Question:harem or no harem
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Flashback — 13 Years Earlier | Hell
The sky bled ash. Red clouds churned above a jagged wasteland, casting flickering shadows over the battlefield. Fire and smoke licked the horizon, and the stench of sulfur clung to everything like rot.
Kael stood alone.
His body was smaller then—less muscle, more raw instinct. He was new to Hell. New to pain. New to killing.
And yet, he was already covered in blood.
His hands trembled—not from fear, but the aftershock of using too much force. His claws were still out, stained deep crimson. Around him lay the broken bodies of lesser fiends, twitching in their final spasms. Their faces frozen in confusion—killed by someone who looked too young to survive here.
He stumbled back a step, breathing heavily. He felt every cut, every bruise. Regeneration hadn't kicked in yet. He hadn't mastered it. He still bled.
A roar echoed across the canyon. Not human. Not animal. Something in between.
Kael raised his head. Something massive was approaching—something old. A demon lord, maybe. Or one of its scouts.
He knew he should run.
He didn't.
Instead, he crouched and dragged a jagged rock across his forearm, gritting his teeth as pain flared up his nerves. His blood sizzled on the stone, reacting to the cursed air. He stared at it for a second.
'Heal slower this time,' he muttered to himself.
He was experimenting. Testing the limits of what he could control.
The roar came again. Closer.
The ground cracked as a hulking figure stepped into view—horns like blades, teeth like daggers. Eight feet tall and snarling, its mouth foaming with black spit.
Kael didn't flinch.
He ran straight at it.
The beast lunged, jaws wide, claws ready to split him in half. Kael ducked, twisted, leapt. His elbow crashed into the demon's gut, and he followed it with a flurry of strikes. Fast. Brutal. Untamed.
The demon roared in pain, swinging wildly. One claw caught Kael across the chest, tearing skin open like paper. Blood sprayed the dust.
He didn't fall.
Instead, he grabbed the beast's wrist and bit into it, tearing muscle from bone. The scream that followed was deafening.
The fight didn't last long after that.
When the demon finally collapsed, twitching and broken, Kyle stood over it—breathing heavily, body steaming from heat and rage. His wounds began to close slowly, regeneration limping to catch up.
He looked down at his hands.
'I need to learn faster.'
That day, he buried the corpses. Not out of pity, but because the vultures in Hell were worse than the demons themselves. And if he wanted to relax, he needed quiet.
That night, he slept in the shadow of a dead beast, whispering a single thought to himself before the dark took him:
'I will not die here.'
[Late Summer(present day) | Beachfront]
The ocean stretched into forever, waves lapping against the shore, families playing, music echoing in the distance. Michael sat on a plastic chair, toes buried in the warm sand.
His eyes were fixed on the horizon.
The wind brushed his hair back as he muttered to himself, "It's time."
[Later at night | A City Street]
A tall, modern building loomed in front of him, bathed in golden light and steel. He stood on the sidewalk, phone pressed to his ear, dressed in clean jeans and a black shirt, duffel bag slung over his shoulder.
"I'm here," he said into the phone.
The voice on the other end responded, but Michael wasn't really listening.
His eyes were on the doors ahead.
Another chapter was about to begin.