Baator Hell Promotion

"Little devil Harold, huh?" Tumnu finally finished reading the scroll and sat back on the cushions. A table slid in front of him, and he picked up a convex lens mounted on the handle with a businesslike gesture. With his other paw, he pushed the tray on the table forward. "Come on, explain your mission."

The little devil took out the soul prism that originally belonged to Charlotte from his bag and placed it on the tray while telling his story.

Hap spoke rapidly, omitting the fact that he had initiated the deal with the Sassens, presenting himself as an innocent chipmunk who had been coerced into violence. As for Charlotte not having escaped, that was simply due to his own arrogance. What could the little chipmunk do?

Anzumo didn't care about Charlotte's life or death. When he heard the appearance of the Lantern Messenger, Tumnu raised his half-closed eyelids, and when the little devil finished telling the whole story, his little pig eyes had widened.

"In hell, the soul of a believer in the Perfect Man?" Anzumo grabbed the soul prism on the tray in disbelief and observed it carefully through the convex lens.

Then, he knocked on the table, and the surrounding bookshelves shook as if blown by an invisible gale. Book after book flew toward him and began to flip through the pages in unison. Anzumo seemed lost in his world of books, and the little devil didn't dare interrupt him. After a long moment, he breathed a sigh of relief, clapped his hands, and all the books flew back to their shelves.

"You completed your mission well this time, little devil," he said solemnly to Harp, "Do you know how long the Church of the Perfect Man has been around?"

"Less than a hundred years?" the little devil tentatively guessed. The images of gods are ever-changing, often with the same god using different aspects or masquerading as other gods. Harp's knowledge of religion simply wasn't enough to determine when the belief in the Perfect Man emerged.

"To be exact, it was 83," Anzumo said. "However, I just checked all the records, and other than the one you brought back, no other souls of the Perfect One's followers have passed through my hands."

The little devil was stunned.

Those with strong faith are often more difficult to be tempted, and therefore their souls are more valuable. If it is just a matter of strong faith, there is no shortage of demons in Baator who want to challenge you.

From what the little devil understood, the core of the Perfect Man's teachings was human supremacy, advocating tyranny over non-human races. Theoretically, his followers' alignments would be very similar to those of Baator, making them more likely to be dragged down by the devils. Given this, it was incredibly strange that no believers' souls had gone to Hell in nearly a century.

"I don't know whether I should congratulate you or mourn for you in advance," Anzumo licked his nose with his eel-like tongue and said, "According to my records, in the past fifty years, at least ten harvesters and three lust demons have carried out missions related to the followers of the Perfect Man. In the end, they all failed for various reasons. Do you know what this means?"

"This means this soul is priceless!" the little devil shrieked in a shrill voice. He knew what Anzumo was hinting at, but he didn't want to discuss it further with the unfamiliar devil. There were only two possibilities for such a bizarre situation: either a higher-up being had corrupted the entire church and predestined all souls; or the Perfect Man was truly a newly born god who valued his followers greatly and would promptly eliminate any signs of affecting their souls.

Thinking of the rune cloth in the Sassen family, the little devil fell silent. There were too few clues and he couldn't guess what was going on.

An Zumo didn't get the answer he wanted, and he didn't care much. He shrugged and said:

"You're right. I never thought I'd encounter a 'first arrest' again. This prism alone is enough to earn you a promotion. However, I must report the details to Madam Blackwing, so she can summarize and report back."

The little devil nodded. This wasn't his first time delivering a mission. Anzumo was describing standard procedures. Generally speaking, the highest-ranking officer of a Cheer Tower is an Anzumo. However, every Cheer Tower has at least one messenger from a demon noble who relays messages and delivers soul ledgers. This direct contact with the nobles is often held by succubi. It seems likely that Lady Blackwing is this tower's messenger.

Chapter 21: Cheer Tower (Part 2)

"Speaking of promotion, I saw it written on the pass that you want to get promotion consultation and submit a promotion application?" An Zumo changed the subject.

"Yes, erudite sir," the little devil followed his lead and changed the subject. "I want to know which devils I can be promoted to."

Anzumo waved his hand, and the surrounding cushions continuously ejected silk threads in response to his gestures. They swirled and intertwined in the air, as if woven by invisible shuttles. Soon, a vast tapestry was formed. The tapestry was divided from top to bottom into three sections: red, blue, and green. Harp could clearly see hundreds of words forming a pyramid shape, each word representing a demonic group.

