Chapter 334: Chapter 333 - The Fifth Hell.
While Raven and his group were moving to face yet another challenge, they remained oblivious to the fact that the humans in the demon realm—the ones they wanted to save—were undergoing challenges as well.
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In the fifth hell of the demon realm, which wasn’t what mortals imagined it to be—no rivers of lava, no skies of fire, no endless screams—instead, the landscape stretched out beneath a twilight sky that never changed.
There was no sunrise, no moon, no stars—only an eternal evening, painted in dull purples and crimson streaks.
Grass swayed beneath a wind that smelled faintly metallic, and trees twisted toward the heavens as though reaching for a light that would never come.
In a secluded corner of this eerie stillness stood a castle.
Its black spires rose like jagged teeth, cloaked in shadow, hidden so deep within this realm that no map could mark its place.
Inside, the great hall was alive with noise.
Sixty humans sat around an enormous banquet table, tearing into food like beasts. Their plates were filled with roasted meat, bread, and fruit—things they hadn’t seen in years.
But the way they ate was feral, grotesque—hands clawing, teeth gnashing, voices reduced to guttural sounds.
Some of their food spilled to the floor, where others dropped to their knees, licking it like animals.
The hall reeked of gluttony, of hunger without end.
It was as if starving beasts were given food to eat, and now, they cared not about anything but the feast before them.
Yet, amidst this chaos, three figures moved with clarity.
Two boys and a girl, none older than nineteen, ran back and forth with ragged urgency.
What were they doing, though?
They were pulling goblets away before someone choked on them, pushing plates toward the weakest, and wiping grease from trembling faces.
To anyone else, it might have looked like caretakers tending to children. But these were not children—these were once-human youths, broken until they no longer knew how to be human.
They were humans who were addressed as seeds by the demons, and for a long time, those demons tortured these young men and women to turn them into brain-dead people.
It was all to ensure that humans couldn’t think of anything, much less escape.
Unfortunately for the demons, they couldn’t break everyone.
These two young men and a woman remained fine, only because they were more valuable than others.
They had proved their value by returning alive despite being sent to work as a seed once.
They were rare specimens, so even the demons didn’t torture them, wanting them to retain their personality and memories because that was what helped them become what they were.
So, these three took it upon themselves to care for the remaining humans, wanting to keep everyone alive for as long as possible, because that was all they could do.
After all, they were all too weak to fight the demons.
One of the boys, thin and sharp-eyed, moved with a stubborn defiance. His name was Ray.
The other boy, softer-spoken but just as weary, dragged a half-conscious youth back to his chair.
And the girl—the clever one—kept her voice low, her eyes darting to every shadow, watching, always watching.
"They’re treating us like people," the softer boy muttered under his breath, as if the thought itself was blasphemy. His hands trembled as he set bread into another’s lap. "I don’t get it. Since when do demons feed us?"
Ray’s jaw tightened. He glanced toward the high doors of the hall, expecting the clink of chains or the screech of whips. But nothing came.
The demons who had brought them here were gone, leaving the humans alone in this eerie feast.
No one could tell what was going on, as one moment they were in a prison, and the next, a demon entered their prison, and with his magic, he brought them all to this place.
Since then, no demons had even spoken to them.
In reply to the softer boy’s question, the girl spoke quietly, her voice sharp as a whispering blade. "That’s because these demons aren’t the same. They didn’t drag us from the pits. They just appeared... and brought us here."
She swept her gaze over the frenzy of ruined humanity, then back at the boys. "It’s like we’re not even in the same place anymore. As if the prisons and this castle belong to two different worlds."
The softer boy swallowed, his expression pale. "...Then the only conclusion is that there are factions. Two different sides in the demon realm. And this one—this side—"
He hesitated, his voice dropping lower. "Maybe they’re trying to keep us away from the others."
Ray’s hands clenched until his knuckles turned white. His voice was a low growl. "That doesn’t mean they’re good."
The words were like steel hammered against stone. He pushed another crazed boy back into his chair when he tried to crawl under the table, then spat toward the floor.
"Don’t forget what they’ve done to us. Don’t forget the years they kept us in cages, bleeding us dry. Don’t you dare."
