The demonic realm wasn't a simple world. There was much to learn, much to discover and much to fear. Darkness was allowed to cover and descend without objection: dowsing the atmosphere in shadow and mingling with the red glow from the constant volcanic activity, forming a deadly picture of apoplectic doom and demise. It had a certain gory beauty to it that could fool the wisest of men, because this was a place where one step could be your last, demonic or not. Satan did little to defend his people, and therefore Hell was not a refuge in any sense or form. 

Evil creatures from ancient times dwelled in the pits and the caves, banished from the Earth by God because of their destructive malice. But Satan allowed them to thrive in the darkness, feeding on tortured souls and their captors a-like. The demons themselves were cunning, twisted beings who knew only the path of selfishness. Demons of lust, envy, and greed to name just a few roamed the land in its entirety. There were witches and seductresses; possession demons who took hold of the body of a victim to use for their dark intentions; and warrior demons who were bred to fight against angels and the power of God. 

The latter were extremely rare and I was classed as one of them, even though in reality I was a Hybrid and nothing but. It took years of training but eventually my kind became the most powerful of demons, second only to Lucifer. If anyone had any major problems it would be dealt with by us, because we had climbed to a position of respect that enabled us to have some sort of authority over the rest of the Underworld. But then again, there was no such thing as justice in Hell, and most of the time there wasn't any help provided: we didn't have time for their crap. 

Hell was a place of loneliness and despair. You were on your own whether you were dead or living, and there was no changing that. 

Mount Lucifer and the pits of despair were only small parts of Hell. It was so much larger and expansive than one could imagine. There were places of demonic death and birth like there were graveyards and hospitals on Earth, except in Hell's case they were not peaceful or safe in any way possible. The demonic graveyard was actually a lake of blazing fire, torching the vanquished demons who had been unfortunate enough to come across God's power or some sort of deadly circumstance. 

But these demons didn't die. Demons couldn't die. They just slowly regenerated their bodies in the scorching fire, enduring about five hundred years of pain to return to the full-form they once were. 

And the birthplace of new demons wasn't any better. The 'Fields of Ahaz' were a complete and utter battleground, carnage in every corner of dead grass possible. New-borns were planted as eggs by the power of Satan and took two years to grow and hatch. But once these new demons were born, they were attacked by their own kind: famished scavengers who had resorted to cannibalism to curb their pangs of hunger. Higher class demons like me fed on human food to blend into society, but general demons fed on suffering and pain of tortured souls. Sometimes this was unavailable or not enough for certain individuals and therefore they hunted for new-borns, whose blood gave strength to the hungry. 

The whole process was how demons became so deadly and evil. Satan intended it that way. It took ten years of running and hiding in the Fields of Ahaz before a new-born became an adult and therefore went off the menu. Only the strongest survived and therefore flourished. It was something that I had been lucky enough to not be a part of, and it made me even gladder I wasn't born here. 

I didn't think I would be capable of any human emotion if I had endured what demons like Dev had went through. He refused to talk about it: said it was too painful, said he had blocked out his memories of the Fields and didn't want to revisit them anytime soon. I wasn't one to pry so I kept quiet, but a little part of me was still curious and I wondered what kind of things made him want to leave Hell for Earth almost entirely. My reasons were obvious: when something forcibly stole your humanity away from you, you didn't want a daily reminder of it. 

Even now, as I stared up at the crimson-stained sky of darkness, I felt a twinge of bitterness. Hell inspired my anger and fired up my rage. And it was exactly what I needed. 

I had arrived at a building that looked rather ordinary for a place like the Underworld. The brick walls and the automatic doors were ridiculously humane, funding the idea that this building was based on Earth-like design. The entire exterior wouldn't look out of place in a bustling main street of a capital city. 

But the interior was the definition of supernatural. La Palestra was an official training centre for demons and contained all sorts of evil, power-building techniques. I had spent much of my demonic life inside of this place and I was glad for it: I wouldn't be half as strong as I was today if I hadn't trained as much as I did. But I hadn't used my powers in a while, and I was itching to let go of my restraints necessary for the human world. I wanted to feel the energy and the strength burn through my veins like roaring flames, blasting my anger away from me and onto a defenceless target. I needed a release and this building was the best place for that. 

