As Seraphine gracefully walked, rows upon rows of bookshelves, towering over a thousand meters like cliffs, continuously swept past on her left and right.
While walking, she noted that each of these bookshelves was neatly stacked with countless books. Most of the books were incredibly heavy, resembling rectangular boulders.
Furthermore, the rusted labels atop each bookshelf were carved with distinct subjects and genres. There were texts on demon and Hell history, the mysteries of dark arts and curses, manuscripts concerning death and pain, and scrolls about darkness and chaos.
These books all looked incredibly ancient and old, their spines covered in dust and shedding bindings.
Throughout her journey, Seraphine observed that all the bookshelves were packed full, seemingly containing infinite knowledge. This made her feel as if she had fallen into an Ocean of Knowledge, a sensation that brought an undeniable ease to her mind.
Continuing along the hall, Seraphine noticed that some items on the shelves could barely be called books: they were mostly large quantities of fragmented, old manuscripts and oddly crinkled leather scrolls.
These books all contained ancient, dangerous, or bizarrely ominous spiritual light. An ordinary person carelessly touching them would very likely meet with misfortune.
"Oh?!"
Upon reaching the plaza-sized reading room, Seraphine was surprised to find thousands of Cursers sitting rigidly at long tables, utterly focused on reading heavy books.
"Do you all enjoy studying so much?" she mused.
But as she truly approached, she realized that these Cursers, who appeared to be earnestly reading and studying, were in fact constantly spewing forth emotions of intense suffering.
These souls inhabiting tattered bodies had completely red-rimmed, lidless eyes, revealing extreme exhaustion, drowsiness, and an almost palpable disgust.
Despite this, they could not leave their reading tables. As if cursed, they could only continuously read and study without eating, drinking, sleeping, or resting.
After finishing one book, another would automatically fly from the shelf and slam onto the table before the Curser, forcing them to continue reading. Even if they read until their brains necrotized or their organs rotted, they could not stop.
At this point, Seraphine understood that these Cursers were enduring a form of torture: the torment of reading and studying. It targeted those humans who naturally disliked reading and studying. After falling into Hell, they would be sent to this library.
From then on, they would bid farewell to all food, sleep, and entertainment. Their eyelids were cruelly cut off, forcing them to endlessly read and study until the day their forms and spirits were utterly destroyed.
The oldest Curser among them, Seraphine estimated from his diffused aura, had likely been sitting on that chair reading books for about five thousand years.
However, this old Curser's production of emotional suffering was intermittent, meager in quantity, and poor in quality; he probably wouldn't last much longer.
"Ha ha, truly interesting."
Seraphine laughed gleefully. Her head suddenly exploded into hundreds of thousands of eyeballs, each connected by long blood vessels, muscle tendons, and nerve bundles. They flew swiftly toward every bookshelf.
SWISH SWISH SWISH!!
Carrying a strong scent of blood, each eyeball rapidly shot to the front of a row of bookshelves. Then, these hundreds of thousands of eyeballs simultaneously expanded countless times, transforming into gigantic ocular masses, their surfaces pulsing with thick blood vessels.
These terrifying, fear-inducing eyes scanned the books on the shelves, then a blood-red gaping maw, filled with overlapping teeth, split open within each eyeball.
"Ah—"
Accompanied by a long exhalation, dozens of narrow, bizarre, pale arms slowly extended from each blood-red maw. Once formed, these arms shot out like bullets toward the bookshelves ahead, greedily and savagely grabbing the boulder-sized ancient books, then flinging them into the wide-open blood-red maws behind.
CRUNCH CRUNCH CRUNCH!!
As the books entered the maw, they were instantly shredded by layers of constantly rotating, sharp grinding teeth, transforming into dense, illusory streams of information that flowed deep into the maw's throat.
Then, through the bloody tubes connecting from the back of the giant eyes, they were entirely swallowed by Seraphine with a gurgling sound.
In an instant, vast amounts of knowledge and secrets hidden deep within Hell for countless eons, knowledge entirely distinct from the material world, even from Ansel's world and the nation of Gendaya, were brutally seized by Seraphine.
Spirit knowledge, prison techniques, torture arts, blood-based technology, grotesque dark arts, human magic, flesh modification, soul modification, bestiaries, dream creation and control, cosmic science, Hell history...
