HELL'S ARCHITECT

Chapter 07. Return to Hell

Elios’s 1200 cc Cruiser engine roared harshly, shattering the dead silence at the Sector 4 Border. The sound was unnatural here, like a chainsaw cutting through the cold, toxic air.

Ahead of him, the Quarantine Gate stood twenty meters tall. The razor-wire fence was layered with electrified steel armor, while automated guard towers on the left and right immediately locked onto the target. Machine gun barrels rotated, their optical systems aligning the crosshairs precisely on Elios’s head.

The indicator lights turned red. But the shots never came.

Someone stood right in the middle of the road, blocking the gate barrier.

A woman.

She wore a tight, pearl-white tactical bodysuit with gold accents, the official uniform of the Sanctum Division Intelligence. Over it, a long black trench coat billowed in the toxic Sector 4 wind. A short, silver-plated pistol was holstered low on her right thigh, more standard equipment than a primary weapon.

Her black bob was precisely, geometrically cut, as if every strand had been calculated. Her face was beautiful, symmetrical, but cold, like a soulless marble statue.

Her eyes were covered by a transparent data visor projecting a ceaseless stream of blue code.

Sister Vera… Church intelligence agent. A walking calculator. An executioner in silk gloves.

Elios killed the engine but remained seated on the bike. He lifted his helmet visor.

“Move aside, Barbie Doll,” he yelled, challenging the wind. “This is a radiation zone. Not a fashion week runway.”

Vera didn’t react. She simply tapped the side of her visor. The red indicators on the guard towers shifted to yellow. The weapon systems remained locked on target, but the firing protocol was frozen via manual override.

The gate barrier behind her immediately opened with a heavy hydraulic sigh, revealing the road to the dead city.

“Paladin Elios,” Vera’s voice was crystal clear in Elios’s ear, injected directly into his private frequency without permission. “Bishop Valdos instructed that this mission requires real-time oversight. I am assigned to ensure you do not commit any foolishness.”

“What kind of foolishness?” Elios smirked. “Killing demons?”

“Such as destroying strategic assets or concealing evidence,” Vera replied flatly. “From now on, I am the eyes and ears of the Council. You are the muscle. I am the brain.”

Elios laughed cynically. “A leash, then? Valdos is afraid his dog is starting to bite its master.”

Vera stepped closer. “Open the back seat.”

Elios frowned. “You want a ride?”

“My tactical vehicle suffered turbine damage in Sector 3. Time efficiency requires us to share transport. Open it.”

Elios snorted, then offered a thin smile. “Get on, Sister. But don’t cry if your expensive coat gets covered in hell mud.”

Vera mounted the bike with efficient movement. She did not hug Elios. No hesitation. No fear.

“Drive,” she commanded.

Elios twisted the throttle all the way.

The motorcycle shot forward like a projectile. The rear tire burned the asphalt before they burst through the gate and into the Sector 4 fog.

Welcome to the ghost city.

The view of the world behind the quarantine was more than just destruction. It was a distortion of reality.

Five years ago, when the Alpha Level portal opened, the hell energy didn't just destroy buildings and kill people; it changed the laws of physics.

Highways were cracked and twisted, abandoned cars had melted, their frames fused with the asphalt like wax that had melted and then solidified again. The trees were no longer wood, but sharp purple crystals that pulsed slowly as if breathing.

The sky was perpetually gray, covered by Miasma clouds that filtered the sunlight, leaving only eternal twilight.

“Radiation levels are up three hundred percent,” Vera’s voice was stable. “Activate your mask filter, Elios. Unless you want your lungs to rot.”

Elios pressed a button on his jacket without comment.

Ahead, the overpass was severed. A ten-meter gap yawned over a chasm of fog.

A normal person would brake. Elios accelerated instead.

“Warning: Path severed. Jump success probability: 12%,” Vera said quickly. “Brake now.”

“12%? That’s my lucky number,” Elios replied.

“Elios… Don’t!”

The bike shot toward the edge of the broken bridge.