The girl paused, meeting Ray’s blazing eyes. For a moment, the torchlight caught her face, showing the scars that marred her cheek. Then she nodded slowly.
"I haven’t forgotten. I won’t forget," she said. Her tone was calm, too calm. "I never said these demons were saving us. I only said they’re different. Different doesn’t mean better. It could mean worse. They could be fattening us, polishing us up... before they carve us open for whatever purpose they have."
Ray looked away, jaw grinding, but he didn’t argue.
Around them, the humans kept feasting, drooling, and clawing at scraps of food as if they were children barely weaned. Seventeen years old. Eighteen. Nineteen.
And yet—they were infants, hollow shells who never learned what it meant to grow because demons had taken everything before it could take root.
The softer boy sank to his knees beside one trembling girl, spoon-feeding her slowly so she wouldn’t choke.
"Then what do they want with us?" His voice cracked. "What could demons want from humans they’ve already broken?"
The girl placed a hand on his shoulder, her gaze as hard as the twilight beyond the walls.
"That," she said quietly, "is the question we have to answer before they decide to tell us."
Her eyes lifted toward the dark ceiling of the castle, where shadows gathered like a watching presence.
Although no demon stood in the hall, it felt as though countless unseen eyes lingered, watching them.
True to the girl’s guess, someone—or more like, two people—was watching them.
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Not far from the banquet table, but beyond the reach of mortal senses, two figures stood on a balcony of shadow.
A single torch burned in the endless twilight, its violet flame casting long, warped silhouettes across the black stone railing.
The humans below would never notice—the air itself wrapped these watchers in a veil that bent sound and sight away like ripples in a pond.
One of them leaned lazily against the railing, her long purple hair spilling like liquid amethyst in the gloom. Zarethia Vel’Zarath—who also goes by Mistress these days—rested her chin in her hand, violet eyes glowing faintly with mischief.
Beside her stood a woman dressed in immaculate maid attire, her silver hair neatly braided, and her beauty sharp enough to cut through the gloom like a blade.
The maid’s golden eyes flicked toward the feasting humans, then back to her mistress.
"Was it truly necessary to rescue them, Lady Zarethia?" She asked, her voice smooth but edged with irritation. "It would have been... simpler to kill them. Because of this little ’mission,’ our enemies now know the approximate location of our hideout. A foolish risk."
Mistress didn’t answer.
Instead, her eyes followed a commotion below, where a boy attempted to snatch a goblet from a drooling youth.
The struggle ended with the goblet spilling across the table, splattering a nearby girl’s face with wine.
The girl shrieked, slapping the boy, and both tumbled onto the feast in a heap of flailing limbs.
Zarethia’s lips twitched. Then she laughed—soft at first, then rich and melodic, like the sound of chimes caught in a midnight breeze.
The maid groaned, pressing a gloved hand to her forehead. "You’re laughing. Mistress, this is the time for—"
"—For acting like a demon?" Zarethia cut in, her smile widening, violet eyes glimmering like stars that shouldn’t exist. "Isn’t that precisely why almost half of the demons support me? Because I don’t behave the way they expect?"
The maid faltered, mouth opening, then snapping shut again. No argument came.
Because what Mistress said was true. The only reason why so many demons followed her was because of her unique personality.
Zarethia tilted her head toward her companion, the smile softening into something unreadable. "Rules are dull, Lena. If I played by them, we’d be nothing more than another faction in a war with no end."
The maid swallowed her frustration, choosing silence. But her gaze hardened as she returned to the earlier question. "Even so... why risk this? Why these humans? There are safer ways to amuse yourself, Mistress."
For a long heartbeat, Zarethia said nothing.
Only the sound of distant feasting filled the balcony, the low growls and frantic chewing of the broken humans below.
Then she giggled—a light, almost girlish sound that didn’t belong in a world of demons—as she recalled a face she hadn’t seen for some time.
"Let’s just say," she murmured, eyes narrowing with a playful glint, "that a little friend of mine might enjoy this."
The maid blinked. "A friend?"
Zarethia’s smile deepened, but she didn’t elaborate.