"You little devils are here." Anzumo pointed to the bottom of the blue part. His finger followed the line connecting the little devils upwards to find another word. "The next level is the Steel Devil. You need at least nine souls in your merit book."

"Can't I ascend to a different type?" Hap stared at the tapestry. There were several other clans on the same level as the Steel Demons. Hap had once been content with his status as a Little Devil. If it weren't for the numerous mishaps during this trip that had left him fed up with the Little Devil's lack of combat power, he would have preferred to remain a Little Devil until he accumulated enough souls to ascend to a High-level Devil.

But compared to turning into a steel demon and fighting on the front line to be minced meat, he would rather stay in the class of little devils for a few hundred years.

"A Gather Demon is a lowered form of a high-level demon," Anzumo explained patiently. "And unless you can impress the Dragon Queen, no one knows how to upgrade you to a Red Dragon Demon. As for the others, there are various conditions that you cannot meet."

"That's terrible," the little devil muttered, "but is there any other solution?"

Anzumo remained silent, as if suddenly possessed by a profound interest in the tapestry. The little devil gritted his teeth, fished a gold coin from his pouch, and prepared to repeat his old trick, resolving the issue as he had with the receptionist.

"Ah, you misunderstood me, my dear Harold. The consultation is free." Anzumo grinned, revealing a set of sharp teeth that could bite a little devil into a sieve. "Besides, what do I need these mortal things for?"

"Greedy pig!" the little devil cursed inwardly. Who was he pretending to be honest in hell? If possible, the little devil would definitely dig out his eyeballs and bite them until they made a crackling sound, but for now, he could only imagine it in his mind to vent his anger.

"Of course, of course, you're certainly not that kind of bureaucrat," the little devil said with a smile, taking out the reward the mage had given him. "I heard from the receptionist that you're the most knowledgeable and influential figure in Arka. I hope you can help me identify this necklace."

Anzumo finally turned his gaze from the tapestry. He took the tooth necklace and examined it carefully, occasionally making a sound of "tsk tsk," clearly pleased with it. Finally, he even put the necklace on his neck.

"The teeth of the pagan Isi ray aren't particularly powerful magical weapons, but they are rare. It's a shame there's only half a set of teeth."

"It's so beautiful, so suitable for you, it's almost tailor-made for you," Hap exclaimed. "It seems that the hand of fate brought it to you through me."

"You're truly modest, Mr. Hap. Please take a seat and let's chat." Anzumo was in a good mood, even using a more intimate address. "You're so lucky, not only achieving the title of 'First Capture' but also obtaining such a precious treasure. It would be a waste of fate's gift to be promoted to a Steel Devil wallowing in the mud with the monsters of the abyss. I'll write you a letter of recommendation later. You absolutely deserve a higher rank."

Hap breathed a sigh of relief. Fortunately, half a set of teeth was enough to satisfy the pig, and he didn't have to sacrifice anything else.

"However, dear little Hap," Anzumo at least remembered to complete the formalities, "my letter of introduction can only give you the opportunity to knock on the threshold of advancement to the upper echelons. You have to meet the business requirements yourself. Do you have a goal you want to advance now? Do you need my recommendation?"

"Thank you, kind sir," Harp concentrated, waiting for Anzumo's words. A veteran devil who had served as a recruiter for so long, his experience was enough to protect the younger devil from most of the pitfalls of Baator's complex promotion system. "I still hope to be able to serve you, the Grand Dukes, and to further strengthen Baator with souls."

"Let me think about it. My tribe is certainly the most qualified, and you are smart enough. But my letter of introduction can only recommend you to a lower level than mine," Anzumo said, scratching his slender chin with one hand and stroking his necklace with the other. "Then the choice is narrower. The succubus only accepts those who are born succubus, and there is no way to advance through the formal path. If you were not a devil, but a half-devil Cambion, I could recommend you to help sign the contract. But now..."

"Perhaps," the little devil asked tentatively, "how about the Reaper? My boss, Charlotte, unfortunately died during a mission. Is there a vacancy for the Reaper?"

"Ahaha," Anzumo said with a look of complete understanding, "This is truly a sad thing for me. My condolences to you."

"But you're right. Now that he's gone, someone has to take on the soul-collecting burden." The short, fat devil clapped his hands, and the quill on the desk levitated, beginning to write in mid-air. "The Harvester position has many eyes on it. Do you have enough souls?"

"Not counting the last one, I already have 66 souls in my merit book. Is that enough?" Hap replied. Hell's merit book never makes mistakes. From the moment each soul falls into Hell, the devils' role in their downfall is calculated using extremely sophisticated standards.

