Chapter 693: Chaos in Hell
"This is the treasure you claim is worth the souls of twenty mortals?"
In a dark alley, a devil stared at the ancient clay jar not far away, frowning and glaring coldly at the imp.
Dick chuckled obsequiously: "Lord Uriel, how would I dare deceive you? You are the master of the Modin Casino—no one in the twelve rings of the Bronze Fortress would dare disrespect you."
Uriel shot him a cold glance and gestured. Immediately, bone-chilling cracking sounds echoed from above as two massive, terrifying shadows enveloped the imp.
These creatures resembled skinned humanoids, wrapped tightly in dried hide around their skeletal frames. They had skull-like heads and scorpion tails, radiating a foul stench of decay.
Their long tails were made of bony segments, tipped with huge, sharp barbed hooks gleaming with a cold sheen.
Dick collapsed to the ground in terror, scrambling backward. "Th-those are... the legendary Bone Devils—Hooked Scythe Soldiers!
They say Modin Casino keeps eighteen of them! They pierce the hearts of devils who default on their debts and rip their souls out!"
Bone Devils, also known as Osyluths, are among the strongest lower-ranking devils—driven by hatred, greed, and envy, they serve as cruel overseers in the Nine Hells. Hooked Scythe Soldiers are the elite among them.
In the outermost Twelfth Ring of the Bronze Fortress, their presence alone was enough to make debt-ridden gamblers tremble.
Creak, creak...
Their venomous tails swayed before the imp as if ready to strike.
Uriel stepped forward, slightly bowing with a seemingly kind smile. "Dick, those who deceive me always meet a miserable end. Like your friend Claude—the pathetic Bearded Devil, now a bone craft display."
The imp knelt, shaking all over, terrified. "My lord, I swear I didn't lie! That really is a precious treasure!"
As if to prove his words, the surface of the jar began to glow, inscribed with complex, eerie patterns.
Smoke billowed from the mouth of the jar, forming blurry human faces in the air. Their expressions were horrified, mouths agape: "Save me! Save me—!"
Rage and despair poured out, flooding the surroundings.
"Such dense soul energy!" Uriel's expression lit up with greed as he turned to the jar, black pupils gleaming.
In his perception, the jar held not just twenty, but over a thousand mortal souls!
"Stupid imp didn't even realize what he had!" Uriel exulted internally.
If he offered these souls to the ruler of the Twelfth Ring, he might be promoted to a greater devil—no more dealings with filthy gamblers.
Dick was equally greedy, but whispered, "Lord Uriel, now you know why I didn't carry it around... A weak imp like me flaunting that would attract countless greedy eyes."
"Very good. Hahaha, you've done well."
Uriel ignored the imp, eyes locked on the jar as he eagerly stepped forward.
Even the two Bone Devils stared intently at the jar, foul drool dripping from their jaws, their massive tails slowly swaying.
Creak, creak...
Silence fell. The air grew thick, nearly solid.
Though Hell's hierarchy is strict, every devil harbors ambition—to rise by replacing their superiors, always seeking the chance to strike.
And now, before them lay a treasure of over a thousand souls—their path to promotion!
Moreover, Uriel was also a lower devil. There was no true hierarchy—only contracts and positions. Betrayal carried no guilt.
As if sensing their thoughts, Uriel's eyes flashed with menace. "Hmph. Ungrateful mutts. Think I don't have ways to suppress you?
I am your master and the ruler of Modin Casino!"
Whoosh—
With a flick of his robe, Uriel drew out two yellowed skulls, muttering hoarse, spiteful incantations.
"Aaaah!!"
The skulls twisted in agony, jaws open wide, emitting ear-piercing screams.
The Bone Devils clutched their heads, howling in torment.
Uriel slowly crushed the skulls in his hands, cracks spreading across them.
His lips curled in a sulfur-tainted smirk: "I had hoped you'd be my loyal hounds forever, joining me in the inner rings... Too bad, you Bone Devils—"
He stomped down, shattering the skulls. "Fools! No matter your greed or envy, know your place!"
As the skulls crumbled, the Bone Devils' massive bodies disintegrated into white powder.
Seeing this—
Uriel rushed forward, gingerly cradling the jar. Inhaling the scent of fear and despair, his expression turned intoxicated. "Wonderful... what rich souls..."
Like caressing a lover, he traced the jar's engravings—then froze, noticing a strange sigil in the corner.
"Wait... that's Bael's sigil?!"
Uriel's face changed dramatically. Terror overtook him as he recalled the events.
Something was wrong—why had he acted so irrationally? He had killed his most loyal subordinates and touched a mysterious artifact without caution.
