Baator Hell Promotion

Orcs have no habit of keeping clean. But the messenger couldn't stand it, so she once pushed an orc who had smoked her headfirst into a pot. From then on, no orc dared to leave any dirt where she might appear.

Following the idle orcs' call, the orcs working in pairs each sent one out to eat. Igor lingered, trying to move as slowly as possible away from these disabled orcs.

Yes, incomplete. Each of these so-called masters had a portion of their being taken away by the messenger, serving as a proxy for teaching magic. The messenger used the portion she had taken to give each warlock a new name. Igor wondered if the orcs would feel ashamed, but in his opinion, this act was nothing short of vicious.

"....The messenger may come soon, Bloodbath Festival..." Sporadic fragments reached Igor's ears, and the word Bloodbath Festival caught his attention. This is the orcs' name for the harvest festival.

"Hey! You!" A sorcerer noticed Igor dawdling nearby and shouted angrily. Igor clenched his left fist, ready to fight them at any time.

"After you clean this place, go tidy up the messenger's room." Fortunately, the sorcerer was merely assigning tasks. As he spoke, his dark, toothless gums were visible; this orc was none other than "Sharp Fang." "If the messenger finds anything unsatisfactory, I will skin you alive. Do you understand?"

Chapter 176 Two Scrolls

The cave was large, but had only one entrance and exit, the one Igor had come through. The messenger's room was directly across from the entrance.

The Inquisitor knew why Fang had asked him to clean the Emissary's room. This way, if the Emissary was dissatisfied with anything, he could blame him. He didn't care whether he could survive.

But Fang himself might not have thought that this was the opportunity the Inquisitor had been dreaming of.

The door to the messenger's room was unlocked, but the judge felt that no thief would deliberately go to such a heavily guarded place to steal anything.

The room was simply furnished, with a bed crafted from beautifully streaked black walnut, a chest of drawers, and a desk placed against the wall. The spotless sheets, unspotted (a rare sight considering this was an orc's place), and the neatly arranged books on the desk, from tall to short, all betrayed the room's owner's attention to detail and meticulous approach to life. It was a stark contrast to the noisy, smelly Aerie, crammed with orcs.

The most eye-catching thing in the entire room was a piece of white cloth hanging on the wall. Judging from the raised folds of the white cloth, there should be a painting behind it that was larger than Igor.

He didn't lift the white cloth, and even looked around cautiously, noticing that the warlocks were all eating and no one was paying attention to him. Igor walked quickly to the desk, pretending to wipe the table, but actually secretly opened the drawer.

In the largest drawer was a neatly stacked stack of parchments, each sheet exactly the same size. Only the first sheet had writing on it.

Igor removed the small marble statue from the parchment and silently chanted, "Praise be to the pure and spotless God, the marble-forged king. The weak will be indestructible under His grace, and the unbeliever will be shattered under His rebuke."

The Inquisitor turned the parchment over. There was nothing on the back. It seemed that the messenger had only come up with a prayer so far.

When he reached for the second drawer, the burning sensation at his fingertips alerted the judge. He looked back and saw that the door was still closed, so he confidently took out a convex lens made of corundum from his pocket and placed it before his eyes.

At first, the drawer remained motionless. After a few seconds, the keyhole lit up with a red light like a torch.

"Evocation spells." The Inquisitor got the answer he wanted. He searched his pockets for something, congratulating himself on his thorough preparations.

Igor carefully opened the lead box in his hand, which was less than two fingers wide. Inside lay a petal of the Whispering Flower, which still retained its faint blue color after being dried.

The evocation spell on the drawer indicated that the owner's concern was not theft but the possibility of someone viewing the contents. If any unscrupulous thief set his sights on the drawer, the magic would explode him and his contents.

Searching the homes of heretics for hidden documents was a daily routine for the Inquisitors, who had accumulated a wealth of knowledge on how to open unwilling doors and locks.

Of all the items, the Whispering Flower is highly favored by Inquisitors for its innate ability to generate an anti-magic field, suppressing magic. Dried petals are far less effective than whole, fresh flowers, but they are sufficient for this purpose.

Igor held his breath and moved the petals and the box toward the drawer, carefully avoiding facing the opening toward himself so as not to suppress the transformation effect on his body.

The effect was immediate. There was silence inside the convex lens, and the magical flash disappeared silently.

Only then did Igor dare to breathe a sigh of relief. He reached out and pulled, but the drawer didn't budge.

"Oh, lady, don't be so shy, let me see your secret." He bit his tongue, carefully moved the drawer with an iron needle, and even listened to the movement outside at the same time.

