For a brief moment, a surge of panic clawed at Damien's chest. Yet his face remained a study in precision—features chiseled with relentless focus.
The rising dread, though, whispered beneath that calm veneer.
'I was laughing just seconds ago,' his thoughts sneered quietly. 'Now, everything's turned grim. The trials would be far easier if I had a virtue—a gift, a spark of magic to lean on. Otherwise, why would they ever hand one out?'
He glanced at his mark: that halo with a line through it etched starkly into his pale skin.
His expression darkened. 'Damn it,' he hissed.
Before he could sink further into his thoughts, a harsh voice shattered the oppressive silence of Hell.
"Get off me!"
Damien's eyes darted across the trembling platform.
Around him, legions writhed in agony, their bodies tormented by an invisible, scorching fire. Some had grown numb to the relentless burn, while others still flailed in desperate, painful spasms.
Then his gaze fixed on two individuals.
One was a hulking brute—a tall, muscular man with cropped black hair—who had been poised to strike at another man, collapsed, and leaning in pain.
In an instant, the brute froze, his muscles convulsing violently as he crumbled to the ground.
"Ahhhhhhh! It hurts, it hurts!" he screamed, his voice a raw cacophony punctuating the barren air, as though the very floor beneath him had become his enemy.
At that moment, Evalyn's eyes swept to the scene.
With the measured grace of one who had seen it all, she lifted her armored arm to her forehead and murmured under her breath, "Every time."
The sight of the mighty brute reduced to quivering agony sparked Damien's unbidden, wry amusement.
Amid Hell's despair, even a moment of dark comedy pricked through his hardened exterior.
Almost immediately, Evalyn's gentle yet authoritative voice spread across the platform, silencing the cacophony as all eyes turned toward her.
"I forgot to mention," she began, her tone both soft and commanding, "that your sins aren't just weights dragging down your virtues' power—they are shackles. The mark on your body is a brand of your sin, a constant reminder. The torment you feel will only intensify if you indulge in the sin."
Her gaze lingered for a heartbeat on the man writhing on the ground before returning to the assembly.
"My guess is that his starting sin is violence. As he was about to unleash it, his marking wrapped around him like chains… You can see the rest."
The words struck Damien like a lash.
Not only did he lack a virtue to counterbalance his sin of deception, but now, every lie he spun would soon be betrayed by a searing, uncontrollable pain—a warning flare betraying his every falsehood to anyone watching.
He knew pain; he'd been forged in its relentless fire.
Yet the prospect of every deception triggering agony was a cruel new twist.
His body would betray him, tensing with every lie, a telltale sign to anyone trying to read him.
'It just keeps getting worse and worse,' he thought, the bitter irony of his fate echoing in his mind.
Yet her following words sparked a fragile ember of hope inside Damien's dark core.
"Your sins also grant you an ability—not one crafted for combat, but a perilous, double-edged gift. I advise caution in its use; every time you employ your sin's power, it tempts you further, as it's designed to keep you sinning. Each sin sown erodes your virtue, deepens your pain, and unleashes other unwanted side effects."
She exhaled deeply, closing her eyes as if the very burden of her knowledge weighed her down.
"I don't know why I'm telling you all this," she murmured, "if you press the mark on your arm, ancient runes will manifest and reveal every detail."
Without hesitation—his life, his survival, hanging in the balance—Damien pressed the mark.
Strange, luminescent runes materialized before him in that instant, suspended in the air like a spectral display screen.
Curiously, Damien knew that only he could see these inscriptions; when others activated their marks, no such vision graced his eyes.
Astonishingly, comprehension came as naturally as breathing in this forsaken place.
The runes unfurled their secrets in language he somehow understood. They read:
Damien Veyne: Hellbound
Trial Stage: Pre-first Circle
Starting Sin: Deception
Sin Ability: Deceptive Gamble—Your lies become 70% more likely to succeed; however,there is a 15% chance that your deception will rebound upon you, ensnaring you in its web.
Starting Shackle: The Veil of Lies – When you embrace deception, the Veil encircles your body and soul, inflicting searing pain with every falsehood. – Error: Without a magical virtue, the Veil's effect cannot diminish your spellcasting power.
