Lucifer's hell was the worst of all hells in Marvel's multiverse.
The falling souls would first end up in the river Styx.
The river looked calm, almost gentle. Only souls could float and move upon its surface. But the water was frozen to the core, and inside lurked fish with sharp teeth that gnawed and tore at the fragile spirits of the unfortunate.
When the souls, barely surviving, managed to reach the shore, before them stretched a forest of thorns. Endless fields full of thorny trees and spiked stalks, piercing deep into their essence, inflicting endless pain and forcing them to continue forward.
And after that… they faced a sea of flames, then a land covered in carcasses, and only at the very end, the true shore of hell.
"So…"
"This is deliberately designed torture, isn't it?"
On the deck of Naglfar, Aron listened to Hela's description of Lucifer's hell and couldn't suppress a sigh.
"Is this Lucifer some kind of pervert?" he asked coldly. "Does he enjoy watching everyone suffer?"
The massive ship Naglfar was now compressed into the form of a miniature vessel. Wrapped in the pillars of light from the Bifrost, it sailed toward the very center of Lucifer's hell.
Although the hull had visually shrunk, Aron, Hela, Johnny Blaze, and the others on deck felt no difference. As if they themselves had been proportionally reduced along with the ship.
Or perhaps the pillar of the Bifrost had become infinitely larger, creating the illusion of perfect proportions.
"Lucifer draws power from the pain and suffering of people," Hela explained, standing at the prow. "The deeper the pain, the harsher the torment, the more strength he can draw."
That's why Lucifer's hell was different. No other hell had these endless bridges of torment.
"Prepare yourself, darling," she said, not taking her eyes off the horizon. "We're almost there."
Before them, the pillar of light spread its radiance. But behind it darkness began to loom, harsh, cold, sinister. Lucifer's eternal hell.
It was coming.
Boom!
The pillar of the Bifrost shone in the sky above the Eternal Hell. Souls trapped in the Styx, pierced by thorns, scorched by fire, surrounded by corpses, all lifted their heads.
At that moment, the colorful light of the Bifrost faded, and from it appeared the ship of Death, Naglfar.
"Invaders," a hoarse voice roared. "First you must cross the river Styx, and then…"
Before them appeared an old man with a hunched back. His face was eaten by rot, in his hand he carried a lantern, and his body was wrapped in tattered strips of cloth. In the other hand he held a decayed oar and stepped into the air, floating above them. With a rotten finger he pointed at Aron and his group on the deck.
"Hey, ferryman?" Aron looked at him with a smirk. "Lucifer really went all out making a little theater here, huh?"
"This looks like some kind of cosplay."
The sarcasm in his voice was clear, as if the whole situation only amused him.
In his hands then appeared Gram, the long sword of the former king of Asgard, Bor. An artifact worthy of divine power, capable of destroying even the mightiest weapons such as the flaming dagger or even Mjolnir itself.
It was the same blade that had allowed Aron to open the Bifrost and embark on this journey.
"You can die from it," he muttered, cold and calm. "Your price is high."
On the ferryman's face, panic finally appeared. He realized who stood before him. But it was too late.
In the moment when Aron swung Gram, a wave of energy flooded the space. The ferryman finally felt the weight of his power, this was a Heavenly Father!
"I stopped… a Heavenly Father?" was his last thought.
And then he was gone.
His body turned to ash in a single flash, scattered by the wind of hell.
But the sword did not stop.
Aron's strike, infused with divine power, continued on, unstoppable.
So fast that it vanished from sight in the blink of an eye.
Moments later, a rumble echoed from afar.
The forest of thorns, stretching for miles, was split in half by a single line of the strike. The earth cracked, leaving behind a deep scar that spread as far as the eye could see.
"The invaders are here!"
"Quick, inform the Demon God of the 72 Pillars!"
Soon the entire Eternal Hell began to roar.
The so-called "Demon Gods of the 72 Pillars" were in fact Lucifer's generals.
As soon as they received the news, they led their legions and rushed toward the site of the incursion.
Their strength varied.
The strongest among them barely touched the level of Heavenly Father.
As for the weakest… one could say even the Avengers could handle them in a five-on-five battle.
Still, they were numerous enough that Lucifer's name echoed throughout hell.
"Seventy-two pillars, huh…"
Aron chuckled under his breath.
"Marvel's Lucifer is almost a parody of himself. Even the name 'Lucifer' is wasted on such a cheap imitation."
"Hela, it's your turn," he then said, handing her the battlefield.
"Watch me, darling."
Hela, who had been waiting impatiently for his signal, finally received permission.
Her eyes gleamed war, blood, conquest, and slaughter. All the emotions burning inside her now condensed into a single word.
"Kill ——!"
The Goddess of Death of the underworld gave her command.
Countless revenant warriors leapt from Naglfar's deck like a rain of steel and flesh.
Behind them followed the mighty warriors of Valhalla, and then the demonic army of Limbo.
The scenes of carnage that had once befallen the Prison of Spirits were now repeated in the heart of Eternal Hell.
The demon gods of the 72 pillars and their legions were crushed the moment they faced the heroic warriors and spirit armies.
Johnny Blaze and Robbie Reyes led the demons of Limbo, unleashing them into indiscriminate slaughter.
The powers of Ghost Rider were a natural poison to hellish creatures.
After all, every demon was drenched in sin.
Johnny opened the Penance Stare, and with a single gaze plunged the enemy into endlessly reliving their own crimes.
Robbie may not have had the same divine technique, but in his body burned the flame released by the spirit of Uncle Eli, the hellfire that surpassed the ordinary, powerful enough to burn even demons themselves.
"This isn't good! That's the Goddess of Death!" the hellish generals shouted.
"We can't oppose her! Inform Lord Lucifer!"
But with Hela, whose power touched the level of Heavenly Father himself, the battlefield turned into a one-sided massacre.
She herself fought against all the generals at once.
The Night-Sky Sword in her hand summoned doubles that descended upon the enemies, whether in direct battle or as projectiles. Every swing was a judgment, every throw a death.
"Lucifer? You trash, and you dare call yourself by Satan's name?" Hela pierced with her words.
To her, the name Satan meant only one thing—the true name of one of the real lords of hell. Only they carried weight.
Lucifer, who played king in his courtyard, had no right to lay claim to such a name.
"Don't insult Satan!"
One of the strongest among the generals, Barbatos, whose power had reached the threshold of Heavenly Father, couldn't bear the insult. He rushed at Hela with all his strength.
The next moment, twelve blades of the Necrosword pierced him like a hedgehog.
"Trash! Nothing but a pile of trash!" Hela finished him off with contempt, striking them both physically and spiritually.
Meanwhile, as she mercilessly cut down general after general, Aron retreated into the background.
He used the chaos to spread his consciousness through the Eternal Hell.
Army against army. General against general.
But now, having reached the level of Heavenly Father, he needed a true opponent.
One worthy of his growth.
And so Aron searched. He scoured every crack, every dungeon, every corridor of this endless hellish landscape.
His aura pervaded the sky of hell, but Lucifer was nowhere to be found.
All he discovered was anxiety, hatred, and wailing.
In the end, Aron clenched his fist and shouted, with a voice that echoed through the entirety of Eternal Hell:
"Oh, Lucifer! Where are you hiding!?"
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