Satan sensed the barbarian meant to annihilate him. Born of Hell's rules, he believed his existence couldn't be erased—fear and Hell ensured his return, only a matter of time.
This was his edge over Dormammu. Hell lords feared Dormammu's power but didn't respect him. A lucky wizard who claimed the dark dimension, Dormammu wasn't born of rules. If he died, he stayed dead, unable to revive via Hell's laws. Ruling a dimension didn't grant omnipotence; time couldn't even reverse there. The dark dimension was just darkness.
Satan's fear wasn't death but rebirth. Mammon would claim a chunk of his Hell-given power, and other lords wouldn't let him reclaim it easily. Mammon, once an ideal demon child—cruel, volatile, cunning, and greedy—thrived in Hell, a model of demonic upbringing. But demons didn't cherish peers; they eliminated them. Satan couldn't die before Mammon, needing to reclaim Hell's authority to secure his status post-rebirth.
His dark aura flickered like a disco light, dazzling but futile against the hand choking him. He sensed the barbarian's resolve—nothing he said or did would avert death. Time to scheme for power and authority.
On Earth, he felt new sensations, like suffocation. "My child!" he gasped, feigning a father's concern. Hell lords rarely sired offspring, as they wielded Hell's admin rights. Sharing wasn't their way. Mammon, once his favorite, now resigned to death, showed no fight.
"Why don't you ever listen instead of interrupting?" Constantine snapped at Rumlow, eyes fixed on Bul-Kathos. From their first meeting, he'd felt his overwhelming presence, now grasping a fraction of his strength.
Gabriel's power was known, Manny elusive, Satan a cautious deal. Constantine, barely stronger than Balza, leaned on trickery due to his weak power. Hell coveted his soul; Heaven's betrayed angels awaited his "redemption." A magnet for trouble, he thrived. Now, seeing these fearsome beings cower before Bul-Kathos, he wanted to cling to this ultimate ally, tired of sacrificing friends to save himself.
"When the blabbermouths shut up," Rumlow retorted, pocketing the potion, ignoring Constantine.
Constantine stood, stretching, feeling renewed. "My diseases are gone?" he marveled, unaware it was an illusion. Cancer wasn't a disease but mutated cells, soon to spread lethally. The potion, a rule-bound item, restored vitality, not cured cancer.
"Feel this, scum," Bul-Kathos said, gripping both demons' throats. Their rule-bound essence was weak but persistent. He couldn't erase rules—not even he could defy them fully, as Malthael's death essence had once invaded him. Wisdom alone couldn't suppress the Barbarian King. Life begets death—a rule.
Hell was a rule amalgam; its lords, born within, enjoyed rebirth, though painful and slow. To teach demons fear, they needed pain and death first. Only irresistible force made them bow cautiously.
"You're defying Hell itself!" Satan's voice weakened, his dark glow fading under Bul-Kathos's fiery rage, his life slipping away.
(Chapter End)
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T/N: While I am an inexperienced Translator, I have a Patreon! While it may seem empty as of now, webnovel will get 2 Chapters Every Day, and advanced chapters will be uploaded on Patreon.
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