The greatest regret of Cambien's life was answering that summons.
He had originally been an ordinary cambion scraping by in the Blood Wasteland. Life had been rough, but at least he had been free. Unfortunately, the blood of ambition eternally coursed through a devil's veins, and Cambien had frequently dreamed of climbing higher.
He had envisioned a day when he would don crimson robes and stand atop the walls of the Blood River Fortress, looking down across the vast battlefield of the Blood War stretching for thousands of li.
He had also dreamed that he might one day enter Archduke Zariel's manor, join her elite warband, equip himself with the finest infernal engine, and have even other hell lords bow respectfully whenever they saw him.
He truly longed for such glory.
So when he sensed a summons bearing Archduke Zariel's aura, Cambien had answered without hesitation.
Deep down, he knew that the true Archduke Zariel would never personally summon a dime-a-dozen cambion like him; he figured a legion under Zariel's command simply needed cannon fodder.
Even cannon fodder was fine—all Cambien needed was an opportunity!
Yet upon answering the call, he found it had come from an undead girl from the Prime Material Plane. Reality was ten thousand miles removed from his grand expectations.
He had initially thought he could trick her and maybe con a soul or two to eat, only to discover she was utterly ruthless.
The undead girl herself was formidable, but her mother was far more terrifying—placed in Hell, she would undoubtedly become a prominent hell lord in her own right.
Escaping was out of the question, and his life hung in the balance every second. Cambien felt his luck was truly rotten, rivaling the day he had been abandoned right after birth.
Having confirmed that Melina was serious, Cambien had no choice but to brace himself and obey.
Still, Cambien was a "clever" sort who knew how to drag his kin down with him. He picked several cambions to accompany him—the very ones whose noses he had smashed.
He had already screwed them over once anyway, so doing it again hardly mattered. Having them die first was far better than having to worry about their revenge later.
As Melina only remembered Cambien among all the cambions, she naturally didn't object to his suggestion, directly using the divine sword in her hand to grant him the authority to command the others.
And just like that, Cambien had become a squad leader.
The class advancement had come quickly, but Cambien wasn't the least bit happy. He forced himself to stay calm and asked Melina, "Master, no matter which lord controls this fortress, they will definitely ask two things: first, your true purpose in heading to the River of Blood; and second, how much toll you can pay. I need information from you before I can try to negotiate with them."
"Can't you just say we're going to join the war?" Melina asked.
Cambien replied helplessly, "Master, this is Hell. That excuse wouldn't even fool me."
Unless backed into a corner, who in their right mind would head to the Blood River battlefield? Nobody went there unless they were born battle-maniacs.
Besides, the Blood River battlefield had been there for tens of thousands of years and wasn't going anywhere. Why would anyone insist on cutting down travel time using a teleportation array? Unless that question was cleared up, the devil lord would treat them as invaders and slaughter them outright.
"Wait a moment."
Melina scurried to the side, pulled out her magic mirror, and consulted her mother.
Cambien watched with immense envy. How wonderful would it be if his own mother backed him like that?
Yet in Hell, that was practically impossible.
It was exceedingly common for devils to abandon their offspring, and being abandoned was considered good luck; most half-devils were treated as slaves by their parents, devoured as nourishment in times of need, or tossed aside as sacrificial offerings.
This was Hell; affection did not exist here.
Reproduction was merely a byproduct of enduring lust, carrying no deeper meaning.
Melina relayed Cambien's words to the Rose of Decay. The Undead Queen could not help but frown. She was not adept at schemes and conspiracies, and rarely dealt with devils, so she couldn't come up with a suitable excuse on short notice.
In the end, the Rose of Decay could only say to Melina, "Use Zariel as an excuse after all. You carry the artifact she bestowed; just claim to be her messenger. Have these cambions enter the fortress to deliver the message. If the other party refuses to let you use the teleportation array, take the detour. It may take longer, but your father is very important to Zariel. He might suffer, but nothing lethal will happen to him."
Melina nodded, then turned back to Cambien. "Just say I have a message for Archduke Zariel. Show them this—they should be able to sense Zariel's aura."
What Melina referred to was the cambion impaled by her flaming sword. Though turned into a zombie, sparks still constantly sputtered from its wound—the lingering residue of burning hellfire, naturally imbued with Zariel's power.
Though Cambien doubted this reasoning would easily satisfy the lord, it was better than nothing. He asked, "Master, what about the second question? What can we offer as a toll?"
Melina pondered a moment, then said, "One hundred thousand soul coins. That is my baseline."
"Soul coins... Well, that's good stuff, but ten is too few—wait!" Cambien froze, then gasped in shock, "You said how many?!"
