At Lust's suggestion, Wrath set out to see Greed.
As always, Greed was staying at the very top of the red, two-thousand-story building-monstrosity standing in the center of the city.
From here, the entire economy of Hell was controlled—a task that was anything but simple, given the vast territories involved.
Wrath entered through the tall main entrance and walked to the reception desk, where a three-horned, six-eyed, eight-armed demon greeted him.
— Greetings. I'm here to see Greed.
— Lord Wrath, even you must make an appointment if you wish to speak with him. I'm sorry.
— This is urgent. Inform him that I'm already on my way to his fancy office.
The demon sighed, then pulled out a phone receiver with one of his hands.
Meanwhile, Wrath stepped into the elevator along with several well-dressed demons.
They chatted among themselves, mostly about business and similar matters, but Wrath didn't understand a word of it—numbers had never interested him.
The ride to the two-thousandth floor was long, so he took out a cigarette and lit it.
The demons were bothered by the smoke, but none of them dared to say anything—they knew exactly who he was. Instead, they just coughed quietly.
***
After about an hour, Wrath finally reached the top of the building, and by then, he was the only one left in the elevator.
He stepped out and headed down the corridor, straight toward Greed's office.
Greed's secretary—a demonic woman with wings—blocked his path and demanded that he return to the reception desk since he didn't have an appointment.
Wrath appreciated her confidence, but he didn't have time for this and simply walked past her.
The demonic woman suddenly conjured a black-bladed, flaming sword in her hand and pointed it at him.
Before tempers could flare, Greed appeared and reprimanded his secretary.
— Lamia, my dear, put that thing away. I'll deal with my foolish brother myself.
Lamia made the flaming sword vanish, calmly sat back down at her desk, and continued her work.
Wrath stepped into Greed's office.
The office was exactly what he had imagined—spacious interior, comfortable furniture, paintings on the walls, elegance, glass cases filled with outrageously expensive drinks, and a magnificent view behind a massive desk.
Greed sat down in his chair and began sorting through some documents.
In appearance, he differed greatly from his brother. His skin was sky blue, his eyes red, and his dark hair slicked back.
His refined look couldn't be compared to Wrath's at all—Wrath simply didn't care about such things.
— Sit down, brother, and if possible, don't break anything.
Wrath took a seat across from Greed and began watching the perpetually moving little metal toy on the desk.
— You do know that even you should make an appointment, right?
— Or else your little secretary attacks me?
— That "little secretary" wields Asmodeus' sword, and we both know it could wound even you if you're not careful. But what do you want? I'm very busy.
— I came about Envy. When did you last see him?
— Envy? We met two weeks ago—or maybe three. I can't recall exactly, my head's full of numbers.
— Try a little harder.
Wrath took out a cigarette, but Greed swiftly snatched it from his hand and tossed it away.
Greed pulled a cigar from one of the drawers and placed it on the desk.
— You're not smoking that shit in my office. Put this in your mouth instead.
Wrath did so, brought the cigar to his lips, and lit it. He found it pleasant, exhaling red smoke into the air.
— Not bad.
— There are certain privileges that come with overseeing Hell's economic stability. But back to Envy. The last time I saw him, he wasn't in a good state—rambling about all sorts of things and asking me for a loan of about one million skulls.
— One million? What did he need that much for?
— No idea. He wanted to start some kind of venture, or something like that. He was extremely worked up; I barely understood half of what he was talking about.
— Or you just weren't paying attention. Think harder. What exactly did he need the money for?
— It must have been something grand-scale. It had to do with chaos mining.
— Chaos mining? He wanted to open portals?
— I don't know. Possible.
— You'd better know. With enough chaos, someone could open a portal even to the Gates of Heaven.
— That's just a fairy tale. No one could gather that much. There's no deposit that large.
— You gave him money.
— Just one million. He said he'd pay it back with interest.
— Is that why you killed him? Because he didn't pay you back?
— Killed him? — Greed asked, startled. — What are you talking about? Wait… Envy is dead?
Wrath nodded, drawing deeply on the cigar.
— That's impossible. Not just anyone can kill one of us.
— Not just anyone—but a high-ranking demon like you could get your hands on angelic weapons, couldn't you?
— I have an alibi, dear brother. Countless demons saw me here in the building. I attend endless meetings. Besides, why would I kill him?
— You gave him a million, and I assume he didn't return it.
— So what? Honestly, one million skulls won't ruin me.
— That's not the point. I know you. You hate losing—especially money. I know you're willing to kill for it.
— Kill? That's in the past. This isn't that Hell anymore, Wrath. We're no longer Rulers—well, you certainly aren't. You're just Lucifer's dog. I, on the other hand, still rule—I just replaced my throne with the top floor of a two-thousand-story building. My influence might even be greater than it was back then. Envy owed me a million—so what? If I kill him, I don't get my money back.
Wrath had to agree with that.
— Fine. But then do you know anything else? He wanted to mine chaos—did he succeed?
— Most certainly, but not enough to open portals to another plane of existence. You knew him—he piled failure upon failure in everything he did, that halfwit. Still, he was our brother, so find his killer.
— That's the plan. Any ideas?
— Visit Pride.
— Pride? He couldn't have done it. He's rotting in Lucifer's prison.
— You know those two were close. Envy visited him in prison often. Ask him—he might know what Envy wanted to do with the chaos. From me, he only wanted money—nothing else.
Wrath pressed the cigar into an ashtray, stood up from the desk, took out his black cigarette, and lit it.
Greed grimaced, trying to wave the awful smoke away from himself.
— We'll meet again. — With that, Wrath left the office.
He crossed paths once more with Greed's secretary, tipped his hat to her. In response, she merely shot him a sharp glare.
***
Outside the building, Tilith was already waiting for Wrath.
She was admiring the structure, her gaze searching for the top lost among the clouds.
— I wish I could be up there someday. Right at the top. — she said wistfully.
— You like riding an elevator for an hour? Boring as hell.
— I wouldn't come down often. I'd be fine in my huge office, sipping Hellfire Whiskey. So—did you find out anything?
— Who said I'm involving you in the investigation?
— Oh come on, Wrath! Let me help. You've made me curious. I can be useful.
Wrath sighed.
— I went to Greed. Lust sent me.
— And did you learn anything?
— Not much, really. But if you want to be useful, take a look around the chaos mines. Envy got money from Greed that he wanted to invest in mining.
— A million skulls? Why invest that much in a dying industry?
— I don't know. Ask around a bit—maybe the miners know something.
— As you wish.
— Take Skortch with you. Maybe he'll learn something from you.
Tilith nodded, spread her battered bat wings, and flew off. Wrath headed toward Lucifer's prison to speak with a brother he hadn't seen in a long time.