Raylin fell silent on the surface, but a sharp gleam flashed through his eyes. "Provocation, is it? Something you were supposed to receive, only to have it denied — that would certainly breed intense resentment!"
He keenly detected the note of provocation and conspiracy woven into the other's words.
The deadly thing was, if he truly were a devil, he might well have fallen for the trap.
After all, blocking an advancement was an absolutely mortal grudge in the eyes of any devil!
Moreover, his superior was also a Pit Fiend. If Azroch refused, he could indeed overturn the Eight Demon Generals' decision and revoke Raylin's promotion.
And given the nature of devil superiors, this possibility was practically a hundred percent certain!
"A Pit Fiend? You've got some nerve... You want me to leap across two forms — Assassin Devil and Scorpion Devil — straight into the highest devil rank? Don't they know that this kind of leapfrog advancement paints the biggest target on your back?"
If a devil who advances through the normal channels typically has twenty or thirty resentful devils watching from behind, searching for every flaw, then a devil who leaps ahead earns enemies ten times — a hundred times — that number!
As for the advancement of high-ranking devils, especially to the supreme form of a Pit Fiend, the total reserves of Hell's primordial power are limited, and thus the number of such beings is fixed.
This meant that unless a Pit Fiend happened to die at precisely this moment, Raylin's advancement would necessarily require demoting an existing Pit Fiend!
And the most likely target for that demotion would be Raylin's current superior!
Therefore, unless they had no other choice or no better option, high-ranking devils rarely agreed to let subordinates whose strength approached their own advance — unless their minds had gone completely haywire.
The lucky few who achieved a great leap rarely met good ends, unless they possessed exceptional cunning and demonstrated schemes and power that made other devils tremble with awe!
"Here! I can't approve your promotion, but please accept this — you've earned it!"
Balzevin handed Raylin a crystal suffused with sacred soul energy. "The energy stored inside this is more than enough to conduct a full Pit Fiend ascension ritual!"
At the moment, Balzevin had not assumed the towering Pit Fiend form he used in battle. Instead, he wore the guise of an ordinary person — looking much like a wicked human with a rough face bearing a smile of apparent "goodwill."
"Thank you, my lord!"
Despite the torrent of inner grumbling, Raylin wore an expression of tearful gratitude as he accepted the reward.
"Good! Rachel — I think highly of you. Perhaps we could share a dinner together sometime..."
Balzefen extended an invitation to Raylin, and at this moment, what else could Raylin do but give a wry smile and accept?
……
"Until we meet again, Rachel! I will be returning to Malbolge. Lady Sachiel, who resides in the Steelskull Bronze Citadel, is currently my superior… you can find me there. I look forward to our next meeting…"
After a trial filled with pain and joy, a mix of horror and excitement, Raylin's temporary subordinate, Hanalin, came to bid him farewell.
She now possessed the perfect form of a Succubus of Delight, with black wings and an angelically serene countenance, far more alluring than her previous form as a Succubus of Desire.
However, Raylin keenly perceived the changes in her mentality and character.
These changes were evident even in the shift of how she addressed him.
Now advanced to a Succubus of Delight, she placed herself on the same level as Raylin. Not only did she begin calling him by his name directly, but she was also already attempting to implement her own schemes—as a result of her great leaping promotion, ascending from a mid-tier devil to a high-tier devil form, Hanalin now faced far more terrifying and formidable enemies, potentially including her former superior!
Her former superior would surely be searching for her every mistake with a mind ten times stricter than before, hoping to demote her or even transform her into an ugly type like a Stygian Memory Thief.
And Hanalin now had this awareness, beginning to rally any possible external allies.
"I understand!"
Raylin noted down the detailed address and route Hanalin provided, his expression serious.
"Keep a backup option; it might prove useful someday. I recall that the lord controlling the sixth layer of the Barathrum is that hag countess, isn't she?"
Recently, Raylin's focus and efforts had been on the second layer, the Infernal Descent, but that didn't rule out the possibility of traversing the hells in the future.
If Hanalin still survived by then, this connection could come in handy.
Having obtained something satisfactory, Hanalin departed, while Raylin looked upon the bustling Bronze Citadel, and the newly increased number of half-dragonfolk and gnoll faces. He rubbed his nose.
"Has the transfer of power already begun?"
Thinking this, Raylin headed directly to the Bronze Tower where the Eight Demon Generals were stationed. After presenting his credentials, he was immediately led before Balzefen, who was in his sinister human form.
"Lord Balzefen! Thank you so much for your invitation this time!"
