Chapter Text
Memories drifted in and out of Alinoth's mind like passing shadows.
They came often in dreams, where his ailing mind showed him fragments of his past - moments from a life before the undead curse. He recalled being born in Forossa, his service as a Northwarder, and the honor of being the Arch-Oracle of Faraam. But there was one, specific memory that was always there, completely unchanging.
Running down a grand corridor with moonlight pouring through the many windows, the man with white hair and beard panted with each step, his legs ready to give out, still weighed down by the armor he wore. He had barely left the battlefield when he received the news and rushed back to Forossa’s capital. Fortunately, his men more understood his urgency; as such event left no room for explanation.
Alinoth arrived at his destination and paused, leaning against the door to catch his breath. Fatigue wasn’t the only thing gnawing at him, howevr - anxiety clawed at his mind as well. Would he be good enough? Could he balance his responsibilities with what awaited inside? He didn’t have the answer, but he knew standing at the door wouldn’t solve anything.
With one final deep breath, he gently pushed the door open and stepped into the room.
The disarray was the first thing he noticed. Furniture askew, clothes discarded on the floor - it was clear the midwives had worked in haste. His gaze then shifted to the large bed at the center, where a woman lay sleeping, her form obscured by darkness.
In her lap laid a small, fragile figure, swaddled in pristine silk.
Alinoth could hardly believe the peaceful scene before him. Approaching slowly, his eyes fell on the tiny form nestled in his wife’s arms. With infinite care, he lifted his newborn child, cradling the baby with a gentleness that belied his strength.
He barely could believe. A father. He was a father.
Overwhelming joy took over him, though he hadn’t even seen the baby’s face yet - its features hidden beneath the delicate silk. Smiling, almost in a trance, he reached out to pull back the covering and see his child’s face for the first time...
And then everything fell apart.
What lay before him wasn’t a face - it was melted, like wax dripping from a candle. The deformity grew worse with every passing second, the baby's features dissolving further into an unrecognizable horror. Alinoth’s joy turned to panic as he stared, unable to comprehend what he was seeing.
Suddenly, a hand touched his arm.
"My love, what’s wrong?"
He looked up to find his wife’s face - only to be received by the same visage of wax melting beyond recognition, a grotesque and hideous parody of the woman he loved.
And then it hit him - he couldn’t remember. He couldn’t remember her true face, or his brother's, or the faces of any of the soldiers under his command. Every face in his memory was twisted, deformed beyond recall.
Suddenly, a pungent pain exploded in his head, not just there but in his upper back near his shoulder, burning like a thousand fires consuming him all at once. He screamed, overwhelmed by agony.
"ALINOTH!" His wife, her melted face contorted in distress, rose from the bed and took the child from his arms as he staggered, blinded by pain.
Why? Why was he burning? He wasn’t on fire, yet the pain consumed him! Why wouldn’t it stop?! PLEASE, JUST STOP!!!
Falling to his knees, Alinoth let out a scream so piercing that it could have been heard across all of Forossa.
"PLEASE! MAKE IT STOP!"
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He awoke in a jolt, screaming, his hand instinctively reaching for his trusty Moonlight Greatsword beside the bed. Gripping the weapon, his eyes darted around the room, searching for any sign of danger, but there was none. Slowly, his ragged breathing calmed as the reality sank in - he’d had another nightmare.
Another one, among many...
Sighing, he lowered the sword, his heart still racing. Lying back down, Alinoth stared at the ceiling, reflecting. It was always like this. His memories from before the Undead Curse had returned, but only in dreams, and always with that same disturbing detail: faces melted like wax. He could remember the events, places, even the sensations... but never the faces of the people who had once been dear to him.
Taking a deep breath, Alinoth finally decided to get out of the bed. Today was an important day - the last one he would spend in this world.
Wearing in his signature Faraam armor, minus the helmet, he strapped his Moonlight Greatsword to his back and fastened his Blue Flame longsword to his hip. But there were two more important items he needed.
On the table beside the bed lay the Crown of the Ivory King and a metal mask, sculpted to resemble the face of an old man with a grand mustache. Alinoth stood there for a moment, staring at them, memories flooding his mind. He clipped the crown to his belt but lingered on the mask, holding it in both hands as he pressed his forehead against the cold metal and closed his eyes as he whispered: "Good morning, Lucatiel. I’ll never forget you or your name."
It was a daily mantra, a promise to himself. A tear slid down his cheek as he thought of his beloved companion - the one who had fought by his side, shared in his journey, and stolen his heart.
Now ready, the True Monarch left the luxurious bedroom he was and strode through the empty halls of the abandoned royal palace he made his home for so many years.
50,734 years had passed since the dawn of this world, from the Age of Ancients, to its now end. Now, all that remained was ash - a desolate wasteland taken by it. Alinoth had watched the cycles of fire play out countless times, observing, learning, yet growing ever more weary. It seemed that no matter what he did, nothing changed. The curse persisted, the suffering of humanity endured, and that accursed flame would always find a way to return.
Sighing, he turned a corner and stepped into what had once been a grand garden. Now, only ash covered the ground where flowers once bloomed. At the center stood a massive, grotesque form - like a twisted tree with roots exposed, its human-like face flickering with flames.
"Good morning, Aldia." Alinoth greeted the creature, stifling a yawn.
"Alinoth... good morning." replied the flaming mass that was once human. "I believe it is time for our departure?"