Countless pieces of knowledge flashed within Seraphine's mind, like myriad brilliant stars.
CRUNCH CRUNCH CRUNCH!!
Rows upon rows of thousands of books on the shelves were devoured in a flash. Afterward, these eyes would immediately shift their target, eating toward other bookshelves.
Minutes ticked by.
Seraphine's understanding of the Hell of Pain, and even beyond Hell, became increasingly profound, no longer as unfamiliar as before. Thus, she discovered that, contrary to the common perception of Hell being filled with evil and chaos:
In reality, within Leviathan's and Hell's demonic horde's own perception and philosophy, they did not consider themselves evil, nor did they see themselves as part of a chaotic collective.
On the contrary, these devils believed human society was the most disordered and chaotic place, desperately needing the baptism of order. They believed bringing Hell's order to the mortal realm could use order to eliminate chaos, restoring everything to goodness.
Because in these devils' belief, so-called morality and individual emotions were secondary; only pain and order transcended everything. All things should operate systematically according to predetermined fate, and everyone had the right, and indeed the obligation, to enjoy the reality brought by pain.
For example, the array of nails on Great High Priest Ellincer's head symbolized this order. These magical nails also granted a stronger ability to perceive pain, which in turn brought the Great High Priest greater Hellish magical power.
Of course, all these were merely the philosophical tenets of Hell's demonic horde. Leviathan and the Practitioners, focused entirely on the art of torture, lacked the motivation to genuinely invade the mortal world.
In fact, they rejoiced in seeing human society maintain what they viewed as its chaotic state. This chaotic human nature and undying desires were the root of all pain. This was precisely what the Hell of Pain needed most.
However, from a human perspective, the Hell of Pain was an abyss of ultimate evil and darkness. Yet, perhaps due to the complex nature of humanity, even in the face of such a terrifying Hell, a significant number of people were drawn to the darkness, becoming worshippers of the Practitioners, willingly selling their lives for Hell.
The craftsman who created hundreds of Boxes, for example, was one such individual.
Naturally, apart from such high-level talents, the hidden worshippers of Hell in the mortal realm more often served as intermediaries, striving to expose more humans to the Boxes, thereby causing them to fall into Hell.
Seraphine also believed the bald Ellincer's earlier statement about ten million Mortal Realms. The Hell of Pain was indeed connected to ten million parallel spacetime Old Earths.
That's right—parallel spacetimes possessing Solar Systems, Milky Ways, and countless galaxies. It wasn't, as she had initially speculated, ten million small worlds resembling Old Earth Secret Realms artificially simulated within the Realm of Phantasm.
These ten million parallel spacetime Old Earths spanned basically every era. Ancient times, tribal eras, the Iron Age, classical antiquity, industrial eras, Cyber eras, spacefaring eras... Almost every era in the history of human civilization could be found among these ten million Mortal Realms.
What truly concerned her were the other two Hells, also connected to millions of parallel spacetimes. Yes, there was not just one Hell, but three Hells in total. They also existed in a boundless void, possessing scale and power no less than the Hell of Pain.
One of them was named [Sinful Land of Midian], where a dark clan known as the Moon Tribe lived. The individual members of this tribe were called [Night Walkers].
Unlike the Practitioners in the Hell of Pain who were transformed from humans, these Night Walkers from the Sinful Land were an alien race completely unrelated to humans.
Their appearance differed vastly from humans: some had repulsive tentacles growing from their abdomens, some had multiple pairs of eyes on their cheeks, some sprouted dense, sharp horns on their heads, some had bizarre, twisted heads resembling the moon, and some even looked like living porcupines.
Not only did their appearances differ, but the Moon Tribe also wielded a dark, evil power called the Power of Nightmares, rumored to be the origin of human nightmares. Most of these dark creatures possessed extended lifespans; a few could even achieve eternal life.
Similar to the Hell of Pain, the Sinful Land of Midian also had a group of beings with extraordinary combat power, akin to the Great High Priests, named [The Bound].
The Bound are few in number, composed entirely of irregularly twisted muscle masses. They lack brains and internal organs; their teeth are as sharp as blades.
