The last thing Philips Lancaster heard was the screech of tires and the panicked shouting of thirty other high schoolers. The smell of hot asphalt and the sight of a rain-slicked highway vanished in a violent jolt of metal and glass. Then, there was only the cold, heavy silence of the void.
Am I dead? he thought. I didn't even get to finish the Leviathan run.
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[INITIALIZING SYSTEM...]
[SOUL COMPATIBILITY: 99.9%]
[SOURCE MATERIAL IDENTIFIED: HELLSLAVE]
[HOST STATUS: REBORN]
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Philips opened his eyes. The sky above him wasn't the grey haze of London; it was a piercing, crystalline blue, framed by the jagged, snow-dusted needles of massive pine trees. The air didn't smell like exhaust—it smelled of pine needles, damp earth, and a cold so sharp it felt like needles in his lungs.
He sat up, his head throbbing. He wasn't wearing his school blazer anymore. He was clad in a coarse, itchy tunic of brown wool and breeches made of rough-spun animal hide. His hands were calloused, his fingernails dirty.
"You've got to be kidding me," Philips muttered, his voice rasping. He looked around at the desolate, beautiful wilderness. "A bus accident? A fantasy world? I've seen enough anime to know where this is going. I'm an Isekai trope."
He put his face in his hands and sighed, a long, dramatic facepalm. "I'm a cliché. I'm literally a cliché."
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[DING!]
[The Infernal King System is now active.]
[Mission: Survive the Tearing and ascend as the Sovereign of Hell and Mortal Land.]
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A holographic screen, glowing with the dark, gothic aesthetic of his favorite RPG, Hellslave, hovered in his vision. It displayed his stats, a skill tree dripping with blood-red icons, and a map that showed nothing but a vast "Unknown Territory."
"Hellslave?" Philips's eyes widened. "If this world works like that game, everyone is doomed. The Tearing... the rifts... the beasts."
He stood up, shivering. He didn't know where he was. He didn't know that several hundred miles south, a "Mad King" sat on a chair of swords, or that he was currently standing in a place called "The North." All he knew was that the woods felt hostile.
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[STARTER PACK AVAILABLE]
[Would you like to claim the "Six Pillars of the Abyss"?]
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"Yes," Philips whispered. "Claim."
The ground beneath his feet didn't just shake; it groaned. Six pillars of obsidian fire erupted from the earth in a circle around him. The heat was immense, melting the snow instantly, but Philips didn't burn. Instead, he felt a surge of terrifying, cold power flowing into his veins.
As the flames died down, six figures stood in the clearing. They were monstrous, magnificent, and utterly silent.
Lucifer, golden and terrifying in his fallen majesty.
Beelzebub, a mountain of muscle and spiked armor.
Baal, draped in shifting shadows.
Satan, clutching a blade that bled black smoke.
Asmodeus, eyes glowing with a predatory violet light.
Leviathan, surrounded by a faint, static hum of blue lightning.
They all dropped to one knee simultaneously. The sound of their heavy armor hitting the frozen ground echoed through the trees like a war drum.
"Our King," they spoke in unison, a sound that made the very air vibrate.
Philips looked at his hands. He felt a mental "switch." He willed it to flip.
Suddenly, his vision shifted to infrared. His skin hardened into black, chitinous scales, and two curved horns erupted from his forehead, glowing like embers. The "Human" Philips was gone; the Infernal King stood in his place.
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[NEW QUEST: THE HUNGERING COLD]
[Objective: Hostile entities detected nearby. Kill the 'Wights' to earn your first Essence Points.]
[Reward: 100 Essence, Map Unlock.]
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"Wights?" Philips frowned, looking into the dark treeline. "The game called them 'Lost Souls,' but whatever. If I'm stuck in this world, I might as well be the one at the top of the food chain."
He gestured to Beelzebub. "Spread out. If it moves and it's already dead, break it. We have a world to prepare for."