Alinoth smiled faintly. Aldia, King Vendrick’s older brother, had been his closest ally for as long as he could recall, helping him to uncover the secrets of existence itself. Over the ages, Alinoth had repaid him by slowly re-teaching the former man how to act human again. Now, Aldia greeted him not with titles, but with Alinoth's real name. A small victory.
"Yes, it’s time. I’ve had enough of this land."
Aldia, unable to nod, made a sound of agreement, and then the fiery mass vanished, retreating into Alinoth's very soul - his eternal refuge within the the bond the Scholar of the First Sin and the True Monarch shared.
With everything ready, Alinoth merely waved his hand and summoned a colossal mirror from thin air, its surface set within a greatshield that was once wielded by the Looking Glass Knight. One of Aldia's oldest creations, the Looking Glass was a portal, a tool that allowed for passage between different worlds. It had served Alinoth well over the aeons.
Placing the shield on the ground, Alinoth reached out to touch the Looking Glass, ready to step through and travel to another world, another one cursed by the cycle...
But he hesitated, staring at his reflection.
There, he saw the toll the ages had taken over him: the dark bags under his eyes from sleepless years, the countless scars etched into his skin, his once-pristine white hair now disheveled. He had given so much of himself in this endless pursuit of answers, of change, that he’d forgotten to care for the man in the reflection.
Frustration surged within him. With an anguished roar, he slammed his fist into the Looking Glass. Within an instant, the glass cracked, and the magic contained within it flared dangerously. A shockwave bursted from the shattered surface, throwing Alinoth back. Getting up fast, he watched in horror as the mirror destabilized, its magic spiraling out of control.
He couldn't let it break - not now. Without it, he’d be trapped in this dead world, unable to escape. Scrambling to his feet, he advanced and desperately tried to repair the damage using magic, but it was no use.
"Aldia! Help!" he shouted, but it was too late.
The mirror collapsed, its magic exploding outward, forming a volatile portal right in front of him. Before Alinoth could react, the portal swallowed him whole, pulling him into a random, unknown world.
The True Monarch's scream was the very last thing to echo through the long dead world - the last sound ever heard in a land where even wind no longer blew.
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"...and here are your pancakes."
Lucifer, the first fallen angel and CEO of Hell, offered the Helltaker a genuine smile before she eagerly began devouring the stack of pancakes he’d prepared for her. The Helltaker smiled in return, turning back to the stove to continue making breakfast for the others.
It was a rare, peaceful Saturday morning on the household - something that hadn't happened in a while. Some of the girls were out enjoying the day, while those who stayed behind were unusually quiet. Cerberus, for once, was behaving with surprising obedience, likely a result of one of Judgement’s punishments the day before. Pandemonica, usually burdened with work, was taking a rare break, sipping coffee beside Modeus, who was engrossed in one of her countless romantic comedy books. Justice sat nearby Lucifer and the Helltaker, happily indulging in her own pancakes.
“Taker... do you have any plans for tonight?” Lucifer asked, her tone casual, though Justice noticed a subtle nervousness in the Queen of Hell’s voice. Amused, the Awesome Demon set down her fork, turning her complete attention to the conversation at her side.
The Helltaker shrugged. "Other than helping Azazel with a few things this afternoon, I’m free."
Lucifer’s smile brightened. "Perfect. Tonight, dress in your best suit. You and I are going on a date."
Caught off guard, the Helltaker raised an eyebrow. "A date? Where?"
"To one of the finest restaurants in the city." Lucifer replied. "Pandemonica made the reservation for us both two months ago."
The Helltaker’s eyes widened slightly behind his signature dark shades. A reservation made two months in advance? The place must be extremely exclusive.
"I’ve been working non-stop lately. I need a break. And..." Lucifer glanced around, seeing that only Justice remained nearby. She then reached out and placed her hand over the Helltaker’s, her voice softening as she smiled. "...it’s always nice to spend time with my favorite mortal."
A blush crept across the Helltaker’s face. It wasn’t often that Lucifer showed this tender side of hers, especially in the open, but the human found it endearing every time.
Justice grinned, gesturing to herself. "Don’t worry about the house. I’ll make sure it doesn’t burn down or that no one accidentally triggers the apocalypse while you two are out. Just go enjoy yourselv-"
Before she could finish, an overwhelming and unfamiliar sensation surged through the house. Lucifer suddenly stood, her hands gripping the table, her expression shifting from calm to shock - and then to something unexpected: panic.
Every demon (and angel) felt it. Those inside the house, and those out on the city. Pandemonica's usually apathetic and drained face was wide awake with alarm. Judgement burst from her room, her gauntlets ready, as if prepared for a fight.
The Helltaker, still unaware of the situation, looked around, puzzled. "What’s going on?"
"Wh... what was that?" Justice asked, her voice uncharacteristically shaky.
"Something... no, someone. In Hell..." Lucifer’s voice was barely a whisper, her eyes distant.
"I’ve never felt anything like this before. Not even amongst the highest archangels." Judgement added, her tone grim as she approached.
The Helltaker, still confused, looked between the girls, trying to understand what was going on. "Can someone explain to me what-"
But before anyone could answer, Lucifer turned around and waved her hand, opening a portal to Hell with a swift motion.
"Justice, Judgement - come with me. The rest of you stay here." she commanded, her voice steely and filled with authority, sharper than anyone had ever heard from her.
"Lucy, wait-" the Helltaker began, but she was already walking toward the portal, with Judgement and Justice close behind.
Though he knew he shouldn't disobey, the Helltaker couldn’t just stand by if something had shaken them this much. Quickly discarding his apron, he hurried after them, slipping through the portal just as it closed, descending into Hell once more.