Infernal Court

The grand hall of the infernal court stretched out like a cavernous cathedral, its vast expanse illuminated by the eerie glow of torches mounted on obsidian pillars. At the far end of the hall, elevated on a dais of blackened iron, stood the throne of the King of Hell, a towering seat of jagged onyx and pulsating with an inner fire that seemed to breathe with malevolent life. From this highest chair, the King of Hell gazed down upon his realm with eyes that bore the weight of millennia, his presence commanding and inescapable.

Arrayed in a semi-circle below the throne were seven imposing chairs, each distinctly crafted to reflect the sin it represented. Lucifer's seat was a golden marvel, adorned with intricate carvings of celestial splendor. Mammon's throne glittered with embedded jewels and precious metals. Asmodeus's chair was a seductive blend of shifting forms and colors, drawing the eye irresistibly. Leviathan's was a coiling mass of dark, sinewy material, exuding a sense of lurking threat. Beelzebub's chair appeared bloated and festooned with grotesque embellishments, mirroring his endless appetite. Satanachia's was a fierce construct of flaming metal, while Belphegor's sagged with the weight of indolence, draped in tattered finery.

Below the lords' chairs were thirteen smaller but equally formidable seats, each occupied by a duke of the underworld. These lesser nobility were diverse in form and demeanor, reflecting the myriad aspects of torment and vice they presided over. Each duke's chair was unique, constructed from materials that bespoke their dominion.

The court's atmosphere was thick with the stench of brimstone and the oppressive weight of despair. The very air seemed to vibrate with the muted wails of the damned, a constant reminder of the fate awaiting those judged unworthy. In the center of the hall stood a raised platform, the stand where souls were brought to face their final judgment. Here, trembling and forlorn, they awaited the verdict that would seal their eternal fate.

Behind the platform, dominating the wall above the throne, hung a massive screen fashioned from the polished scales of a Leviathan, enchanted to display the life of each soul in excruciating detail. This screen flickered to life as the condemned soul approached the stand, revealing scenes from their mortal existence in vivid clarity. Every action, every sin, every fleeting moment of repentance or defiance was laid bare for the court to see.

Aurelius stood in the center of the platform, his eyes darting around the grand hall, his heart pounding in his chest. The torches flickered ominously, casting long shadows across his anxious face. 

Lucifer, Lord of Pride, remained silent, his gaze fixed on Aurelius with a look of detached superiority. To Lucifer, commenting on a mere mortal was beneath him; his prideful demeanor conveyed that he was above such petty matters.

Mammon, Lord of Greed, leaned forward, his eyes gleaming with a voracious interest. "Look at this one," he said, his voice dripping with avarice. "I wonder how much wealth he squandered, how many treasures he coveted. Perhaps there's something we can still extract from his greedy soul."

Asmodeus, Lord of Lust, shifted fluidly in their chair, a playful smile dancing on their lips. "Aurelius, was it? Let's see how he indulged his desires," they purred, their voice a silky whisper. "Mortals are always so fascinating in their pursuit of pleasure."

Leviathan, Lord of Envy, hissed softly, their serpentine form coiling with interest. "I sense much envy in this one," they said, their voice a sibilant whisper. "Always wanting what others had, never content with his own lot. Let's see how his jealousy consumed him."

Beelzebub, Lord of Gluttony, let out a low, rumbling laugh, his bloated form shaking. "Ah, another glutton for punishment," he said, his voice thick with derision. "How much did he consume in life, I wonder? How often did he succumb to his insatiable appetites?"

Satanachia, Lord of Wrath, clenched her fiery fists, her eyes blazing with fury. "Does he have a temper, this one?" she growled, her voice filled with barely controlled rage. "Did he let his anger rule him, hurt those around him in fits of rage? Let's see the wrath within him."

Belphegor, Lord of Sloth, yawned and stretched lazily, his heavy-lidded eyes barely open. "What a chore," he muttered, his voice sluggish and indifferent. "Another soul to judge. I bet he wasted his life in idleness, never lifting a finger unless he had to."

As everyone assembled, the King of Hell commanded the profile of Aurelius to be displayed for all to see. With a wave of his hand, a status window materialized in the air, glowing with an eerie luminescence like something out of a dark, infernal game.

Name: Aurelius 

Age before death: 67 

Soul strength: Corporal stage 

Soul purity: 5% 

Cause of death: Sacrifice for others 

Merit points:9999 

Achievements: Saviour of the world

At first, the lords and dukes glanced at the initial statistics with a sense of boredom. They saw nothing remarkable in the age, profession, or soul strength of Aurelius. Just another average soul, they thought. But when their eyes fell upon the merit points, a collective gasp echoed through the grand hall. 

"Merit points: 9999." The number blazed brightly on the status window. The lords and dukes, usually so composed, were visibly shocked. Such an astronomical figure was almost unheard of. Even achieving a fraction of that, 3333 merit points, was an extraordinary feat for any mortal. But 9999? It was beyond exceptional.

Aurelius, who had returned from the soul healing hall, had achieved a corporal form of his soul. The golden merits were hidden within him, unnoticed by all when he first entered the stadium. Had they looked closely, they might have seen the faint, golden shimmer radiating from his soul.

Whispers of admiration and astonishment rippled through the court. The lords and dukes, so accustomed to souls tainted by sin, found themselves gazing at Aurelius with newfound respect. The King's order for silence brought an immediate hush to the hall, but the interest in their eyes was unmistakable. They stared at Aurelius with an intensity that made his anxiety multiply with each passing second, his soul body prickling under their scrutiny.

The King of Hell cleared his throat, and the lords and dukes reluctantly retracted their gazes. His authoritative presence demanded attention, and the hall fell into a reverent silence. With a commanding tone, the King ordered one of his guards to play the life of Aurelius on the massive screen. 

The guard stepped forward, and with a touch of his infernal staff, the screen flickered to life. Scenes from Aurelius's mortal existence began to unfold, each moment a testament to his remarkable life. The court watched intently, preparing to judge the soul that had surprised even the most jaded of the underworld's denizens.