Class Expansion: Nine Hells!

Storm Heights, the City of Baator. Over a decade ago, this city had been built collectively by the tieflings, becoming one of the Cinder Empire's earliest territories. Now, with the passage of time, the once-crude settlement had undergone a complete transformation. The present City of Baator had expanded several times over. Towering, orderly buildings stood in rows throughout the urban districts, while the grotesque, lifelike carvings adorning the walls and eaves still reflected the infernal style inherited by the tieflings. Outside the city lay a steam train platform serving arrivals from the south. The tieflings' classical infernal aesthetic blended with the Empire's industrial style, creating a rather fascinating chemical reaction. Inside the City of Baator, throngs bustled through the streets. Its population had reached fifty thousand, making it quite a substantial city within the Empire's borders. Nearly forty percent of the residents were tieflings, but there was also an eclectic mix of humans, hobgoblins, ogres, half-orcs, and many other races—along with, of course, countless uncounted players. Situated on Storm Heights, the lands outside featured rugged terrain and volatile elemental activity, teeming with savage, ferocious monsters. There had even been incidents where train tracks were destroyed. As a result, the region had become a prime hunting ground for novice players looking to pick up quests and grind experience. This time, however, an even greater horde of players was descending upon the City of Baator—advancing across the ground, soaring through the sky, and tearing through space. Outside the City of Baator at the steam train platform, the ground began to tremble faintly as a beast of steel first appeared at the edge of the horizon. It roared across the wasteland before slowly pulling up to the platform, letting out a piercing whistle. "Choo—!" "Now arriving at Baator Station. Passengers, please remember His Majesty's benevolence and disembark in an orderly line." The conductor's crisp voice echoed through the train cars, but the moment the doors opened, the passengers surged out like a bursting flood, jostling and shoving past one another. "Charge!" "Move, move, move! If you're late, there won't be anything left!" "Old Wang, you're a fighter, big and strong! Muscle a path open for me!" "Those veterans are either flying or teleporting! Us newbies had to take the train and we're already way behind! Every second counts!" "Damn, there's way too many people here! If I'd known, I wouldn't have pinched pennies over exp and just killed myself to respawn here!" "Keep clogging the doors, suckers, I'm flying straight in!" A wizard player sneered and tore open a Fly spell scroll. His body instantly turned as light as the wind, his feet lifting off the ground. Suddenly, he cried out in alarm, "Ah! Which bastard just tripped me?!" Down on the ground, a rogue player had cast a rope that looped cleanly around the flying player's leg, yanking him down hard. "Get back down here, you!" "Damn it, it's Black Scum!" Heiye Shipian downed a Haste Elixir, wiped his mouth, and bounded forward like the wind. Weaving through the crowd like a phantom, he surged to the very front in the blink of an eye. "Hahaha, eat my dust, losers!" A berserker player threw his head back and chugged an entire vial of Rage Potion without hesitation. With a sharp rip, monstrous muscles burst through his clothes. "Aaaargh! Out of my way or die!" Eyes bloodshot, he shoved through everything in his path, barreling forward with unstoppable momentum. Other druid players summoned an assortment of wolves, pheasants, and brown bears, having them surround them to clear the way. In an instant, pandemonium erupted around the platform. Chaos reigned, turning the area into an outright battlefield as every player scrambled to get into the City of Baator ahead of the rest. Inside a VIP compartment on the steam train, Baron Ekmon, former tiefling captain of the guard who had returned to the City of Baator to visit family, gazed out the window with thorough disgust. Watching the players violently burst out of the carriages, he looked as if he had seen a ghost. "Cassius above... what kind of madness has seized these Starfallen now?" Having joined the tiefling guard ten years ago and spent years matching wits with players as a seasoned imperial, Ekmon was long accustomed to this nonsense, yet remained powerless to stop it. He could only let out a deep sigh. "*Sigh.