Leveling From Hell

Minutes bled into an eternity of blood and silence.

"Hhh... Hahh..."

Arzael panted, chest rising and falling as though every breath scraped knives down his lungs. His body was slick with blood, his own mingling with that of the beasts he had cut down. The ground itself trembled with hidden predators slithering unseen beneath the First Layer of Hell. Shadows twitched across jagged rocks, growls echoing from caverns that yawned open like hungry throats.

The air burned. Sulfur clung to his tongue, every inhale a punishment, every exhale a stolen scream from the abyss.

[System: Pain detected – Minor lacerations. Pain Conversion bonus active: +12% damage]

"So… this is hell?" His voice cracked into the starless red sky, bitter and half-laughing. "No mercy here, huh? Fitting…"

Only silence answered.

He pressed forward. Caves wound like veins through a corpse, slick walls pulsing faintly with heat, as though Hell itself drew breath. Larger beasts stirred within the gloom, their hulking shadows dragging across the stone, but he slipped past them, patient, sharp-eyed. Small prey would be his stepping stones.

The first challenger came soon: a young Hell Hound, its frame like molten rock bound by flesh that cracked and oozed embers. It lunged, teeth sparking, eyes glowing like coals pulled fresh from a forge.

Arzael didn't retreat. He ripped up a jagged rock, braced it against snapping fangs. The force shuddered through his arm. With his other hand he thrust Shadow Pierce, cursed energy bursting forth like a lance of night. The spear impaled the beast's skull; bone cracked, fire died in its eyes.

[You have slain a Feral Hell Hound. +64 EXP]

[Shadow Pierce proficiency increased.]

The corpse steamed at his feet. Arzael's grip trembled on the rock, yet his gaze glowed sharper. Pain steadied him, it gave rhythm to his heartbeat.

'Every wound… every sting makes me stronger,' he thought, tasting iron as he bit the inside of his cheek. 'They threw me here to die. But what they gave me… was a chance.'

He walked deeper. The monsters grew stranger. Centipedes crawling with bone-blades for legs. Eyeless bats shrieking until his skull throbbed. But these were not the worst. The true test came without warning, its arrival like a nightmare tearing open the dark.

The Crimson Wailer.

Its body loomed skeletal, skin clinging thin as parchment. Tattered wings scraped the cavern roof, claws longer than swords. It moved with soundless hunger.

One strike, only one, and agony exploded through him. The impact flung him into the stone wall, HP halved in an instant.

Agony sheared sharp and cold, then burned deeper.

[Skill Activated: Pain Conversion Lv. 1]

Strength poured into his torn muscles. He roared, a guttural sound, and drove Shadow Pierce forward again and again. Each stab cracked through fleshless ribs, tearing holes in its shrieking form until at last it collapsed, twisted limbs folding in on themselves.

[You have slain a Crimson Wailer. +132 EXP]

[Level Up!]

[New Active Skill unlocked: Gatewalk]

[Gatewalk (Lv. 1) – Active Skill]

Allows instant teleportation between Overworld and Underworld (Layer 1 only). Cooldown: 1 hour.

Arzael staggered, tasting blood. Yet his laughter bubbled out, raw, broken, but alive. "Now… I can go back."

He climbed a jagged cliff, Hell's abyss yawning beneath. He lifted his head one last time to the false sky before stepping into the black light that answered.

[Gatewalk activated. Destination: Overworld]

The abyss swallowed him whole.

When he emerged, sulfur was gone. Silence reigned.

He collapsed within the ruins of an ancient temple. Fallen pillars loomed like the bones of forgotten gods. Moss crept over a shattered altar, sunlight spilling through a roof split by time.

It should have comforted him. It didn't.

His crimson eyes turned to the horizon. Not weakness burned in them, but hatred.

"You threw me into hell… Now I've returned to burn it down."

His voice rang across the ruin, sharp as a curse.

The morning light washed pale skin, warm and alien. He had spent mere hours in the Underworld, but the surface already felt like another world.

He wandered from the ruins, steps slow, then firmer as wounds closed little by little. Hours later, he reached a cliff edge, a vast emerald forest rolling below. The wind smelled of soil, of leaves, so strange after sulfur and ash.

He sat upon the stone, staring at hands still blackened with demon blood.

[System Note: "The more you suffer, the stronger you become. Return to the surface, or descend deeper. Hell is your forge."]

A bitter smile curved his lips. "Hell… my forge."

His hand clenched. Trembling, yes, but not from weakness. From hunger.

Once he had been only a cursed child, mocked, despised, abandoned by Alzareth. Cast into the pit, a jest of cruel gods.

Now… everything was different.

He rose. The claw marks down his back burned with each breath, yet he welcomed the fire. Pain was strength. He embraced it.

He descended the valley. His mind sharpened: find civilization, gather knowledge, adapt. But deep inside, something whispered: he no longer belonged fully to this world.

By the time the sun shifted westward, three hours had passed.

Streams crossed. Underbrush parted. Signs appeared, burned-out campfires, footprints, smoke long gone. Civilization close.

But predators roamed here, too.

The Boarfang burst from the brush, tusks like curved blades, frothing breath reeking of madness. Its mass thundered forward, taller than his chest.

Arzael narrowed his eyes. "Not a demon. A beast. Weaker… but still lethal."

It charged.

He steadied. His hand brushed the rusty dagger at his waist, the last tool left him.

"Shadow Pierce."

The curse flared, a lance of darkness drilling through the beast's skull. It crumpled, dust rising around its twitching corpse.

[You have slain a Boarfang. +10 EXP]

EXP: 62 / 180

He stood over it, lips curling. "Still gaining EXP… but too slow."

He shoved the body aside. "Compared to Hell, this world is soft."

The system whispered again.

[Gatewalk cooldown: Ready to activate]

His laugh cracked, sharp and bitter. "Hell isn't a prison anymore. It's my training ground."

After what felt like half a day of walking, he crested a grassy ridge. Smoke spiraled from chimneys far off, roofs, perhaps a village. Normal lives. Normal people.

He paused. There was something he needed to test.

He raised the dagger. Without hesitation, he stabbed it into his thigh.

Pain tore white-hot through muscle. Blood spilled onto earth.

[System: Pain Conversion active. +12% STR]

He hissed, teeth grinding, then chuckled low, shaky. "Pain… no longer punishment. It's a weapon."

He remembered his childhood fears. Pain. Laughter. Isolation. They had bound him once.

But no longer.

"I'll surpass them all. The gods. The Alzareth Empire. Everything."

The sun dipped lower, gold and crimson painting the sky. He followed the dirt road to the settlement of Kareth, fields tended, smoke from hearths, guards with dulled spears. Farmers laughed openly. Children played. They carried no system, no weight of survival.

Weakness, to him.

At night, he would descend back to Hell. Kill. Suffer. Rise. While they dreamed, he would forge himself beyond their reach.

"I don't belong with them," he whispered. "But I'll wear the mask. For now."

Cloaked in tatters, scars hidden but strength carried in every line of his body, Arzael stepped into Kareth.

—

Status

Name: Arzael

Race: ???

Level: 9

EXP: 62 / 180

HP: 760 / 760

MP: 500 / 500

STR: 34

AGI: 30

VIT: 38

INT: 26

LUK: 7