"It's cold." 

A quivering young boy's voice broke the silence that plagued the cold, dark room for hours. He tried to look around, but it was too dark to see anything except the obscure piles scattered throughout the floor.

The boy didn't want to know what they were, but he could smell them. The rotten and metallic smell produced by the rotting waste filled the room.

He thought he could make out a doorway in the corner of the room, but it wouldn't matter anyway. With the chains binding him to the wall, he could not move far from where he was.

Suddenly, another voice next to him struggled to cry out,

 "Where is Mel? I.." 

The voice burst into tears as it clutched a girl who sat between the two of them. His sudden outburst scared the youngest, causing her to sob as well. Hugging and gripping each other tightly, the two cried for what felt like hours to the older boy.

He wanted to comfort them but knew they would be hollow words. Terrified they might not be saved from this horrific place, his body began to profusely tremble as he sat on the cold, damp floor.

The boy clutched the two younger kids to warm them up with his body. He knew they were just as cold as him. "Will they be saved? Mel would come and save them.", the boy thought. "Won't you save us, Captain?"

Without warning, the door burst open. Terrified, their cries for help immediately ceased as light was cast into the dark room. After adapting to the darkness for so long, the blinding illumination forced them to all look away as intense pain shot through their eyes.

Several voices could be heard first as the shadows of people peeked into the room. The children became silent in the hopes of avoiding their attention.

It was them... Their kidnappers. Quivering in the corner, they watched as the two adults dragged a body to the middle of the room. Behind the two, the final one entered, shutting the door behind him.

The kids watched desperately, hoping to be freed, but as the door shut, it destroyed any remaining hope that they could escape from this hellish place. Unable to make out any facial features due to the poor lighting and the hoods they wore that covered their faces, the boy gave up any hope of identifying their kidnappers.

One of the cultists chuckled while asking the others, 

"What type of face do you think those temple bastards will make when they see what we summoned?" 

Another laughed, 

"I hope they piss themselves in fear!" 

The third snapped at them, 

"Pay attention! We cannot mess this up. We have one chance, and if we fail, we will never hear the end of this from the high one." 

The first one dropped the body he was dragging onto the dead center of the room. He asked, 

"Why can't we just use the three over in the corner if we fail?" 

The cultist gestured towards the three children who tried to shrink themselves away upon hearing themselves being mentioned. Trying to hide from their kidnappers, they hugged each other tightly in the corner.

They were traumatized by the thought of ending up like their fourth friend. Fear paralyzed the three of them, knowing it was only a matter of time before they were chosen to be next.

The third cultist waved his finger at the first one, exclaiming, 

"We have one chance to summon a great one to accomplish our goals! If we screw it up, who knows how long it will take to acquire enough blood to accomplish something like this again. Three kids won't be enough, although it'll get us some playthings." 

The eldest boy, listening to their conversation, began to study the dark room. He became horrified as he realized there was a large summoning circle made from blood spreading across the freezing floor.

The younger boy tried to lift his head, but the older one held his head down, knowing he would panic if he realized what was around them. Letting out a prayer, the older boy hoped for a savior.

"Lord, please save us..." 

One of the cultists shouted loudly, interrupting the boy's prayer,

"SHUT UP KID. Your prayers are worthless here." 

The second cultist waved his hand, 

"Just stop already. We have a job to do." 

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A cloaked figure walks through an empty plain up to a stone well. A storm rumbles in the distance behind it. The figure looks back, finding nothing but the whipping yellow tall grass. As the wind rages around the figure, it remains unconcerned while its pure white cloak flaps viscously in the strong current.

For a brief moment, the wind blows its hood up enough to reveal a smile on its face.

"Oh Lord, a storm cometh, a dark one. It will either tear the world you adore apart or bring new meaning to its existence. However, I doubt the mortals will overcome such a wicked existence. Yet, you have a plan, and how great it is.

