Havoc in Hell

"This is the treasure you claimed was worth the souls of twenty mortals?" In the dim alleyway, the devil eyed the weathered clay pot a short distance away. Frowning slightly, he turned a dark, scowling glare toward the imp. Dick offered an appeasing smile. "Lord Uriel, how would I ever dare deceive you? You are the master of the Modin Casino. In the entire twelfth ring of the Bronze Citadel, who would dare show you disrespect...?" Uriel spared him a cold glance and signaled with his eyes. Instantly, a scalp-numbing clatter of popping joints echoed from overhead as two massive, grotesque shadows engulfed the imp. The two horrors resembled skinned humanoids whose desiccated hides clung tightly to their skeletal frames. They possessed terrifying skull-like heads and scorpion tails, the surrounding air thick with the foul stench of rot and decay. Their elongated tails were formed from linked segments of bone, terminating in massive, razor-sharp barbs resembling hook sickles that glinted with a chilling light. Dick collapsed to the ground in terror, scrambling backward on hands and knees, practically frightened out of his wits. "Th-these are... the legendary bone devil hook sicklers! Rumor has it the Modin Casino keeps eighteen of them to impale the hearts of defaulting debtors and hook their souls right out!" Bone devils, also known as osyluths, were among the most formidable lesser devils. Driven by hate, greed, and envy, they served as cruel taskmasters throughout the Nine Hells, and the sickle-bearing reapers were the elite among them. Here in the twelfth ring on the Bronze Citadel's outermost rim, the mere presence of bone devil hook sicklers was enough to make any hopelessly indebted degenerate gambler tremble in terror. *Creak, crack...* The massive venomous tails swayed before the imp, poised to strike at any second. Uriel stepped forward and leaned down slightly, curling his lips into a seemingly benign smile. "Dick, those who lie to me always die agonizing deaths. Take your friend Claude—that ridiculous bearded devil has already been turned into a bone ornament." The imp knelt shivering on the stones, his voice frantic with terror. "My lord, my lord, I truly didn't deceive you! That really is an invaluable treasure!" As if to corroborate the imp's words, the clay pot's surface suddenly lit up, tracing intricate, bizarre patterns. Smoke drifted from the mouth of the vessel, coalescing in midair into distorted human faces. Their expressions were twisted in sheer terror, mouths agape: "Save me! Save me—!" A wave of fury and despair washed over the alley, threatening to engulf everything around them. "Such rich soul energy!" Delight flickered across Uriel's face. He turned toward the pot, his pitch-black pupils gleaming with insatiable greed. To his senses, the pot actually housed over a thousand mortal souls—far exceeding the twenty the imp had claimed! *A mere imp, what an ignorant fool!* Uriel rejoiced inwardly. If he offered these mortal souls to the ruler of Ring Twelve, he might be promoted straight to greater devil, freeing him forever from rubbing shoulders with filthy gamblers. Dick wore a similarly covetous look, yet whispered, "Lord Uriel, now you see why I didn't bring the pot to you directly... A frail imp like me flaunting such a prize through the streets would attract no end of greedy eyes." "Well done! Hahaha, you did very well!" Uriel paid the imp no further heed. His eyes shone feverishly, fixed on the clay pot, and he hurried forward. Drawn by the dense aroma of souls, even the two bone devils stared hungrily at the jar. Thick, foul saliva dripped from their jaws, and their heavy tails swayed slowly back and forth. *Creak, crack...* The alley sank into silence. The air grew thick and viscous, almost solidifying. Although Hell's hierarchy was rigid, every devil harbored fierce ambition to climb the ranks and usurp their superiors, constantly watching for an opportunity to turn on them. And right before them lay over a thousand mortal souls—a ticket to rising as a greater devil! What was more, Uriel was merely a lesser devil like them. There was no real gap in tier, only contractual and operational ties, meaning betrayal carried no psychological burden whatsoever. As though sensing the bone devils' thoughts, Uriel's eyes turned vicious and his expression hardened. "Hmph. Presumptuous curs, do you really think I lack the means to keep you in line? I am your master and the ruler of the Modin Casino!" *Whoosh!