"Sweetheart, they are hunting all of you. All over the universe." Courtisan Lust said, looking at Asaemon. "We need to be more careful now."

Her voice was soft, filled with an undertone of pity as she stared at the past Elysiari of Monsters.

Asaemon's previous brilliant silver hair was no more. In its place, a color that looked more like rusty white than anything else crowned his head.

Looking at him, one could see that he had lost something important to his existence.

Yet his red eyes had never burned brighter, nor fiercer, than they did that day.

They were inside a hidden, secret place within Hell itself, hiding in order to plan their next course of action. The place was small, the size of a normal room belonging to a struggling family.

It was made from the flesh and bones of abyss monsters, then wrapped with the fire of Hell to mend it all together.

Nothing else existed inside the room besides them.

Sweeping her pink-colored eyes around her, Courtisan Lust looked at Sloth, Envy, and Gluttony.

The only three other Demon Lords who had decided to take the risk and accompany Asaemon in his pursuit.

All for their hidden desires.

"I know we are hunted." Asaemon said, looking at Lust and the other three. "But I will need trust in their ability to stay alive. Going out of Hell would make me lose the little opportunity I have now."

He paused, swallowing back the feeling of inadequacy that threatened to grip tightly at his gut.

It was not the time for such a thing. Later. Later, he could sit and mourn the loss of the people of his faction.

For now, he needed Hell.

"The Progenitor is not here yet." Courtisan Lust began walking toward Asaemon with measured calm. "And Wrath, Pride, and Greed are actively trying to have Hell speak and deliver our position."

"What are the odds for them to make the beast speak?"

"Low, sweetheart. Very low. But equally very possible. If Hell knows we are a danger to its master, the Progenitor of Demons, then it would stop at nothing to kill us."

"All of this… so bothersome." Sloth suddenly muttered, making the others stare at her. Her voice was slow and dragging.

"Bothersome. We… do not have millions of solutions. So pick… one and let's be done."

"True." Envy added, swirling her black hair with her finger playfully. "Not to mention how difficult it is to kill Wrath, Pride, and Greed. Doing that would not make you win over Hell. And the battle would attract the Progenitor."

"Hell is the pet of the Progenitor." Gluttony now chimed in. His mouth was greasy, his belly so round it was hard to see his face from the front.

Each of his words sounded like a man at the edge of breath speaking.

"We need to snatch away the control of Hell from the Progenitor." He finished, then took a pause to regulate his breathing.

"Well, my dears, that's exactly the issue." Courtisan Lust said, now standing beside Asaemon, on his left. "How can we achieve such a thing? We, Demon Lords, know how deep the loyalty runs between the two of them."

"And the Progenitor is coming back soon. So we don't have time to properly prepare our actions."

She slowly turned her head, staring at the hard line of Asaemon. A faint smile appeared on her face. "So, sweetheart, what are we ought to do?"

The pressure was immense.

Asaemon knew that taking over Hell was a task difficult in itself, but now the scale was beginning to unravel in front of him.

Still,

"I don't want to be the one to believe in such a thing," he said, looking at the four Demon Lords with quizzical eyes, "but anything and anyone has a price they are willing to pay for loyalty."

"The same reason you left your own race for benefits, Hell could do the same if something it wished for was presented to it. Something its master refused to give."

"What… is that?" Sloth asked slowly, now curious.

The way Asaemon spoke made it seem like he knew.

And indeed, he had an idea.

The Progenitor of Demons, Asmodeus, was his friend. Multiple times the two were together, bickering, talking, and cursing about many things.

In many of those instances, Asaemon witnessed the interaction between Asmodeus and Hell.

That granted him knowledge of something Hell might want.

Yet Asaemon clenched his fist tightly. He felt a sense of disgust at using information gained through friendship only to betray it.

Never did he once think that a day like this would come.

Asaemon was never one for subtlety. He hated it, even.

He liked to be sincere and outwardly honest, to connect with people, just as he did with beasts without falsehoods and betrayals.

And now… and now…

"You have to, sweetheart." Courtisan Lust gently whispered, stretching her two hands before holding Asaemon's cheeks tightly between her palms.

She turned his head softly so that he could face her. Their eyes locked together.

She smiled, her beauty truly one to topple worlds upon worlds.

"There is no time for you to mourn your relationships, sweetheart. You need to choose and act accordingly, without wavering." Lust intoned. "If you spend too much time hesitating, then you will lose both the respect of the Progenitor and that of your sibling."

She paused, watching Asaemon's resolve harden slowly.

She continued, striking the iron while it was still hot.

"So tell me," Courtisan murmured, "what are you willing to lose?"

"A friendship, or your brother's legacy?"

At that point, there was no longer a need to think further.

With newfound resolve, Asaemon, Second Abomination, parted his lips.

"Crusader of Gold Eagle." He said, sighing.

"Hell wishes for the Crusader of Gold Eagle, Guardian of the Hidden Temple of the Celestial Faction."

The words boomed through the enclosed space like a cursed echo.

The Demon Lords' eyes widened in absolute shock.

Sloth jerked upright from her resting position, shivering.

Envy staggered a step back, her mouth wide open.

Courtisan Lust's lips went dry in an instant, her hands slipping away from Asaemon's face.

And,

"Is this a fucking joke?"

Gluttony shrieked.

…

Then another shriek.

"ARGHHHHH! WHAT—!"

"Die in silence." Aurelia's voice was as cold as death, her golden daggers piercing the throat of the wailing elven woman before cutting her head off with one strike.

The head flew away, blood smearing the sky, the eyes wide in horror as life slipped from her soul.

Aurelia continued to stride forward, face expressionless, each step flattening the flowers beneath her, her whole body bathed in the blood of elves.

Behind her, hundreds — no, thousands — of elves were sprawled across the ground.

The sight was grotesque.

Hearts ripped away, some still thumping as if life still coursed through them. Inside the sea of blood, one could see severed limbs, mangled organs and intestines, and even blinking eyeballs swimming like fish.

The scent was heavy, drenched in blood, death, and unmasked fear.

Aurelia was standing in a wide expanse of beautiful gardens, adorned with mystical flowers and forests of trees clawing toward the sky.

It was stunning. Or rather, it had been stunning.

Now it was a sight for the damned.

Looking ahead, Aurelia saw millions of elves waiting for her, clustered together like a colony of ants, all packed in tight formation.

Standing in front of them were beings with golden hair, somehow withered like fallen ashes, and green eyes.

The Worldborn.

Aurelia was in Treehouse, the main world of the Worldborn.

And its owners had come to welcome her.

"First Abomination, you—!"

"Silence." Aurelia said curtly, and the air stilled.

Above her, a gigantic golden book, the size of a mansion, appeared, causing the space around it to strain and then rip apart like a curtain.

An enormous pressure crashed down on the elves, as if the heavens themselves were falling upon them.

At the sight of the book, all the elves — whose bloodline had been weakened exponentially by Luelle's death — watched the scene in trepidation, some already fleeing.

Everyone knew the book.

It was the book where the stolen Records were preserved.

And if before they had been apprehensive about fighting the First Abomination, the moment Aurelia's voice echoed across the gardens, that apprehension twisted into a fear that tightened their hearts like bloody fists.

"Forbidden Record number Three,"

Aurelia's voice was like the cracking of the heavens.

"Lord of the Seven Kingdoms."

Aurelia began to transform.

Treehouse ruptured into seven parts.

The elves squealed and cried in disbelief as they heard the Will of the World wail in horrendous pain.

And all the while, Eric, Malrik, and Rouge — standing among the elves — watched the scene with cold, unblinking eyes.

—End of Chapter 459—

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