The Banaya Grand Duke was pleased that life had returned to normal; he sat once more before the Curse Bone Gate, playing the role of Piffed. He watched with joy as Plane Transmitters formed a long queue, each holding items "precious enough" to exchange for a chance to escape Bator Hell.

It took nearly half a year for the Bronze Fortress to recover from chaos. The Magic Wand left by that Mage was ultimately kept as a collectible by the Hell Lord Bel and would no longer create an army of undead. If not for the Lord facing all enemies alone, giving that Divine Artifact no chance to gather corpses, the battle might still be dragging on.

However, the enraged Bel uncharacteristically didn't punish the Banaya Grand Duke but instead handed over the captured Eruiyes to him for supervision. Although Banaya's orders were peculiar, permitting only imprisonment of the Desire Demon and forbidding torture or execution, Banaya still had his own ways to vent his hatred.

'I bet that Desire Demon is close to breaking down.' Banaya felt a chill whenever he thought of the terrifying cage imprisoning Eruiyes. 'Perhaps she'll commit suicide tomorrow.'

Glancing around the scenery near the Teleportation Gate, Banaya felt slightly saddened. The damage caused by constant battles and deaths had turned the place into a mess, losing its orderly atmosphere. The bloodstains and scattered debris, along with countless pits and holes on the ground, would take a long time to completely repair. Banaya touched his forehead and decided to charge all travelers an extra 20% for "maintenance fees."

"Next!" he impatiently tapped the table in front of him and shouted. The Horror Demons serving him were new replacements, for his usual assistants had all been slain by the undead, leading to inefficiency. However, the Banaya Grand Duke didn't care when the long line in front would end; he now had "enough reason" to often use his Flame Whip to teach his subordinates how to improve their work enthusiasm.

Banaya opened his eyes and glared at the empty platform before him. He picked up the whip and lashed it across the spine of a nearby Horror Demon. "Hey! Did you hear what I said? Go bring the next one here!"

The Horror Demon shrank its red body, its rock-like muscles seeming useless, doing nothing but tremble under Piffed's pressure. It looked fearfully at the Abyss Demon, whose eyes shot with fury as his arm raised once more, causing the demon to quickly run off.

"What a fool!" Banaya spat on the ground: "Tomorrow I'll send that idiot's head to the front lines of the Blood War! Let the demons pull out his guts and smash his skull!"

While the Abyss Demon muttered to himself, an unexpected light suddenly flashed outside. Then, the sound of the Horror Demon's running footsteps completely disappeared. Banaya frowned and turned his gaze outside, only then sensing an eerie atmosphere around him.

What should have been a bustling line was particularly quiet today. All the noise of jostling, bargaining, and cursing had vanished, leaving only disquieting silence. More so, the Bronze Fortress itself seemed to have quieted down—no sound of devils flapping their wings, no carts hauling catapult ammunition, and even the sound of devil recruitment whips seemed to have vanished.

The only thing he noticed was a long shadow on the ground, slowly walking from the corner of the entrance.

Banaya quickly looked up at the sky; Bator Hell was still shrouded in red clouds, with no apparent light source. Precisely because this place wasn't like the Main Material Plane where the sun hangs high, the Abyss Demon was puzzled over what caused the shadow to arrive!

"Who!" The Abyss Demon overturned the table in front of him, stood up with a swish. Massive wings flickered with flames, unfolding behind him like a screen, casting his body into dark shadows. Besides two yellow gleams at his head and the ever-swinging Flame Whip and the devil's black-purple blade, there was nothing else with a definite shape.

The shadow grew clearer yet shorter simultaneously. In the stillness, the devil heard a few faint sounds—"tap, tap, tap…" footsteps, along with the soft rustle of a robe brushing against the ground.

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