The relationship between Bel and Zariel could no longer be described merely as "bad"; between the two of them, it had become a feud to the death.
When Zariel had been dropped in from on high to take over as lord, she had subjected Bel to endless torment; when Bel rebelled, he had inflicted no less abuse upon Zariel; and once Zariel broke free, she had tormented Bel half to death in turn.
One could say that both devils bore scars left by the other—scars etched deeply into their very souls.
Were it not for the true Lord of Hell holding sway over them from above, only one of the two would have survived long ago.
Now, learning from Cyric that something was wrong with Zariel, Bel wished nothing more than to drop everything at the River of Blood and race off to confirm it.
Unfortunately, he could not leave Blood River Fortress. That was the rule, and violating it would bring dire consequences.
Though Cyric spoke with absolute conviction, he had provided no proof thus far.
Bel said to Cyric, "I cannot believe you on your word alone. You are the Prince of Lies, after all."
Cyric smiled. "Precisely because I am the Prince of Lies, I can sense that Zariel is concealing something. Of course, you won't believe me just hearing that, but surely you have your own ways to probe her. Why not test her and see?"
Bel shook his head. "Probing comes at a cost."
Cyric was rendered speechless. These devils truly demanded profit in everything.
"Fine. As a show of sincerity, I can contribute as well." Cyric condensed his divine power, shaping it into a skull badge, and handed it to Bel. "This is an artifact manifested from my divine authority. Its effect is simple: it can detect lies three times with absolute accuracy. Not even a deity can lie before me. Don't tell me that merely contacting Zariel costs you money."
Bel took the skull badge and immediately sensed its function, but he did not agree right away. Instead, he told Cyric, "Let us draw up a new contract."
Cyric shrugged helplessly. What else could he do, displeased as he was? He was the one asking for a favor.
The two negotiated new terms to ensure neither side could pull any tricks, and then Bel contacted Zariel, who was in seclusion.
The fallen angel formed of condensed flames appeared no different from before, though an undisguised expression of disgust marked Zariel's face as she demanded of Bel, "You had better have something important to contact me about."
Bel did not immediately question whether something was wrong with Zariel. Instead, he broached the subject obliquely: "Those ants you indulged have caused tremendous trouble now. A section of the battlefield has turned into a mercury lake, completely blocking the demons' ingress and egress. Now the demons have repositioned their forces, putting heavier pressure on other war zones. If this continues, the front line will collapse."
It wasn't that Bel was unaware of the movements of Anbaixiu's mercury soul puppets; he had actually been rather surprised that those insignificant little things could achieve such a feat. As for their impact on the battlefield, however, it was negligible.
The Blood River battlefield was vast, and a disturbance in such a tiny area was utterly negligible. Every day, new war zones collapsed while old ones were cleared of demons entirely; the front line was always in dynamic equilibrium. Bel was merely exaggerating to test Zariel's reaction.
Under normal circumstances, if Bel showed even the slightest doubt toward Zariel's orders, he would inevitably suffer harsh punishment.
Strict hierarchy governed the devils. How could a subordinate ever have the right to question a superior? Even if the superior were in the wrong, doing so was an act of blasphemy.
Bel waited. If Zariel chose to deflect the topic or displayed the slightest sign of bluster masking weakness, he would immediately confront her directly about her condition and question whether the laws of the First Layer of Hell had shifted.
Yet Zariel's reaction caught Bel somewhat by surprise. She did not fiercely punish Bel, nor did she dodge the subject. Instead, she played along with his words: "Trouble is just fine! Trouble is exactly what I want. It's time for a change on this Blood War battlefield. Bel, I command you to change tactics. Push all those demons back for me, regardless of the cost!"
Bel's eyes widened in bewilderment, unable to fathom what madness had seized Zariel.
Although devils were also disposable pawns whose lives meant nothing, their numbers were far inferior to the demons'. They had to rely on the current River of Blood defensive lines to hold their ground. A forced counteroffensive was not impossible, but the casualties would be terrifying. It would drain Hell of its foundation and require the full backing of the devil archdukes from the other layers of Hell.
The question was, why do this at all?
Bel hurried to say, "This makes no sense. A temporary counteroffensive cannot be sustained; instead, it will create a gap in our reinforcements, and then the River of Blood will fall!"
