Waiting really wasn't boring, simply because my dragonny friend (three times "Ha") arrived literally thirty seconds later, right at the moment when I finished masterfully hiding a Bible among his extensive collection of hent... ahem, manga.
Hey, what's with the judgmental looks? It's just light, friendly trolling, nothing personal! And anyway, it's Satan—it'll only do him good!
"And why the fuck did the Executioner of Heaven show up at my humble abode uninvited?" the dragon growled, shrinking down on the fly to a more comfortable, three-meter size.
"Greetings to you too, scaly," I lazily salute Satan with a glass of orange juice (by the way, yeah, the juice is absolutely mind-blowing, a new discovery for me), after which I take a hearty gulp. "I thought Beelzebub had already warned you about this, which is why the reception was so warm, no?"
Exactly. Bee really backed me up quite well in this regard. Not only did she call everyone, but she also gave me a minimal briefing on each of her brothers and sisters. So my approach to them was now, you could say, backed by intel. And yeah, I turned out to be right in my initial assessments, so now I can proudly wear the title of "Puppeteer-Manipulator," grow some bangs, and mysteriously hide my eyes under them.
"...Yeah," puffing a small cloud of soot from his nostrils, Satan reluctantly agreed, sitting heavily into the armchair opposite me, which creaked pitifully under his weight. "As I understand it, you want to discuss our cooperation in the event of a possible attack on Heaven..."
"Not possible," I interrupt, instantly dropping the clowning and becoming absolutely serious. We had analyzed all the available information many times together with Lute and the other "grunts," and no other options were in sight. "I am asking you to help us WHEN we are attacked, not IF. In return, I give you the word of an Archangel that we will apply all our strength and throw our legions into battle IF the strike hits Hell first."
"Are you so sure that... this will happen?" responding to my seriousness, the dragon also grew serious.
"She already has an army gathered. Some demons have already sold their asses to her for promises of power, and through them, there is active influence on the human world too," I dish out relatively secret facts, looking straight into Satan's eyes. I gave no specifics, named no names, so I didn't blab anything too dangerous, which is the main thing. But I outlined the scale of the threat.
"Yeah..." the Sin of Wrath drawled, thoughtfully rubbing his chin with a clawed paw. "The First Humans were always problematic, but Eve... she's a total clusterfuck..." Satan said, leaning back in his chair. Silence hung in the air. He was chewing over my words. Then his gaze accidentally fell on the turned-on console, slid over the game boxes scattered on the table, and stopped on one specific disc. "Listen, do you know about 'Mortal Kombat'?"
Several hours later. The Greed Ring.
I was forced to linger at Satan's. And not because I didn't know about Mortal Kombat, but because that scaly condom turned out to be a fan of cheaply mashing one button and spamming sweep kicks! Well, and also because there were only old installments on Earth, and when the creator of the game's concept ended up in Hell, this gamer-dragon immediately snatched him up and forced him to churn out new installments exclusively for his personal use. Cheating, plain and simple.
Anyway, we parted ways pleased with each other: me, because we agreed on a mutual assistance pact just in case, and him, because he still managed to beat me in the final round (but I'll get back at him for that, mark my words!).
The Greed Ring greeted me with an atmosphere painfully reminiscent of the worst manifestations of Earth during the Industrial Revolution, multiplied by cyberpunk. Literally change the color of the sky from dirty green to blue—and voila, a typical metropolis in a bad neighborhood.
A multitude of smoking factories, some shady, mediocre establishments, pawnshops on every corner, and exclusively vile, sizing-up smirks on the local inhabitants... In general, the place was disgusting, at first glance, at least. I'm not sure how things really are deep inside the blocks, but the first impressions were shitty.
Mammon—the Deadly Sin in charge of this dump—didn't live in a palace (like the little dragon secretly advertising toothpaste in the human world) or a mansion (like the fox-bee), but in a massive, gaudy circus tent. As I learned, shows took place here daily, which is why demons from all over Hell flocked to Mammon's Circus wanting bread and circuses, and once a year there was some grand competition among his workers for the title of "head clown." All this information was kindly provided to me by the bee-fox, who herself dislikes Mammon, to put it mildly, so I wasn't one hundred percent sure of its objectivity, but we work with what we have.
Landing at the main entrance, I immediately felt the full "charm" of the local wild capitalism. The entrance to the tent was blocked by two massive bouncer-imps in clown makeup, and a neon sign with prices glowed above the ticket booth: "Entry – 100 bucks. Breathing Mammon's air – 5 bucks a minute. Photo with the logo – 5 bucks."
To say I was surprised would be an understatement. Now that is the embodiment of Greed, you can't argue with that! A line of demons willing to voluntarily part with their hard-earned cash stretched out quite a bit, but naturally, I had no intention of standing in it. Time is money, as the local boss would say.
"Hey, horn-head! Back of the line!" barked some imp in a cheap suit as I confidently headed for the VIP entrance, bypassing the turnstiles.
