Satan's Little Helper

X X I - [ C H R I S T I A N A ]

THE GATES close behind me the moment I step in, and it's clear that turning back now is no longer a choice—if I had even considered bailing out Lilith's challenge, I would probably give myself a long pep-talk or tell Daemon that earlier so I didn't have to pick up his laundry or deal with those devils of his niece and nephews.

But I want to do this, so that's that.

Though I'm still a bit giddy about the fact that I had beaten Abigor in a fight, I know that I must now focus on what currently lies ahead of me, that being the obstacles that await me in the Inner Circle.

Walking further in, I spot a dark shadow coming my way, and I stand my ground, prepared to fight if it turns out to be a threat of sorts. As it gets closer, however, I notice that the shadow is actually of a dog's, its fur jet-black and eyes an innocent, warm brown. The canine's ears are pointed upwards like a wolf's, but God knows no wolf would ever look this sweet.

"Oh hey there, little fella! What are you doing here in this place?" I ask, scratching it behind its ears. The dog wags its tail excitedly, and the look in its eyes show full contentment. In the tone one would use to talk to a baby, I say, "Who's the good dog? You are, you are!"

Suddenly, its head jerks violently to one side and what once were brown eyes turn red, its teeth growing both in sharpness and in size. It attempts to bite off my arm, but thankfully enough, I pull it away just in time.

"Okay, you piece of shit! So maybe you're not the good dog!" I scowl, glaring at the mutt.

Somehow, in the few seconds I pulled my arm away, the dog had managed to shapeshift into something more monstrous, a creature that might cause you nightmares for at least a couple of years.

And that's when I realize;

That. Is not. A dog.

It's a fucking Hellhound.

Like a wolf, the creature howls, calling for its friends and and inviting them over for dinner—me.

Ha, just kidding.

As more Hellhounds start to respond to the call, I start to run away from the gathering group. They growl and pounce over one another, trying to be the first to get a taste of human meat.

I stumble over imaginary cracks and rocks, scared out of my mind with the thoughts of death by abnormally-sized German Shepherds.

Running through the rough terrain, I jump over a crevasse. For some hellish reason, my stamina is quickly getting depressingly low, and my muscles are already screaming for rest. Apparently, this level of Hell has its own rules, and sadly, I easily do not belong here—my body simply cannot stand the gravity in this place.

I realize that I cannot run forever. My body has limitations that even sheer willpower and fear cannot overcome, so I do what has to be done—fight.

I stop and turn around, ready to face the hungry pack of Hellhounds that are now less than three feet away from me. As soon as the first one jumps at me, I put my arm up, covering my face, and elbow it right in its own. It falls harshly onto the ground and whimpers, but its friends barely pay attention and instead proceeds in coming my way.

With a fling of my arm, I scream out the word "Galgongraph" and just like how it worked with Abigor during the battle earlier, the Hellhounds all fly across the wooded perimeter of the first circle and crash into things such as trees and large boulders.

Well that was easier than I expected.

I keep my eyes on the creatures in case they decide to rise once more, but they disappear into nothing instead.