Raylin bowed in gratitude, while his eyes briefly swept over the dining hall's arrangement—the carpet, red as if stained directly with blood, the floor-length curtains and chandeliers gleaming with golden hellish motifs, and the head of some demon mounted on the wall, which looked much like that of a Balor.
All the tableware was forged from gold, inlaid with diamonds and pearls of every variety, while the maids were beautiful succubi and pleasure fiends.
Several petitioners sculpted into twisted forms pushed flame-wreathed serving carts into the hall, then bowed respectfully and withdrew, allowing maids dressed in black-and-white uniforms — a succubus and a pleasure fiend — to place the dishes before Raylin and Balzefen.
The first course was a soup, its milky-white broth bubbling with constantly rising bubbles.
"Haha… make yourself at home, my friend… soul worms don't taste nearly as good when they've gone cold…"
Balzefen laughed heartily and scooped from the broth a still-wriggling translucent worm — within it, the face of some writhing, screaming human could just barely be made out — and swallowed it whole. A look of blissful intoxication spread across his face.
Devils delighted in the corruption of mortals and the torture of petitioners' souls, extracting their very essence of immortality and their spiritual power.
Once a petitioner had been squeezed dry, it would be carted off to the infernal furnaces, where it would endure a painful transformation and become a lemure — the lowest rank of devilkind.
Only very few souls were granted the privilege of falling directly into lemures; they were typically somewhat more powerful than their fellows and far more likely to advance in rank.
Devils grew stronger and rose in rank by devouring the spiritual power of petitioners. Of course, some like Balzefen simply consumed them outright — it was said he did so in pursuit of some supremely exquisite sensation and taste.
Though Raylin had no qualms about devouring souls, his personal tastes were ultimately quite different from those of devils, and he did not much care for this twisted, torturous method of flaying them apart.
So his gaze drifted outward until he found a topic to redirect the conversation.
"My lord Balzefen… may I ask — are you preparing to move?"
Raylin gestured toward the lemures and lesser imps bustling about outside, straining under the weight of some enormous demon rib bone, its surface covered in intricate openwork carvings that appeared to be yet another trophy from some past Blood War.
"Mm! After all, we signed that agreement, and the authority over the Bronze Citadel must be fully handed over to that chromatic dragon… The bonds of the Stygian Compact cannot be broken — not even by devils…"
Balzefen took a leisurely, elegant sniff at the crimson blood in his tall crystal goblet.
"Forgive my bluntness, but isn't the price rather steep… just to secure a single victory in the Blood War?"
Raylin chose his words carefully.
"Haha… Rachel! You really are quite the amusing fellow! In truth… many of our subordinates wouldn't dare say a word to our faces, but behind our backs they must think the eight of us have lost our minds…"
Balzefen's eyes seemed capable of piercing through everything, a mocking smile playing at the corners of his mouth.
"Of course not! Even if it cost us half the Bronze Citadel, trading that for the annihilation of the enemy's demon army — especially when it included four Balors and a whole host of high-ranking demons — it was well worth the price!"
Leilin naturally chose to go along with what the other had said.
"Exactly! What do those ignorant fools know?"
Leilin's words clearly struck a nerve with Balzefen, causing it to spring to its feet and pace excitedly around the dining hall.
"What is the Bronze Citadel to us? Nothing but a dead zone! The only thing of value to us are souls! Only with more souls can we forge more devils! Gain greater power, and wipe out those chaotic bastards..."
Twin flames of hellfire erupted from Balzefen's nostrils, making it abundantly clear that it truly despised those maddened, chaotic demons.
"Rachel! Would you be willing to come work for me?"
Balzefen gazed at Leilin, its eyes burning with eagerness — it was clear that this was the real reason it had invited Leilin.
"If I refuse, I imagine things would turn ugly rather quickly, wouldn't they?"
Leilin appeared stunned, but inwardly he sneered.
A devil's recruitment offer? That was about as reliable as a house of cards — no matter how you looked at it, the chances were far greater that they just wanted to use him as cannon fodder.
"I'm truly grateful for your lordship's regard, but... Lord Azloc is my direct superior..."
Leilin's face showed hesitation. After all, a devil that had already pledged allegiance to another would find it extremely difficult to switch sides.
"Azloc?! Hmph..."
Balzefen let out a contemptuous laugh but said nothing more, clearly waiting for Leilin to make his decision — and until he had fully revealed his intentions, there was no way it would reveal anything further.
"Hmm! It seems my identity as someone from the second layer has piqued their interest! Which means... the so-called King of the Nine-Layered Hell has ambitions for
A flash of thought streaked through Leilin's mind.