Surviving in the Demon's Academy as a Human

Aiden leaned against the platform wall, his head resting on his hand as the group of demons in front of him jeered and spat insults. Their words were nothing but noise, faint echoes that dissolved before they could even take hold in his mind.

"You're just a pet," one sneered, leaning closer to the barrier. "A soft, pathetic human playing dress-up in Hell. Do you even know what survival means here? Or is your brain as dull as your face?"

Aiden didn't respond. His gaze drifted away from the group and down to the floor below. His attention was drawn to Seraphina, her golden hair catching the dim glow of the museum lights. The cluster of demons surrounding her seemed to swell by the second, their laughter and jeers growing louder.

"She's popular," he muttered to himself dryly. "Guess humans really are a rarity here. Or maybe she's just more... entertaining than me."

The corners of his mouth twitched into a faint smile, but it quickly faded. His thoughts wandered, slipping past the current moment. Despite only knowing her for a single day, Aiden couldn't help but feel a pull of sympathy toward Seraphina. She reminded him of himself—alone in a world that offered no kindness, no safety. Maybe, after all this insanity, they could become friends.

His musings were cut short when a tan-skinned demon with blonde hair sauntered into Seraphina's crowd. His goat-like horns gleamed in the dim light, and his confident smirk was surrounded by a gaggle of adoring women. They giggled and fawned over him, their eyes alight with admiration as though he were a prince.

Aiden straightened slightly, his eyes narrowing as he watched the interaction unfold. The demon, clearly someone of high standing—or at least someone who thought of himself that way—began to taunt Seraphina. Aiden couldn't hear everything clearly from his position, but the laughter that erupted from the crowd painted a vivid picture.

"Must be Zepharion," Aiden muttered, his jaw tightening. He remembered overhearing Lilith mention him—a notorious troublemaker with a reputation for cruelty.

The tension below escalated quickly. Seraphina, for all her defiance, seemed to be holding her ground, throwing sharp retorts back at Zepharion. Her voice carried up to Aiden in fragments, filled with fire and venom. He admired her bravery but couldn't shake the gnawing sense of unease creeping through him.

Then, it happened.

Zepharion's voice boomed over the noise, his anger erupting like a volcanic blast. With a sudden, horrifying motion, his clawed hand struck the barrier surrounding Seraphina. The protective field shimmered and cracked under the force of his blow.

"No..." Aiden whispered, leaning forward instinctively.

Another strike followed, and this time, the barrier shattered like glass. Aiden's heart dropped as Zepharion stepped through the broken field, grabbed Seraphina by the neck, and hoisted her into the air.

The crowd erupted in cheers and laughter, some jeering at Seraphina, others egging Zepharion on. He held her high, his cruel grin radiating triumph. "Look at this pitiful creature!" he roared. "Is this the best the human world has to offer? A weakling who can't even defend herself!"

Seraphina thrashed in his grip, clawing at his arm, but her strength was no match for his. Her defiant expression faltered, replaced by a look of desperation. She locked eyes with Aiden, her gaze pleading, screaming for help.

Aiden froze.

Her eyes bore into him, begging him to do something—anything. But he couldn't move. His hands gripped the edge of his platform tightly, his knuckles white, as fear rooted him in place.

"What can I do?" he muttered under his breath, his voice trembling. "I can't stop him. If I get involved, they'll turn on me, too. They'll tear me apart..."

He tried to convince himself that it wasn't his problem. That there was nothing he could do. That this was just the way things worked in Hell.

But her eyes...

Aiden looked away, forcing himself to stare at the cold, lifeless wall of the museum. He swallowed hard, his throat dry, but the image of her desperate face burned itself into his mind.

"This is Hell," he told himself, his voice barely audible over the roaring crowd. "I can't... I can't save her. No one's coming to save her. That's just how it is here."

Even as he said the words, they felt hollow. He clenched his fists, his nails digging into his palms as a wave of guilt and shame washed over him.

The cheers below grew louder, Zepharion reveling in his moment of dominance. But Aiden's mind was far from the noise. He was trapped in an internal battle, torn between self-preservation and the gnawing sense of responsibility growing inside him.

His legs trembled slightly, but he didn't move. He didn't look back down. And yet, no matter how hard he tried to push it away, Seraphina's eyes—those desperate, pleading eyes—refused to leave his mind.

Fuck it. He stomped his foot against the barrier in frustration, hoping for a miracle. The shimmering wall didn't even flicker, remaining as solid and impenetrable as ever.

Aiden's heart pounded as he watched Seraphina struggling in Zepharion's grip. Her gasps for air were audible even over the crowd's jeers. The sight sent a jolt of panic through him, but also something more—anger.

"Damn it!" he growled, pacing within his barrier. His fists clenched and unclenched as his mind raced. He had to do something, but what?

He kicked it again. Nothing.

"Come on!" he muttered through gritted teeth. Then, a memory flashed through his mind—the pistol Lilith had casually handed to him the day before.

"It's not just for decoration," she had teased, smirking as she placed it in his hands. "You might need it one day. Hell's full of surprises."

Aiden quickly reached for the pistol strapped to his waist. His fingers trembled as he pulled it free, the weight of the weapon foreign and intimidating. He glanced at the barrier, then down at Seraphina, whose face was turning pale as Zepharion's grip tightened.

"This better work," he muttered, aiming the gun directly at the shimmering field in front of him. He hesitated for a split second, then pulled the trigger.

Bang!

The shot rang out, echoing through the museum. The barrier flickered violently, a web of cracks spreading across its surface before it shattered completely, shards of glowing energy dissipating into the air.

The crowd below turned toward the sound, their jeers momentarily silenced by the unexpected noise.

Aiden didn't waste a second. He aimed the pistol at Zepharion, his hands steady despite the adrenaline coursing through him. His mind raced with justifications.

"He's not human. He's just like the rest of them. I've done this before... I can do it again."

He pulled the trigger.

The bullet sped toward Zepharion with lethal precision, aiming directly for his chest. For a brief moment, Aiden thought he had him.

But then Zepharion moved.

Faster than Aiden's eyes could follow, the tan-skinned demon shifted his position. His free hand shot up, his fingers closing around the bullet in mid-air with a sharp clink.

The crowd was silent wondering what was going on.

Zepharion stared at the bullet in his palm, his golden eyes narrowing as he turned his attention upward. He crushed the bullet in his hand, letting the fragments fall to the floor like dust.

Then, he looked directly at Aiden.

Aiden's breath hitched. The demon's gaze was cold, sharp, and full of malice. Zepharion's lips curved into a chilling smile as he vanished from his spot, leaving only a flicker of movement in his wake.

Before Aiden could react, Zepharion reappeared directly in front of him.

"Bold move," Zepharion said, his voice dripping with mockery. His fist was already swinging.