My body vaporized against the flames of the Inferno. My soul seemed to melt into the fire, but instead of falling apart, something was holding it together, as if guiding me through the flames.

All of a sudden, I could feel the particles of my soul recombining to some pre-ordained code, mashing together like atoms colliding. I remembered what it felt like to have a body made of flesh and bone.

* * *

The first thing I sensed was the cool, night air. Then the sound of raindrops hitting stone. The sound of a church bell ringing in the distance. I opened my eyes...

... to find myself on the streets of a gloomy medieval-era town with winding cobblestone streets, crooked buildings with narrow alleyways, and a large church looming overhead.

I glanced down and found myself wearing a thick wool coat with a hood and brown leather shoes.

[You have arrived in the First Circle of Hell!]

This is the first Circle? It feels like I'm back in the human world.

As I was taking in my surroundings, another display appeared.

[You have enough Aether Points [100/1000] to enhance your trait.]

[Would you like to accept?]

[Cost: 20 AP]

(Claim/Ignore)

It looked like the maximum amount of aether I could collect had gone up, too.

Might as well enhance it now.

I tapped the "claim" option.

[Your Demonic Trait, Scribe, has been enhanced. You may now form "partnerships" and log entries of anyone you choose simply by shaking their hand.]

[The partnership will last for 24 hours. During this time, you will have access to all firsthand accounts of the person you have chosen.]

[You may only form one partnership at a time.]

I couldn't help but find it funny. I was still just a scribe.

Suddenly, I noticed a commotion roaring in another part of the town.

There's people, too? They really went out of their way to make this realistic.

A group of townspeople rushed past me. One of them bumped into me at full force, shoving me to the ground.

"What are you, blind?!" he barked.

I lay there on the side of the street, watching them barrel past.

Realistic jerks, too…

Wet dirt and rainwater soaked my clothes. I started brushing it off when a hand reached out to me. It was a woman, a bit older than me, with hair the color of autumn, bound into a thick braid. She wore a dirt-colored cloak with thick animal hide over her shoulders.

"Are you okay?" she asked me.

I took her hand to let her help me up when a display appeared behind her head.

[Would you like to form a partnership with Minerva Aincroft?]

(Yes/No)

The woman, who was apparently named Minerva, tracked my eyes and looked behind her, but she didn't seem to see the display.

Seems I can control when people see it.

I wasn't going to waste my partnership here. I tilted my head towards the "No" button and the display blipped away. When I turned back to Minerva, I saw that she was giving me an odd look.

In an attempt to divert the conversation I gestured to the crowd rushing down the street. “What's all the commotion there?"

Minerva's expression turned dark. "You must be new in town... I'd get out as soon as you can."

I wanted to question her further, but she quickly left in the opposite direction.

Curious, I made my way towards the noise, moving closer to the heart of the town. The shouts grew louder. Some were angry, others were pleading.

Arriving at the town square, I discovered the crowd gathered around a platform, where a tall noose hung across a thick wooden beam loomed ominously over them.

Atop the platform stood a man bound in iron shackles. He had a bookish appearance, with a pale complexion that indicated he rarely ventured outside. His thick glasses only magnified his wide, terrified eyes.

Next to him stood what looked like an executioner. Heavyset and wearing a black hood with eye-holes cut out of it.

The mob hurled insults at the accused.

"Witch!"

"Satan-spawn!"

"HANG HIM!"

The crowd suddenly went quiet as a man walked onto the scaffold. A gangly man in his fifties, with gaunt, sunken-in eyes, he was clad in black, silky robes and wearing a black felt hat. He had an air of authority.

I heard the crowd murmuring his name. "High Inquisitor Hawkthorne."

I felt the townsfolk grow restless, bumping elbows as they tried to push towards the platform. I found myself being carried along with them.

The Inquisitor held out his hand to settle the crowd down, then began to read from a scroll.

"In the name of our Lord and by the power vested in me by the Crown, we gather today to administer justice and divine judgement against the wickedness of Satan.

"In the past week alone, our town has suffered the gruesome deaths of three innocent souls, taken from us by the wretched hand of the Devil himself, summoned here by dark forces and ungodly rituals."

The crowd shouted in agreement.