* With a sweep of his robes, Uriel produced two yellowed skulls and began chanting a raspy, venomous incantation under his breath. "Aaagh!!" Instantly, the faces on the skulls contorted in agony, their jaws stretching wide to emit ear-splitting shrieks. Both bone devils clutched their heads with their claws, their faces warping as they unleashed wretched roars of pain. Uriel slowly tightened his grip, grinding the two skulls until fine fractures spread across their surfaces. The corners of his lips curved in a sulfurous sneer. "I originally intended for you to serve as my faithful hounds for eternity and accompany me into the inner rings... But alas, you bone devils—" Uriel brought his boot heel down hard, crushing the skulls against the stone. A cold smirk played across his face. "—are utterly brainless! No matter how greedy or resentful your hearts are, you should consider whether you have the strength to back it up!" With the skulls ground to dust, the bone devils' massive, monstrous forms abruptly collapsed, dissolving into piles of white powder on the ground. Satisfied, Uriel strode forward and gingerly cradled the clay pot in his hands. Inhaling the intoxicating scent of fear and despair, he basked in ecstasy. "Splendid, absolutely splendid! What pure, robust souls..." The devil stroked the carvings along the surface like a lover caressing his paramour. Suddenly, his gaze froze as he caught sight of an ominous crest etched in the corner. "Wait, this is... Bel's crest?" Uriel's expression morphed instantly into sheer horror as he reviewed what had just happened. No, how could he have been so irrational? To execute his most loyal, capable subordinates on a whim, and touch an unknown artifact without a single precaution? A spell! His mind had been clouded by magic, reducing him to a greedy, shortsighted gambler! He tried to set the jar down, only to find an unseen, formidable force binding his body. He stood frozen in place, unable to move a muscle. Uriel could no longer maintain his composure. He snapped his head around, his face contorted in vicious rage. "Damn you, imp! You deceived me! No, it's not just you..." The devil felt the light vanish as a towering shadow fell over him. Turning stiffly, Uriel looked up into the grinning face of a massive, muscle-bound giant covered in dragon scales. A fist larger than an earthen casserole tore through the air, shattering the evil abjuration spells warding the devil. *Smash!* ... "You vile maggots, you lapdogs of Bel... Let me go! I am the master of the Modin Casino! When my subordinates track you down, you'll beg for death!" "Tied up and still running your mouth? Beat him!" *Pow!* "Aren't you afraid Lady Zariel's patrols will catch wind of this? The moment they arrive, you're dead!" "Heh, we've got an infernal barrier personally bestowed by Bel. Scream until your throat bleeds—no one's coming to save you!" *Whack! Whack!* "Honored guests from afar, we could be friends! Partners! Don't you want boundless wealth and immense power? Untie me, and we can discuss this properly..." "Damn it, you're a prisoner and you still want to sit at the table with us and babble? You really don't know what's good for you! Keep beating him! I'll handle the torture!" *Thud! Thud! Thud!* "My lords, my lords, I was wrong! I shouldn't have coveted your treasure! Please spare me! I—and the entire Modin Casino—will fully cooperate!" "A minute ago you were acting tough, and now you cave just like that? When things are abnormal, foul play is afoot! There's something fishy about him. Hit him harder! Let me give him a taste of true bliss!" *Bam! Bam! Bam! Bam!* "Oh, and there's this thing..." "Wait, what... what are you doing? I said I'd cooperate! My lord, please, don't—Aaaagh!" The sizzle of searing flesh accompanied the devil's agonizing shriek. Grinning wickedly, Langlibaitiao pressed a red-hot branding iron against the devil's chest, searing Bel's blazing fiery sigil directly into his flesh. "Holy crap, that's disgusting..." Watching Langlibaitiao conduct his torture with such relish, European Emperor felt a sudden chill and resolved to keep his distance from the man in the future. Even Anyezhilang, Langlibaitiao's devoted disciple and loyal lieutenant, shuffled a few steps away to put some space between them. *These guys must be the most depraved, sadistic devils in disguise! I can never, ever cross them!