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"I'm a kind person; I'm kind to everyone, but if you are unkind to me, then kindness is not what you'll remember me for."
- Al Capone, (Random Facebook Meme)
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<(Atem POV)>
"The hell?" I muttered, frustration starting to bubble in my voice. "It's been almost five minutes since Mephisto died. Why haven't I become the new Lord of Hell yet? I followed the rules of the duel—I beat Mephisto fair and square during the Solstice. So, if Hell's supposed to crown a new ruler, it should be me... Right?"
I stared into the distance, trying to make sense of it, all while deliberately ignoring the glowing system notification hovering in front of me—the one that clearly confirmed I had slain the ruler of this realm.
The dimension-wide tremors that had been shaking Hell since Mephisto's fall were finally beginning to ease, indicating that the realm was slowly stabilizing—its power clearly preparing to pass to a new ruler.
"I don't think this dimension intends to choose you as its new master, Atem," Hela guessed, finally breaking her silence. She had remained a neutral observer until now, but the calm, assured look in her eyes was proof that she had already figured out what was happening. "I think we misunderstood something about the Solstice," Hela said, her voice steady and measured. "As far as I recall, it was only ever stated that Mephisto would be at his weakest during the Solstice—that he couldn't draw upon the full power of the realm during that time. But nowhere was it ever said that defeating him would automatically grant rulership over this dimension."
She folded her arms, a knowing edge to her tone. "No… we, like everyone else who tried to take advantage of the Solstice to kill Mephisto, simply assumed that part. And that cunning red devil didn't bother correcting us—because letting us believe the lie served him just fine."
"...Shit. Now that you say it, you're right." I clicked my tongue as realization hit me like a punch to the gut. "That manipulative bastard played us all." I groaned, slapping my forehead in frustration. "But wait... Hela, isn't there some way I can still take control of this realm by force? I mean, since Mephisto's out of the picture, there isn't exactly anyone strong enough to stop me." I asked, raising an eyebrow.
"You can," Hela replied, calm as ever. "But there's no exact ritual to do that. For dimensional lords, taking over a dimension is… instinctual. If you want to claim this realm, you'll have to assert your will over it—completely—and do it before it chooses a new master." She stepped closer, her tone growing more serious. "But remember this: a being can only rule one dimension at a time. If you want to control more, you'll need to absorb them into this one—like Dormammu does when he devours realms. But if you go that route, parts of this dimension—its infernal demonic essence—will bleed into the others. No matter how much you try to shape them according to your imagination, they'll always carry the imprint of Hell... they will be part of Hell."
"I see... then maybe I'll hold off on that," I decided, letting out a slow breath. "As tempting as it is to have my own private realm, I'd prefer one that isn't a flaming pit of torment. It's the same reason I didn't claim Heven or Nornheim directly for myself since I need a powerful and big dimension for myself that can actually add to my power." I muttered the thought aloud, only to suddenly remember that the war for Hell wasn't over just because Mephisto was gone. His throne was still up for grabs.
"There are better options out there for me when it comes to claiming a domain. Maybe someday I'll absorb Hell into my realm..., but not today. For now, I think I'll let someone else take the crown." I smirked, my eyes drifting toward the red-skinned demon princess Natasha was currently facing. "And I've got a pretty good idea who it's going to be."
"Sounds interesting. But before that, you've got a more immediate problem to deal with," Hela interrupted, eyes narrowing. "You can feel it too, can't you? That army of demons is closing in. They're being led by the remaining Kings of Hell—the ones who didn't get torched by your skeleton friend." She tilted her head slightly as if listening to the rumble in the distance. "Even Mephisto's loyal Hell Knights are marching with them. It's a full-scale war mobilization, and no matter how strong the Spirit of Vengeance is, taking on a united front of Hell like that isn't going to be easy." She sighed. "And let's be honest… they're not going to stop just because their boss is gone. Reason doesn't exactly work on beings of pure evil."
"Yeah, I can sense them too," I said, my eyes narrowing as I focused on the approaching horde. "And you're right—they've got the numbers. Most of them are at least mid-tier demons. I could wipe them out on my own, sure… but it'd be time-consuming. And honestly? Just plain annoying." I paused, a small smirk tugging at the corner of my mouth. "Luckily, I've got another way to deal with them." With that, I snapped my fingers and mentally reached out to Zoya, giving her the command she was waiting for.
Immediately, the sky split open with a booming sound as a massive red portal burst to life overhead—it was a boom tube tearing through the fabric of realms, linking Hell to another plane entirely. And before anyone could process what was happening, thousands of angels began pouring through the portal, descending slowly into the infernal realm. Clad head-to-toe in celestial war armor, they looked every bit prepared for battle. But unlike the demon horde, there was something different in their demeanor. Calm. Steady. Confident. They didn't descend like soldiers bracing for war—instead, the expressions on their faces made it seem like they were pest exterminators on a mission, as if they weren't about to fight an army but wipe out mere bugs.
"My lord, thank you for granting us this opportunity. It's an honor to be of service to you so soon," said the Queen of the Angels, Michelle, as she descended before me and offered a respectful bow. Her entire demeanor had shifted dramatically from the first time we met just a few weeks ago. She was a selfish, greedy, and arrogant queen then, but now she was almost behaving as if she were some just and honorable Amazonian warrior queen.
Her eyes flicked to the side, widening slightly in surprise. "Queen Hela!?" she said, her voice a mix of recognition and disbelief upon spotting the Norse Queen of Death calmly floating nearby.
"...The Queen of the angels? Well, you're looking surprisingly well—for a soulless, child-slaughtering abomination," Hela sneered, her tone cold as ice. "Tell me, is your kind still just as obsessed with reincarnation as you were millennia ago? Or did my curse finally teach you something for a change?" She paused, her gaze sweeping over the assembled angels like a blade. "...Wait. My curse no longer touches you." Her eyes narrowed sharply as she studied them, almost peering through their very essence. "You've managed to sever it. But that should be impossible for you. So… how?"
"Our new Emperor, Atem, has freed us from your wretched curse, Hela," Michelle snapped, venom dripping from every word. "You should be grateful he shares your blood. If you weren't his half-sister, I would've already turned you to ash." She clenched her fists, barely holding herself back.
Hela cast a glance in my direction, her expression unreadable. "He lifted it himself?" she muttered as if pondering something in her mind. Then, with a cool, distant tone, she nodded: "I see." After that, she said nothing more.
"As entertaining as it is to watch the two of you relive your ancient grudge match," I interrupted, cutting through the tension with a firm voice, "we have more urgent matters to deal with." I turned to Michelle, my tone sharpening. "You can reminisce about old times and catch up later. Right now, I summoned you here for a purpose. A massive demon army is closing in as we speak."
I gestured toward the horizon, where the dark tide of the horde was nearly at the gates of the ruined palace—Ghost Rider already locked in brutal combat with several demon kings.
"I need you to take your angel army and strike them down in my name, Michelle. Hunt down the demon kings. Tear through the nobles. Thin their ranks. Wage a holy war—and make them remember why angels are supposed to be feared by the entirety of Hell in the first place."
Michelle gave a respectful nod at my command, her expression steeling as she turned toward the approaching demon army, ready to lead her angels into "righteous" carnage.
But the moment her eyes locked onto the lone figure blazing at the forefront—Ghost Rider tearing through dozens of noble-ranked demons like a force of nature—her composure faltered as her eyes widened in disbelief.
"... Zarathos," she whispered under her breath, almost too stunned to speak. "How is my brother still alive?"
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