The essence you claimed has been forged into this weapon. But remember, it is not power that will save you. It is your will."

I reached for the blade, its hilt warm to the touch. As I lifted it, the glow intensified, and a surge of strength coursed through me.

"You have earned your first tool," the figure continued. "But do not grow complacent. The Underworld will test you in ways you cannot yet comprehend."

I tightened my grip on the blade, my determination solidifying. "I'll face whatever comes next. I'll survive."

The figure inclined their head, their skeletal form almost appearing satisfied. "We shall see."

With a flick of their hand, the ground beneath me shifted once more, plunging me into a new trial.