* Better lay low for a bit. I'll go home later—it's not like I'm in a rush." By imperial standards, the *Long Live the Empire* train normally had a passenger capacity of six hundred, yet this particular run carried nearly two thousand people, the vast majority of them players. They had racked their brains and pulled out every trick: cramming inside the carriages, sprawling on the roof, or even hanging off the sides, turning themselves into train ornaments. Across the sky, players mounted on wyverns soared past; across the earth, players riding worgs galloped desperately; and outside the walls, spatial rifts tore open one after another... Players were arriving from every corner of the Empire with a single, crystal-clear objective: the Class Expansion: Nine Hells of Baator! Just hours earlier, imperial authorities had posted notices in every city, conveying a single message to the players: go to the City of Baator, and you can obtain the infernal power of devils! Infernal power might be an exceptionally hazardous poison that ordinary mortals fled from, but to players—it was practically manna from heaven! For the sake of stats and power, they would gladly swallow frost giant toes or chew on hag scalps; what was signing a pact with a devil in comparison? Besides, becoming a Hell Knight, a pact-bound warrior, or sprouting devil bat wings wasn't terrifying to players at all; it looked outrageously cool and hit all the right spots. Consequently, over a million players across the Empire were beside themselves with joy, stampeding headlong toward the City of Baator like a walking humanoid calamity. "City of Baator! Hell expansion! Here I come!" Charging at the very front, Heiye Shipian let out an excited cheer, looking toward the City of Baator. But his face instantly stiffened. He was flabbergasted to see that a queue stretching for miles had already formed outside the gates. "These bastards... how did they get here so fast?" Heiye Shipian stroked his chin, gritting his teeth. Then he drew his cloak close, concealing his form within the shadows. Atop the tall city walls in the distance, a tiefling guard held a megaphone and shouted, "Citizens, please form an orderly line to enter the city! Everyone must undergo inspection at the gates—" Yet amidst the shadows near the walls, Heiye Shipian scoffed and muttered to himself, "Rules? I've never cared about those. Winning is all that matters! These fools are so stupid, still standing in line. The truly smart guys have already claimed their devil pacts!" With that, he merged into the shadows, using his Arcane Trickster abilities to slip past the checkpoint and sneak directly into the city. Right then, accompanied by the howl of rushing wind, a ferocious streak of blood-red light plummeted from the sky. *Slash—!* Heiye Shipian was forced out of hiding in sheer terror. He tried to scramble away, but the bloody light moved far too swiftly to evade. Blood sprayed skyward as Heiye Shipian was cleaved cleanly in two. A pool of gore spread across the ground, centered around a deep, jagged fissure in the stone. "How... how is this possible...?" Clawing at the earth, Heiye Shipian dragged his upper torso forward an inch, trembling as he choked out his final words before breathing his last. Presently, the players noticed Heiye Shipian severed in two and burst into gloating laughter. "Isn't that Black Scum?" "What Black Scum? You gotta call him Ol' Black now, or Heiye Fifty-Fifty." "Haha, headshot last time, chopped in half this time! Truly satisfying and delightful!" On the walls, the tiefling guard continued blaring into his megaphone: "To maintain order in the City of Baator, Duke Mezrolash, Minister of the Imperial Ministry of Public Security, has personally arrived to oversee operations. Please abide by imperial laws and regulations, or face the consequences—" "Look up there!" The players looked up in unison. At the apex of Baator's spire gatehouse stood a tiefling clad in ornate armor and adorned with imperial medals, gazing down upon the crowd below. He held a blood-stained greatsword, his pitch-black eyes cold and merciless. This was none other than one of the Empire's three dukes and leader of the tieflings—Mezrolash. "He came too..." "Watch it, watch it." "No wonder Black Scum got cleaved in two. It's the starter village security captain." The players immediately tensed up, shelving their petty schemes and obediently falling into line. After all, Heiye Shipian severed in half was a stark warning right before their eyes. Watching the sea of Starfallen crowded outside the city, Mezrolash sheathed his bloody greatsword across his back, crossed his arms, and offered a rare smile on his habitually indifferent face. "To think... so much time has passed." The tiefling felt a wave of sentimentality. Ten years ago, he had used force to intimidate the players just like this, back when the Cinder Nest was merely an obscure monster faction in the Northlands. Now, times had changed. The Cinder Empire had long since reclaimed its ancestral Northlands, the red dragon's wings cast their shadow across the entire Great Anzetta Waste, and the whole Feanso Continent trembled in shock and dread. He had never imagined he would rise to such heights, wielding authority over the fates of millions, and even commanding their nominal ancestors—the devils of Hell. Once, all he had wanted was to lead his people to survival. With these thoughts, he glanced once more at the chastened Starfallen before turning to descend the gatehouse stairs. He still had plenty of business to attend to in person. ... City of Baator, the Infernal Exchange. This towering building, constructed over