Laid looked around. Nothing but darkness surrounded him, and he could hear breathing—something lurked in this void with him. He tried to speak, tried to open his mouth, but nothing came out. In fact, he couldn't even feel his mouth, nor his body.
*What is this supposed to be? A fate worse than death?* Laid thought, a flicker of unease stirring in the emptiness.
Suddenly, eyes opened. A world materialized before Laid. A man stood above him, his pale skin almost luminescent in the dim light. He wore a suit that seemed oddly formal for such a strange setting.
"So this is the boy you decided to bring in," the man said, glancing over at his companion nearby.
The surroundings didn't catch Laid off guard. Honestly, nothing really did at this point. He had seen too much, endured too much. Strange symbols covered the walls, and crystals—red and black in color—littered every surface. The man standing before him had crimson eyes with two horns protruding from his head, marking him as something far from human.
"Yes, sir. I was hoping you could cure him. After all, you are a doctor, correct?" the companion asked, his voice tinged with desperation.
The horned man sighed, his expression grim. "I have to say, there are things even I cannot cure, and this might be one of them. This kid might remain a corpse forever. There's honestly nothing I can do to save him."
The other man's eyes widened in shock. "So you're saying there's nothing you can do?"
The horned doctor stared back, unflinching. "Nothing. I've tried every single healing potion the Demon King has provided to me, and he supplies me with the most powerful and valuable potions in the entire demon realm. Since those didn't work, I truly believe nothing will." He paused, his voice dropping. "Accept it—your son is gone. He's not dead, but would he even be considered alive either? Take the boy out of his misery."
The suggestion hung heavy in the air. "It would be better for him to be dead than to suffer, unable to control his body. It would be easier for the boy if you just killed him."
The father's eyes widened in horror. "Why would I do such a thing?"
The horned man stopped him with a raised hand. "Do you really want your son to live like this? He can't eat by himself. He can't do anything by himself. He can't even lift a finger. All he can do is look through his eyes and watch what happens, feel everything that's happening to him. To be honest, that's a fate worse than death."
Laid heard it—*a fate worse than death*. So this was what he was condemned to: being trapped in this brat's body, unable to control anything.
*Really?* Laid laughed internally. *You've got to do better than that. This is a fate better than death, or at least on equal footing. A normal person would think of this as absolute hell—which, yes, it is—but for me, it's nothing.*
Laid imagined the purple void and glared at it, at least mentally. *You have to try harder than that, Voice. Your 'fate worse than death' isn't really living up to its name. I could live like this and be perfectly fine.*
But suddenly, an electric shock bolted through Laid's body. He felt something happen—felt something pull him violently out of the young boy's body. He flew through walls at enormous speed, passing through people, through buildings, until he finally stopped.
The first thing he saw was a man standing over him with a greatsword.
"This is your end, Laid," the man declared, his voice cold and final.
Laid spat blood. He could move now. And somehow, by sheer coincidence, this demon shared the same name as him.
"I don't think so, Laid," he said, forcing himself to stand and rushing forward.
The man's greatsword instantly struck him in the side, knocking Laid backward into the scorched red earth. Dust flew up, creating a thick cloud that obscured the man's vision.
*Perfect, you idiot,* Laid thought, seizing the opportunity. He used the dust and debris to quickly circle behind the man with enormous speed and grabbed him by the neck. "If you really think that's going to be enough to take me down, you're an idiot. You created a perfect distraction for me to come behind you and end your life."
The man turned around, dropping his greatsword. "Laid, you are one of the weakest demons. I don't know what gave you the courage to fight me. I don't know if your balls finally dropped or something, but you—"
His leg was bleeding, but the man seemed otherwise fine.
"Stay in your place," the man said with a low, menacing voice. He punched Laid in the stomach, his fist going through and nearly out the other side. He pulled his fist out, and Laid fell to the ground. Dark blood pooled beneath him, rushing out of his body through the large hole in his stomach.
"But how?" Laid managed to mumble, his voice weak. "I'm stronger than you."
"So tell me, Laid, what happened? What gave you the courage to fight me? Usually, you're so scared, unable to do anything. So what brought you the courage to come and fight me when you know you are nothing? Answer me."
Laid remained silent, his jaw clenched against the pain.
"Don't be quiet now. Answer me when I'm talking to you, you low-level demon. Answer me!" The man's eyes turned blood red, fury radiating from him. "If you don't, I'll strip your body limb from limb, tear each piece of meat off your veins, and rip you to shreds slowly so you can feel every bit. Answer me, Laid!"
The man stared down at his fallen opponent, waiting.
"You really think you're going to let me speak?" Laid saw his leg fly through the air, and sharp pain coursed through his body. He nearly screamed but held it together, showing the emotionless expression he always wore. But despite his efforts, one singular tear fell from his eye.
"You're trying to keep up a facade, Laid? Maybe something changed in you. Maybe you decided not to be weak anymore. Maybe—just maybe—you found the balls you dropped so long ago and threw in the trash. Maybe that is it. Whatever the reason you think you're stronger than me, I'm here to tell you that you are not. You're a lesser demon. You need to remember that. Remember your place, Laid. If you don't, I'll make you."
The man stepped over Laid and stomped on his stomach. The hole hadn't even begun to regenerate yet, and the force of the stomp made Laid vomit blood. More blood spurted from the gaping wound.
"You're not going to say anything? Speak up!" the man demanded.
"You think this is enough to end me?" Laid said, still maintaining his emotionless tone despite the agony. "You could kill me for all I care. It doesn't matter to me whether I live or die. Go on, end my life right here, right now. Does it make any difference? You won't be able to hurt me when I'm dead anyway."
Laid didn't care about keeping a low profile anymore. He knew he was in a different body, but he didn't care about keeping the secret that he wasn't the owner of this body. He would show his true emotions, whether it raised suspicion or not.
"End my life. I know you will do it. But still, end it."
Before the man could grab his greatsword and cut off Laid's head, another man walked up.
"Morris, don't hurt the poor boy. Look what you've done."
Morris turned his head. He saw a large man with bulging muscles straining against his shirt. The man had pale skin with the signature red eyes and black hair. He looked more human than anyone else here.
"Do I need to remind you again not to kill the boy?" the large man said, his voice heavy with disappointment.
"It's a shame you care for him so much," Morris replied coldly. "He's nothing, and you know it. It's strange, Father—he decided to be bold. He wanted to grab me by the throat and use the smoke from me knocking him down as a distraction to end my life. Strange, coming from a weakling and scaredy-cat like him."
"But does that give you justification to hurt the poor boy like this?" his father asked, his tone firm.
"Yes. Yes, it does," Morris replied, walking past his father and picking up his greatsword. The weapon looked black in color, nearly absorbing the light from the slightly red-tinted sky. "And if you don't think it does, then you've honestly disappointed me. There's no way I could have been born by a weakling and a softie like you. You're a shame to the demon race."
Morris walked off, but he looked at Laid once more. "I'll let you heal up. Next time we meet, Father won't be coming to save you. Don't worry—I'll make sure of that."
Morris disappeared into the distance. Laid knew Morris wasn't playing around. With the amount of injuries Morris had inflicted, Laid understood he would be dead if they met again under similar circumstances.
But Laid didn't care. Fear had long since abandoned him.
After he healed up, he knew what he needed to do. He needed to explore this world, understand its intricacies, its laws, its dangers. He needed to get accustomed to this new realm he now inhabited. He needed to be familiar with every corner, every rule.
He needed to get used to the underworld.