Soon, the stubborn lock gave way with a click, revealing the owner's secret.

The first thing that caught my eye was still a stack of parchment. However, compared to the first drawer, even though these parchments were pressed flat, they still showed signs of long-term use.

The first parchment was filled with symbols and formulas, with only a few words Igor couldn't understand. He stared at it for a while, then gave up trying to understand what was on it.

The next one was much easier to understand; at least it had a diagram. Igor recognized it immediately: it showed the crystals and magic circles within the cave, with hundreds of materials listed in fine text below.

The Inquisitor tutted his lips. From the arcane theory he'd learned at church school, he could barely discern that the circle's primary function was to create an impenetrable shield, and that blood sacrifices were required to maintain its operation. Igor took this to heart; it seemed the orcs' frequent attacks on the caravans meant most of the captives they captured were likely sacrificed to the circle.

He flipped through a few more pages, all of which were filled with various incomprehensible magic formulas and materials, which should all be materials related to magic circles.

He put the parchment back intact and took out the wooden box inside.

The wooden box also contained sheepskin with words written on it. When Igor reached out to take it out, he touched something hard. He moved the letter away and found several pieces of mirror fragments at the bottom of the box.

He took out the mirror and looked at it for a while. Through the corundum lens, he could see yellow transformation and purple spell lights emanating from the mirror fragments, but the lights were already quite dim. It seemed that the magic power had almost dissipated.

The Inquisitor picked up a very small piece and put it in his clothes, intending to find a wizard or mystic to look at it before returning to Emerald Harbor.

The sheepskins that had not yet been taken out of the box were all tightly rolled scrolls.

The Inquisitor first opened the uncolored scroll. The scroll was so long that it drooped to his feet as he let go. Seeing the Northern Continent characters on it, Igor breathed a sigh of relief; at least he could understand them.

It wasn't a single scroll, but rather several parchment letters stitched together. The Inquisitor read from the beginning. The letter was extremely concise, and the content primarily involved a discussion between a woman named Rachel and her master regarding the progress of their work.

"...I have already lured my first prey under the name of the Marble King, and extracted its soul intact. This plan is feasible. Please give me more support."

"I've got you, miss." Igor read this, rubbing his chin with his fingers, and continued reading. The next letter was a reply from Rachel's master, praising her progress and assigning her to go to the Eagle's Nest to cooperate with the orc chieftain.

What followed was a long discussion of work details and magical theory. The Inquisitor skipped over this and turned directly to the end of the letter. Sure enough, the expected signature jumped into his eyes: Eichmann.

If it were before, Igor might not have guessed why Miss Rachel kept these letters that could cause trouble. But after working with Hopper many times, he had a certain understanding of the devil's style of doing things.

The devils always like to leave traces of everything they do, and these letters, at times, are the best evidence to threaten Eichmann.

The sudden sound of a chair falling over startled the Inquisitor, who turned quickly and raised his left arm.

The room was empty, just as it had been when he entered. The two chairs were still where they were.

Igor frowned, thinking he'd better not delay any longer. Thinking of this, the Inquisitor quickly opened the black-dyed sheepskin.

This is a contract.

The Inquisitor had never actually come into contact with the devils' contract, but when he opened the document written in two different languages ​​and felt warm to the touch, he was certain that the document must be a contract.

The contract was even longer than the previous collection of letters, and was filled with difficult-to-understand treaties written in tiny, almost illegible handwriting. He squinted his eyes and read through it for a long time, finally discovering a name that sounded quite familiar to him - Finn Iron Ring.

Following the ink, the core terms of the contract gradually became apparent - in exchange for bringing the dead back to the human world, the signatory must pledge loyalty to the devil and serve her as a servant for ten years.

The judge sighed and looked at the signature - Niya Tiehuan.

Before he could figure out what to do next, another strange noise was heard, this time like someone kicking a kettle.

He suddenly turned towards the direction where the sound came from - the picture frame covered with white cloth!

Chapter 177: Edim

The door was closed, the sun was shining brightly, and the music and noise of the harvest festival celebrations came through the milky white window glass, making the whole room seem even quieter.

Wearing an undyed linen shirt, Edim sat on pure white sheets, gazing out the polished windows. His thoughts were as clean and pure as the room itself. The knight fell into a strange feeling, as if he had left his body, hovering under the roof like a wisp of smoke, gazing at his own shell.

He didn't know what the point of doing this was, but he didn't want to let his thoughts sink. Beneath the harmless, blank bubbles was a deep ocean of thoughts, and deep within the ocean were tentacles called confession, and even deeper in the lightless depths were sharp moral questions.