Their strength is godlike. Their appearance is even more hideous than the already grotesque Night Walkers; a mere glance could cause a mortal's perception to collapse, leading to brain death.
Unlike the Hell of Pain, which prefers to capture mortals through the Box of Sorrow, the Sinful Land of Midian connects with the mortal realm through nocturnal cemeteries.
At night, desolate and uninhabited graveyards become their playground. If someone appears in a cemetery then, they become prey for the Night Walkers, mercilessly hunted, toyed with, and then brutally devoured alive.
Just as the Hell of Pain has the Supreme God Leviathan, the Sinful Land of Midian naturally also has a deity: the Restful Goat—Demon Baphomet.
This demon, even larger than any human, has the head of an antelope, the voluptuous, naked body of a human female, the lower body of a deer, the hooved feet of a wild goat, and a scorpion-like tail. At the tip of its venomous scorpion stinger burns a nightmare flame capable of incinerating even the Sun to ash. He is the creator of the Moon Tribe, hence also known as the God of Night Walkers.
However, despite both being Gods of Hell, this goat-headed demon Baphomet and Leviathan do not interact much and have never had conflicts, only a slight mutual apprehension.
Therefore, Baphomet's dominion over the Sinful Land of Midian has never experienced any intense friction or conflict with the Practitioners of the Hell of Pain.
However, the third Hell—the Bottomless Pit—is very much at odds with the Hell of Pain. The Pit of Hell, also known as Abaddon's Cell or the Hell of Rage, is home to a race of eternally Raging Demons.
This Hell, unlike the Sinful Land of Midian which exists in an unknown location, has no solid land; almost everything is in a state of perpetual descent. Its geographical position lies beneath the main body of the Hell of Pain maze. This endless descending prison only has one exit: the maze above.
The records in the books were unclear, but Seraphine, after careful consideration, understood. In simpler terms, the Hell of Pain and the Hell of Rage are a pair of twin brothers, geographically separated but interconnected by natural spacetime tunnels.
Furthermore, Abaddon, the ruler of the Pit of Hell, also known as the Angel of Destruction, has always been extremely interested in invading the mortal realm.
Thus, he and Leviathan, who maintained a neutral belief and implicitly wished to preserve the status quo of the mortal realm without disturbing it, were always in a tense, adversarial state.
If Abaddon wanted to organize an army to invade the mortal realm, he would need to use the Hell of Pain as a transit station to succeed. Leviathan, of course, would not agree unless completely defeated. This was naturally impossible, as the scale of the two forces was not significantly different.
Therefore, Abaddon could only occasionally dispatch a few scattered demons to stealthily bypass the Practitioners' watch and slip into the mortal realm, or use infernal contracts to develop some demon emissaries and demon worshiper organizations.
In other words, the Hell of Pain, which brought countless bloodshed and wails to people, paradoxically protected humanity and maintained the stability and survival of human society. The many organizations existing among those millions who resisted Hell, even attempting to destroy it, were naturally completely unaware of this.
Of course, Leviathan would not explain so much to humans, whom he regarded as mere ants. In fact, maintaining the overall stability of human society was not out of Leviathan's kindness, but merely because he needed humanity to exist.
He needed humanity to continually exist as the fundamental source for Practitioners, and he needed human society to continually exist as the fundamental source of pain.
According to library records, at irregular but not infrequent intervals, the Raging Demon clan residing in the Bottomless Pit of Hell would, under the command of Angel of Destruction Abaddon, launch fierce assaults on the upper Hell of Pain.
Remarkably, in every single war, the Pit of Hell suffered heavy losses. This wasn't due to their inherent weakness, but rather another cause.
Strictly speaking, while the number of high-level combatants within the Raging Demon clan—such as those comparable to the Great High Priest level demon generals—was fewer and weaker than Hell of Pain's, the average combat power of individual Raging Demons was still slightly higher than that of the maze's Practitioner collective.
This terrifying race, born deep within Abaddon's Cell dimensional space, fundamentally lacked any distinction between childhood and adulthood.
Almost from birth, they possessed physical strength in the tens of thousands, or even hundreds of thousands of tons. Their ability to run at supersonic speeds and single-handedly lift aircraft carriers referred precisely to these Raging Demons.
