In the depths of Hell, a mass of inky black light pulsed silently in a forgotten corner, incubating.
Satan's existence was beginning anew in this desolate place.
As for Mammon, the moment of his death saw Satan reclaim his Hell-born authority, ensuring Mammon's true and final demise.
Satan had never cared much for his son. The boy was too defiant, forever acting against his will.
In Hell, the other Lords watched the unfolding events with keen interest. Had Satan not been abruptly summoned to the mortal realm, they might have already dealt with that troublesome interloper.
The name Andariel would be etched into the minds of these demons.
Her brutish combat style, coupled with the storms and thunder she unleashed with every gesture, had cost the Hell Lords dearly.
Though the trouble had followed Satan to the mortal realm, they remained vigilant.
None could be certain whether that figure would suddenly reappear in Hell.
The realization that Satan had entered the cycle of rebirth sent a ripple of panic through their ranks.
The extent of Satan's authority in Hell was no secret to them. The sudden diminishment and abrupt restoration of his power sparked ominous suspicions.
Hell's demons had never deluded themselves into believing they were invincible.
But now, it was clear: Hell was being targeted. Since Dormammu's utter annihilation, finding a true leader had proven nearly impossible.
Among the beings in Hell capable of communication, Dormammu had wielded the greatest power.
Though the Hell Lords scorned Dormammu as an interloper who had seized their domain, they couldn't deny his strength.
"Some fool really has their sights set on Hell? What's so great about this place? Endless tasks, day after day."
Mephisto's voice carried a note of bewilderment.
With Dormammu gone, Mephisto stood unchallenged as Hell's foremost lord.
Of course, that was excluding those beings nearly impossible to commune with.
Like Cytorak, the monstrosity from the Crimson Cosmos.
"Who knows? You're the one obsessed with spreading your majesty across the mortal world every day."
Satanis spoke with a venomous edge, a smirk twisting his red-and-green face. The branch-like antlers atop his head swayed faintly with his movements.
Satanis, born alongside Mephisto, was a Hell Lord of comparable might, though the gap in their power was not insignificant.
Mephisto, after all, was one of the universe's most formidable magical entities, far surpassing Satanis in combat.
In terms of raw magical power, Mephisto rivaled even Vishanti.
Once, by a stroke of fate, he had faced the Planet Devourer in battle and held his own, emerging with only a slight disadvantage.
That fight ended when Galactus, nearly depleted of energy, withdrew. Since then, Mephisto's power had never been underestimated.
One of the mightiest magical entities, his essence was rooted in lies.
A mysterious rule, ill-suited for battle.
If it were suited for combat, Mephisto wouldn't merely be one of the strongest magical beings.
Magic was never an innate power—it required both accumulation and talent to forge.
In recent times, aside from the Supreme Sorcerer who had replaced Dormammu as the Dark Dimension's lord, Mephisto had suffered no significant defeats in battle.
As Supreme Sorcerer, Ancient One was now Earth's most powerful mage.
Bolstered by Vishanti's power and the Time Stone, she seemed invincible.
Since claiming the Dark Dimension and no longer needing to expend her own magic to resist its corrupting forces, Ancient One had grown so formidable that even Mephisto felt a rare pang of dread.
It reminded him of his encounter with Galactus.
Though that Devourer had been ravenous, weakened by hunger, his status as a cosmic entity was undeniable.
He was strong—Mephisto knew that better than most.
"Nightmare and Lucifer are both being reborn, but something feels off. Should we summon Cytorak?"
Mephisto muttered under his breath, his expression unreadable in the gloom.
Cytorak, the Crimson Cosmos' sovereign.
The only being to have truly defeated Galactus.
Though classified as a demon, no Hell Lord dared approach him casually.
Cytorak, who had crushed Galactus in near-total dominance, was an entity whose mind defied comprehension.
Perhaps he was mad. Or perhaps, like ants unable to grasp human thoughts, lesser beings simply couldn't fathom his.
"You're insane! Do you want him to pulverize you and send you to rebirth alongside Lucifer?"
Satanis' voice trembled with shock. The Crimson Cosmos' ruler showed no mercy to those he deemed insignificant.
To Satanis, Cytorak's power exceeded anything he could imagine.
No one had ever managed to communicate with him smoothly.
"I can't shake the feeling that something big is brewing, just out of sight."
Mephisto's expression shifted abruptly as he sensed his son had just ventured to the mortal realm!
Blackheart—or Witchfire, as some called him.
Like Mammon, he was among the most exceptional of the Hell Lords' progeny.
Ambitious and cruel, he lacked nothing in those regards—but he was, perhaps, a touch foolish.
That foolishness was relative only to his unique power.
When it came to beguiling hearts, few in the world could match him.
Yet his ambition had long since overwhelmed his reason. He feared no stronger foe and lacked any sense of strategy.
Though he wielded a fragment of the power of lies, he was reduced to a whispering presence in others' ears.
Combat was not his strength.
"That idiot!"
Mephisto's anger flared, each sharp breath sending pain lancing through the wound at his waist.
Blackheart had been a pawn in Mephisto's grand designs. He had sired countless children.
Each was a piece in his schemes to ascend further.
Mephisto prided himself on his cunning, yet his son acted like a brainless brute, obsessed with confronting enemies head-on.
The grandest scheme Blackheart could muster was to disguise his identity, only to unleash his Hell-born power in battle.
(Chapter End)
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