Chapter 23: Demonic Kitten’s Torture and Trash Triumph

“Raaawr!!!!”

“Nurse! Hold it tight! It’s going wild!”

“I’m holding it! This thing’s strength is unreal—like an adult cat. It’s so hard to keep down!”

As the pain subsided and my dizzy head cleared from the shock, I opened my eyes to see two humans pinning me down, attempting something that looked like a biological experiment with strange tools.

The “medical” tools I’d seen in hell—these were eerily similar to the equipment hell’s mad doctors used to torture souls.

‘I need to get out of here now.’

“Raaawr!!!!”

The horrifying torture devices made my fur stand on end, and I kept screaming to be let go. But in this pathetic animal body, without a shred of magic, resistance was futile, and I ended up letting them stick a needle in my front paw.

‘It hurts… It hurts…!!! Argh!!’

It felt like something was being forcibly ripped out. These were definitely tools used in hell to interrogate souls. I’d heard the 24th dimension was a just world, but I never imagined such villains existed here.

What shocked me most was that these humans didn’t even realize their actions were evil. If they knew, I’d have recovered some magic, but not a single drop came through.

“Come on, be good. It’ll be over soon, just wait a bit.”

How much more humiliation were they planning to heap on me? Calling a demon “good”? That’s the ultimate insult for a demon. In hell, I’d have obliterated their souls for less. Fuming with indignity, I swiped at the doctor’s hand, but he dodged, and my paw hit the one with the needle instead.

“Raaawr!!!!”

Tears welled up from the pain in my punctured paw, but letting these mad doctors defeat me with torture would disgrace an archdemon. I forced myself to endure.

My last memory was the runaway soul and that woman carrying me to a place called a hospital. Why was I dragged to this torture chamber? As I pondered through the pain, a shocking realization hit me.

‘No wonder I marked this one for hell’s workforce… This soul is the worst I’ve ever met.’

Even Satan doesn’t drag a soul to a torture chamber right away. He at least offers food, chats, and gives blessings for a long, painful life as a beast. This soul? It sent me straight to torment.

“Bloodwork’s done. Now we need a urine sample.”

A urine sample? They want me to pee in front of all these people? This human is definitely a mad doctor from hell’s torture squad, reincarnated. They feed off shame, pain, and despair.

Growl.

‘I’m… I’m hungry…’

Even hell’s cruelest doctors feed you before torturing you, but not this cold-blooded lunatic. I gave him a pitiful look, begging for food, but it didn’t faze him. He kept torturing me as I pleaded.

“Meow…”

Did the runaway soul figure out my identity? Did it know I planned to kill it and set this trap? I should’ve noticed when it showed no fear against an archdemon like me.

It must’ve played weak, knowing my plans, and set this horrific trap for revenge.

Lost in thought, waiting for the torture to ease, the needle finally came out of my paw.

“Hmm, pretty healthy. For a street cat, it’s definitely in good shape.”

Was “healthy” a taunt? It sounded like they were confident I could endure more torture. Sure enough, the wicked human flashed a chilling smile and jabbed a long needle into my hind leg, sending another wave of intense pain through me.

“Raaawr!!!!”

“Hey, it doesn’t hurt that bad. Why the fuss? Stay still!”

If this doesn’t hurt, what kind of torture do they consider painful? In my 10,000 years as an archdemon, I’ve never experienced a day as painful and terrifying as this. What do they want from me to inflict such cruelty? I should’ve fled when it laughed off my demonic identity as a joke.

The woman assisting the doctor left, and he gave me a brief break, as if offering hope. That only deepened my despair—false hope is a demon’s bread and butter, after all.

“Meow…”

Why did I come to the 24th dimension so unprepared? Why did I underestimate this soul’s evil? I should’ve thought more. In that short time, I was flooded with regrets.

As I sat powerlessly before the mad doctor, the one responsible for my plight walked in.

“Is it healthy?”

“Its body’s normal. Just weak from not eating enough, but otherwise healthy.”

These humans, more demonic than demons, were calculating how much more torture this frail animal body could take. If Satan saw them, he’d beg to learn their evil ways.

“It’s done, but it was a handful—almost messed up. Looks docile but has a wild streak. Might be tough to raise.”

“I read most cats cause trouble. I’m prepared for some mischief.”

The mad doctor seemed to say I’d be fun to break. Should I run with these tiny paws? Dying cleanly on the streets seems better than dying under hope-fueled torture.

“Playful cats have playful charm, lazy ones have lazy charm. Each has its own appeal, right? It’s getting late. Raise it well. I’ll call about vaccinations in a week.”

“Thank you, you worked hard.”

Just as I planned to escape, the runaway soul grabbed my scruff and shoved me into a strange container, trapping me. Despairing, I steeled myself.

‘I won’t be their toy. No, I can’t let an archdemon’s pride fall like this.’

“Meow.”

I won’t go down quietly. I’ll hit that soul hard and drag it to hell.

And there, you’ll work with me.

Forever.

—

The runaway soul took me to its home. The place had a lonely, gloomy vibe, which I kinda liked.

‘Would’ve liked it more if it wasn’t a torture chamber. Is it not going to disturb my sleep?’

Pretending to sleep, I watched the soul’s actions. Surprisingly, it gently took me out and placed me on something soft. As it prepared kitten formula in a bowl, I quietly moved toward a box near the door to escape.

Inside the box, everything was neatly sorted. Unable to resist my demonic urges, I left just enough magic to maintain this kitten body, infused my claws with the rest, and shredded everything, rolling around to mix it all up.

‘This is chaos! Destruction! I’ve no shame before hell!’

The soul, spotting me, saw the mess and erupted in anger. I absorbed a hefty dose of magic from it.

Sweet—this is the magic from an enraged soul? It was far denser than what most souls emit through evil emotions.

“This… damn furball…”

But the soul’s anger didn’t last. The flow of evil emotions stopped abruptly, cutting off my magic recovery and leaving me in a half-charged state.

Cutting off an archdemon’s sweet magic supply is like denying an alcoholic their drink mid-sip. I resolved to keep tormenting the soul.

‘If I dominate its emotions, I can get pure, high-quality magic.’

It grabbed my scruff and locked me in the container, but I used the newly gained magic to unlock it and escape.

“Meow.”

‘Fool, sorting that mess from scratch. I’ll tear those bags again if I get the chance.’

While it diligently sorted, I moved elsewhere to torment it more and gain more magic.

Thinking of its future suffering made my heart race with excitement.