"Enough, enough. Your boss tragically perished, unable to even be reborn. The souls of the Perfect Man's followers now belong entirely to you. You're almost ready to be promoted to a high-ranking devil," Anzumo said, then, for the sake of the necklace, he added a warning, "But I advise you not to be too ambitious. There are many devils watching you. Lady Luck is a fickle bitch; she won't always be on your side."

As he spoke, the quill had already written the letter of recommendation, and Anzumo read it over again and again before carefully imprinting his mark.

"If you're not planning on jumping through the ranks to become a high-ranking devil, the entire promotion process will be much simpler," Anzumo said as he slowly folded the recommendation letter. "You only need approval from your immediate supervisor and his supervisor. But now that poor Charlotte has left us forever, it's even simpler. Only his immediate supervisor needs to approve it."

"Charlotte, Charlotte..." Anzumo paused for a moment, thinking, but his hands continued as a bird made of letters of recommendation began to take shape. "His superior should be Igari. He's an ice demon, and he probably spends years on the eighth floor serving the learned Lord Mephistos. It might take some time for you to get his reply."

He loosened his hand, and the bird made of recommendation letters flapped its wings and flew up, circled around Hap, and quickly disappeared into the darkness outside the room.

Chapter 22: The Cat in the Tavern

There is no leisure time in Baator.

As the saying goes, "The devil never sleeps." The denizens of Baator, from the highest nobles to the lowest foot soldiers, have virtually no free time. Day and night, they are immersed in power games that reward superiors, oppress peers, and humiliate those below them. Like field mice hoarding food before winter, devils gather whatever resources they can find, hoping to use them someday. And as one descends the social ladder, the potential for leisure quickly diminishes—in Baator, class brings privilege, and privilege begets law.

Therefore, Hap, who had just come out of the cheering tower, felt the feeling he had experienced for the first time in his devilish career - having nothing to do.

Typically, imps are either working or on their way to work, their superiors never giving them a break. However, Harp's superior was Charlotte, who has since vanished. In theory, Harp should now wait for his superior's superior, the ice demon Igari, to assign him a new supervisor. However, Harp had just applied for a promotion, and the ice demon needed to confirm the imp's promotion before reassigning him to work.

The end result was that the little devil suddenly found that he was almost free before getting a reply.

Freedom. The little devil chewed on the word over and over again. Sweet and unfamiliar, a devil's freedom increased with each level. At its level, even slacking off could be fatal, let alone completely free time. Now, suddenly blessed with a long break, it didn't know what to do with it.

After thinking for a moment, the little devil decided to do something he had never done before.

There are almost no taverns in Baator.

Demons are immune to toxins, and ordinary alcohol has no effect on them. Only a few liquids can make a demon feel relaxed. In addition, most demons do not have the capital to indulge themselves. The consequences of being drunk in Baator are far more than vomiting and coma.

However, in many ways, Avernus was an exception. Beyond the devils, countless mercenaries from other worlds were constantly thrown into the grinding mill of eternal bloodbath in the first layer of Hell. The archdevil Bayer showed a considerable degree of tolerance and mercy, allowing drinking as long as it didn't affect the battle. This fostered a thriving tavern culture throughout Avernus.

The little devil, Harp, was currently sitting in a tavern in Arka. Although Grand Duke Bayer had allowed the opening of taverns, that didn't mean he had relaxed his control over the entire Avernus. In fact, under the Grand Duke's strict laws, any brawl could result in the closure of a tavern.

Therefore, most of the taverns in Avernus have eliminated the halls and replaced them with long underground passages and separate compartments, and each guest's needs are met by ringing a bell to call a waiter.

Before Harp sat a large, bubbling cup of Tongue Burning, a fermented beverage from the third layer, brewed from the blood of infernal crocodiles. The little devil took a sip of Tongue Burning. True to its name, the half-cup of strong acid in the crocodile blood burned like a raging fire through his throat and into his body. Harp shuddered, a wisp of green smoke rising from his mouth, and he felt an inexplicable lightness throughout his body.

"If all customers drank as slowly as you do, the tavern would probably have to close down." A low, hoarse laugh came from the door. A pure white lion walked in leisurely and said to the tiefling waiter following behind, "A basin of dragon milk with a small bowl of howler meat."

"If all devils were as unpunctual as you, Baator would probably be destroyed," the little devil retorted, sizing up his old acquaintance. "Monster Hunter Lightning, it seems Lady Bist has been doing well lately. You've gained quite a bit of weight, too."

