Lust Ring always pretended to be beautiful.
From far away, it glowed like a fever dream pink neon, shimmering signs, floating holograms.
But the lower you walked, the easier it was to see the rot beneath the glow.
Tonight, that was exactly where I went.
Quill walked beside me, hands in his pockets, goggles hanging loosely around his neck. His usual sarcasm was quieter than normal, replaced by an alert, focused look I had rarely seen.
"This district," he said, nodding toward the twisted alleys ahead, "is where Lust Ring throws its trash. Not actual trash people. Those who fell too hard and too fast."
The street smelled like cheap perfumes, broken pride, and too many tears.
Perfect, I said quietly.
Quill shot me a sideways glance.
"That's a very concerning response."
I didn't answer.
The Third Ring pulsed inside me, faint but steady, reacting to the emotional density in the air.
Not feeding just listening.
We reached a collapsed motel whose neon sign sputtered: "R S H UR."
Five demons sat under its shadow two imps, a big hellhound and two women who looked like former succubi, their eyes dull, makeup smudged by exhaustion rather than pleasure.
None of them lifted their heads when we approached.
They didn't expect anyone to.
Alastor murmured in my soul, "Broken people make the most loyal foundations. Nobody else ever offered them anything."
I stepped forward.
"Hey."
One of the imps tensed. The hellhound looked up with dead irritation.
"Seats are taken," he growled.
I'm not here for a seat, I said. "I'm here to offer something."
"That sounds like a scam," one woman muttered.
Quill leaned on the wall.
"Relax. He's not trying to buy your soul. He barely knows what he's doing."
Thank you, I said dryly.
"Anytime."
I looked back at the group.
Do you have jobs?
They laughed. Not amused. Just broken.
"We're sitting in the gutter," the hellhound rasped. "Does that answer your question?"
"I have a place," I said. "A club. Being rebuilt. I need people."
"Get someone else," the imp muttered. "We're not exactly top-shelf material."
The other woman finally spoke.
"Why us?"
Because nobody else sees you, I told her.
Quiet.
She frowned.
"…and what do you see?"
"Potential," I answered.
"And people who need a chance."
The hellhound scoffed.
"You don't know a damn thing about us."
You're hungry, i said calmly. You're tired. You've been ignored so long you expect every conversation to end in pain. You're used to sleeping sitting up and waking at the smallest noise. You don't trust offers, because every offer came with chains.
Their expressions shifted.
"And what do you want?" the woman asked.
Loyalty, I said honestly.
"No contracts. No lies. No chains. Just loyalty, earned through respect.
Quill whistled quietly.
"Bold," he murmured.
The hellhound leaned forward.
"Loyalty's expensive."
"So is survival," I said.
Silence.
Slowly, the woman straightened.
"What's your name?"
Malerion.
She nodded once.
"…I'm Liza."
"Dreg," the hellhound said.
"Skit," one imp added.
the last subcub did not respond I just suggested that everyone can be encouraged
The last imp mumbled, "I don't… have a name."
"You can choose one," I said. "When you're ready."
He stared at me like I had said something unreal.
Liza exhaled.
"We'll… look at your place. That's all."
That's enough, I said.
Quill raised his brows.
"Congratulations. You've got your first strays."
They're not strays, I said.
"Sure. Sure. They're future assets. Better?"
I didn't argue.
We walked.
The lower streets of Lust Ring were more honest than the center:
collapsing balconies,
faded signs,
doors with broken locks,
demons arguing or bargaining or crying in the shadow of neon lights.
My new followers walked silently behind us, flinching at sounds that weren't aimed at them trained to avoid notice, trained to survive.
The Third Ring resonated again.
Not feeding.
Just… feeling.
Liza noticed me watching.
"What?" she asked.
Nothing. I said.
"You're staring like you're studying us."
Maybe I am.
She frowned.
"…you're strange."
So I've been told.
Quill snorted. "By me. Repeatedly."
When we reached Sin Rouge, everyone stopped in the doorway.
The club was still half-dead, but now it had bones:
reinforced stage, glowing base neons, cleaned floor, the faint hum of electricity.
"Damn," Dreg muttered. "This is huge."
"Big and empty," Skit added.
"For now," I said.
Quill hopped onto the stage.
"We're rebuilding everything," he said. "Lights, wiring, sound system, structure. If you'd seen it before, you'd say we resurrected a corpse."
Liza looked around slowly.
"…why bring us here?"
Because you need a place, I said.
And I need people who remember what being powerless feels like.
My Ring pulsed again.
I felt their shame, fear, tiny sparks of hope.
And I let it wash through me.
Not to cultivate.
Not to consume.
Just to understand.
Alastor whispered:
"Be careful, boy. Bonds come with weight."
I know.
"And you think you can carry it?"
I will.
He didn't argue.
I gathered the five of them near the stage.
"This place is not just a club," I told them.
"It will become a home. A shelter. A base. And one day something more."
Skit swallowed.
What… more?
"An organization," Quill answered for me.
"One that doesn't throw away its weak."
Liza eyes darkened with something like longing.
"You mean a family," she said quietly.
Not by blood, I answered.
By choice.
Dreg looked down.
"No one chooses us."
I am, I said simply.
That broke something in all of them.
A quiet tension snapped, replaced by something fragile and real.
Quill approached me afterward, when everyone was exploring the rooms in the back.
"You handled that well," he said.
"Better than most leaders I've seen."
Leaders?
He shrugged.
"I've worked under idiots who wanted power but didn't understand people. You're not like them."
And you? I asked.
Me?
He smirked faintly.
"I've been alone for a long time. But you… have a direction. And that's rare."
Is that why you're helping me?
"No," Quill said.
"I'm helping you because you're building something worth believing in."
We sat on the stage together, neon light drifting in through the windows like a heartbeat.
Below us, the first four members of whatever we would become slept quietly.
And for the first time since entering Hell, I felt the threads of something new forming.
Not power.
Not cultivation.
Not ambition.
But loyalty.
Responsibility.
Connection.
Something Hell didn't understand.
Something worth fighting for.
Something worth protecting.
Something worth shaping into an empire.
The Broken Ones were no longer broken.
They were mine.
And I was theirs.
Whether Hell liked it or not.