The Lord of Envy

Chapter One

He groaned as he shook his head and slowly stood up. He felt physically hot. Like his insides were burning up and every point in which he ever had an injury was melting. But especially his neck. On the back.

He reached his hand back and felt the back of his neck and pulled his hand back in front of his face. It was red. There was so much of the god forsaken crimson liquid that it dripped and splattered on the floor at his feet. He watched for a moment before humming and simply wiping it on his handkerchief then folding it up and placing it back where it belonged.

He turned and started taking in the room. Tapestries of the most vile demons and monsters lined the wall. A few lamps and torches hung from pillars on the wall, seemingly projecting more light than they should have and lit up all the halls with little to no shadows in any corner. The air smelt burnt and ashy but he didn't seem to mind, simply breathing it in and enjoying the scent around him.

It mixed with the smell of the blood that still drenched his neck and he was reminded of the night he tore Vanessa's life from her body. And sighed happily as the memory of sadistically reveling in her screams brought him consolidation.

He shook his head once more, feeling an extra weight but brushed it off as an oncoming headache. He could hear more, smell more, and he acknowledged this. Yet he was focused on where he was, last he remembered was taking his life, in his apartment. He continued looking around the room before focusing on a throne in the center. Sitting upon it was the only other sign that where he was included any sort of sentient being. They seemed bored and appeared to have been watching Neo meander around their throne room. They sat up and leaned forward, almost studying what Neo was doing. He turned to face the them and hummed. He took in the details of the throne then finally acknowledged the one in the throne, but wasn't exactly interested in who the person was,

"Where am I?"

The person hummed and leaned back, "You're not exactly much for conversation are you? Not to mention I didn't even have to give you your sin... Not to mention you took lordship as soon as you got here... Impressive. Most would have gone mad with immediate power like that. Just what happened to you to make you so jealous?"

He stood there and thought for a second, recounting the words of the one in the throne, "Sin... Lordship... Power... Jealousy..." He went quiet for a second before staring at the one in the throne, "you have yet to tell me where I am. Although considering your wording I can only assume some place for the damned, particularly Hell am I correct?"

"... Smart too. Maybe you'll survive here. What's your name?"

He blinked for a second, deciding that he was right and he's in Hell, probably conversing with the devil. He thought about the fact that this was a throne room and so logically there'd be a society to rule over for what seems to be a king, so might as well keep it formal, "Hemotta."

"Very well Hemotta, Lord of Envy... I believe you have some members of your life you'd like to dispose of that also ended up here yes?" They waved their hand, his mother, Vanessa, and his father appeared before him. All were bound and couldn't move.

He stared at them for a minute before scoffing,
"Do you expect me to snap their necks? Choke them till their last worthless breath slips from their lips? Granted it's not as near as messy as tearing out their throats or slowly smashing their ribs so that the bones dig into their lungs so that they cough up the blood in their veins but still isn't near as quick and efficient."

The person who had brought the sinners in hummed and a dagger appeared and they held it out, to which it was taken and admired before he realized it came from thin air.
"... How did you..?"

"Magic."

"You're funny. How did you actually make it appear? what kinda illusion was it?"

The person remained silent as they had had given the actual answer to the question so they felt no need to elaborate. He stayed quiet, waiting for an answer to never come. Sighing he took the dagger and twisted it in his hand, admiring the craftsmanship and the details ingraved into the weapon.

He side glanced at the bound, damned souls before him. He weighed the options of who he would get rid of first. He narrowed it down to his father first. He didn't do much but it's what he didn't do that brought him to the death list for him. He could have helped. Could have protected him from his mother. Yet he didn't unless it got too far.

He walked around him, looking at the way he looked, what form he took. He looked relatively the same as the day he left. Yet he had what looked to be black tear stains running down his face. A small rain cloud hovering over his head, threatening to drench him at any moment.
He didn't care however. He stopped once he was behind him and put a hand on his soon to be ex father's shoulder. He knelt down and spoke almost directly into his ear. "... When I go to far why don't you tell me by letting your black heart stop..."

After giving his final cares for the man away, he slammed the dagger into his throat, just under his spine. His father screamed in agony as he cocked the knife back, pushing his spine slightly out. Removing the dagger he replaced it with his hand, almost stopping the bleeding.

The one in the throne half tilted their head, slightly confused by the choice of movement up until they heard a sickening crack. He was busy disconnecting the spinal cord from the skull. After doing so he put a foot on the body's shoulder who's life was hanging from a thin thread and pulled. He almost instantly noticed that pulling a vital and interweaved bone from the body was much easier than it should have been. The cracking and snapping as it gave away seemed unnaturally easy and inhumane.
He watched at the body just flopped to the side and he dropped bloody cartilage to the ground. He stood there, registering what he just did. He stared down at the body, and then at the spine, and then at blood and the muscles that hung out of the back. The lifeless eyes that just stared forwards.

He didn't want to see it anymore. It started a pit in his stomach that tossed and turned in a way that made him want to tear out his own insides. It made him sick that he had that kind of sadistic capacity. He put a hand over his mouth and turned away, his other hand moving to block the corpse from his view. The figure on the throne finally stood up and walked over to him, but stayed away from his outstretched hand.

"Well at least you cleaned up the mess from the first one."

He looked over and then yelped. The body was gone and yet there was a man now towering over him. "Where..?

"You did something that is called misting. It's something only the lord of envy can do."
He looked back and forth from where his father's body once rested and the man who decided he finally was interesting enough to really talk to. He went to take a step back, for once in many years out of fear, but his wrist was quickly grabbed by the man as he got closer to his face.

"... A sadistic killer... Yet still has his humanity... Hmm... Why don't you stay awhile?"

He opened his mouth to protest and he desperately tried to pull away. Yet the man's eyes flashed an odd color that he couldn't identify and he gained a severe splitting migraine and he was let go as he dropped to the floor. He went to hold his head and was met with horns that had seemingly still been working on growing from his skull. He started sobbing as his attention was still on the pain in his head and he curled into a ball. He closed his eyes and whimpered as he slowly was slipping into unconsciousness and felt someone rubbing his back.

"... Don't worry... I'll make sure you're okay... Welcome to Hell..."

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