"Could you please not bring up such a depressing topic as your superiors in the tavern?" Hearing the name, White Lion snorted in annoyance and squatted down. "Or do you want me to ask you why Charlotte was willing to let you out for a drink?"

"You and I are different, Hellcat." Perhaps due to the burning of his tongue, the little devil was more relaxed than he wanted to show. He said smugly, "Ask whatever you want. The answer is the same—Charlotte no longer exists."

Hellcat Lightning looked even more irritated. But the waiter arrived just then, and he didn't bother to answer. The waiter placed a shallow basin, half the size of the table, filled with a light red liquid and four small bowls of minced meat in front of him. The white lion sniffed and began to slurp the dragon milk.

"First of all, congratulations on your promotion." The white lion drank all the liquid in one breath and licked his lips with satisfaction.

Lightning was ten feet long, and even when crouching on the ground, he was taller than the little devil standing on the table. But Hap still thought it was no different from a house cat.

"Tell me, what do you want to know?" The white lion said as he bit the minced meat gracefully, not letting a single strand of his mane touch the food. "You didn't ask me to come here specifically to congratulate you on your advancement, did you?"

Because Lady Biste was expelled from the palace by the King of the Nine Hells, her direct descendants were unable to continue their advancement. As Biste's great-grandson, Lightning was always very sensitive to this matter.

"I'm not familiar with Ms. Toots. Can you help me find out some news about God Street?" the little devil said. Ms. Toots was Mrs. Biste's companion. Even though Mrs. Biste was no longer as healthy as before, the cats around her were not something the little devil could touch.

"It's no use being familiar with her. Her sister, Tudogalo, is Biste's favorite right now," Hellcat replied lazily. "All news on the second level of Dis, including the Street of Gods, is under Tudogalo's control."

The little devil was speechless for a while. Mrs. Biste was notoriously fickle-minded. The news he got before going on the mission was that Toots had kicked her father Butch out of the way and climbed to a high position.

"But if what you ask is not too confidential, I can tell you. I went to Dis a while ago and have some information to tell you." The white lion had finished all the minced meat and began to lick his paws.

"I want to know the information about the perfect person." The little devil considered the wording and chose the most vague way to ask.

"No comment," Hellcat replied flatly, shaking his head, causing his translucent fur to flutter.

"He only cultivates followers among humans. It's said that even the Kingdom of God is on the Prime Material Plane, so there's very little information available," Hellcat said mysteriously. "I heard that the core of his teachings is 'human supremacy.'"

The little devil nodded thoughtfully. No news was also a message. A new god who dared to proclaim the supremacy of humanity must be either incredibly powerful or incredibly foolish.

But for the little devil, this was far from bad news. Harp's religious knowledge was limited, but he knew this doctrine would undoubtedly provoke the resentment of the gods of other races. A perfect being must be fully vigilant against those gods who covet him. They probably wouldn't have the time to send anyone to cause trouble for him.

"If you really want to know, I have an idea." The Hellcat poked its furry head over the table. The little devil actually saw a hint of shrewdness on its cat face. "It's that you have to bleed."

The little devil had a feeling that he could not keep the other half of the necklace either.

Chapter 23 Kitya's Collection of Books

Hap put down the book in his hand, rubbed his dry eyes, looked out the window, and saw that the sky was covered in a green haze, as if it was going to rain at any moment.

As a demon, Hap was physically incapable of feeling sleepy, but he was also unable to resist the mental dull pain brought on by excessive thinking.

"That's Lightning's brilliant idea," the little devil muttered. "I'm spending most of my savings on this, browsing the Theogony in the largest library on Minauros, the third level of Hell."

"The Kitya Library will definitely find the materials you need." Harp recalled Hellcat's confident face and was so angry that his teeth ached. "You know, Ms. Biste's male favorite, Mitt, is responsible for helping us find out about the third floor. He can definitely get you in."

"The devil keeps the books best," the white lion said cheerfully, using a Prime Material Plane proverb. "One reward for meeting Mitt, and one reward for letting Mitt take you to the Kitia Library. Pay now."

In the end, the damn curiosity and fear of the future (only a little bit!) outweighed the stinginess, and the two largest teeth of the Isi manta ray became a gift to Mitt, and the reward for Mitt was paid by Lightning.

"I paid for you, but you know the summoning agreement." The white lion grinned, his saliva almost dripping.

The little devil knew what the monster was planning. After all, he was about to be promoted, and it would be worth it for him to pay for a chance to respond to the call.

