The neon outside Sin Rouge shifted into its late-evening pulse hot, vibrant, pulsing like a living vein. Inside the club, the air carried the sharp smell of sweat, old alcohol, and worn wood polished by decades of dancing feet.
Perfect environment for experiments.
My recruits gathered again tired, sore, but standing.
Liza rubbed her arms, Dreg cracked his knuckles, Skit shook out his legs, and Donnie tried to stretch like he'd seen athletes do but ended up looking like a pretzel.
Quill leaned against the bar, tail flicking, eyes narrowed.
He was watching me more closely today.
Alastor hummed in the back of my mind.
"Time to push the resonance deeper," he purred.
"Just remember subtlety.
Overdo it and they'll feel it very unpleasant
Underdo it and it's just fitness class."
I inhaled.
The Third Ring stirred slow, steady, heavy waiting for direction.
"All right," I said. "New sequence today."
We started with breathing.
Then posture.
Then repetitive motion to warm their muscles.
Normal. Predictable.
Until it wasn't.
When they were focused when their bodies slipped into instinct I let the resonance pulse outward, not in a wave, but in fine threads, invisible lines of vibration that slid along their spines and settled in their rib cages.
Liza froze mid-breath.
Skit's eyes widened.
Dreg clenched his fists unconsciously.
Even Donnie jolted, nearly tripping over his own tail.
They felt it.
Not as energy.
Not as magic.
But as a physical shift a tightening of awareness, a sharpening of reaction, an unnatural alignment of breath and muscle.
Quill stepped away from the bar.
Now he really noticed.
His voice sliced through the room like a knife:
"…what the hell was THAT?"
I didn't answer immediately.
I focused instead softening the resonance, smoothing its edges, letting it slip away like heat fading from a flame.
Only when the pulse vanished did I speak:
Advanced training.
Quill's eyes narrowed hard.
"That wasn't training," he said.
"That was… something ELSE."
Liza held her arms protectively.
"It didn't hurt," she whispered, half in awe. "It felt… good. Like something inside me clicked."
Dreg grunted in agreement.
Skit nodded so fast he almost fell over.
Quill stepped closer to me.
"Explain. Now."
Inside my mind, Alastor laughed.
"You've pushed him far enough. Give him a morsel of truth… just a morsel."
I didn't lie.
But I didn't tell the whole truth either.
Resonance training, I said.
Synchronization. Guiding their rhythm so their bodies adapt faster. Nothing supernatural.
"That," Quill said coldly, "WAS supernatural."
It's not magic.
"Then what is it?"
A technique.
"Bullshit technique."
Effective technique.
That stopped him for a moment.
He hated how right that was.
Before he could press further, Donnie suddenly raised a hand like a kid in school.
"Uh… boss? I, uh… kinda told people."
Silence.
Dead, flat silence.
I turned my head slowly.
…told people what, exactly?
"That we have training. That it works. That it's different. That you're not killing anyone, which is new for Lust Ring. And, uh… that maybe you need more people."
Quill groaned and covered his face.
"You told EVERYONE, didn't you?"
"Not everyone," Donnie said proudly.
"Just the districts I grew up in. The poor ones. The ones no one cares about."
Skit blinked.
"You have friends?"
"A whole LOT of them," Donnie said.
"Some owe me favors. Some owe MEAT favors. Some owe questionable favors. You know, normal stuff."
Quill let out a frustrated sigh.
Then froze.
Because the club door opened.
And people walked in.
Not demons looking for drinks, dancing, or sex.
People.
Hungry, thin, exhausted people from the lowest sectors of Lust Ring
some bruised, some limping, some shaking,
and all of them with the same look:
desperation
and
hope.
A demon woman with cracked horns stepped forward first.
"We heard this place has training," she said, voice trembling with exhaustion.
"And… someone said it's safe."
Another spoke up hesitantly:
"Someone said you don't hurt people. Not unless they deserve it."
Donnie beamed.
"That was also me!"
More demons filtered in
young, imps, hybrids, broken, frightened, hopeful.
The weight of their eyes landed on me like a tidal wave.
Quill stared at the crowd, jaw clenched.
"…damn it, Donnie."
But I was already stepping forward.
Alastor whispered soft, satisfied, nearly purring:
"Your first wave of followers…"
My voice cut through the murmuring crowd:
If you want strength, I said, you can earn it.
If you want safety, you can build it.
If you want change
My resonance stirred, pulsing faintly in my chest.
then you follow my training.
Silence.
Then the first demon knelt.
Not out of worship.
Out of exhaustion.
Out of need.
Out of hope.
The others slowly followed.
Quill stared at them… then at me… then at the doorway that would soon be too small for what was coming.
He muttered, almost to himself:
"This is getting out of hand."
Alastor laughed inside my skull.
"Oh, my dear boy… this is only the beginning."
As the new arrivals settled inside Sin Rouge some sitting, some trembling, some clinging to a hope they had never allowed themselves before I stepped back into the shadows near the old sound booth. The neon flickered across my coat, painting me in pinks and reds.
That's when Alastor's voice slipped into my mind again smooth, amused, but edged with a quiet calculation.
"My, my…" he purred.
"Look at them, boy. A crowd forming at your feet. Desperation is a powerful glue."
I didn't answer just watched the growing mass of exhausted demons gathering like frightened animals.
Alastor chuckled, softer this time.
"Enjoy this moment."
Why? I murmured internally.
His smile echoed through the link.
"Because you are very fortunate, my dear boy."
…fortunate?
"Quite."
A faint hum of static rolled through the back of my head.
"The higher classes of Lust Ring, the elites, the privileged… they do not look at the poor. They do not care for slums, for broken neighborhoods, for lost souls."
He paused, savoring the thought.
"You could build an entire army down here, and they would not notice not yet."
My heartbeat matched the slow thrum of resonance inside my chest.
And if they do start noticing? I asked.
Alastor's grin sharpened.
"Then your real problems begin."
His voice dipped lower, almost like a warning and a blessing at once:
"For now?
Grow.
Expand.
Gather as many as you can."
A pulse of satisfaction threaded through our shared mind.
"Hell's upper circles never look down…
until it's too late."
And as the neon flickered across the crowd of new recruits, I understood exactly what he meant.
This was only the beginning
and no one above had the slightest idea what was rising beneath them.