From the shadows of the trees, a pair of glowing, icy blue eyes watched the boy and his demons. The creature hissed—a sound of pure winter—and lunged.
Philips didn't flinch. He just raised a hand, and the forest erupted in hellfire.
The blue-eyed creature—a Wight—didn't even have time to scream. Beelzebub moved like a landslide, his massive, spiked gauntlet crushing the undead's skull into the permafrost. The System chimed instantly.
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[DING! Enemy Slain: Lesser Wight. +10 Essence.]
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Philips stood in the center of the carnage, his Infernal King form receding as he toggled back to his human skin. He felt a strange, cold rush—the "Essence" flowing into him.
"This isn't a game," he whispered, wiping a fleck of black blood from his cheek. "That thing was... it was a person once. This world is brutal."
"A puppet, Sire. A mindless shell of ice," a calm voice replied.
Philips turned. Standing behind him were six figures who, moments ago, had been towering monsters. Now, thanks to the System's starter pack, they had assumed their Human Forms.
Lucifer appeared as a breathtakingly handsome man in gold-trimmed black armor; Beelzebub was a silent, scarred giant; Baal looked like a lithe, unnerving scholar; Satan was a rugged warrior with eyes like burning coals; Asmodeus was a striking woman with a predatory grace; and Leviathan was a pale, silver-haired youth.
Lucifer stepped forward, his eyes fixed on a faint shimmer in the air—a distortion only they could see.
"Sire, do not let the weakness of these 'Wights' deceive you," Lucifer warned, his voice grave. "The Tearing is approaching. Soon, the land will split, and it will not be our disciplined legions that crawl out. It will be the Wild Demons."
Philips frowned. "Wild demons? Like the ones that roam the wastes in the game?"
"Worse," Lucifer said. "They are like rabid animals. They possess no loyalty, no reason. They exist only to devour—to consume the flesh of mortals and the essence of demons alike. If we do not prepare this world to fight back, there will be nothing left for you to rule but a graveyard of ash."
Philips facepalmed. "Great. So I'm the 'Good King' who has to play exterminator for a literal hell-infestation. I just wanted to pass my exams, not save a continent."
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[SYSTEM ALERT: HOSTILE HUMAN SIGNATURES DETECTED]
[Type: Local Military – 'Crows' / Night's Watch]
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Philips squinted at the floating text. "'Night's Watch'? Is that like a neighborhood watch program?" He had no idea what a "Westeros" was, but the System's auto-translation gave him the titles.
"Sire," Baal whispered, his human form flickering like a candle flame. "Three riders approach. They wear black rags and carry iron. They smell of fear. Shall we erase them?"
"No," Philips commanded. "We need a map and a roof. If the Wild Demons are as bad as Lucifer says, I need to know who the local leaders are. Hide your auras. Look like my retainers."
The six Demon Kings bowed, their terrifying presence dimming until they looked like a group of high-born travelers and their guards.
Moments later, three riders broke into the clearing. They were rugged men wrapped in heavy black furs. The leader pulled his horse to a halt, his eyes widening at the sight of the crushed Wight—and then at the well-dressed boy standing among six formidable strangers.
"By the Old Gods," the leader gasped, his hand flying to his sword hilt. "You there! Boy! Are you a wildling? Who are these men? And how did you fell a dead man without fire?"
Philips looked at the man's black cloak, then at the System prompt.
"I'm Philips Lancaster," he said, stepping forward with a polite, modern smile that looked entirely out of place in the frozen woods. "We're... travelers. And I have a feeling you and I have a lot to talk about. Starting with why the ground is about to start eating people."
The rangers looked at each other, terrified. They saw a boy, but the horses beneath them were lathered in sweat, sensing that the seven people in front of them were the most dangerous things in the world.
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[QUEST STARTED: THE BLACK GATE]
[Objective: Accompany the 'Night's Watch' to their base. Identify the local power structure.]
[Reward: 500 Essence, Unlock: 'Hell-Steel' Smithing.]