The first layer of Hell had been rather lively of late.
Anbaixiu's first batch of soul coins—a full ten million of them—had already been delivered into the hands of Zariel and Tiamat.
This was the product of Anbaixiu holing up in his private pocket dimension and toiling away for "several years."
Every soul had been conditioned with various extreme emotions, such as valor, resentment, desire, and the like. Yet extreme emotion was their only feature; if one were actually stuffed into a skeleton, it would probably collapse on the spot. Production costs had to be kept down, after all.
In any case, as long as the souls trapped inside were not released, there was no noticeable flaw on the surface.
Anbaixiu had mentioned this to Zariel long before, so he had no fear that the devil archduke would find an excuse to claim a breach of contract.
Zariel had no mind to lay traps at the moment, for she was thoroughly captivated by these soul coins. Even she had never seen so many soul coins piled together in one place.
In Hell, souls were extraordinarily precious and possessed a vast range of uses.
The elite troops under Zariel's command were often outfitted with infernal engines—devices forged through infernal magic that could vastly amplify a devil's might. And what these infernal engines burned was not gasoline, but soul coins.
Many specialized breeds of devils even required devouring souls just to survive; souls were like rations to them, and without enough, they would starve to death.
Consequently, souls in Hell were not merely hard currency, but essential consumables.
Even though Hell connected to countless planes and a ceaseless stream of damned souls fell here to suffer punishment and torment, once divided among the Nine Hells and drained by daily consumption, every hell lord's life was genuinely pinched.
Gazing at the neatly stacked pile of upwards of ten million soul coins, both devil archdukes felt a sudden urge to strike down the other and hoard the entirety of this wealth for themselves.
In the end, however, both held back.
This was merely the lich's initial installment; there was plenty more to follow. Slaughtering each other now made no sense.
Once the soul bank was established, a single devil archduke would not suffice; there had to be an overwhelming guarantee of military might.
And so, both devil archdukes forcefully suppressed their inner greed and set about the work of founding the soul bank.
It wasn't that no devil had ever thought of establishing a bank before. After all, the mortal realm already had goblin banks; replicating the concept posed no technical difficulty for the devils of Hell. The real problem lay in raising the initial capital.
Soul consumption was simply too high. That Lord of Hell seemed to have calculated the exact upkeep of every hell lord, keeping the circulation of soul coins at a level where no one starved, yet no one was ever truly satisfied.
Under such circumstances, even if one wished to run a bank, one could never scrape together the principal capital.
Nor were the other devils easily fooled; without sufficient capital to back it up, not a single soul would deposit funds or take out loans from your bank.
Now the capital was secured, but talent was lacking.
To find talent in this field, one could only look to the third layer of Hell, Minauros.
The master of this layer was named Mammon, the absolute miser and capitalist of Hell. Perhaps because he had once suffered a romance with the Lord of Hell's daughter that was forcibly torn apart, ever since that heartbreak, the only thing left in Mammon's life was the accumulation of wealth.
In all of Hell, Mammon possessed the greatest hoard of soul coins and the largest number of goblin capitalist slaves.
These goblins meticulously tallied every expense for Mammon and shrewdly drafted every contract, striving to make as many mortals as possible forfeit their souls through the fine print.
Yet Hell was separated from the other planes by a planar barrier after all, so these schemes had not granted Mammon an overwhelming, insurmountable wealth advantage; his coffers were merely somewhat more comfortable than those of other hell lords.
Thus, when Zariel came carrying soul coins to purchase those goblin capitalists, Mammon's first thought was that this Zariel was an imposter.
Since when had this perverse battle maniac taken an interest in the souls of capitalists?
Yet whoever it was, the soul coins were real, so Mammon still sold the goblin capitalists' souls to Zariel. However, Mammon also kept a watchful eye out, secretly placing his own brand upon the souls of several goblin slaves so he could monitor their actions at any time.
And then, through those goblins, Mammon beheld a mountain of soul coins so vast that his eyes nearly bulged from their sockets.
Mammon's immediate reaction was that the soul coins had to be counterfeit—that bitch Zariel was actually forging currency!
Yet when he slipped a soul coin into an infernal engine, he discovered the coin's quality was exceptional, completely free of defect.
"Where did Zariel get so many soul coins?! Could she have swallowed that tiefling kingdom whole?! Was her previous failure all an act?"
Mammon tried every conceivable means to investigate, and through his relentless efforts, he finally caught wind of the news that Zariel and Tiamat were preparing to open a soul bank.
A bank intended to do business with all the hell lords naturally had to advertise far and wide, making it impossible to keep under wraps in the first place.
Now Mammon panicked.
If this soul bank succeeded, he would no longer be the wealthiest devil in Hell.
Without a second thought, Mammon came knocking on their door, demanding to be let in on this soul bank business.
However, neither Tiamat nor Zariel agreed.
Though the two devil archdukes of the First Layer were no financial wizards, they knew very well how lucrative a bank was. Why should they carve out a slice of the pie for Mammon? Mammon could hardly accept this. After losing his love, his life held no desire other than amassing wealth; shutting him out was tantamount to subjecting him to torture—an agony capable of driving his soul to madness.
