Bakuzan silently observed Erasa as they moved through the depths of Hell. Despite his apparent calm, his mind drifted back to a few moments before their departure.
Originally, he had insisted on going alone.
Erasa had categorically refused.
Officially, she claimed that her presence would avoid unnecessary commotion and speed things up. But Bakuzan knew that this was only part of the truth.
The real issue was Hell itself.
His gaze briefly fell upon the dark ground.
Erasa still carried the invisible scars of this place.
Hell was immense. Far vaster than most known worlds. It comprised countless layers, some dimensional, others located far beyond conventional notions of space and dimension. Like the World of the Gods or the Void, certain regions even exceeded the compressed structures of reality to form strata situated beneath Madhurya, while already transcending ordinary concepts of distance and geometry.
At their lowest level were the three-dimensional layers.
That was where the majority of the demonic population resided.
Billions upon billions of lesser demons lived there, trapped in a merciless hierarchical system where only the strongest had the right to exist without being crushed.
Erasa had been born here.
Once, she had been nothing more than a simple imp.
Weak.
Insignificant.
At that time, she endured daily the cruelty of the higher demonic castes. Humiliations, violence, and injustices were part of her existence.
Then she met Velda.
Both shared the same ideals and the same hatred for that established order.
When they had finally left Hell, they swore never to return.
Never.
The memories were too painful.
The wounds too deep.
— Look!
The voice of a demon snapped Bakuzan out of his thoughts.
Several gazes had just turned toward him.
Another demon immediately turned pale.
— I-It's... it's him...
— Who?
— The Black Grief!
Silence fell for a second.
Then the agitation exploded in the stands.
— What?!
— You must be mistaken!
— What would Ebon Woe be doing here?
— That makes no sense!
The murmurs multiplied throughout the arena.
— They say he humiliated Monitors...
— Dragons too...
— And even Transcendents...
— Some say he faced gods without ever backing down...
— I wouldn't want to be his enemy...
— He is merciless toward those who dare block his path...
Everywhere, demons exchanged uneasy glances.
Even the most arrogant suddenly seemed cautious.
Bakuzan, for his part, did not react.
As always.
Rumors, fear, or admiration seemed to hold no importance in his eyes.
Sakolomeh then approached with a slight smile.
— You were quick.
Bakuzan simply turned his head toward him.
— Time is running out.
His gaze shifted toward the depths of the arena.
Then his voice echoed calmly:
— Every moment lost increases the risk that the Outergods will take action. We can no longer afford to wait.
Erasa crossed her arms.
Her scarlet gaze was already sweeping across the demonic crowd.
She did not seem to be listening to the murmurs.
She was looking for someone.
Or rather...
Someone very specific.
Her mother.
Lilith.
And if Zeus was telling the truth, then the Mother of Demons could be the first piece capable of leading to the other Primordial Demon Emperors.
An essential piece.
For in the shadow of the Dream, something was awakening.
And even the oldest legends were beginning to stir.
Before Erasa could respond, a female voice rose from within the demonic crowd.
— Who is making such a commotion?
The demons immediately turned.
A demoness with an almost human appearance was slowly walking through the stands. Her figure was elegant, refined, and yet something in her violet gaze immediately inspired unease.
Her eyes settled on Erasa.
An amused smile stretched across her lips.
— Well, well, look who has returned... My dear sister. Have you come back to visit the family?
Erasa slightly lowered her head without answering.
Elika.
The fifth Demon Queen.
Since time immemorial, she had occupied this position among the most powerful infernal rulers.
Elika continued to advance gracefully.
— So? Did this place miss you that much?
Beside her, Bakuzan observed Erasa's reaction.
His voice was barely a whisper.
— You only need to say the word... and I'll slit her throat.
Erasa turned her eyes toward him.
Then a faint smile appeared on her face.
— That won't be necessary.
She shifted her attention back to Elika.
The latter then observed the people accompanying Erasa.
— Oh? You even brought friends.
— Enough.
The voice that had just resonated was much deeper.
Heavier.
More authoritative.
The noise almost instantly ceased.
An immense demon had just appeared.
His imposing body dominated part of the arena while an overwhelming pressure seemed to emanate naturally from his mere presence.
Schela.
The First Demon King.
The most powerful of all the Demon Kings.
His gaze settled on Erasa.
He did not speak immediately.
And Erasa held his gaze without the slightest hostility.
She remembered him perfectly.
For billions of years, Schela had ruled over Hell alongside the other supreme Demon Kings. Yet despite his power, he had never sought to become a Demon Emperor.
Unlike many infernal rulers, he took no pleasure in gratuitous suffering.
He was not particularly benevolent.
But he was just.
And in Hell, that alone was enough to make him different.
Very different.
Especially compared to Elika.
— What brings you back here... Erasa?
The demoness replied simply:
— I want to see Mother.
No sooner had these words been spoken than Elika let out a small laugh.
Then she stepped forward.
— And you think she wants to see you?
She raised her hand.
A silhouette immediately appeared above her palm.
A frail little demon.
Thin.
Chained.
Its body was covered in marks and its gaze radiated fear.
Elika gently stroked it as one would stroke a domestic animal.
Erasa immediately felt her stomach tighten.
This was not just any demon.
It was an imp.
A demon child.
A being unfortunate enough to have fallen into Elika's claws.
For a few seconds, the memories returned.
The infernal hierarchy.
The humiliations.
The suffering.
The invisible chains imposed by higher demons.
All those who refused to obey quickly learned what pain was.
Erasa slowly clenched her fists.
Elika was not the only one responsible for her past.
But she was among those who had left the deepest scars.
And even today...
She was still waiting.
She was simply waiting for the right moment.
Suddenly, a new voice burst through the arena.
— Who goes there?
This time, Erasa truly smiled.
A cold smile.
A smile filled with memories.
She knew that voice.
She would have recognized it among a thousand others.
Anube.
Impossible to forget that name.
The demon appeared in turn.
His immense body was covered in dark scales as strong as metal. Two long horns curved above his head while massive bat-like wings spread behind him.
His reptilian eyes fixed on Erasa.
Incredulity briefly crossed his gaze.
— You... here?
For a moment, the entire arena seemed to hold its breath.
Because now, several figures from Erasa's past were gathered in the same place.
And some old wounds had never truly healed.