A young demon around the age of two or three sat on the dry ground. Demons matured a lot faster than humans, so although he was young, he acted like a young adult and knew as much too. The demonic realm was what some people called "hell". The young white haired boy looked up to the demons passing by. None even glanced his direction. He had ripped up pants, and his darker almost grey skin looked dirty and beat. His shaggy white hair had spots where his blood had stained it crimson and they matched his wrists where the chains hung tightly.

There were four classes of demons. The first class was for the demon king and demon lord, Demise. Then the regular demons. These demons were given power by their king, Demise. Then there were slaves sellers. No powers, but there to sell slaves and very, very poor. Then slaves who had no power and were only objects of abuse. The only people who could buy slaves were the king and the regular demons.

Speaking of which, here came the king. Merciless, hard, and emotionless, Demise walked through the streets, his fiery hair glowing off the dark skies.

'Please don't see me...' The young chocolate eyed demon pleaded in his head. He didn't want Demise to buy him. He'd seen some of Demise's slaves buy some things for the king, and the shape they were in was awful.

To the demon's dismay, Demise looked strait at him and walked over. The tiny demon child cowered and whimpered. The fact that Demise was approaching him was enough to scare the boy.

"What is your age?" The growl came from Demise.

"I am only two or three years of age." The child responded. He looked up fearfully to the king.

"Name?"

"I was born with none." The small demon looked to the ground shamefully.

"Did you have any parents?" This question was simple. Slaves did have parents. A man and woman were randomly chosen and forced to mate. The child would be born and taken to be abused for life.

"Yes..." But Demise meant if he knew his parents which he did.

"Shopkeeper, how much for him?" Demise growled.

"50 rupees." It should be an honor to cost as much meaning he was a good slave. The boy lost himself in a train of thought.

"Come along boy," The child didn't see Demise grab the chains and jerk before his face hit the ground. He really didn't want to be Demise's slave...

Three years had passed since that day. The boy was now five and the hardest working slave in the castle. There were many jobs, but the child could do all of his much faster than anyone else.

He had his beatings often, Demise tended to choose the boy over any other slave to beat and whip on a bad day. To say he was in pain was an understatement. He was in full force agony, yet he did his chores and accepted the crumbs of bread he received. He was ofter dehydrated and starved when the slightest thing went wrong in Demise's life.

Today he had to clean all 52 chandeliers, sweep, mop, then shine every floor tile in the castle, he had to clean and shine the knives, pick the skin off the whips, clean the "torture room" of the blood stained floors and walls, and feed the yellow chu chus.

All of this had to be completed with absolute perfection in 15 hours. Seemed like enough time, but perfection meant that not even a speck of dust littered the floor.

The white haired, chocolate eyed demon got the unstable latter and filled a wooden bucket with the cleaner and climbed to the gigantic ceiling. He then quickly sat on the chandelier- something only he could do because of his small frame- and went to scrubbing. The reason he could clean really quickly was because he could easily jump from chandelier to chandelier and while on hand sweeped the floor, the other mopped, while one of his feet shined. But the chu chus were the hardest.

In order to feed the chu chus, you had to grab a piece of food an stick your hand all the way into the chu chu to place the food before pulling your hand out. The yellow ones electrocuted you in the process.

But the child got all of his chores done with three hours to spare. The other slaves were jealous and they mocked him for being so fast. None of this went unnoticed by Demise.

One night, the child laid in the dungeons where the slaves slept and hummed to himself.

Boom.

Demise's pronounced footsteps echoed around him.

Boom.

The boy shivered and curled up on himself.

Boom.

He didn't want to be hurt anymore!

The child laid there and whimpered. Demise found the child in a corner holding his knees to his chest and shivering.

"Stand." And without second thought, the demon child did. "When I bought you, you said you did not have a name correct?"

"Yes master."

"Over these past years, I have noticed your amazing skills. Who was your father?"

"Master, I do not know. He was a slave like my mother and I." The child was curious on why his master would ask such a question.

"Tomorrow, you will wake up, and instead of doing your work, you will go to the training room and wait for me. Sit in the middle of the room and wait for me to get there. Do not be late." Demise turned leaving the confused boy to wonder, what was going on?