But the little devil signed it without hesitation. It was a credit with no interest. If he didn't sign it, he wouldn't be a devil.

Hap had never expected that since Kitea was known as the largest library in Minauros, the number of books in its collection was definitely beyond the imagination of ordinary devils.

The little devil had been staying in the seemingly endless bookshelves for who knows how long. He only remembered that the light and dark of the sky outside changed more than a dozen times - yes, although there was no sun in hell, the lords of each level still made the light in the sky change regularly out of their own preferences or for some unknown purposes.

Harp withdrew his gaze from the window. The library had one advantage: compared to the violence, bloodshed, and oppression of Hell, it was almost serene and tranquil. To prevent fires, the entire library was illuminated by solar crystals. The hazy white light was filled with only the faint whispers of books and the rustling of pages.

Having finished reading the "Divine Genealogy" in his hand, the little devil resigned himself to picking up another one, flipping open the human skin cover, and looking for his target in the cumbersome catalog.

The names of the gods are imbued with power, and anyone calling them could potentially draw the gods' gaze. Therefore, all non-believers deliberately avoid addressing them by name, instead using various conventional pronouns. This habit now creates significant trouble for the little devil in his quest for information.

For example, it saw a "dictator under the night" and thought it had something to do with a perfect person. But when it turned to the corresponding page, it found that the complete sentence was

"We call upon the dictator of the night, the watcher of the night watch, the veiled maiden, the torchbearer, the third of three, to watch over our souls."

Hap had never heard of most of the names here, but Torchbearer was one of the common nicknames used by the Black Moon Goddess, and it was not the perfect person she was looking for at all.

The little devil sighed almost inaudibly and was about to return to the index when his attention was drawn to an ink stain. On the page just after the praises to the Black Moon Goddess, a name had been blacked out, so carefully that the human skin had seeped through.

"XII. A lone torch-bearer walked through the wilderness, and saw Kokoukoukoukou crawling on the ground. First he cried, then he begged, and finally he threatened, like an albino elaphe snake writhing in the mud."

"XIII. Under the cover of night, the dictator threw the paper crown to the mouth, mouth, mouth, mouth, with a sound like a loud bell."

"XIV. I am not pity, I am not indifference, I am not an alliance, I am the vengeance of the night, the mother of the dark arts, the protector of a thousand shadows. Take up the crown, if you can bear its weight."

"XV. The paper crown blazed on its neck as it exulted, and it cried out, I will rule over mankind, I am the king of kings, the ruler of all lords."

The page ends here. The little devil turns back and finds that the previous page is a similar story. The Black Moon Goddess meets someone in a certain place and performs a certain miracle.

This story is very interesting. The little devil thought that the author of "Theogony" was Meisdam, the dean of the Supreme Political Academy. Did she cross out the records or did someone do it privately?

The Black Moon Goddess's domain connects Baator Hell and the Hopeless Ashes. The entrance to this section of Hell is on the third floor, not far from the library. As the patron saint of hidden knowledge and dark magic, is she behind this?

Furthermore, the Paper Crown's purpose is unique. Regardless of whose name is crossed out, his rule is precarious. Is this true of the Church of the Perfect Man? The only clear indication of its existence is its claim to "rule humanity," a claim already used by countless ambitious individuals, making it hardly a strong argument.

The little devil quickly thought of another thing that he had almost forgotten: that foolish sorcerer, Claire, seemed to have recited the Black Moon Goddess's prayers, but she was born into a family that believed in perfection. Was all this a coincidence?

Harp covered his face, hoping the sweet darkness would bring him some inspiration. He knew so little. If only he could return to the Prime Material Plane just once.

A soft, cold hand shook him, and the little devil opened his eyes angrily, glaring at the human in front of him.

Due to the hobbies of Grand Duke Maman of the Third Layer and the need to protect fragile books, the administrators of the Kiria Library are almost all mortals. Grand Duke Maman forbids harming or seducing administrators in the library. They are all the private property of the Grand Duke, but this does not mean that the administrators are not afraid of demons.

At least the girl in front of him was terrified. She was shaking from her masked face to her thin robe that barely covered her ankles. Despite this, she still spoke haltingly:

"Excuse me, are you Master Hap, the Little Devil? I have a message for you from Kania."

The little devil was a little confused. The big guys in the Eighth Hell had nothing to do with him, so who would bring him a message?

He followed the administrator around rows of silent bookshelves, climbing higher and higher until they reached a small balcony. A large blue bird sat there waiting for him, a ball of blue flame quietly burning where its head should have been.