"That idiot."
Kaelgor muttered underneath his breath, the words a low growl that escaped from between gritted teeth.
His red eyes, usually so cold and calculating, widened with genuine shock upon seeing the pitch-black barrier that now surrounded the nexus.
It was a wall of absolute nothingness, a void that devoured light and sound, a power that it could not be ignored.
His mind worked at supernatural speeds, processing the implications, reassessing his plans, recalculating the odds.
The first layer of hell held no unique resources.
That was its defining characteristic, its blessing and its curse.
The materials found here, abyssal steel, black gold, demon-flame crystals, were valuable, but they could be found elsewhere, and in greater quantities and with less effort.
What made the layer unique was not its resources, but its restrictions.
Here, only lesser devils and lesser demons fought for dominance, their power levels capped, the playing field equaled.
The stronger devils orchestrated everything from the layers below, pulling strings and moving pieces on a board they could not directly touch.
It was a system of controlled chaos; a carefully maintained balance that had persisted for eons.
Kaelgor had glimpsed the deeper layers, had witnessed the brutal, unpredictable struggles that occurred when greater powers clashed.
In those deeper layers, two Greater Devils could be vying for a resource point, their armies clashing, their magics colliding, only to attract the attention of a True Devil: a being of such immense power that it could slap them both away like insignificant insects.
The fields of play were too vast, too unpredictable, too dangerous.
Artifacts of immense power, arrays that could reshape reality, massive armies of various bloodlines, shifting alliances and sudden betrayals…
It was a chaos that made the petty squabbles of the first layer seem almost peaceful. No, in comparison, it was peaceful.
All the "unique resources" in hell, the true treasures, things that could change the balance of power, were those plundered from other realms, or the materials harvested from the bodies of peak-tier fiends.
With those materials taken from devils were the most valuable by far.
The horns of a peak-tier lesser devil of the gluttony path, like the ones he had used to craft the tail band for Adam, were worth more than any single resource produced in this layer.
The spatial ring he wore on his finger, plundered from a warring realm years ago, was worth more still.
Inside that ring, Kaelgor stored his most precious possessions.
The items too powerful for the first layer, the treasures that would be restricted, the resources he had accumulated over a century of careful, patient looting.
All items that attempted to break the limit in the first layer were suppressed, their power dampened.
That was why the nexus under Adam was even more anomalous and dangerous: even more valuable.
Only the runes of an Arch Devil could defy such a powerful restriction, and even then, only slightly.
The fact that Adam had managed to not only inherit those runes but to integrate them with his own creations spoke to a level of talent and luck that was almost terrifying.
But that luck seemed to be dying out…
Kaelgor's own spatial ring was not that powerful. It was a simple, basic model, with only three square meters of space within. He could not fit all the resources he had plundered from Lord Gorael's territory.
He had planned to move them secretly, little by little, using the chaos of the perimeter to cover his theft.
But now, because of that idiot Adam and his spectacular, catastrophic flare of power, he had to change his plans.
He had suspected, of course, that Adam wouldn't reveal his barrier's full power unless something had happened.
The newborn was arrogant, lustful, and reckless, but he was not stupid. He understood the risks.
So what had occurred?
Had he been attacked again?
One of the other devils grown impatient and tried to breach his walls?
Saphira awoke and caused more chaos?
Kaelgor could only guess. His cut connection with Saphira made it so his insight into what was occurring was at an all-time low.
But in the end, he realized, he no longer cared what happened to Adam.
He had already tried his last hand with Saphira's assassination, and it had failed.
That was why Kaelgor had simply given him the tail collar, agreed to remove his brand, and walked away without a backward glance.
He wanted to cut ties, to focus on himself.
"Kamir!" He called out in the darkness.
Kaelgor's most trusted subordinate, the berserker demon who had led the assault on the basin, stepped forward from the shadows.
His massive, armored form knelt before his lord, his head bowed, his expression still fretful over his recent failure.
The failed sneak attack, the captured elites, the shame of retreat; it weighed on him, a burden he carried silently.
But Kaelgor did not rebuke him.
The failure had been a worthy try, a calculated risk that had not paid off.
Adam had proven to be different, an anomaly that defied common sense. There was no shame in being outmatched by the unexpected.
"Recall our reinforcements," Kaelgor commanded, his voice low and urgent.
"We are leaving, now!"
His massive, armored form turned away from the temporary base they had set up, and towards the horizon, to the three kilometer tall nexus that stood under Lord Gorael's control.
Kamir rose and, his heavy footsteps echoing behind his lord as he hurried to gather their forces.
Kaelgor had already found a coordinate for a deeper layer of hell, a place where the land was relatively desolate, untamed, and unclaimed.
The fiends of that area, if his scouts were correct, were on the weaker side; newborns and outcasts, survivors of failed power struggles, beings who had not yet found their place in hell's hierarchy.
A small portion of demons had already been sent ahead, their mission to establish a simple base of operation: an underground bunker hidden from prying eyes.
Alas, he could not wait any longer.
He could not slowly and secretly send his resources over, bit by bit, hiding his movements from Vorlag and Malgrim.
The black barrier, the display of power, had changed everything.
He had to act immediately, openly, and to prevent any unexpected circumstances: he needed to seize temporary control of the nexus at Lord Gorael's plot of territory.
Just long enough to transfer his resources and make his getaway.
It was a risk, a direct defiance of the Arch Devil's passive oversight, but it was a calculated one.
Gorael was distracted, his attention focused on the deeper layers, on the incursions of rival powers.
He would not notice, or if he did, he would not care, as long as he didn't notice the barriers power spike…
Kaelgor's mind shifted to the other devils under his temporary command; the rogues he had recruited, the unwilling allies he had gathered.
He had a plan for them, or more like a choice to offer.
"Head to the nexus's portal at Lord Gorael's territory. Leave freely. Go anywhere you wish from the set coordinate. The path is open." He said, his voice flat.
He paused, letting the words sink in.
"Or stay here. Wander the first layer, looking for a force to pledge allegiance to. Or wait until you can reach the Awakened realm on your own. The choice is yours."
His red eyes suddenly bore with intensity into the devil's pondering expressions.
"Or, if you desire, stay for the aftermath of what is about to happen. Try to become Lord Gorael's subordinates. Remain in this territory, offer your service, and hope that the Arch Devil's rage does not turn towards you." He shrugged, a casual warning.
"Or stay with me. Follow my lead," His haze held no hesitation, "I will not lie, I am not too powerful. Not yet. I cannot offer you the same safety that Lord Gorael's name provides. But I can offer you something else."
The devil's ears perked up while they looked at him with skepticism.
"I have spent a century in this layer. I have learned techniques, honed skills, accumulated knowledge that most devils my age can only dream of. I hold absolute confidence in reaching the Greater Devil realm. And when I do, I will start my own faction. My own territory. My own army."
His pride shone brightly, manifesting and intertwining with the surrounding demonic mana. His hand was held out, offering a deal, a promise, to those who dared.
"You are free to choose. Free to leave. Free to stay. I will not hold your decision against you."
It was a recruitment pitch delivered with brutal honesty.
Kaelgor was not a charismatic leader, not a master of charm like some of his peers. But he was fair, in his own cold, pragmatic way.
He knew that some devils under his command might decide to follow him.
Not out of loyalty, perhaps, but out of self-interest.
In hell, that was often enough.