several days by hundreds of contract-bound devils, radiated a thick infernal aura. Within its expansive hall were murals depicting scenes of Avernus, lifelike stone carvings of devils, and grotesque sculptures of petitioners. Even tieflings, despite being fiendish scions, rarely favored architecture with such a heavy infernal atmosphere. The players, however, were enthralled, their queue stretching almost entirely out of the city. European Emperor stood near the front of the line wearing robes bearing the insignia of Magic Coin, his face flushed with excitement. "Tsk, tsk, look at this crowd. Makes sense, though. According to insiders, this Nine Hells expansion from the devs is as badass as it is strong, and hardly has any hard requirements..." Looking back at the endless line trailing behind him, European Emperor patted his chest in relief. "Good thing I'm in a top guild with plenty of intel channels. The guild master tipped us off first thing in the morning..." Yet at the thought of his guild master, European Emperor scratched his head, looking a little uneasy. Just a little while ago, he had posted that video of Charlotte disguised as a beauty seducing a noble onto the player forum. Shortly afterward, Charlotte had notified him about the class expansion. Did this count as biting the hand that fed him? *Well, I posted it anonymously, so... it shouldn't be a big deal,* European Emperor reasoned. With a nervous heart, he opened his interface and pulled up the anonymous thread he had made. Thousands of replies had already poured in as curious players gathered to laugh at the prestige guild master's antics. "A maiden's blush beats any sweet words—and so does a crossdressing bro's." "As expected, only men truly know what men like best. I hereby declare Charlotte the number one beauty in Elezerg and my 127th wife." "I'm questioning my sexuality. Is it possible Charlotte really is a girl and just dropped the act this time?" "Holy shit, Charlotte looks this good in drag? Guess I have no choice but to join Magic Coin now." "I'm finished." "Wait, bro above me, what are you doing? Man, you must be truly starving." "Anyone who can see this picture and resist rolling their Old Beijing Chicken Roll is a certified saint." Reading this, European Emperor couldn't help bursting into laughter, feeling a sense of vindication. "Hahaha, these forum bros are freaking hilarious—" Suddenly, his heart lurched. His expression froze, and the hand scrolling through the pages began to tremble slightly. —For he saw a personal reply from Charlotte, the guild master of Magic Coin himself. "European Emperor, you're fucking dead!" *How is that possible?!* *I clearly posted it anonymously, and that video was a one-of-a-kind recording. How could Charlotte possibly know it was me?* Panic crept into European Emperor's heart, but clinging to a shred of wishful thinking, he opened a private chat with Charlotte, attempting a dying struggle. European Emperor: "Guild Master, you misunderstand! I really wasn't the one who posted that video! You can't go slandering an honest man!" Charlotte: "Heh heh. [Sneer]" European Emperor: "Seriously, Guild Master! You know me—I, European Emperor, have always been open and aboveboard! How could I ever stoop to such dirty tricks? I suspect Wangquan planted a mole in our guild!" Charlotte: "You bastard, why don't you listen to that video you posted again?" "No way..." European Emperor's eyes widened. He reopened his saved copy of the clip and listened closely. At the very end, there was an unmistakable, muffled snicker in the background. And within Magic Coin, only he could produce such a sound—his laugh was universally recognized as cursed. Cold sweat instantly beaded across European Emperor's forehead. His brain worked in overdrive as he furiously typed away in the chat box. European Emperor: "I've been framed, Guild Master! Someone deliberately edited my voice into the video!" Charlotte: "Heh heh. [Smile]" European Emperor: "That mole is utterly despicable, trying to sow discord between us and ruin the unity of Magic Coin!" Charlotte: "When you get back, let's have a nice, long chat about this. [Smile]" Staring at that ominous smiling emoji in the chat, European Emperor's heart sank with a terrible sense of impending doom. Soon, however, a pungent stench of brimstone and smoke caught his nose. European Emperor looked up to find that he had reached the main entrance of the Infernal Exchange, where a stone gargoyle sculpture overhead seemed to eye him greedily. Over by the exit, several players had already sprouted devil horns and leathery bat wings. Clutched in their hands were still-warm infernal contracts, their faces radiating smug pride. In mortal eyes, they had been corrupted by Hell, deformed into hideous devilish fiends. But to the players— "That looks so fucking badass..." European Emperor swallowed hard, his eyes glued to those lucky bastards who had signed pacts with devils. He clenched his fists, steeling his resolve. *To hell with the rest! The most important thing right now is locking down my class expansion!*