Furthermore, they also possessed terrifying demonic bodies capable of adapting to extreme temperatures, strong radiation, intense corrosion, vacuum, and potent poisons. Their self-healing ability completely surpassed that of Wolverine.
In addition, they had powerful demonic souls and various powerful, eerie, or destructive innate dark arts that were by no means inferior to their physical and self-healing traits.
Frankly, if just one such dangerous dark entity were casually unleashed into Old Earth's modern society, it would cause a monumental catastrophe. If left unchecked, it could massacre hundreds of millions of people and even obliterate countless nations in a short period.
If intervention were necessary, assuming no mystical forces were involved, human nations would have no effective solution other than using multiple high-yield nuclear weapons for widespread bombardment of the demon.
This is in modern times, with advanced human technology. If even the lowest-level Raging Demon appeared in ancient times, it would lead to the extinction of human civilization.
Many morally corrupt humans, existing across various eras among the millions, witnessed the terrifying power of the Raging Demons under different circumstances.
This is why they were completely conquered, willingly becoming worshippers of Hell, dedicating themselves body and soul to the Pit of Hell, hoping that one day they might be chosen by Abaddon to escape their weak, short-lived mortal bodies and become powerful, peerless, long-lived demons.
The Pit of Hell's consistent defeats in conflicts with the Hell of Pain stemmed from the Raging Demons' bodies and souls being so consumed by fury that they would only ever rely on their unparalleled, formidable bodies and overwhelming demonic souls to charge head-on, disdaining any petty tactics or schemes in warfare.
However, the Hell of Pain Practitioners were entirely different. Born from human societies on Old Earth, even if they lost all memories upon receiving Leviathan's grace, perhaps influenced by lingering human nature, Practitioners approached military matters like war with extreme caution.
In every conflict between the two realms, they would don sturdy, formidable dark magic armor, wield powerful weapons from Hell's factories, and, under the organization of each Great High Priest, form distinct armies with clear divisions of labor.
They meticulously devised various tactics, established numerous contingency plans for battlefield scenarios, and even set up a large number of battlefield traps to deplete the Raging Demons' vitality.
When officially entering the battlefield, Practitioner armies could also be assigned different types of hellish war beasts and mounts. These war beasts and mounts were some transformed from vast amounts of human flesh and blood, others from Hellhounds and hellish cats, still others materialized through complex dark magic. There would even be Hider skeletal dragon winged beasts with formidable combat strength and intelligence participating in the battle.
When deep-space combat was required, Practitioners could also equip themselves with dense, layered dark magic wings, secured by piercing through the flesh and bone of their shoulders. Under the effect of these hellish wings, a Practitioner's flight speed in the sky, universe, and void would far surpass normal.
Furthermore, these Practitioners could not be killed by the ordinary physical powers recognized by common folk. Neither cold weapons, firearms, nor even nuclear weapons could truly kill a Practitioner; they could only injure them. Or perhaps, they simply had no concept of death, because Practitioners were already the dead.
Even if a Practitioner's body and soul were destroyed during external combat, the Hell of Pain, which held absolute dominion over them, could completely resurrect them by expending vast amounts of pain energy.
So long as Hell is indestructible, a Practitioner, no matter how long they are lost, will eventually have a day of resurrection. The right to resurrect, however, lies in the hands of each Great High Priest. The right to resurrect a Great High Priest lies with Leviathan, the God of Suffering—which is to say, Seraphine.
Seraphine also noted that, according to many library records, the tramplers of the myriad supernatural forces in the mortal realm were not limited to the three Hells.
Besides these three, two other forces, completely equal to Hell in scale and power, also observed and influenced the development of Human Civilization.
The first was the Elder Ouroboros, a colossal, terrifying, dark existence. It was an unknown entity, or perhaps a group of entities, of celestial scale, possessing destructive power. This dangerous and bizarre entity didn't pay much attention to humanity; it merely sought to crush and devour everything, like a living apocalypse, constantly roaming the spaces between millions of worlds, ready to annihilate everything at any moment.
Seraphine noted that, according to the records, the number of mortal realms destroyed by this beast already exceeded 100,000.