"Hmph, fool. You have no idea what a mess Hell has become. Over at the Hell Bank, the lords who have gone bankrupt from unpaid debts are too numerous to count. All Nine Hells have been affected. These lord-tier devils were never supposed to fight in the Blood War, but now they have no choice but to sell themselves into servitude.
"Mammon is already compiling the roster, and the first batch of prisoners will arrive shortly. Their strength is nothing like ordinary slaves. If you don't burn through them as quickly as possible, they will amass merits and drain the Blood River Fortress's storehouses completely."
Zariel's words shocked not only Bel, but even Cyric, who was watching from the sidelines.
Both of them knew about the Hell Bank, but had its influence already grown so pervasive?
To say that sinners descended into Hell to suffer torment was, to an extent, not entirely accurate. If you had skill and brains, even if you were a heinous sinner, you could still live quite well in Hell.
As a petty lord in Hell, you could live carefree for centuries, transferring your suffering onto lesser devils below you, sustaining your life by exploiting others, never lacking food, drink, or entertainment.
Over time, these lords grew stronger and stronger, prudently avoiding conflict with devils of equal rank. This formed an entrenched hierarchy, leaving the same cohort of devil lords in place centuries later.
The primary reason was that competing was simply too difficult for newcomers. Most devils were immortal; time accumulated power and wealth for them that newcomers could never match.
How could such wicked souls be said to suffer in Hell? They were clearly here to enjoy themselves.
Yet once the Hell Bank gained traction, these hell lords were forced into an arms race, then forced to compete, and finally forced to slaughter one another.
The outcome was the ruin of numerous established lords. They either fell in battle or went bankrupt. Those killed in battle aside—newcomers naturally inherited everything they owned—those driven into bankruptcy had every valuable asset swallowed by the Hell Bank, and even they themselves were reduced to slaves.
And where were slaves needed?
On the Blood River battlefield, naturally.
Every layer of Hell was obligated to supply arms and troops to the Blood River battlefield; this was a law of Hell that could not be defied.
Naturally, those bankrupt wretches were shipped off to the battlefield. The new hell lords rising to power could not tolerate the old guard lingering around, and leaving them in their former domains would pose a destabilizing threat. Shipping them away as quickly as possible was the obvious choice.
Thus, Blood River Fortress was about to see a massive surge in combat strength. Having survived for so many years, every one of these hell lords possessed substantial capability. Deploying troops according to traditional methods would never do, as it would make it far too easy for the old-timers to farm merits.
No matter how stingy Blood River Fortress might be, it could hardly prevent a group of powerful devils from bullying lesser demons, which meant the financial burden would fall entirely on Blood River Fortress.
Therefore, launching a counteroffensive into the Abyss was a sound choice, as well as a way to maintain stability.
Without realizing it, Bel had been steered completely off topic. He began pondering how to coordinate a counteroffensive that would expend this sudden influx of combat strength without sustaining so many losses that the front line collapsed—a truly agonizing dilemma.
Zariel gave a cold sneer and was about to sever the connection when Cyric hurriedly signaled Bel. The skull coin in Bel's palm vibrated, snapping him back to reality—this was no time to discuss such matters! Bel hurried to say, "Then I will need you to grant me authority to reconfigure the spatial barriers of the Blood River battlefield."
As commander, Bel only held control over the armed forces of Blood River Fortress. He had no authority to invoke anything actually involving the laws of space and time; every instance required Zariel to delegate power.
According to Zariel's words, adjustments ought to be made in advance, yet Zariel hesitated, saying, "What is the hurry? We will discuss it once Mammon delivers the prisoners."
This time, the coin in Bel's hand grew hot, signaling that Zariel was concealing something.
Bel felt a surge of excitement. Could Cyric be telling the truth? Had something truly gone wrong with Zariel?
Bel pressed further, "How long must we wait? I must have the roster now so I can adjust accordingly. Once those prisoners arrive, I can immediately shift the front lines and launch the counteroffensive. Grant me the hell authority right now!"
Zariel snapped furiously, "Bel, who do you think you are talking to?"
The skull badge in Bel's palm grew hotter and hotter, proving that whatever Zariel was hiding was becoming increasingly blatant.
"I am speaking to the master of the First Layer of Hell," Bel said in a low voice. "Yet as things stand, it seems you, fallen angel, have run into some trouble. Zariel, don't tell me you lost the power over the First Layer of Hell's laws!"
Zariel shot Bel a look and did not answer the question. She merely said coldly, "Then you are welcome to come and try taking the Bronze Citadel back again."