Thunder roars as a thick cloud begins to take shape. The figure peeks over the side of the well, peering into the black liquid bubbling within. Inside the liquid, an image of a small child silently praying in a dark room can be seen. As the image becomes clearer, the figure watches as two more children appear beside the one praying. 

The figure frowns,

"Lord, let us use this one, if any, for your plan. The child calls out your name and pleads for salvation."

Suddenly, the image changes. Now sits an ogre eating a purplish meat. A remote sits in one of the ogre's hands as it flips through several channels on a television. The ogre groans from boredom.

"Ah, I see now, Lord. I see the answer."

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Circling the summoning circle, the three cultists began speaking in a language the children couldn't understand. As they finished reciting whatever it was, the third one laughed loudly,

"Finally! We can take our revenge on the temple! We can be set free!" 

The large summoning circle drawn on the ground in the middle of the room radiated a deep, bloodish-red color. Inside the large circle, there were nine symbols with an upside-down star. On top, a body lay completely motionless in the middle, with blood leaking out from it onto the ground. Fire shot upward from the circle as the adults began to chant once again. 

"Together, we will bring back the night that will liberate our souls! The master sits chained to his throne! Lord of the Night, take this child we offer you, a child of the so-called God of man. We welcome the demons who yearn for their master's return! Through this body, we make a passage for you to enter!" 

Faint crying began from the two younger children huddled in the corner as this carried on. It was too much for them... Gripping them tightly, the older boy watched in horror as the adults began to laugh,

"Lord Beelzebub, show us the path. The path to freedom. Reward us with your child so we can seek vengeance. Hahaha!" 

An unknown voice called out, one none of them had ever heard before, leaving the mortals in awe. Its beautiful, harmonious voice danced in their ears with its soft tone. Every word seemed to be sung beautifully as it escaped the source's lips. Yet, although it was pleasing to the cultists and comforting for the children, there was an authority that left them uneased. 

"In a world that has lost its hope."

The circle flickered, and a blinding white flame began to consume the once deep, bloodish-red fire. To the children's right, the door slammed shut, leaving the room with only the white light.

"Within a time where the Lord seems to have forgotten them."

As the fire grew brighter, it began to consume the room's colors, leaving only the black-and-white silhouette. The confused cultists stepped forward to investigate what was happening. It wasn't something any of them had witnessed before. Why was the color changing before them?

"The Lord gifts you an answer. So comes Asura, Mad Dog of the Great King."

A pool of black tar consumed the body of the child in the middle of the circle. It began to bubble and move on its own as if it were alive. The tar rose like a pillar in the center of the room. From the sludge, a slimy figure began to take shape. Four muscular arms shot out from the liquid. Quickly, it began to rip at the sloshing prison to break free. The farthest cultist away from the figure cried out,

"Thank you, great demon, for hearing our cries! Free us from the temple!" 

A muscular arm reached out from the pillar. Excited, the cultists began to celebrate. This was it! This was their moment-... the black hand grabbed onto the nearest cultist's face.

"What-"

His words were cut short as the hand started to grip his face, squeezing with all its might. Agonizing in pain, he began to grab at the arm, trying to break free. As the figure solidified, the other cultists studied it. It had black skin and black eyes. Inside the black void of its eyes were glowing white irises that prominently glowed in the dark room. One of the cultists began to back away slowly, making the other concerned.

"Why are you?"

He turned back to the figure. Its blazing eyes were locked with his. Such hatred and resentment filled the figure's eyes as if they had wronged him. What did they do? They brought him here! He should be overjoyed upon this arrival!

Unable to look away, the cultist being gripped tightly began to squirm, trying to break free. Finally, its body took shape. It looked like a normal teenager of average height. However, the four arms and horns that stuck out of his short black hair made it unhuman. Its body was toned and muscular like a bodybuilder... and he was naked. The figure stood motionless as it studied the room, leaving the cultists feeling uneasy. They all quickly realized this was something they could not control. 

"Oi, who you calling a demon?" 