* Though Dick, locked in his cage, was delighted to see Uriel getting beaten to a pulp, the devil's horrific state made him shudder in sheer terror. Yet an innate fiendish thirst for violence and gore kept him peeking through the bars, his worldview thoroughly broadened. "M-my lords..." "I was wrong... I'm willing to submit, to help Lord Bel return..." Uriel was now covered in wounds and thoroughly battered, bearing not the slightest trace of a casino master's former dignity. And thanks to Langlibaitiao's perverse tastes, certain dubious objects had even been shoved inside him, twisting his expression into something altogether bizarre... Langlibaitiao hefted a thick, bloodstained club, looking like he hadn't had enough. "Heh-heh, my interrogation technique has leveled up again! Practice really does make perfect. Er, why are you all looking at me like that?" Facing his party's horrified looks, Langlibaitiao showed no shame. Instead, he puffed out his chest with pride. "As the former chief of the empire's Nocturne unit, is it really weird that I know a few tricks?" Langlibaitiao waved the heavy club, pointing it at the devil bound on the floor. At the motion, Uriel shook uncontrollably, prostrating himself and begging for mercy. "My lord, my lord, I yield..." "See? This devil's been tamed into complete obedience—not a bit of attitude left," Langlibaitiao boasted smugly. "..." Tiansheng Zhankuang fell silent for a moment, then stepped forward and patted Langlibaitiao on the shoulder, offering earnest counsel. "Langlibaitiao, don't use this as an excuse to indulge your sick desires. I know you've got past trauma, but you can't vent it like this! When you play a game, you need to maintain a healthy mindset..." "Who the hell has trauma?!" Flushed red with fury at Tiansheng Zhankuang's "comfort," Langlibaitiao snapped his head around to glare at the quivering devil. Raising the club, he barked, "What way do you have to smuggle us into the inner rings?" "I do, I do, my lord!" Uriel blurted, clutching at the lifeline. "There is a secret tunnel inside my casino used exclusively to smuggle goods for an important figure in the inner rings! It leads straight to Ring Four!" "What's this big shot's name?" "Valerius Edwards! He is Lady Zariel's confidant, the commander of the Thirteenth Legion, and an immensely powerful pit fiend!" "Hey, look! That name's on the quest list! It's a B-rank side quest: Assassinate Valerius!" "Holy crap, a reward of thirty-two thousand gold coins and three hundred thousand Faction Contribution?!" Instantly, the four players' eyes lit up, brimming with excitement and fervor. Uriel had expected the illustrious name of Valerius to cow them into reverence, but seeing their reaction—like predators spotting prime game—his vision went black with despair. "Where is this secret passage?" Langlibaitiao crouched down, boring into the devil with a bone-chilling stare as he enunciated every syllable. "Where is the tunnel? What's the layout inside? We need you to guide us there personally." Uriel asked tentatively, "My lords, once I bring you into the inner rings, can I go?" Langlibaitiao flashed a gentle smile. "Of course. We people of Nocturne value nothing more than honesty and integrity." "...Very well." "Naturally, you'll need to sign this contract first. After all, without a binding agreement, who could ever trust a devil?" Langlibaitiao chuckled. Uriel finally let out a sigh of relief and said hastily, "Right away, my lord! I'll draft the contract at once, ensuring not a single loophole so that you—" "No need." Langlibaitiao produced an aged parchment contract and offered it forward. "This contract was personally crafted by Lord Bel. Its binding power should be more than adequate. Here, sign right on this line. Once it's signed, we'll be in the same boat, and I can trust you with an easy heart. Then we depart immediately for the Bronze Citadel's inner rings." "..." Staring at the contract crammed with microscopic text—and God only knew how many hidden traps—Uriel, who usually relished duping mortals and luring souls to damnation, fell into deep silence. The twisted lunatic before him might hail from the Material Plane, but he was far better suited to being a devil than Uriel himself. Meanwhile, traces of players began surfacing all across the Bronze Citadel. Devils routinely caught wind of soulless adventurers from the Material Plane infiltrating their strongholds, sowing chaos wherever they went.