He vaguely realized that he hadn't felt this way in ages. The last time Edim felt this hopeless, he'd witnessed the death of Bansay Sassen and the revelation of his illegitimate son on the same day. On that hopeless day, the Sassen family, his pillar of support, collapsed into ruin, both physically and spiritually.

The knight exiled himself for a long time before finding his true self through his faith and commitment to the path of goodness. However, the same demon once again tore an irreparable rift between his steadfast faith and the goodness he pursued. Once again, she exploited his gullibility, leading to the downfall of the Sassen family and the death of innocent people.

"Why shouldn't I blame her? It's all the devil's fault. I did the best I could, didn't I?" he heard himself say to himself.

"The devil is a perfect excuse, but even the most perfect excuse is still an excuse," another harsher voice retorted beside his ear, "Haven't you noticed that the church is gradually oppressing non-human races? Haven't you noticed that Judith's behavior is becoming more and more blatant? Don't you think there's still time for salvation?"

He could not get answers to his questions, and he did not dare to reveal them to the Archbishop. There was only a fine line between questioning the orders of the spokesman of the perfect man and blasphemy.

A burst of rapid knocking broke the silence in the room and interrupted the knight's deep thoughts.

Yidimu raised his head suddenly, suspecting he was hallucinating. Then, the knocking on the window came again, even more rapidly.

The knight strode to the window and flung it open, and a huge, conspicuous red feather almost poked his nose.

Knight Hewei nimbly flipped over the windowsill and landed on the ground with a grin. Before Edim could ask anything, another pair of hands appeared on the windowsill, followed by Knight Yaron, carrying a bulging bag.

Edim didn't care to be angry, and quickly stretched his head out to look. Fortunately, today was the Harvest Festival, and the church was almost empty, so no one outside saw what had just happened.

"You are trespassing into the abode of God!" the knight scolded.

"Okay, Edim, stop being such a fogey." Knight Hewei looked around the simple room and revealed a look of disgust when he saw the water and bread on the table. "Is this what they let you eat?"

Idim ignored the always evasive Knight Hewei and turned directly to Knight Yaron.

Knight Yaron spread his hands and said helplessly, "If I say we didn't mean to disturb your meditation, would you believe me?"

Of course, Edim didn't believe it, but somewhere in his heart he was glad that his two friends had broken his reverie. The window they knocked open seemed to let in a healthy breeze, blowing away the melancholy and dull atmosphere in the room.

"Then you'd better tell me your purpose, otherwise I will call the guards." Edim deliberately kept a stern face, but the slightly raised corners of his mouth revealed his mood.

"You say that as if you could," Knight Hervey said, holding his bread in his mouth, and came over to give him a punch, "but we do have serious business."

"Oh?" Edim's curiosity was piqued. The problem he needed to think about still remained unsolved. But having a clear goal and something to work on felt really good.

"A message from Lord Monte," Knight Aaron said, standing straight. "He has received a tip that a powerful demon, aliasing Rachel, is lurking beside the Archbishop. He demands that we slay this demon today."

"What?!" Edim couldn't believe his ears. "Say it again? Archbishop, there's a devil around you? Is the source of this information reliable?"

This was absolutely ridiculous. Half a year ago, not even a single imp had appeared in Emerald Harbor, and now two of them had suddenly appeared? And beside the Archbishop?

He immediately thought of Hopper. Could it be that Lord Monte had misjudged him?

"Lord Monte said he couldn't believe it either," Aaron said in a low voice. "I don't know the source of the information, but Lord Monte consulted with Eric, a scholar from the Verinster family, to cross-confirm and confirm that the woman named Rachel is a demon. The intelligence also indicates that she is involved in the deaths of Old Palma and Trisler Kane."

Edim felt his head buzzing. Knight Yaron's words rocked his world once again. If there was a demon lurking beside the Archbishop, didn't that mean those inhumane orders weren't from his heart, but rather that he was deceived?

The knight's heart was pounding at this sudden possibility. If everything was true, then he had been trapped in the devil's trap from the beginning. They were working together to eliminate the archbishop's defenders, and their target was not himself, but the archbishop's soul!

Thinking of this, he almost jumped up. Fortunately, his well-trained habits and innate rationality still forced him to calm down.

"Why today?"

Yalon and Hewei looked at each other. They didn't know why Edim was suddenly so motivated, but they were happy to see their friend cheer up.