"One hundred thousand," Melina repeated, then asked, "Not enough?"
Cambien swallowed hard and said, "My dear master, whatever you do in the future, never tell another devil you have one hundred thousand soul coins, or we're all dead! Do you have any idea how much one hundred thousand soul coins is? You could buy that fortress ahead outright! If other devils found out, they'd swarm us like rabid beasts to butcher us!"
Never mind other devils—Cambien himself wanted to kill Melina and snatch those soul coins right now; he just knew he couldn't defeat her.
It was utter madness. Cambien had known Melina was a privileged scion, but he had never imagined Her Highness could casually produce one hundred thousand soul coins. What kind of super-tycoon was this? Where in the world could anyone in the Prime Material Plane get so many soul coins?
Melina, however, waved it off dismissively. "Cut the chatter and get to work!"
Cambien bowed respectfully, this time with a shred of sincerity. Devils didn't fear being slaves, nor did they fear a cruel master. What they feared most was a master who was cruel yet incompetent—that meant certain doom as cannon fodder.
However, the wealth Melina displayed proved one thing: not only was she immensely powerful herself, but her backing was also terrifying.
Following a master like this, it might actually be possible to rise through the ranks of Hell.
Cambien decided to alter his plans for now. Putting aside thoughts of escape, he began considering how to get on her good side. If all went well, Melina would leave Hell eventually. If he built a good rapport with her, then the next time she summoned him, she might even bring him to the Prime Material Plane for a stroll. He had heard that souls there were free for the taking everywhere, without any competition to worry about.
Whether out of self-consolation or newfound determination, Cambien energetically collected five soul coins as negotiation funds and took off toward the fortress with his cannon-fodder cambions.
The distance wasn't great, but it still took Cambien more than ten minutes to reach the fortress gates.
Just as he had anticipated, the fortress wasn't large; one hundred thousand soul coins would be enough to make its ruler sign a contract on their knees.
However, Cambien couldn't possibly throw that baseline out, because a far more likely outcome was that every devil in the fortress would pour out to devour them whole.
Negotiations required finesse. As Cambien neared the fortress gates, he shouted loudly, demanding an audience with the fortress's master, and generously tossed up a soul coin.
Catching it, the dretches on patrol atop the ramparts instantly shrieked.
Soul coins were not something low-tier lesser devils like them could touch. Those crafted into coins were either remarkably powerful souls or formed by compressing a dozen or more ordinary souls.
In truth, the value of a single soul coin exceeded the lives of this entire pack of dretches.
Distinguished guests had arrived—or at least, exceptionally wealthy ones.
The dretches didn't dare pocket the coin for themselves, scuttling hurriedly to present it before the fortress's master.
A slender, curvaceous figure with alluring parts that were exceptionally voluptuous, her bewitching face etched with purplish-red infernal sigils. Beyond that, the only devilish trait she possessed was a tail; she lacked even the horns and wings common among devils.
This was an erinyes.
Anyone in the know could tell at a glance that this erinyes was not of pure blood, though her mixed heritage was not human, but an exceedingly rare elven bloodline. Traces of elven ancestry were clearly visible in the details of her pupils and ears.
Seeing the dretches suddenly present a soul coin, the erinyes lord extended her bifurcated tail, hooking the coin into her hand.
Listening to the dretches' shrill squawks, the devil lord studied the soul coin in her hand with puzzlement.
"Delivering a message to Archduke Zariel, yet seeking passage through such a remote place? Smuggled in from another plane, most likely. But smuggling across planes with soul coins in tow is rare indeed."
As the erinyes lord fiddled with the soul coin in her hand, contemplating how best to slaughter them and pocket all their soul coins, she suddenly brought the coin closer to her eyes.
"Wait, this soul coin... This isn't an ordinary piece. This is top-tier!"
Souls had tiers of quality. Coins forged by compressing several souls together were the lowest-grade merchandise, and burning such mixed souls produced far poorer results.
True high-grade merchandise consisted of resilient souls, where a single coin was forged from a single complete soul; such quality was exceptionally high, making them genuine hard currency.
And a soul coin of an even higher tier was the one before her now—not only was the soul resilient enough, but it also bore an unyielding will. In the hands of powerful devil lords, it might even be used directly to create a formidable artificial devil to serve them.
Such premium items were extraordinarily precious.
Could someone capable of producing such a soul coin truly be a mere planar smuggler?
The erinyes lord couldn't help but recall a name, one that had been thundering across Hell in recent times.
A man who had toyed with two archdukes—Zariel and Tiamat—and still managed to walk away completely unscathed. He was truly the devil among devils, her greatest idol.
Could it be that the planar interlopers outside the fortress had some connection to that legendary figure?
Chapter 525