For demons, the greatest fear wasn't death, but obscurity.
It didn't matter whether it was a bad reputation or a fearsome one—as long as their name was known, they craved it.
Listening to the chaotic chorus of mortals whispering his name, Mephisto was so ecstatic he was practically ascending.
But as time passed and more people uttered his name, Mephisto realized that the terror he was receiving wasn't as much as he had anticipated.
No—worse yet, it wasn't that he was getting less, but the quality of the fear was absolute trash.
"What the hell is going on?"
Frowning, he couldn't resist the itch to investigate.
He cast another projection onto London, arriving at the same hospital as before.
As he landed on the rooftop, William's magical avatar waved at him from the dark.
"What did you do? Why is the fear I'm receiving so diluted?"
"Nothing much," William shrugged lazily.
"Probably because when people say your name today, they don't have a clear image of you in their minds. So, their fear doesn't reach Hell properly."
William knew very well:
The people weren't picturing the Hell Lord Mephisto the demon;
they were thinking about a cloned ancient creature named Mephisto.
No wonder the fear didn't properly channel to the real Mephisto.
Seeing that he couldn't get anything out of William, Mephisto stepped back into the shadows, intent on questioning his followers.
A few minutes later, he returned to the rooftop, face twisted with fury.
"Good, good, very good! You damned bastard—you dared to humiliate me like this!"
"Quit whining," William said, yawning.
"I'm fulfilling our agreement. And remember—
if I really release the video I have, or personally step forward,
your name will instantly reach at least ten billion people.
Besides, this is Earth. What can you do to me here?"
"Te-ten billion?!"
Mephisto's hands trembled with excitement.
Even if the fear was diluted, sheer volume could create a qualitative change.
Ten billion individual sources of fear was staggering.
"What do you want?" Mephisto demanded.
"I'll give you succubi, dark elf beauties, wealth, longevity, treasures—anything you ask!"
"Hah," William chuckled, mocking him.
"Do I look like I'm lacking money? Or women?"
With a wave, dozens of massive crates materialized on the rooftop, revealing over two million energy crystals.
Before Mephisto could so much as breathe them in, William casually waved them all back into his storage.
"As for longevity," William snorted,
"I figured that out ages ago.
And treasures? Pfft. What demon treasure isn't cursed or rotten?"
"Shut up! We are dimensional beings!" Mephisto bellowed, offended.
"We've left our mark on countless worlds across the multiverse!
We've seen more artifacts than you country bumpkins of the Nine Realms could ever dream of!"
"Then either shut up, or show me something good," William said lazily.
"Show you—?" Mephisto caught himself just in time, realizing this was a trap.
"You're trying to rob me! You're even more conniving than the worst demon lords I know!"
Even so, the idea of ten billion people remembering his name gnawed at Mephisto.
Normally, his followers were like rats, hiding underground, never daring to worship him openly.
Now, with William's help, he could become truly famous.
Knowing William would never step into Hell personally—
not even his magical avatar would dare—
Mephisto realized he had little leverage.
After struggling internally, he offered,
"Set is dead. I'll wager his dark kingdom against you again!"
"Hah, who the hell wants that loser's kingdom?" William sneered.
"After being blasted by stellar energy, it's a barren wasteland now,
and a battleground for every demon and god in Hell.
Why would I want to fight over that garbage heap?"
William knew his place:
On Earth, he could crush demons with ease.
In Hell, it would be the demons crushing him.
"Then what do you want?" Mephisto snapped.
"How should I know?" William shrugged.
"You're the one begging for something.
If you won't bring out something valuable, don't expect me to make an offer.
That's not how business works, buddy."
Grimacing, Mephisto racked his brain.
Treasure was too risky.
Instead, he thought of something Hell had in abundance—cannon fodder.
"You are the master of the Space Stone," Mephisto said, seizing the idea,
"So I'll wager an army of ten thousand demons.
If you win, they'll swear loyalty to you in the name of Satan himself.
Their lives and deaths will be yours to command,
and with a single thought, you could annihilate them all."
"This..."
William's eyes lit up.
While demon projections were weak on Earth,
if they were summoned like Fischer—through a forced portal—their true strength could be preserved.
Even if William didn't plan to use them in the material world normally,
having a reserve force never hurt.
Especially since there were still forces like the Kree, the Chitauri,
and the mad titan Thanos lurking in the future.
If Earth was attacked again,
having a demon legion ready could make a world of difference.
Plus, it wasn't like the Chitauri looked any less demonic themselves.
Better yet, if William controlled them absolutely,
they would be as reliable as his robotic army—
maybe even more effective against magic-based enemies.
Having mentally decided, William mused a bit before replying,
"In your domain, you must designate a completely neutral zone for them to station.
And these ten thousand demons must be at least mid-tier or higher.
Also—"
he changed his mind mid-sentence,
"—my representative will choose who gets in."
"No problem! Whatever you want!" Mephisto agreed immediately.
Hell had no shortage of demons.
A mere ten thousand—even mid-tiers—was nothing.
But seeing how quickly Mephisto agreed,
William narrowed his eyes suspiciously and added,
"Hold it. I'm not done yet. What's the rush?"
Grinding his teeth, Mephisto hissed,
"Fine. Speak!"
______
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