The figure slid his hand down from the man's face to his throat without hesitation. Grabbing the cultist's throat tightly, he lifted him with one hand. Gasping for air, the cultist struggled to break free, clawing at the figure's hand. However, before he could break free, the figure choke slammed the first man into the ground. The noise he made was appalling to the others. All his bones snapping and breaking could be heard throughout the building. The figure smiled, satisfied,

"The name is Asura. Not a demon racist assholes." 

While growling, Asura charged at the next cultist without warning, slamming him into the wall. The last cultist watched this terrifying sight play out before him. As his friend smashed into the wall, the sound of every bone being crushed in his body echoed in his ears. He was next. He turned to look at the wall, now stained with his colleague's blood. As both the cultists lay limp, Asura turned to the last remaining cultist in the room. Surprised by the sudden events, the man knelt and begged. 

"Please spare us! You're our savior! Free us from the temple!" 

Asura stood above the man, uninterested in his pleas for mercy. Instead, he studied the dimly lit room that reminded him of torture rooms he saw on television. A few hooks dangled from the ceiling, holding corpses in the air. In the middle was the summoning circle he arrived here by. What caught his attention, though, were the cowering children chained up in the corner. His face twisted even more in disgust. Angrily, he clenched his teeth,

"You summoned me with a child? You used a child? What the fucks wrong with you? Little kids can't even defend themselves. Demons suck, but you all are much worse." 

Running up to him, Asura kicked the adult in the head, snapping his neck in an instant. The cultist's body slumped to the ground without a final word. He was dead, but Asura wanted to make sure of it. Enraged, he grabbed the cultist's body, lifting it into the air. Raising it up high above his head, he then proceeded to slam him onto the ground several times to ensure he was in hell. Proud of his actions, Asura tossed the body to the side as he proclaimed,

"That's what you scummy worms get." 

The children watched as Asura committed these atrocities. Terrified by what they just witnessed, they couldn't help but scream as he approached. The older child pleaded, 

"Don't eat us! Please!" 

Looking at them, Asura frowned. 

"Look, kids, I ain't gonna eat you. I know I look scary..." 

A cold draft blew through the room, suddenly making Asura shiver. Why was he so cold?... After looking down, he came to the horrifying realization... he was naked. He was suddenly glad that the room was extremely dark, hiding his nudity. Embarrassed, Asura fled from the room to search for clothes.

"Shit uhhhhhhh, hold on, I'll be right back, um...." 

Asura looked around the room anxiously, looking for the door out. Upon finding it, he darted out to search the building for clothes that might fit. While searching through the building, Asura found that the residence was small. Immediately, Asura was met with unusually clean furniture. Chairs, couches, a coffee table, and two glass cabinets with decorative plates lined up next to a television.

To his right, a spotless kitchen was connected to the living room. As Asura walked around, he found the atmosphere of the house strange. It was too clean for someone to be living in such a place. It felt almost creepily clean as if it was meant to be a display rather than a comfortable home in which someone could relax.

He looked around the house for a moment, unable to find anything. Growing increasingly frustrated, he began aggressively slamming the doors open. "Finally!" As he opened the last door, he found a bedroom. The bedroom was unkempt, with trash scattered all over the floor.

The moldy, sickening aroma that lingered in the room made Asura's nose scrunch as it filled his nostrils. For a second, he thought it could still be the smell from the corpses, but the rotting dishes around the room told a different story. It was difficult to believe someone could live in these conditions.

Dashing over to a dresser, he threw each drawer open. A sigh of relief escaped from his lips as he found a deep blue hoodie with a small logo and some sweatpants with a white stripe that fit. Putting on the clothes, he struggled for a moment with the hoodie. Unable to put his lower two arms anywhere, he resorted to ripping two holes in the hoodie's side to let his arms through.

After finally putting the clothes on, he found that they had put up more of a fight than the cultists had. He began to giggle but stopped upon realizing he left the children alone in the dark. Returning to the torture room, he found them, still scared, trembling in the corner.