My mother named me Shobai. It means ‘glorious liberation.’ 

She thought I could change the world... And yet, I’m barely surviving – buried beneath a mountain of books, ramen wrappers, and a poor GPA that reminds me I’m not special or glorious. I’m trying my best to make her proud, but sometimes, I feel like I’ll never live up to my name.

That’s it, Professor Josef said, pencils down. 

As college students flooded out, Shobai Ito, a third year, made his way to the podium. You wanted to see me?

Yes, about the writing fellowship. The professor placed his arm around Shobai. I know how hard you worked for it, but… the others who applied, well, their families have made some significant donations to the university and–

It’s fine. Shobai widened the space between them. I… should get going.

Outside, the ivy-clad courtyard overflowed with seniors partying around a statue of St. Paul, the school’s founding father. Two fraternity brothers played beer pong off of its plaque which faintly read ‘Carpe Diem’. Shobai winced.

The university parties, the greek life, the legacy students, the pristine, gothic architecture that never felt quite right... No one had to say it. It was written all over the walls.

You’re not welcome here.

And he knew it. Glossy eyes beneath shabby unkempt curls. The same beat up Nike Blazers that he bought his senior year of high school to fit in. Why would anyone want to be friends with the scholarship kid? 

You’re late. A sharp, raspy voice called out.

Shobai grimaced. We had midterms today. I gave notice that I’d be– 

I don’t care, scholar-trash. Brian, the Student Union rep, said. Three large boxes loomed behind him. I gave Ciara the night off, so get rid of all of these tonight or you’re fired. 

Inside were water bottles, notebooks, and a mountain of flyers–200 hundred, at least. One person couldn't possibly–

What? Brian said. A twisted grin stretched across his face. You don’t expect me to do it, do you?

Shobai’s fists clenched. He had had plenty of managers like this before. Swallowing his pride, a familiar, practiced smile stretched across his face. Consider it done. 

A strong work ethic. That was Shobai’s weapon, a shield against their attacks. If he was going to be remembered for anything, it would be that. 

Let me know if you need anything else. Shobai said and hauled the boxes through the snow. When–

TRIP. 

He slammed into the ground, sending flyers into the air. Soft laughter echoed around him. Such a loser, cackled one of the sorority girls as Brian slid back his foot. Who trips over his own two feet?

Sorry... Shobai said. He was surprised a girl even noticed him. Most pretended he didn’t exist. Extending a water bottle toward her, Shobai continued. Here, happy Founders Day.

Repulsed, the girl snatched the bottle and emptied it on his head. Shobai watched as she walked away, a look of satisfaction on her face. Drenched, he continued to collect the flyers. This was how life usually went. While he worked, they… seized the day.

He should have been grateful. The university didn’t take many students like him, but they generously made an exception given his situation. In exchange for tuition, he worked wherever they needed him: the Student Union, the athletic facility, the art studio, the theater, the cafeteria, phone-a thon, and on special occasions, even the janitorial staff. 

Three years of grueling work, burning rejection, and disrespect had all but shattered his determination. Still, he'd fight with everything he had to walk across that stage–to live up to his name and change the world–even if it killed him.

His thoughts were interrupted by the sound of tires ripping asphalt. On the campus roundabout, car lights – speeding directly toward a student. She struggled with a stack of books, oblivious to the world around her. 

Hey! Shobai said, startling her. One after one, books dropped rhythmically to the road. Quickly stealing glances left and right, she lowered to pick them up, brushing the curly hair from her eyes. The car lurched closer, showing no signs of stopping. Get out of the street! Shobai said, his heart beating out of his chest. There wasn’t much time! Looking up, the girl’s eyes finally locked on to the car. Frozen like a deer in the headlights. 

Without thinking, Shobai took off at full speed toward her. His legs moved faster than they had his entire life. But would he make it in time? Still… It felt good. It felt like–

BANG.

Stabbing pain shot through Shobai’s entire body. Twisting and ripping, it pulled him apart and then… nothing. As if he was nothing. People always said death was cruel, but if he had to choose, he’d say life hurt more. You spend your whole life fighting for a chance to live, and then you die. At least now, he could rest. He was ready to meet God. To see his mom. He was ready to experience life after–

AGHHHHH. 

All at once, Shobai felt crushed by an enormous weight. His body snapped back and forth like a metronome. Sharp barbs pierced his skin. This was pain. God, I don’t want to die! Shobai shouted, but no words came out. The pressure intensified until–

SPLASH.

Icy water engulfed him. Fully submerged, the dark and frigid current dragging him down with a suffocating grip. He wasn’t able to resist. Was this it? Was this the pathetic end to his story?

Welcome other worlder… to Asyralon!

At the sound, two hands reached down and freed Shobai from the icy prison, his watery grave.  Thick smoke swirled around masking the dimly lit room. Beneath his feet, solid ground. A rough landscape of jagged rock and ash. Above him, pungent sulfur in the air.

Glancing to the left, he could barely make out what looked like a guillotine. To his right, whips, chains, bricks, lava and was that… blood? An eerie shiver crawled down the back of Shobai’s neck and took root deep within his soul. 

No! Shobai forced his eyes shut. It can’t be.

He tried to fight the screams of the forsaken resounding in his mind. To ignore the cries of terror echoing off of the chambers of his heart. But the truth was apparent. This wasn’t Heaven. He was certain of that. And if not Heaven then…

I’m in Hell!

Fear ripped through Shobai’s body like a thousand cuts. Where did he go wrong? He should be in Heaven, not Hell. Shobai wasn’t one to cry, but this was eternal damnation. Droplets hit the ground in syncopation, and a single phrase played in his mind, “I never knew you, depart from me.”

Is he dead? A powerful voice rang out from a gigantic iron throne in front of Shobai. Seated on it, two dark red eyes stared back at him. Shobai felt paralyzed by the intensity of this demonic gaze. If he was in hell, then that would mean…

A-a-are you… the Devil?