"The so-called Mortal Realm must refer to parallel earth-moon systems or solar systems existing in various universes. This Serpent-tailed Beast probably doesn't have the ability to destroy the entire universe," she mused calmly.
The second was the mysterious and powerful Fantasy clan. Legend has it that this race once ruled all mortal realms in an extremely ancient era, existing even longer than the three Hells. Furthermore, the Fantasy clan and the three Hells were enemies, not allies.
To avoid the Source of Misery, a calamity passed down through their clan since ancient times, capable of annihilating their entire race, they had always been scattered and hidden across all mortal realms.
Their physiques and appearances were similar to humans; without careful distinction, they were essentially impossible to detect. This race not only possessed powerful physiques and long lifespans but also wielded formidable supernatural abilities, not inferior to those of Hell's various races.
This ability was called the Art of Ecstasy.
Unlike the fireballs and lightning spells of legends, myths, and video games, the Art of Ecstasy was more subtle. It primarily influenced the real world through four seemingly mundane, lifestyle-oriented methods: dance, handicrafts, music, and rhetoric.
Through this art, individual members of the Fantasy clan could freely control souls, humans, animals, plants, matter, and even reality itself, causing dangerous natural phenomena such as floods and volcanic eruptions.
Beyond this, a few elderly individuals within the Fantasy clan also possessed an ancient form of the Art of Ecstasy called [Ancient Science].
This art is immensely powerful, a high-intensity sorcery passed down from extremely ancient times. Once cast, it can easily twist spacetime, cause matter to crumble, and reduce all things to nothingness.
Some female individuals of the Fantasy clan also possess an ability called Melt-lip. When a female Fantasy clan member with Melt-lip experiences intense emotional fluctuations, a power with a tactile sensation and state very similar to bodily fluid suddenly surges within her. The wielder of this power can use it to create or destroy various things.
Furthermore, many Fantasy clan members possess special abilities: one is to transform into an entity where emotions have corresponding colors and functions; another is a unique ability called the Weaver, which allows them to transform specific languages, texts, and patterns into imprints preserved on thought or physical objects.
Relying on the Weaver ability, the Fantasy clan constructed a nearly two-dimensional world, the Fugue, serving as their primary base of operations hidden outside the millions of mortal realms.
Outwardly, the Fugue resembles a mid-sized, mesmerizingly patterned and colorful wool rug. In extremely ancient times, they collectively used their thoughts to transfer large areas of natural environment and artificial structures from the human world into this rug. They then made it their ancestral land, hiding deep within the mortal realm.
In summary, this divinely blessed race clearly possessed the miraculous ability to disregard the law of conservation of mass-energy, freely converting information into matter and matter into information. They were truly worth capturing for meticulous study.
"The Source of Misery... an entity that can chase a False God-tier Fantasy clan, who are on par with the three Hells, into frantic retreat, must surely transcend the False God level and step into the mythological domain."
Seraphine's head-form, which had transformed into an eye, slowly paused its devouring. One of the pale arms from her open maw grasped a book, on which a line of text was suddenly written: "Source of Misery".
"Let me take a look. I haven't seen a living myth-level creature in the Realm of Phantasm yet."
The pale arm abruptly retracted into the blood-red maw. The layers of sharp teeth rotated rapidly, crunching the ingested book into powder with a CRUNCH, CRUNCH, CRUNCH sound before swallowing it. Thus, clear information imbued with the aura of ancient ages emerged within Seraphine's mind.
WHOOSH!
"...Supreme Yahweh created Holy Eden..."
"...All spirits were born here..."
"...The eldest of all spirits resided joyfully..."
"...No lifespan limits, no sickness, no strife, no hunger..."
"...Loyal Uriel guarded the peaceful Eden and the eldest of all spirits..."
"...Continued for over one million years..."
"...The Great Lord abandoned Heaven and all creations, departing to distant realms..."
"...Heaven was buried by time..."
"...The peaceful Eden was covered by desolation..."
"...All spirits perished, withered, and dried up..."
"...The eldest of all spirits desired to leave the ruined Eden..."
"...Promised Uriel to surely return..."
"...The eldest of all spirits stepped into the mortal realm..."
"...Loyal Uriel continued to guard..."
"...Ages changed, time flowed..."