"That devil is almost inseparable from the Archbishop," Knight Aaron explained, "but today is a perfect opportunity—the Archbishop will issue oracles and blessings to the entire city from the altar of the church. At that time, we only need to lead the devil to a secluded place."

Yidimu pursed his lips, not wanting to comment on this plan that sounded so flawed. But he also knew that no plan could ever be executed perfectly.

"That's why we need you!" Knight Hewei patted Edim's shoulder vigorously. "Only a brave and devout knight dedicated to the perfect person can shout out the goal."

Edim felt that the loopholes in this plan seemed to be even bigger, but he still tried to save it.

"How are we going to kill that demon?" Edim asked this crucial question. "Lord Monte can't just let us fight with just three swords, right?"

In fact, he had already guessed it. Knight Yaron met his gaze and put down the bulging bag he had been carrying.

"Concentrated holy water, silver-plated ointment, rune arrows, amulets to prevent enchantment, nets with hooks." The black-haired knight squatted on the ground, taking things out of the bag and introducing them one by one.

"These are enough for three people." He pointed at the miscellaneous items scattered on the ground, then reached out and took out the last item, a dark green gem. "This is a treasure provided by Master Eric. It can only be used once, but it's enough to drive the devil back to hell."

Edim took the gem, which was not much bigger than a chestnut, but as heavy as a sword.

"Master Eric's words are so hard to understand, talking about 'stimulation,' 'architecture,' 'preprocessing,' and so on." Knight Hewei shook his head, and his red feathers swayed back and forth. "Then he gave a command, saying, 'Shout...'"

Yalong covered his mouth with his hand to avoid the tragedy of using up the weapon before encountering the enemy, and took out a note from his pocket and handed it to Edim.

Idim memorized the phrase on the note, but suddenly recalled a shrill squeak: "Magic is roughly composed of two parts. First, creation, then inspiration."

Chapter 178 Two Sides of the Mirror

Yidim cautiously opened the door and peered out, looking around. He didn't need to be so cautious. Almost all the clergy were busy preparing for the Archbishop's most important speech of the year. Even those who had free time should have gone to the antechamber and the square to watch the ceremony—this was a rare opportunity to directly encounter the grace of the Perfect One.

Three fully-armed knights tiptoed out the door. Edim looked at the sun's altitude outside the window and estimated the time.

"It's still early. The Archbishop is probably still preparing. The sermon won't start until noon," he analyzed. Now that he had something specific to do, his mind raced. "We still have time."

"We're on the second floor now. Which floor is the platform where the Archbishop is giving his speech?" He Wei asked. "Where is that devil?"

"Since it's disguised as the Archbishop's maid, it's likely that it's preparing a sermon right now," Edimu analyzed. "But it's also possible that it's in her own room."

"It's still early," Aaron glanced out the window. The music was much louder than when they arrived. "We can try our luck in her room. If we encounter this devil, we can kill him directly. Even if we fail, we won't lose anything."

Edim nodded. He reached out and touched the stigmata. The warmth from his fingertips gave him confidence.

He gestured for his two companions to follow him. As a devout believer who rarely missed prayers, he was already very familiar with the interior structure of the Golden Dome Church. His previous trip to the Eagle's Nest had further impressed the Archbishop with his value.

The amber-eyed knight tried hard to recall the maids' residence. As a knight who abided by his duties, Edim had never been to the maids' residence, but that didn't mean he hadn't heard other people's discussions and fantasies about the Archbishop's maids.

They walked up the snow-white steps to the fourth floor. There were noticeably more clergy on this floor. At this point, Edim's identity played a significant role. Most people in the church knew him, and no one stopped to ask why he brought two knights into the church.

"This is it," Yidim said, motioning for his two companions to stop. This was a fork in the road leading outward from the fourth floor. A bouquet of lilies of the valley, woven from pink shells, graced the doorway, clearly indicating the ladies' quarters. The only permanent residents on the fourth floor were the Archbishop's four maids.

"Which one?" Knight Hervey asked. The wooden doors were exactly the same. "If we break into other ladies' rooms, we'll alert them."

Edim sighed and raised his arm. A silver-blue light lit up on his index finger, then scattered into a hazy light curtain that moved forward until it shattered and disappeared at the end of the corridor.

A translucent black column of smoke emerged from behind the door like a tentacle, waving in the air with its fangs and claws bared.

"Wow, detect evil. I've only heard of that." Knight Hewei looked at the knight's hand with envy.

"If you're willing to return and inherit the family business, it won't be difficult," Edimu shrugged, leading them toward the door with the most tentacles. Knight Hewei grimaced, remained silent, and hurried after them.