And so today, he had come once more to negotiate with them, willing to accept a smaller share of the profits just to force his way into the banking venture, no matter what.
Zariel and Tiamat were annoyed to death by him, and were already conferring on whether to simply suppress him by force. Mammon could never beat the two of them working together anyway.
Just as these three hell lords were on the verge of erupting into an earth-shattering brawl, Zariel's magic mirror lit up, and Waukeen, disguised as the God of Alchemy, appeared on the glass.
Waukeen looked at the three hell lords, sensing what had transpired after only a brief moment.
No transaction or commerce could escape the senses of the Goddess of Wealth, even an agreement yet to be settled.
"Oh, it seems I've arrived at an inconvenient time."
Zariel glared at the persistent Mammon, then addressed the magic mirror. "God of Alchemy? What do you want with me?"
Though Zariel knew the magic mirror was a product of the God of Alchemy, she had always communicated through it with Anbaixiu. As it turned out, that damned God of Alchemy could open the magic mirror whenever He pleased without her consent. With Mammon still present, the situation was rather awkward.
"I am merely here to remind you that the appointed time has arrived. Blibdoolpoolp has fallen into madness and debility; it is time to resolve Her matter."
Zariel asked in surprise, "It's already been dealt with? How was that done?"
In truth, Zariel only ever wanted Anbaixiu's money, harboring no intention of fulfilling her obligation. Kidnapping a goddess—and one holed up in her own divine realm, no less—was an absolute joke. Zariel had originally planned to pressure Anbaixiu into paying out all the soul coins so she could reap a handsome profit in Hell, and leave it at that.
What a farce; if deities were so easy to deal with, the pantheons would have descended into chaotic warfare ages ago.
Zariel herself had no way of dealing with the Kuo-toa Goddess; what could a mere mortal possibly do?
Yet how much time had passed, and it was already handled?
Zariel had no desire to work for Anbaixiu, making an excuse: "Well, I've been rather busy lately. Perhaps we should postpone the date of our operation."
Mammon, however, had already caught the crux of the matter and interjected hurriedly, "So that's what your cooperation entails? Though I don't know how you got your hands on such a vast quantity of soul coins, I can help with whatever Zariel is unwilling to do! I'll charge the exact same fee as her, and I guarantee I won't mark up the price!"
Zariel ground her teeth in fury. She could have gotten something for nothing, yet this wretched Mammon was sticking his nose where it didn't belong.
This was precisely what Waukeen had been waiting for; only with competition was there room for bargaining.
Driven by his fanatical pursuit of wealth, Mammon was impatient to declare his stance, and Waukeen naturally had no intention of letting the chance slip.
"Very well. It seems the contract will need some revisions."
Waukeen's divine power seeped into the negotiation, subtly influencing the three hell lords without their awareness.
Zariel paid no heed to decorum and snapped hurriedly, "Don't listen to that fellow's lies! He's the greediest devil in all of Hell; cooperating with him is the height of folly."
Mammon countered at once, "Yet I possess the finest reputation! I have never made excuses to back out of a promise I've made—unlike certain devils who lack even the most fundamental spirit of a contract."
Tiamat roared in fury, "This has nothing to do with you, idiot! What we agreed upon was a total of twenty million soul coins, and not a single one belongs to you! Don't you dare dream of stealing our money!"
Mammon instantly went mad with excitement. "Ten million each?! How could there be so much?! Dammit, by the Lord of Hell, I must join this deal! I have to be a part of it, and no one can stop me!"
Tiamat unleashed a bellowing roar, her form splitting into five ferocious dragon heads that looked ready to unleash hell upon Mammon.
Zariel drew her longsword as well, ready to make it two against one.
Right then, Waukeen remarked with feigned puzzlement, "Ten million each? That can't be right. I recall my student offered a total price of eighty million gold coins, twenty million for Zariel and sixty million for Tiamat. Was that not the case?"
The five dragon heads, poised to breathe fire, suddenly froze, then snapped in unison toward Zariel.
"Sixty million? You told me six million the first time!"
Zariel froze, never expecting that the God of Alchemy would expose the true price at this moment! Dammit, that lich had promised not to reveal it... No, it was the God of Alchemy who spoke, which had nothing to do with the lich; she couldn't even trigger the contract to punish that lich!
"Zariel! You lied to me!"
Tiamat pounced furiously toward Zariel, her five dragon heads unleashing torrents of flame.
Zariel was forced to spread her wings and dodge frantically; a frenzied Tiamat was not someone to be trifled with.
Dragonfire melted everything in the vicinity, turning stone to magma in an instant wherever it reached. Tiamat seemed bent on tearing the place apart, leaving the guilty Zariel utterly incapable of fighting back.
Watching this chaotic spectacle, Waukeen savored the long-lost sensation of taking command of a negotiation.
How wonderful. The give-and-take of business was always so delightful—a pity her counterparts were far too crude.
Only when the two hell lords were on the verge of shattering even the magic mirror did Waukeen speak again: "Since Zariel concealed the quoted price, that contract is hereby null and void. As things stand, it seems we require new bids. I think perhaps we could hold a small auction. What do the three of you say?"
Chapter 486