Vincent's last memory was the boardroom. The click of his Montblanc pen signing another round of layoffs. The way the CFO had winced—like he still had a soul to wound.
Then: darkness.
Now, he stood in a waiting room that smelled like burnt coffee and sulfur. The carpet was the same shade of corporate beige as his old office.
A demon shuffled toward him—a paunchy creature in a cheap polyester suit, its tie stained with what looked like barbecue sauce. "Mr. Vincente! Welcome to Hell! We've been expecting you."
Vincent blinked. "Is this a prank? Where's HR?"
The demon chuckled. "Oh, we are HR. And we'd like to offer you a... consulting position."
The demon, name-tag: "Steve – Infernal Recruiter", led him past cubicles where damned souls typed endlessly on flaming keyboards.
"See, our issue is middle management," Steve explained. "We've got plenty of torturers, but no one who understands systems. Then there's Universe #666-B—total mess. No Devil, no structure. Just chaos. And chaos?" He grimaced. "Bad for business."
Vincent crossed his arms. "Show me the contract."
Steve snapped his fingers. A succubus materialized—red pencil skirt, horn-rimmed glasses, cleavage that defied physics. She perched on Vincent's lap and whispered, "Sign here, jefecito... and here..." Her finger traced his thigh.
Vincent skimmed the clauses:
Title: Dark Lord (Consultant)
Benefits: Immortality, minions, "unlimited infernal resources" (fine print: resources may include lava).
Termination Clause: "Eternal damnation if KPIs not met."
He smirked. "Classic non-compete." And he signed fast.
The transfer was supposed to be simple: step into the "Soul Portal 3000", wake up in his new demonic body.
But mid-transit, light seared through the endless void.
An angel blocked his path—golden robes, eyes like spreadsheets. "Vincent Agrius. You chose profit over penitence."
"Uh. Hi?" Vincent tried to smile. His eyes dipped to her huge thighs.
BAM. His gut twisted. He collapsed, vomiting ectoplasm. The angel sighed. "Your curse: No pleasure, only regret. Until you repent." She vanished, leaving him wheezing on the astral plane.
-
Vincent woke up naked on a bar counter, his new demonic back sticking to spilled ale. The air reeked of rotten wood and bad decisions. Moonlight bled through broken windows, painting the room in jagged shadows.
A goat chewed on a stool next to him. It eyed him. Judged him.
A small computer-like window open.
[SYSTEM ONLINE]
WELCOME, *DARK LORD (LVL 1)*.
- **LOCATION**: The Rusty Halo Tavern (Abandoned)
- **CHAOS QUOTA**: 0/1000
- **MINIONS**: 2* (*Goat of Unconfirmed loyalty.)
- **CURSE**: NO NUT ETERNAL (Vomit on arousal)
"Fantastic," Vincent muttered. The goat belched.
Rustling. A woman crawled out from under the bar—robe patched with what looked like a old uniform, hair wild as a birds nest.
"My Lord!" She slammed her face into the floorboards. "I am Martha! Your humble summoner! And—" She gestured to the goat. "—this is Gary. He does tax evasion."
Vincent stared. "Gary the goat does tax evasion."
"Yes! He ate the last auditor!" Martha beamed.
Gary bleated. A receipt fluttered from his mouth.
Vincent sighed, swiped a moldy bar rag for modesty, and kicked open the tavern's doors. Outside: A lush forest and a sign that read:
"HELL'S FRANCHISE #666-B: UNDER NEW MANAGEMENT (YOU)"