A spell! His mind had been clouded—blinded by greed like a gambler!
He tried to drop the jar, but an invisible force bound him in place. He couldn't move.
Panic overtook him. He whirled around, face twisted in rage. "Damn imp—you tricked me!
No... not just you—"
A shadow fell over him.
Uriel stiffly turned—towering over him was a giant, muscular, dragon-scaled figure grinning with gleaming teeth.
A fist the size of a cauldron crashed down, shattering his protective spells.
Boom!
"You filthy worms, Bael's lackeys—release me! I'm the ruler of Modin Casino! When my men arrive, you'll wish you were dead!"
"Still so cocky? Beat him!"
Boom!
"Aren't you afraid of Zariel's patrols hearing this? When they show up, you're finished!"
"Heh, we've got Bael's hell warding field. Scream all you like—no one's coming."
Boom! Boom!
"Dear guests from afar—we can be allies! Don't you want wealth and power? Let's negotiate!"
"The hell? You think you're still on equal footing? You're a prisoner! Keep beating him—I'll handle the torture!"
Boom! Boom! Boom!
"My lords, I was wrong! Please, forgive me! The entire Modin Casino will cooperate!"
"Still had backbone earlier—now you fold? That's suspicious. Keep beating him—I want him to feel bliss!"
Boom! Boom! Boom! Boom!
"Oh, and this thing too..."
"Wait—what are you doing? I'll cooperate! Please don't—Aaaah!!"
The sound of searing flesh mixed with the devil's screams.
Langli Baitiao grinned maniacally, branding Bael's mark onto Uriel's chest with a glowing hot iron.
"Damn, that's disgusting."
Luck King shuddered, watching Langli torture with glee, deciding to keep his distance.
Even Darknight Wolf, Langli's loyal disciple, stepped away.
"These guys must be devils in disguise. Never mess with them."
Though happy to see Uriel suffer, Dick trembled in fear.
Yet he couldn't stop peeking—devil nature made him fascinated by violence.
"M-my lord..."
"I was wrong. I submit. I'll help Lord Bael return."
Uriel, battered and broken, looked nothing like a casino boss.
Under Langli's depraved hand, he'd been stuffed with something unsettling—his expression oddly euphoric.
Langli Baitiao held a bloodstained iron rod, satisfied. "Heh, I've really improved my torture skills! Practice makes perfect."
"Eh? Why are you all looking at me like that?"
Seeing their horrified stares, Langli proudly puffed his chest. "I was once the top interrogator in the Empire's 'Nocturne' unit. This is normal."
He waved the rod at the bound devil.
Uriel shook in terror, kneeling. "I submit, my lord!"
"See? I've tamed him completely. No issues at all," Langli boasted.
"..."
Tian Born Battle Maniac patted Langli's shoulder, advising gently, "Langli, don't use this to satisfy your twisted urges.
I know you have trauma, but keep a healthy mindset—it's just a game."
"Who the hell has trauma?!"
Furious, Langli turned to Uriel, raised his rod, and growled, "What ways do you have—to smuggle us into the inner rings?"
"I do! My lord!" Uriel seized the chance. "There's a secret passage in my casino, used to smuggle goods for a big shot in the inner ring—it leads straight to the Fourth Ring!"
"Who's the big shot?"
"Valerius Edwards—Zariel's confidant, commander of the Thirteenth Legion! A mighty Deepforge Devil!"
"Wait! That name's on the mission list! A B-rank side quest: Assassinate Valerius!"
"Holy—32,000 gold and 300,000 faction points?!"
The four players' eyes lit up, filled with excitement.
Uriel had hoped Valerius's name would intimidate them—but they looked like they saw prey. He nearly fainted.
"Where's the passage?"
Langli knelt, eyes cold. "Where exactly? What's inside? You'll guide us—personally."
Uriel asked carefully, "If I take you in, may I leave afterward?"
Langli smiled kindly. "Of course. We Nocturne folk are all about honesty."
"...Alright."
"First, sign this contract. Can't trust a devil without one," Langli said cheerfully.
Uriel sighed in relief. "Yes, my lord! I'll draft it right away—"
"No need."
Langli pulled out an old parchment. "This was made by Lord Bael himself—should be binding enough.
Come, sign here. Once you do, we're in this together. I can finally trust you.
Let's head to the inner rings."
"..."
Uriel stared at the densely worded contract—full of traps. For once, the devil known for tricking mortals was speechless.
This bastard from the Material Plane was more devilish than any devil.
Meanwhile, player sightings spread throughout the Bronze Fortress. Devils kept discovering soul-less adventurers causing chaos from the Material Plane.