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BAM
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SNAP
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CRACK
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THUD
That was the last one. Thirty Hell Knights dead. However, it wasn't achieved without injury. Then again, what was these days?
Doomguy, barely on his feet, was the last one standing. His body was covered in swelling bruises and infected wounds. The man never received any healing from his captors. He'd only be free of his physical exhaustion and misery when he died and was then given a new body.
Furthermore, the space marine was NEVER allowed to leave the arena. When he died, darkness enveloped his soul as a new vessel was conjured. Of course, it was always naked. The only protection ever given was the occasional shield that doubled as a chainsaw. The scarcity of defensive items extended to ones meant for offense.
While in this current body, Doomguy managed to last long enough to receive a weapon that shredded skulls and used the fragments as projectiles. The biggest issue, if it wasn't already apparent, is that the weapon relied on a resource that could only be obtained from the dead. However, it wasn't just Demon corpses that littered the combat area. Every past body of his was also among the rotten.
The Demons didn't clean the arena at all. If the smell bothered them, which was unlikely, they could just conjure barriers to keep it contained in the combat area. The space marine wasn't so fortunate. The aroma was a mixture of decaying meat, bodily fluids, and anything else that came out of himself and his opponents.
Although, the Demons did go through the trouble of collecting Doomguy's heads from time to time. They were used as decorations throughout the arena. His bodies were also collected, but only when they were killed in some spectacular fashion. Whether it was in the combat space or the rest of the environment, there was nowhere for the man to look to avoid seeing his deceased incarnations.
How long had the space marine lasted in the current vessel? It didn't matter. How long had it been since this all started? Impossible to determine. Did Doom make the flow of time within its soul the same as that of Heaven and Hell, or did it make it slower or faster? Regardless of the answer, nothing would be improved. In the end, there was no way out.
Yet, whenever Doomguy thought about the passage of time, it wasn't in relation to his imprisonment. He wondered what it was like for everyone else. How long had he been gone from their perspective? Days? Weeks? Months? Years? If Doom were accelerating time's passage, then maybe it'd only been a few minutes or hours.
No, that'd be merciful. Not for the space marine, obviously, but for those who cared about him. That supported the notion of Doom having the flow of time be equal or slower than what it was elsewhere. In a sense, it could kill two birds with one stone.
As Doomguy started collecting bones for his armament, he couldn't help but think about everyone. He hated it when that happened, as it only added to the anguish. Sadly, the soul yearned for that which it gained but was then taken. Anyone in the same position would do no different.
Was Angel Dust doing okay? Had he reached out to Molly for emotional comfort or even tried to contact the rest of his family? What about Katie? Was she distracting herself with work or hyper-focusing on trying to rescue the space marine?
Assuming everyone continued their training, it was possible that Nifty was being used for scouting missions alongside Daisy and Vega's drones. Cannibal Town was likely in an uproar after it all happened, and Rosie might've led them in some way or another. Like everything else, only speculation could be formed. That was no different for Octavia and the Goetias.
The Avian Demons were meant to be the "handlers" of Hell's nobility. In light of Doomguy, Flynn, and the Wretch's capture, maybe they were overseeing more than just Hell's elite. The Goetias could be in a leadership position for a hypothetical mission control or something. Again, there was just no way to know for sure; only ideas and imagination could-
BOOM
The arena's master fired off a signal. That was an indicator for the next round. Briefly, Doomguy looked at the monster. The Cyberdemon was sitting on its throne as it always did. Over time, it received impressive improvements to its cybernetic components.
"Summon him." The Cyberdemon commanded, speaking to the Archviles in attendance. Oh, yeah, the bastard spoke now. Could it always do that? Did the space marine legitimately care about the answer to that question?
The Gladiator round. Every five rounds, the Gladiator was summoned. This would be the first fight against it in the current body. Honestly, Doomguy expected to die. For some reason, the last four rounds were especially brutal. Imps, Pinkies, a new species called Prowlers, and then Hell Knights. The quantity of each round was absurd, which is why he was so badly bruised. Wasn't the point of the Gladiator fights to be a test for the Demon's growth as a fighter?
FWOOSH
The usual massive pillar of fire. The Demons sure loved a spectacle. The space marine managed to gather a decent number of skulls for his armament. With one loaded, the weapon was readied in preparation of-
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The silhouette was different. The shadowy shape within the inferno wasn't the Gladiator. It almost had a humanoid design, but certain features like visible horns and other details proved it wasn't the same. It was also adorning equipment, much like the Gladiator.
After a few seconds, the entity emerged. Striding forward was a creature standing at Doomguy's height. Its skin was gray, its horns were massive, and its body was adorned in...Praetor armor.
"Slayer..." A voice that was a mix between a hiss and a growl escaped the entity's throat and exited a mouth that was concealed by a metal mask. "This is the first day of many. The beginning of my true trials." It stated before brandishing a dual-bladed ax.
Interestingly, the blades were comprised of a bright red energy source that looked similar to the Demonic Crucible.
"However, my superiors have deemed it appropriate that I celebrate this milestone with an easy kill." The entity revealed, now pointing the weapon at the space marine. "Come, let me savor this slaughter. I intend to skin you alive, so do be kind and give me your best screams." It requested.
Doomguy had questions, but he knew there was no point in pondering them. Whatever this thing was, it was undoubtedly intended to be used against the people he cared about. Knowing that ignited his rage to its hottest point thus far. A moment later, both the man and the monster rushed each other, giving the crowd another show.
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SHICK
"Hello, Marine," Betruger greeted with his usual friendly smile as he pulled the soldier out from his compartment. "I'm sorry I've kept you waiting for longer than normal. We're starting to get things moving again, so everyone's been busy." He explained, gently putting one of his hands on the man's head.
Two sets of eyes missing their lids looked at the scientist. The man known as Flynn Taggart has become his captor's pet project. Betruger was turning him into a Revenant, but it was all being done by hand. So far, only Flynn's head, neck, and some of his upper torso had been worked on.
Of course, the soldier was still sentient during this process. Yet, Betruger grew tired of the noises rather quickly, so he removed the vocal cords. Scalpels and other precision tools were used to carve Flynn Taggart. Every last bit of hair, skin, and muscle tissue had been cut away from the bone. The skull was impeccably clean and smooth.
"Before we resume the stripping of your chest and shoulders, I want to start the wiring process," Betruger began as several drones floated over. Each one was carrying tools, trays, dishes, and everything else that was needed for the task. "Firstly, I'm going to cut open the top of your head. Don't worry, you won't black out or die. As I ready myself for the operation, my helpers are going to finish the preparations. I wouldn't want to be the only one who enjoys the reconfiguration of your brain." He carried on, now staring directly into the man's eyes. "Additionally, don't worry about any impacts on your mind during what is essentially a complex lobotomy. Your soul is going to be in a sort of limbo. Think of it like a literal out-of-body perspective. You'll be able to see what I'm doing while also feeling it. Your thoughts and emotions will function without restriction, too. So, don't worry that you might not get the intended experience." He concluded.
thump
With what little control he had, Flynn barely struggled. The activity was more akin to the last gasp and thrash of life from a beached fish.
"Oh! That's right, Marine!" Betruger exclaimed. "I almost forgot to put on our music. Thank you for reminding me. I'll be sure to start with something special since this is such an important step!" He told him.
Without walking away or doing anything perceivable, an audio system nearby came to life. Everything in this place was bound to Betruger, quite literally making him the God of the domain. A pleasant song of French origin soon flooded the air.
"Ah, Fascination~" Betruger blissfully sighed. "I hope you'll appreciate this song as much as I do." He said before getting to work.
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The Wretch is gone.