"I have an invitation," I toss out on the fly, not even turning my head. Like I have nothing fucking better to do than deal with this. That little spider (since a spider is Mammon's true form) should be thanking me that I didn't just fly straight onto the premises or arrive in my true form, because I highly doubt the locals would react positively to the appearance of the "Executioner of Heaven," as Satan aptly called me today, in their circus. I don't need a panic here.
"Huh? Where?" the guard played dumb, blocking my path with his carcass.
"Where it needs to be. Unless, of course, you want the great Baal to turn you into a pile of ash right now," I smile sweetly, but at the same time, I slightly flash molten gold in my eyes and transform the Darkness around me into a heavy, suffocating pressure. Yep, that's how I implemented the notorious "bloodlust."
The bouncer-imps, swallowing hard and looking me over a couple of times for protocol (apparently evaluating the cost of my suit), synchronously blurted out, "Fuck this shit," and hastily stepped aside. Fucking wonderful!
Inside, meanwhile, pure chaos reigned! The roar of music, the screams of the crowd, the flashing of spotlights—it all mixed into a hellish cocktail that would give a normal person an epileptic seizure in five minutes. Merch was being sold everywhere: Mammon action figures, Mammon t-shirts, Mammon cereal, even toilet paper with... ahem, well, you get it. With Mammon's face, I hope, and not something worse.
However, you could encounter similar shit in the Pride Ring, and as someone who liked to spend time there (in the past), I was basically used to this kind of thing, so there were no problems. Plus, I didn't need merch, I needed the local "director" and, formerly, the multiple-time "head clown." And he shouldn't be out here in the hall, but in his office, counting his profits.
Pushing through the crowd like a nuclear icebreaker (telekinesis is the shit: demons just gently parted to the sides, not even realizing what was happening), I found the employee entrance. A couple of dirty corridors littered with boxes of defective Fizzarolli dolls—Asmodeus's buddy—and unpacked merch with Mammon's ugly mug on it, and here I am standing in front of a massive, tastelessly expensive door with a golden plaque:
"MAMMON. Do not disturb unless you brought money!"
Yeah. So far, Mammon is the only one I can call a "Deadly Sin" in the classical sense with a clear conscience. Lucy didn't show any particular Pride in his communication, Beelzebub didn't look like a fat mountain of XXL flesh and even worked out, as Vortex had bragged to me, and Satan was quite calm the whole time we talked this time... Well, no, he got pretty burnt a couple of times when I figured out a counter to his tactics and got a long win streak out of it, but I was also flaming pretty hard when that horned bastard beat me again, so that doesn't count either...
Wait, the other "Deadly Sins" are exactly like that too! Well, okay, I don't know Leviathan at all, but according to Bee, she's more of a quiet and even, as it seemed from her description, insecure girl, and Asmodeus, let me remind you, the DEADLY SIN OF LUST, advocates for practically traditional family values, loyalty, and tells everyone that forced sex or purely lustful sex without feelings is bullshit...
Belphegor, who is constantly sleeping, really stands out against their background...
Well, good thing Mammon isn't the only one keeping the brand alive.
I didn't kick the door down—it's impolite, and I'd bend the gold, which would be a shame, so I limited myself to a persistent knock.
"Yeah?! Who the hell is it now?!" a slightly nasty, hysterical voice rang out from behind the door.
Taking that as a warm invitation, I open the door and walk in...
The office of the Sin of Greed looked very... his style. Even though the walls, floor, and even ceiling were painted the toxic green color of money, the sheer volume of stuff made the office look more golden. Mountains of gold, scatterings of precious stones, stacks of cash piled in heaps, some antique vases used as ashtrays... And in the middle of all this tasteless splendor, behind a massive desk made of solid gold, sat he.
A two-meter spider in a jester's outfit, resembling a Christmas tree decorated by a colorblind person.
"What? And who the fuck are you?" Mammon immediately exploded after looking me over, tearing himself away from counting some pocket change. "Who let you in, ugly?!"
"Walked in myself," I shrug, after which, in one smooth motion, I drop Baal's disguise and take on my true Archangel form. A golden light eclipsed the gleam of the local gold for a second. "Didn't want to cause any problems or panic with the premature arrival of an Archangel in your humble abode."
"A... Adam..." Mammon immediately exhaled, instantly losing all his feigned anger and shrinking into his chair. "So, my dear little sister warned me you were coming. I just don't quite get why the fuck you dragged yourself here—we already discussed all that shit at the Trial, so what do you want?"
"Listen, Mammon, mind if I speak bluntly?"
"Well, bluntly it is," the demon shrugged, picking up his calculator again. "My show opens very soon, so if you finish quickly, it'll only be better for the both of us."
"Excellent," I nod, walking forward and conjuring a comfortable chair out of thin air for myself. There were no other places to sit in the office—apparently so visitors wouldn't overstay their welcome, heh. "Eve is coming very soon with a new war. The war with Hell that happened thousands of years ago won't compare to the clusterfuck she's going to bring. If only one Deadly Sin died that time, now everyone who disagrees with her new rules will die..."
