The realm of Nyxvaros was a land forsaken by both time and mercy, a twisted mockery of creation itself. Above, the sky churned like a wounded beast, its thunderous growls reverberating across jagged peaks. Fires raged intermittently, licking the edges of ruined spires that once stood as proud monuments to demonic dominion. The air was thick with the acrid stench of brimstone and blood, perpetual reminders of the chaos that followed the death of the one who had once ruled this hellish landscape.

On the fringes of the realm, the throne room—once a citadel of power and authority—now lay desolate. Where the ruler Mephisto had commanded with an iron fist, only fragments of the once-opulent seat of power remained. Dark, twisted jewels still glimmered on the throne's shattered arms, catching the faint, hellish glow of the dying world around them. The realm's demons, now unshackled from his rule, waged an unrelenting war for supremacy, each faction clawing at the remnants of authority like starving wolves. Mephisto's name, once whispered in reverence and fear, was now but a fading echo.

Even as chaos reigned in Nyxvaros, a more immediate struggle took place in the mortal realm, within a cold, unforgiving chamber deep in a human city. Here, Zane Voss and Rylan Vex, two men caught in the whirlwind of fate, faced the certainty of death.

The chamber was a stark contrast to the infernal realms—its silence cold, sterile, and absolute. Shackled, with their hands bound behind their backs, Zane and Rylan stood before the guillotine, their breaths steady but laden with finality. The walls, lined with iron sconces flickering faintly in the dim light, seemed to close in around them. A small audience of officials and onlookers murmured quietly, their eyes betraying neither compassion nor contempt, merely passive curiosity.

Zane, the taller of the two, stood calm, his eyes fixed on some far-off point, as though he had already made peace with the inevitable. His dark hair, damp with sweat, clung to his forehead, but his expression remained stoic, betraying no fear. Inside, his mind churned. “So this is how it ends... So much I never got to do, so many words left unsaid. But I suppose everyone reaches this point eventually.”

The guillotine loomed before him like an executioner’s shadow, but Zane didn’t flinch. “I’ll die with my dignity, at least,” he thought, feeling a strange sense of calm wash over him. “But Rylan... I fear what this is doing to him.”

Beside him, Rylan trembled—not with fear, but with barely contained rage. His eyes, a storm of defiance and anger, darted across the room, searching for some glimmer of hope, something to hold onto. “This isn’t fair,” he hissed under his breath. “We were set up... Framed for crimes we didn’t commit. And now we’re supposed to just accept this? Like hell!”

His fists clenched behind him, the iron shackles biting into his wrists. “I won’t let them get away with this,” Rylan thought, his jaw tightening. “Someone has to pay... If I had just one more chance, I’d make them pay.”

He shot a sideways glance at Zane, seeing the calm on his face, which only stoked the fire in him further. “How can he just stand there like that? We’re about to die, and he’s acting like it’s nothing! Damn it, Zane, fight!” But even as the words formed in his mind, he knew there was nothing either of them could do. The cold steel of the guillotine gleamed ominously in the flickering torchlight, a reminder of the grim reality before them.

The executioner raised the blade, and the murmur of the crowd faded into the background as the moment of truth arrived. Rylan’s breath quickened, his heart hammering against his ribs, but Zane remained steady.

“This is it,” Zane thought. “Maybe... maybe death isn’t the end.” He closed his eyes, surrendering himself to the unknown, while Rylan glared defiantly at the executioner, refusing to bow.

Then, with a sickening clang, the blade fell.

But death did not come for them—not in the way they expected.

In an instant, reality warped. A whirlwind of darkness swallowed the chamber, twisting and distorting the very air around them. Zane and Rylan felt their bodies pulled by some unseen force, yanked from the world they knew and plunged headlong into the unknown. Their surroundings blurred, replaced by a suffocating weightlessness and the sound of distant, otherworldly wails. The sensation was both disorienting and terrifying.

When they hit the ground, it was not the cold stone of the execution chamber but something far more sinister—cracked and scorched earth, reeking of sulfur and decay. Zane gasped for air as his senses returned, his eyes slowly adjusting to the dim, blood-red glow of the sky above. The air here was thick, oppressive, and heavy with the stench of burning flesh.

Rylan groaned, pushing himself to his knees. “Where... where are we?” His voice was hoarse, his rage momentarily replaced by confusion.

Zane stood slowly, his eyes scanning the hellish landscape. “I don’t know... but this sure as hell isn’t the afterlife I was expecting.”

Before them, a group of demons—twisted, grotesque beings with malformed limbs and faces obscured by shadow—approached, their eyes gleaming with cruel amusement.

One of the creatures stepped forward, its voice a raspy whisper, dripping with malice. “Welcome to Nyxvaros,” it hissed. “Heaven was a lie, humans. Here, all souls are claimed by the void.”

Zane’s heart sank at the revelation, but his expression remained calm, even as his mind raced. “So, everything we believed in... it was all a lie. There is no salvation. Only this.” His chest tightened, but still, he refused to let despair take him.

Rylan, on the other hand, trembled with fury. His hands balled into fists as the demon’s words sunk in. “No!” he shouted, his voice cracking with emotion. “This can’t be it! This isn’t how it ends!”

The demons laughed, their voices a cacophony of jeers. One of them lunged at Zane, claws outstretched, but before it could reach him, Rylan erupted into motion. With a primal scream, he hurled himself at the demon, fists flying in a savage frenzy. His rage boiled over, and with each strike, his fury became something more—a violent, consuming force that tore through the demon’s body with unnatural strength.

As the demon’s form crumbled, Rylan found himself standing over its corpse, his body trembling. But it wasn’t just rage that fueled him now—it was something darker, something born of Nyxvaros itself. His eyes glowed faintly, and his chest heaved with the effort of holding back the primal urges coursing through him.

Zane stared in horror. “Rylan, what have you done?”

Rylan’s voice was low, guttural. “I... I don’t know. But I feel it. The power. It’s... inside me.”

One of the remaining demons sneered. “The realm has claimed him. He’s one of us now.”

Without a word, Rylan turned and vanished into the shadows of Nyxvaros, leaving Zane alone in the unforgiving landscape. Zane’s heart pounded, fear gnawing at his insides. “I have to find a way out... before it’s too late.”

But even as he thought it, he could feel the darkness creeping in, threatening to claim him as it had Rylan. And in that moment, Zane realized that his struggle had only just begun.