The automatic doors swung open for me as I neared the entrance, revealing a sparsely furnished reception that held only a desk and a metallic lift to my right. The room looked normal at first glance, but upon closer inspection the white-wash walls dripped with a crimson substance that held rather sinister qualities. 

I strode over to the lift and pressed the button, waiting with an impatience that could only be quenched by glorious violence. After the week I'd had with all the Darcy Robbins crap and the obsessive behaviour towards Carmen, I needed some normality: an outlet that I was familiar with and one that I knew worked in getting rid of my stress. La Palestra had exactly what I wanted.

I entered the lift when it finally appeared. The reception was the top floor whilst all the other training levels were down in the depths of Hell, the underground of the Underworld. The buttons on the lift went all the way down to level thirty but I pressed none of them, instead taking a special key from out of my pocket and inserting it into a slot underneath the last 'available' level. Warrior demons had their own floor that no one apart from them could access as it was fitted with the best equipment, perfect for the kind of power Warrior's had potential for. 

As soon as I turned the key and removed it, the lift plummeted downwards and fell like a failed rocket. The speed used to make me feel sick to the stomach, but after such an extensive amount of use I didn't feel anything anymore. Seconds later the lift stopped and I was ready.

The doors opened to reveal a massive room that stretched far and wide, the charcoal-black floor and steel walls seemingly never ending. The place was completely empty, which wasn't surprising because everyone was usually darkening the human streets in the night time. But the lights were on and everything I needed to see was visible. 

The hall was sectioned into areas of training. Towards the back stood angel-like figures that produced a Godly-like power we had to fight against, setting the intensity depending on our independent strengths. A room of lasers was somewhere to the left, the harmful beams testing our shifting abilities; and another area focused on stealth by getting us to steal a diamond without setting off alarms. Only a handful of us had managed to get that prize jewel, and mine sat proudly in my office for everyone to see.  

And that was just a few of training areas we had. The programme was very varied and prepared us for a lot of difficult situations. There were also a handful of private instructors who helped us to develop our powers specifically, and at one point I had been one of those trainers. It was quite a fun job to boss around stuck-up demons for a living. 

But I had become too busy for that. They were the good old days. Long-gone now.

Despite of the variation of training facilities, I only wanted to do one thing which involved utter destruction: target practise. It was the first area on my right, and was probably the biggest part of the Warrior section. Dummies were stationed in various positions: some moved, others were frozen soldiers of plastic; whilst the rest were embellished with supernatural properties, such as the ability to breathe fire and become invisible on command. 

They were always the most fun destroying. 

As soon as I moved close enough the entire area lit up like Christmas lights, and suddenly I grinned with excitement, glad to be back in the arena and fighting like the gladiator I was born to be. I hadn't used my powers in a while and I felt pretty rusty and unpractised. 

Stretching out my arm, I felt power blaze through my veins like streaming lava from the volcano within. It was building and building and suddenly I felt the blaze of victory as a ball of flame appeared in my palm, the power of the demon released at last. I drew back my flaming hand and thrust it forward, creating a stream of unrelenting fire that scorched everything within it's path to pieces. Electrical impulses started to build up within my other arm and soon enough bolts of lightning were shooting out of my left palm, obliterating anything that wasn't destroyed by the burning stream of fire coming out of my other hand. 

The manipulation and creation of fire and electricity was a fundamental power of any warrior demon. Satan had gifted our kind with this black magic to combat the holy power of God and his angels. Higher-level warrior demons also had other, more specialised powers, but these were secretive gifts revealed only in necessity. Knowledge was power and the unknown could be easily used as a weapon. Keeping other demons guessing was a fundamental element in building up respect, created by inspiring fear due to the lack of knowledge of one's extensive power. Even though demons tried to deny emotion, they all feared. And there was nothing they could do about that. 

I cut out the streaming force of energy once I saw that everything in my path was destroyed. The release had been what I needed and I felt calmer, my mind clearer, as I stepped back from the reckless destruction I had just caused. 

I was about to turn away to go, when I heard the sound of someone clapping to a slow, sarcastic rhythm, goading me to renew the previous anger I had worked hard to forget. Then the voice of someone I loathed to be near thundered through my eardrums like crashing waves on a blackened night. "Well that was quite the show, Mr Axon."

Disgusted and completely exasperated, I turned around and was faced with the most arrogant, the most loathed, and the most bloody annoying demon any one could every encounter in the Underworld. 

Maximus.