Starting Virtue: None
Virtue Ability: None
Corruption Ratio: 100%
Damien's eyes danced over the runes with an unexpected spark of joy.
Part of that joy came from the promise of his sin's peculiar ability.
'My deceit becoming 70% more effective… that might push it to work 100% of the time,' he mused inwardly.
Damien had always been a natural liar—a master at weaving falsehoods. This ability, tailored to his strength, felt like a twisted gift.
Yet, as his gaze traveled along the rune-etched numbers and symbols, he slowed at the latter half of the inscription.
'But I must be cautious. If I were to twist someone's fate into death, could my deception backfire and rip my soul apart?'
The thought sent a shudder down his spine—a reminder that he'd rather not experience death again.
Another reason for his quiet satisfaction was the nature of his shackle.
Without any magical virtue, his mark could only inflict physical agony. He half expected it to shackle his sin ability, but it hadn't, leaving him with a smile.
And then there was the mystery of the words: "starting sin and starting virtue." They echoed in his mind with an almost tantalizing promise.
'If it's only 'starting,' does that mean I can earn another? Could a new virtue be added, unlinked to my deceptive corruption ratio? If it were separate, I could deceive without the implications of lowering the new virtues' power.'
'Also, what exactly is a 'circle' supposed to be? From what Evalyn, the dumb old judge, and these runes implied, it must be the trial itself—a gauntlet of combat and magic. Right?'
Though Damien didn't want to attract attention, his hunger for answers pushed him to raise his hand. Evalyn—the silver knight whose presence radiated calm authority—turned towards him and smiled.
"What is it?" she asked gently.
Damien felt all eyes shift in his direction as the tense silence rippled across the platform.
He took a moment, then spoke, his voice edging with curiosity.
"I have a few questions. First, the runes mention 'starting sin' and 'starting virtue.' Does that mean we can gain more sins and virtues?"
Evalyn nodded slowly. "Yes, that's right. Every circle is designed as a test based on a sin and its opposing virtue. How much you yield to sin versus embody your virtue in the trial determines whether you gain a new virtue, or suffer another shackle."
For a long heartbeat, Damien's mind raced.
'So there are multiple circles. Okay, that can work in my favor. But if the first circle tests deception, I'm practically doomed,' he thought grimly.
"You're quite sharp," Evalyn said, her tone laced with respect and mild reproach. "What's your name?"
With a mocking bow—a gesture he hoped would charm rather than reveal his true nature—Damien replied, "Damien Veyne, it's a pleasure to meet you."
No sooner had the words left his lips than a surge of excruciating pain tore through him. It was as if his very soul were being ripped apart piece by piece.
The agony forced a gasp from his lips, yet he didn't collapse.
Instead, his body tensed, and he straightened from his bow as though nothing had happened.
'Even a small lie like, 'It's a pleasure to meet you,' triggers the shackle? Or was it the bow?' he wondered in irritation and awe.
Wiping away the searing pain, he pressed on. "My second question," he continued, voice steady despite the torment, "if I were to gain another virtue, would it be linked to my starting sin's corruption ratio?"
Another spike of pain surged—a reminder that his body was a live canvas of consequences. Damien clenched his teeth, determined not to show weakness.
He had no virtue yet, using the word another implied he had a virtue.
Evalyn's silver hair swayed as she shook her head.
"No, it wouldn't. If you acquire a new virtue, a new mark will appear on your arm, with details of the acquired virtue, its opposing sin, and a fresh corruption ratio. Although every sin you indulge in will increase your corruption ratio, just not as drastically compared to indulging in its opposing sin."
A smile—half triumphant, half relieved—cracked Damien's usually impassive mask.
'Yes! Excellent. In the future, I can deceive without wrecking the new virtues corruption ratio too badly, as it won't be linked to my deception sin, but a new sin. Right now, all I'll have to worry about is managing that deceptive gamble ability… and the pain from my shackle.'
Evalyn's steady gaze then returned to the group.
"Any more questions? I'm happy to help."
Damien hesitated, then asked in a low tone that carried across the hush of the trial.
"Yeah, actually… what exactly does a circle entail?"