"...Loyal Uriel continued to guard..."
"...Eternity rushed by like water..."
"...Lonely Uriel continued to guard..."
"...Awaiting the return of the eldest of all spirits..."
"...Eden finally turned into a black desert..."
"...Endless years crushed lonely Uriel..."
"...Rage, Madness..."
"...A madman named Uriel trampled the peaceful Eden and invaded the mortal realm..."
"...Only to find the eldest of all spirits..."
"...Slaying the Promise Breaker..."
"...Hundreds of thousands of worlds, destroyed by his hand..."
CRACK, CRACK, CRACK!
The hundreds of thousands of gigantic eyes slowly shrunk, retracting toward Seraphine's neck area and condensing into a human head shape.
"Hmm."
He paused slightly. "So the so-called Source of Misery is actually the Christian angel Uriel."
According to the book's records, a long, long time ago—so far back it predated even Leviathan's current age—an entity named Yahweh created the so-called Garden of Eden.
Within the garden, it created numerous species, the myriad spirits, among whom the highest in status, the Eldest of All Spirits, was the Fantasy clan.
Unlike the records Seraphine knew from her previous life, this Yahweh god did not create humanity; its primary creation was the Fantasy race.
Furthermore, the environment of that Eden, whose location was unknown, was resource-rich and superior. All beings living there never suffered illness or old age, nor did they fight due to hunger.
A scene of vibrant life permeated the garden. Countless life forms multiplied and thrived there, seemingly unchanging forever.
To guard this beauty of Eden, the loyal angel Uriel was tasked with protecting the land, vowing to perpetually shield the paradise and the Fantasy clan from any taint of evil.
Time flowed. After an unknown number of years, at a moment unrecorded, Yahweh suddenly departed the Heaven mentioned vaguely in the book for an unknown destination. After His departure, Heaven slowly fell silent, and the garden gradually became desolate.
Thus, after the harsh environment diminished the resources, the myriad spirits, pampered for many years, quickly perished. Only the inherently powerful Fantasy clan managed to struggle free from the Garden of Eden and travel to the mortal realms in search of a new, beautiful life.
After the ancestors of the Fantasy clan fled, the angel Uriel remained to guard the decaying garden, faithfully protecting the land created by Yahweh.
After hundreds of thousands, or even more ancient years, the later generations of the Fantasy clan living among the mortals had long forgotten their place of origin. The word Eden had become an ignored legend. But Uriel remained here, guarding it in solitude.
He was born to guard the Garden of Eden, born to guard the Fantasy clan. This was Uriel's entire meaning of existence. Thus, he stubbornly waited in silence for the Fantasy clan to return, because that was the promise they had made to him.
As time passed, the Garden of Eden became increasingly ruined and withered. Eventually, it lost all vitality, turning into a barren, black desert. At this point, the forgotten Uriel was finally crushed by the infinite loneliness brought by endless time.
The Garden of Eden, which Uriel had guarded for untold myriads of years, was trampled under his feet when he fell into a frenzy.
Afterward, Uriel attacked the mortal realms, seeking to find the Fantasy clan and annihilate them completely. In the process of searching, he unintentionally destroyed hundreds of thousands of mortal realms, turning countless beings into dust.
This great catastrophe completely shattered the arrogance and composure of the Fantasy clan. They abandoned their rule over all mortal realms and instead fled into a small rug, terrified of being discovered and utterly exterminated by Uriel.
During this time, Seraphine surmised that the Fantasy clan must have resisted Uriel. But clearly, they were no match; they had no means other than fleeing and evading.
Seraphine wasn't particularly interested in these tales of pursuit and escape. What caught her attention was that these ten million mortal realms seemed to be instantaneously renewable. Destruction could be followed by reappearance.
If the Elder Ouroboros had destroyed 100,000 mortal realms over countless eons, and the Angel Uriel had destroyed hundreds of thousands more, why had the total number of mortal realms connected to the three Hells never changed?
It never increased by one, nor was one ever missing; it consistently remained fixed at ten million realms. It was as if, whenever one was lost, a new one was conjured from some unknown place.
Destroyed endlessly, yet inexhaustible.
This mechanism was so meticulous and so stable. It was simply as if someone had engineered it.