Hell's Gate was a good skill. It looked like a lifestyle skill, not even worthy of being called support, but it could actually be used as a portal in combat.
When he encountered an enemy he could not defeat, Russell could either duck inside himself or find a way to trick the enemy into entering.
Its drawback was that, in a world without Hell, there was no telling where the door would lead.
Now that he had the Devil Phone, with its twenty-four-hour hotline service, he could determine at any time whether the current world had a mythological background.
The best part was that he did not even need to top up the phone bill!
Russell stepped into Hell. Before him lay a black continent covered in crimson abyssal fissures, while endless magma churned beneath the ground, soaking countless wailing souls.
Columns of black smoke rose into the sky, and the pungent stench of sulfur filled every corner of the air alongside despairing wails and screams.
The high sky was shrouded in clouds formed from condensed black smoke. From time to time, flaming rocks fell from above. It was an exceptionally standard Hellish aesthetic.
Russell shook his head slightly. Compared to the Hells he had seen before, this world's Hell fell short by more than a little.
It was not that it lacked size. The Hell before him was vast, with sky and earth forming two planes; theoretically, its territory was infinite.
What dissatisfied Russell was that this Hell looked far too ordinary, completely devoid of imagination.
Even an ordinary person would know at a glance that this was Hell.
It was like eagerly setting off on a trip, only to arrive and find the destination no different from any other tourist attraction, with no distinctive features at all. Anticipation