HUH!? The Demon Lord fell in love with me?

Ch3- Responsibility is not my thing.

[warning Graphic Violence - Detailed descriptions of violent acts, including but not limited to physical harm]

In the depths of Hell, the ground shakes with the constant rumble of explosions. Lower-category demons are always training, blasting massive craters across the endless, barren plains. Some of their blasts are strong enough to vaporize whole countries—if Hell had any countries.But Hell is infinite, boundless. What's a few blasts here and there?

What really bothers me isn't the chaos outside, though. It's the monotony of this post—the Gates of Hell. My job in general is to make sure none of the inhabitants escape and that the newly arrived dead souls in the waiting list don't find their way back to their home planets as ghouls or ghosts. That would be a waste of good soldiers. If trained properly, they could serve a real purpose in this realm.

Paperwork. Endless, tedious paperwork. I can't even remember the last time I left this gate. Before Earth even existed, I was promoted to manage this section of Hell, overseeing all souls from countless races across the universe. It's been eons since I've had a real challenge.

Suddenly, a familiar sound breaks through the endless din—a series of heavy stomps echoing from miles away. The ground trembles, but this isn't the usual chaos of Hell. These footsteps are deliberate. Calculated.

I know power when I sense it. And this... this is no lowly demon. I stand, straightening my back just as the building's roof begins to crack. Massive hands tear the ceiling apart as if it were parchment. A colossal figure looms overhead, then slowly shrinks until its size matches mine—though still taller.

A booming laugh fills the air. "Still buried in paperwork, Azazel?"

I glance up. Astaroth. Second only to Lucifer in this realm, his grin stretches wide, his eyes gleaming with amusement.

"I wasn't expecting you for another ten billion years," I mutter, tossing aside the latest scroll. "What brings you to my corner of Hell?"

"Not all news are bad, my colleague." His deep voice drops, turning conspiratorial. "Lucifer wants to see you."

My brow furrows. "Lucifer? Now? But... What about the paperwork? The souls?"

Astaroth waves his hand dismissively. "That's why I'm here. I'll cover your duties for the time being. You don't really want to keep Lucifer waiting, do you?"

Lucifer—the ruler of Hell. The strongest being in this realm, and not one for casual conversations. He rarely speaks to any of us. I hesitate for a moment, then nod.

"Fine. I'll go."

As I make my way toward Lucifer's throne, I can't shake the feeling that something is... off. Lucifer never calls for me. For anyone, really. What could he possibly want now?

I approach the throne room, an immense structure carved from obsidian, surrounded by rivers of molten lava. Kneeling before his grand seat, I keep my head down, waiting for his command. In his presence, no one speaks unless permitted.

"Azazel" Lucifer's voice is calm, but it carries a weight that would crush lesser beings. "Rise and look at me. This will be a long conversation."

I stand, my eyes meeting him. His gaze is cold, piercing.

"I am leaving this realm," Lucifer says, his tone leaving no room for doubt. "And I want you to rule Hell in my place."

For a moment, I can't speak. Me? Lucifer, the ruler of all Hell, leaving? The thought alone shakes the foundation of my being. "My lord," I begin, dropping to one knee again, "I am honored, but—"