The Inquisitor continued. "Mathus Crowley... You have been brought before the public for the crime of consorting with the Devil and the practice of witchcraft. What is your defense for these claims?"

Crowley looked up at the Inquisitor, his thick glasses slipping down the bridge of his nose. "P-Please I beg you. It wasn't me. I am no witch!" With pleading eyes, he turned to the spectators. "Y-You all know me! I am one of you!

"John! You came to my shop, a-and I helped you find a book, didn't I? You told me it was your favorite!"

He turned to another. "Anna, w-we went to school together... Mr. Finnick's lectures. You remember, right...?"

The people averted his gaze. Crowley soon realized the truth—he had no allies here.

The Inquisitor spoke to the onlookers. "We will now cast votes to determine Mr. Crowley's fate. All those in favor of ‘Guilty’?"

Almost a third of the crowd's hands rose.

The Inquisitor took a quick count, then said, "And those in favor of ‘Not Guilty’?"

Only a single hand wearing a gaudy gold ring started to rise, but it shot back down when the person realized they were alone. I took note.

[Log Entry: The man with the gold ring wanted to vote Not Guilty.]

I gazed out at the crowd and realized the majority of the people here had abstained.

Figures. Most of them are too afraid to actually sign the death warrant, but won't do anything to save his life.

The Inquisitor spoke to Crowley. "Any last words?"

But he was unresponsive, frozen with fear.

The Inquisitor nodded to the executioner, who then wrapped the noose around Crowley's neck. He let out a quiet gasp as the rope touched his skin.

The crowd pressed forward in a perverse mix of fear and curiosity. I felt myself drowning in their heated emotions.

With little warning, the executioner pulled a lever, releasing the trapdoor. The rope went taut. The crack of Mathus Crowley's neck echoed through the square.

We watched his legs twitch violently until they slowly became still. An uneasy silence fell over the crowd, not quite sure how to react to this.

There was uncertainty in the air.

The residents began to disperse, returning to their homes. Soon, the only ones remaining were me and the corpse. His eyes were still wide open, his final expression frozen in place. It was one of fear and confusion.

Then, a display popped up right in front of him.

<Main Quest>

"First Circle of Hell: Witch Hunt"

Quest Description:

Welcome to the town of Honeywell! A once quaint and pleasant town, it has now been taken over by a wave of witchcraft and demonic activity. Three villagers have been killed in a single week!

The town has retaliated by instating a famous witch hunter as the head of an inquisition to seek out the witch. But some fear that innocent souls may have been caught in the crossfire.

In order to conquer this Circle, you must fulfill the below objective. But keep in mind, you are not the only player participating in this Circle. Execute the wrong person and you might be killing an ally!

Current Objectives:

- Identify and kill the witch

- Avoid execution

I read through the quest description several times and certain elements caught my eye.

I'm not the only "player"? Does that mean there are other aberrants here?

I hadn't considered the possibility that I might encounter other aberrants in these Circles. I wondered if this was a good thing. The phrasing in the description indicated that the other players could be considered allies.

They might have traits that could be useful in finding the witch. But how do I find them?

If I wasn't careful, I could end up exposing myself to the witch and getting a target put on me.

As I contemplated my next move, a familiar voice spoke into my ear. "So the first Circle is a witch-hunt setting... How fun!"

I glanced behind me and found Elara reading over my shoulder. She was in her human form, but she wore a dress and petticoat, and her horns were hidden by a bonnet.

"Elara! When did you get here?"

"What do you mean? I'm your guide, I'm always around," she said. "Besides, I love a good old-fashioned execution. You don't get ‘em like this anymore."

I watched as Elara skipped over to get a closer look at the recently deceased. The craftsmanship of the noose seemed to impress her.

Can't help me when I'm literally crawling through the wasteland of Hell, but suddenly appears when there's a public execution.

"You didn't tell me there would be other human souls here,” I said.

Elara’s head cocked in confusion. "What do you mean?"

I pointed to the line mentioning the players. "That's got to mean aberrants, right?"

“I don’t think you understand, Dante. It’s not just the aberrants that used to be human.” She gestured at the hanging corpse. “Everybody you’ve seen here used to be alive once. They’re the souls of the damned.”