Several years after Alastor's arrival in Hell…
Hell was never silent.
Even in the dead hours—when the streets smoldered red and the sky simmered like over-boiled tar—there was always noise:screams carried from the lower rings, metal scraping against metal, bursts of demonic magic colliding like thunder, the ceaseless hum of infernal energy pulsing through the air.
But here—inside the Radio Demon's private domain—silence reigned like a god.
Alastor slept.
The chamber around him was a cathedral of crimson technology and occult geometry.Massive speakers hung like chandeliers, their surfaces etched with glowing runes from long-dead languages.Dozens of radios—some modern, some older than jazz itself—floated in slow circles around the room, all turned off.
The walls pulsed faintly with static-red light, expanding and contracting like a giant lung.
And at the center of it all, in a throne-like armchair upholstered with hellhound leather, rested Alastor—hands folded, smile sharp and serene.
For years, demons had whispered that his lair felt like the moment before a broadcast…a place where reality held its breath.
Tonight, reality exhaled.
It began with a flicker.
A spark in the air.A faint distortion passing through the static wallpaper.Then—
A pulse.
Not of blood.Not of breath.
Of a second soul.
Something foreign slipped through Hell's layered fabric, bypassing every rule, every contract, every metaphysical lock. It drifted downward, pulled by an unseen magnet—drawn specifically to one demon.
—to him.
The foreign soul approached Alastor's resting form, vibrating like a mismatched radio signal desperately trying to tune into a station.
A voice echoed from it.Soft. Confused. Human.
— Is… is this Hell?
The Radio Demon's domain reacted instantly.
Every speaker in the room crackled and turned toward the soul like animals sensing prey.The floating radios hummed with tension.Even the runes on the walls flared.
And then—
Alastor's eyes opened inside the spiritual realm.
Not physically.But deep inside, in the chamber of his soul.
The inner world of Alastor's soul was nothing like the mortal mind.It stretched into infinity—a dark horizon sculpted from red frequencies, broken soundwaves, and flickering memories.A constant hum vibrated underfoot, as if one stood atop a colossal radio tower humming with power.
Across this realm, echoes of his past rippled like shadows:
The swamps of Louisiana he once called home
The sound of jazz bands in dim-lit nightclubs
The terrified gasps of victims
The moment of his death
The first breath he drew in Hell
All suspended in looping, glitching fragments.
And in the middle of this spiraling chaos stood—
a second soul, glowing faintly white, like a small moon trapped in static.
Alastor materialized before it, tall and sharp, his silhouette woven from red particles.
He smiled.
— What a delightful trespass this is. A visitor in my own mind.
The foreign soul pulsed.
— "I… didn't choose this. I don't even know how I ended up here. One moment I died, and then—something pulled me downward. Toward you."
Alastor's eye twitched with curiosity.
— Toward me? Now that is interesting.
The soul vibrated.
— "I know who you are… Alastor.And I know what's coming for you.I know what Rosie will do."
The static of the entire realm cracked.Waves of red energy rippled outward like shockwaves from an explosion.
Alastor's eyes widened—not in fear, but in savage intrigue.
— You know about Rosie's deal? How… intriguing.
He stepped closer, voice smooth.
— And you… what are you? A prophet? A ghost? A mistake in the system?
— "A soul from another world," the voice answered."One that knows the truth of this universe. One that knows your future."
Alastor's grin sharpened.
— Oh, now this becomes fascinating.
The soul began dissolving—slowly, gently—until its essence wrapped around his own like silk.It didn't invade.
It synchronized.
Their memories collided.Their identities brushed together.Their karmic threads twisted into a double helix of light and darkness.
And then—
Fusion.
The world shuddered.
Two souls became one.
And from that union sprang something that should have been impossible:
A fragment tore itself away—ripping free from the fused core—shining brighter than any demonic essence.
It began to form shape.A silhouette.Limbs.A spine.A face.
A new body grew—clean, pure, unbound by Hell's contracts.
Silver-white hair spilled down like moonlight.Eyes glowed with soft crimson, gentler than Alastor's.Skin pale like polished marble.
He stood barefoot on the spiritual floor, breathing steadily, as if alive.
Alastor stared.
The new being raised his head.
— "My name… is Malrion Uroboros."
Alastor's grin widened to its inhuman limit.
— Ahh… a version of me untouched by Rosie's chains. How marvelous.
Malrion turned his gaze toward the red waves curling around them.
— "I am you, but free.Free to grow.Free to understand.Free to consume what Hell cannot control."
Alastor leaned closer, delighted.
— Then go where I cannot. Descend.— The lower rings hide what the upper ones deny.— Take root in the shadows. Cultivate. Become more.
Malrion's eyes gleamed.
— "I will. I'll go beneath the Overlord territories. Into the forgotten layers where echoes wander and pain pools like rivers."
— And what will you become there? — Alastor asked softly.
Malrion turned fully toward him, aura flaring like a newborn sun in a crimson world.
— "The one who consumes."
With those words, his body dissolved into streaks of white light, shooting downward through the depths of Alastor's soul.
Alastor awoke slowly in the real world, his physical eyes opening with a sharp gleam.The floating radios resumed their orbit.The runes dimmed.The silence broke.
A soft hum filled the air—like a broadcast beginning.
He rose from his chair.
— Let the world believe I sleep.— While my other half reshapes Hell below…
Far beneath the grand Overlord districts, in the forgotten ruins between rings, Malrion Uroboros took his first breath in Hell.
The air of the lower realms hit him like a storm—thick with agony, history, lost souls, and raw, unrefined grudge-energy.
Hell felt him.
And for the first time in centuries…
Hell trembled.
A devourer had been born.