WHOOSH!

They flew.

For a moment, the world was silent. Fog swirled beneath them. Elios glanced in the mirror, hoping to see fear.

Vera was typing data.

The bike slammed into the far side with a loud thud. Elios wrestled the fishtail under control.

“You really are a robot,” he muttered, disappointed.

“My heart rate increased to 72 bpm. Slightly above resting average,” Vera replied flatly. “An unnecessary maneuver. Waste of fuel and suspension. I will deduct the repair costs from your salary.”

They entered the residential zone.

Narrow alleys. Tilted apartments. Broken windows like empty eyes.

And that smell.

The smell of old magic.

Elios slowed the bike. He knew this road by heart.

It led to his home.

“Why are we here?” Vera asked.

“Shortcut.”

He lied.

They passed a playground. A rusted swing moved by itself. In the sandbox, a teddy bear was half-buried and petrified.

Elios’s jaw tightened.

“Stop,” Vera said suddenly.

On the wall of a ruined store, a black shadow was etched. The silhouette of a mother embracing a child.

The shadow moved.

“Type C Anomaly: Echoes,” Vera analyzed quickly. “Trapped memory traces. They lack active consciousness.”

Elios stared at the shadow. “They didn’t die peacefully, Vera. They’re still here.”

“They are only residual energy. They have no consciousness,” Vera argued coldly. “It’s just a replay of a traumatic event. Like a broken film reel.”

“That was a human, you bastard!” Elios snapped. “My neighbors. People who paid taxes to your Church for protection, and you let them roast here!”

Vera was silent for a moment. She looked at Elios’s tense back. “We did what had to be done to contain the spread. The sacrifice of one sector to save a city.”

“Nice speech. Try saying that in front of that mother’s shadow,” Elios twisted the throttle again, this time violently.

The bike sped away from the writhing shadow. Elios didn't want to look anymore. Guilt and anger mixed into a poison in his stomach. The interaction with Vera just confirmed one thing: This woman was the enemy. She was the embodiment of the Church’s cold, heartless doctrine.

They arrived at Memorial Plaza.

Or what was left of it.

A giant crater two hundred meters wide yawned open. Thick purple fog swirled at its base. The surrounding buildings curved inward as if pulled by a black hole vortex.

Elios dismounted the bike, gripping his Shotgun.

“We walk.”

Vera planted a sensor into the ground.

Vera’s scanner beeped faster and faster, its tone rising to a constant shriek.

Vera frowned. Her flat expression cracked slightly, showing confusion.

“This… is illogical,” she muttered.

Elios approached, looking around warily. “Why? Did your battery die?”

“The energy,” Vera looked at Elios, her eyes wide behind the visor. “Intelligence reports said this was old, fading energy. Passive residue.”

“So?”

“This isn’t residue, Elios. The graph is spiking vertically. This is an active surge.” Vera pointed toward the purple fog at the base of the crater. “This energy is not a remnant of the explosion five years ago.”

The ground beneath their feet began to tremble subtly. Small pebbles started to float upward, defying gravity, hovering at knee height.

Elios felt the hairs on his arms stand up. The same sensation as at the party that night. The sensation of a portal opening.

DOOMMM!

A heavy thud echoed from the bottom of the crater. Purple light pierced the sky. The Miasma clouds spun into a storm vortex directly overhead.

“They’re here!” Elios whispered.

“We need to report this,” Vera said, panicked. Her fingers typed rapidly, searching for help.

“Look at your device,” Elios replied.

NO SIGNAL.

From within the purple fog, a growl vibrated in their chests. Not one growl. Thousands.

And among the growls, the echoing, horrifying sound of a child’s laughter could be heard. Laughter that sounded terribly familiar to Elios.

It wasn’t a child’s laughter. It was the laughter of a demon mimicking a human voice.

Elios froze.

“Let’s go down,” Elios said.

“Are you insane? That’s suicide!” Vera snapped.

“I died five years ago,” Elios replied coldly. “This is just coming home.”

He stepped toward hell.