"Get to the point," Mammon frowned, nervously tapping his little legs on the table. "You're building the tension really fucking well, an absolute talent, but it doesn't hook me. My own skin is dear to me, but I know how to make a deal."
"The number of angels and demons will shrink, which means you'll have fewer customers. Much fewer. Dead men don't buy merch, Mammon," I snorted, giving it to him straight. What a prick—couldn't listen to a couple more sentences, and I actually prepared that speech!
"Hmm..." his eyes flashed greedily. "Well yeah, you're right there. Corpses make a shitty target demographic. I just don't get the point of this conversation! Like I said, we already promised to help you in the battle against Eve, so there's nothing to discuss! A deal is a deal."
"Agreed, I just wanted you to confirm it to me personally..."
"Confirmed! Happy? Now get the fuck back to your Heaven and stop busting my balls! My show is starting!"
"Sure, sure, just let me hand you two modest gifts first as a token of gratitude for the fact that you'll give it a hundred percent in the upcoming battle..."
"Gifts?" For the first time, a genuine spark of interest lit up in the spider-demon's eyes. Freebies were what he loved most. "Why didn't you say so right away, dear guest?! And what have you prepared for me?"
"Well, first of all," I pull out and place a small, elegant dark-wood casket with a multitude of fine golden runes onto the table. "Here you go."
"Hmm..." greedily pulling the box toward himself, the demon opened it and stared inside in bewilderment. "A mine? A toy mine?"
Inside the casket lay a small, highly detailed model of a typical gold mine, the kind you'd see in any strategy game.
"Exactly! Please welcome—her majesty, the Level One Gold Mine!"
"..." The demon stayed silent, looking at me with undisguised offense in his eyes, as if I'd spit in his soup. "Why the fuck do I need a piece of rock shaped like a mine? Are you mocking me?"
"It's not a piece of rock, it's a full-fledged artifact," I correct him in the tone of a TV shop salesman. "This baby generates 10 grams of real gold every minute. It's made using the technology of the Seraphim who created the human world, so it won't vanish in a hundred or a thousand years. It's not an illusion and not temporary matter! Just stick your finger inside and see what's piled up in there."
"Hmm..." The demon was still drilling me with a distrustful look, but greed won out. He followed my advice, and sticking a thin finger into the microscopic entrance, pulled out a few small, warm balls of gold. Mammon brought them to his eyes, then tested them with his teeth, and then closed his eyes, apparently feeling the structure of the metal with some specific sensory ability of his own. A second later, his eyes shot wide open.
"Holy shit! This is actual pure gold! Highest grade!"
"But of course!" I nod importantly. "How could I deceive the Sin of Greed himself, who understands gold better than any other being in the universe?"
"Hah... Alright, I thought it was utter bullshit, and I'm glad I was wrong..." Mammon broke into a wide, "friendly" (read: predatory) smile, greedily clutching the casket with the mine to his chest. "So what else are you giving me, my dearest friend?"
"Oh, my second gift is still in development, but you'll receive it very soon. It's a special device that will blink red in case of an attack on Heaven. It will also have a button you can press to send a return signal if Hell is attacked. Jamming this 'signal' will be impossible, it'll punch through any barriers."
"And this is a gift?" the Deadly Sin drawled in disappointment, clearly expecting a second mine or a diamond factory. "Some kind of panic button?"
"Of course!" I lowered my voice to a conspiratorial whisper. "Just imagine: after the battle with Eve's army is over, you get into some kind of scrape—competitors, a riot, whatever. A situation where you'd have to waste too much of your own precious strength, but then bam—you press the button, and a minute later an elite squad of combat Exorcists arrives in full gear! Yeah, after the fact we'll have questions for you about why you called us, but... why not have a one hundred percent survival guarantee and free security in any situation?"
"Hmm..." Mammon pondered, his little spider legs twitching. "You're actually right! A personal army of angels on call... Sounds like a status symbol."
"Always has been."
"Well then, in that case, don't deny me the honor of having you participate in today's opening... But only in that form. I just remembered that's the exact form you chose for the 'son' of me and my brothers and sisters, so it'll be great PR for both you and me!"
"Deal!"
We shook on it, and after that, I participated in that very event. It turned out to be that famous competition that happens once a year. And this time, Fizzarolli, the star of this circus who was performing, was delivering some fierce hate speech directed at Mammon right from the stage.
The funniest part was that Mammon didn't even realize it! He sat in his box, smiling and waving his little hand almost to the very end, and only when he was told "go fuck yourself!" point-blank from the stage did it finally dawn on him that he was the one being covered in the choicest guano this whole time... Well, then the little spider predictably snapped, took on his gigantic battle form, and decided to teach the arrogant clown a lesson, but then, like a deus ex machina, Asmodeus showed up—who, it turns out, was also here in the audience—and protected his "friend."
A fucking circus, in short. In both the literal and figurative sense, which is, however, exactly what you'd expect from a circus in Hell.
I didn't dare approach Asmodeus right now—not the most appropriate time and place for a serious conversation when he had just publicly told another Sin to fuck off, so I quietly melted into the shadows.
Next destination—the Envy Ring!