With that, Zariel completely cut the connection without offering the slightest explanation.
Bel tossed the scalding skull badge back and turned to Cyric. "You were right. Something is wrong with Zariel. She must have run into terrible trouble."
Cyric smiled. "Then do you plan to make your move right now?"
To witness two devil archdukes battling to the death would make this trip well worth it.
Bel shook his head, however. "It is not that simple. I can only confirm that something is wrong with Zariel, but I have no idea how weakened she truly is, let alone why she was weakened. What if this is a trap?"
Cyric shook his head. "It cannot be a trap. Of that I am certain."
Lies, verbal traps, double traps... Regardless of which it was, Cyric could sense it. That was his divine authority; none save himself could deceive him. Even if someone merely harbored the intent, Cyric could detect it.
This was precisely why Cyric was so confident in his actions. As long as he did not lose his own mind, he was more than capable of handling anything.
Bel replied, "Even if it isn't a trap, we still have no idea what happened to Zariel. Let me be frank with you as well: even without the aid of Hell's laws, Zariel's inherent strength surpasses mine."
Zariel had originally been a valiant, fearless angel.
Back then, when Mount Celestia realized the devils of Hell were slacking off, allowing demons to run rampant across the planes while the Blood River battlefield fell back repeatedly to a perilous state, they dispatched Zariel to supervise the war effort.
Enraged by the cowardice of the devils and the excessive caution of Mount Celestia, Zariel made an impulsive decision: she would personally punish those cowards. She launched an invasion into Hell to hunt down the devils, shattering the tacit understanding between Mount Celestia and Hell. As a result, Zariel was captured by the devils of Hell and ruthlessly molded into a fallen angel.
Fallen though she was, had Zariel lacked immense capability, she would never have been sent to oversee the Blood River in the first place.
Bel had experienced Zariel's might firsthand; even without invoking the laws of Hell, he was no match for her.
Bel therefore felt he should first uncover what had happened to Zariel, but Cyric could not be bothered to waste time with him.
"In that case, investigate at your leisure. Hand over what I asked for first."
Bel said coldly, "The contract clearly states that you must aid me in dealing with Zariel. Don't even think of reneging!"
Cyric retorted, "Come find me once you've made up your mind. I cannot wait decades for you to slowly investigate; the soul I need to save cannot wait that long."
Dealing with Zariel was no great issue for Cyric. He already had enemies in droves, so one more fallen angel hardly mattered. Besides, he had only deployed an avatar here; whatever mishaps occurred were inconsequential.
Thus, Cyric had no intention of backing out of the deal.
It was just that Harvey had to be saved immediately; otherwise, Cyric would never find a second suitable candidate.
Evidently, Bel understood this as well. He had no choice but to lend the furnace capable of repairing souls, and even provided Cyric with a small sum of soul coins.
Bel warned, "Let's be clear first: while this device can indeed repair soul damage, that doesn't mean it is completely free of side effects. If any mishap occurs, I will not be held responsible."
Hellish technology was notoriously crude and brutal, fraught with massive side effects. It was designed for use on devils and sinners who commanded no pity; infernal engines, for instance, were crammed straight into living subjects through vivisection.
The soul-repairing furnace was no different. It converted soul coins directly into soul substance, plastering over soul damage like spackle on a wall. Its precision was nowhere near refined, and it was very likely to cause memory loss, dizziness, headaches, and other side effects. Bel had to make this abundantly clear to Cyric lest Cyric cause trouble for him later.
Cyric hardly cared about such trivial issues. He merely needed Harvey as a sacrificial offering; whether the soul suffered side effects was immaterial, so long as Harvey remembered the malice within his heart and could complete the ritual.
Still, to be safe, Cyric did not take the apparatus back with him, choosing to repair Harvey right there in Blood River Fortress.
Poor Harvey—not even dead yet, and already having made a trip down to Hell.
Harvey was shoved crudely into the incinerator-like machine, which then began incinerating soul coins to replenish him. The machine could automatically detect defects within the soul and repair them simultaneously, proving rather more professional than Cyric doing it by hand.
The machine rumbled and clattered as soul coins were consumed continuously.
A large repair progress readout appeared on the machine:
"Current soul repair progress: 1%... Fuel insufficient. Please replenish..."
Cyric and Bel stared dumbfounded at the more than one thousand soul coins they had just poured in. What was with this kid? To repair his soul would take at least a hundred thousand soul coins?!
Chapter 615