Hell and Everyday Life [5]
As soon as we stepped from the entrance into the living room, a hollow laugh burst from Lucian's lips.
"...This is it? Just this vast empty space—no rooms, no hallways, not even a single decorative trinket?"
He was right. The house I'd manifested was the pinnacle of efficiency and sloth. One entire wall of the living room was dominated by floor-to-ceiling windows framing Hell's crimson sky like a massive painting, and that was it. Just one enormous living room.
No ornate gold patterns or statues symbolizing authority had ever crossed my mind in the design.
"Dividing it into rooms is a hassle. Cleaning would suck too. And most importantly, that view has to be visible from anywhere."
I jerked my chin toward the scenery beyond the windows. Lucian clutched the back of his head in disbelief, but Bael slowly scanned the center of the room with an impassive expression.
"Far neater than some convoluted maze of a fortress. A space existing solely for rest."
Bael's assessment was spot on. I nodded in satisfaction and headed to the middle of the room. There, a large low table sat flanked by leather sofas on either side—plush enough to melt your body just looking at them.
"Come on, don't just stand there. Sit wherever."
No sooner had the words left my mouth than Satan plunged deep into one of the sofas.
"Whoa, this is way comfier than it has any right to be. Feels like my bones are dissolving. Even this low table's got this weird drowsy vibe."
Satan draped his arms over the table and grinned lazily. At the mocking admiration, Lucian's eyebrow twitched again. He seemed unable to adjust to the furniture layout but finally perched grudgingly on the far end of the opposite sofa.
I settled naturally beside Bael. A question I'd meant to ask yesterday but forgotten in the flood of sleep had just resurfaced.
"Oh, Bael. I meant to ask yesterday but spaced."
Before I could finish, Satan cocked one eyebrow.
"Yesterday? Ah... you mean before you conked out. Looks like you have no clue how long you slept. That wasn't 'yesterday.' Try 'a month ago.'"
"...A month? I slept a whole month?"
I gaped, and Satan shrugged like it was obvious.
"Yeah. Didn't I say you woke up way too late?"
As I sat there stunned, Bael set down her teacup and asked calmly,
"My lord, do you know how much time has passed since your birth?"
"...Beats me."
"Not precisely, but roughly two hundred million years. Of that, the times you've been awake number fewer than ten."
It felt like a hammer to the head. What the hell kind of sleep schedule was this? Lucian snorted at my shock.
"Time means little here anyway. Living long doesn't make you stronger, and Bael and the rest of us have endured similar spans. Nothing to get worked up over."
"Still..."
I glanced back and forth between Bael and Satan.
"But every time I wake up, you guys are always here visiting. After fighting you, Bael, and... yesterday. No, a month ago."
"We visit around the time you stir. No need for surprise."
Bael's matter-of-fact reply sent chills down my spine.
"...Bael, when exactly did you show up the day after we fought?"
My eyes trembled. Bael answered without a flicker.
"I haven't counted, but it must have been around eight thousand years later."
Holy shit. Eight thousand years of sleep? Lucian chimed in from the side.
"You don't usually sleep that long. Probably tied to your root power. Being Sloth and all."
My mind reeled.
"No, more than that—how do you even remember me? That much time, anyone would forget."
"As I said, I am king. We roots sense each other's existence. Forgetting is impossible."
I couldn't help but marvel. My past-life memories had faded enough that I'd built a whole mental library to hold them— their recall was on another level. Remembering eight thousand years like yesterday? Demon minds were built different.
I mulled over Lucian's words.
'Tied to the root power...?'
It wasn't just long life. The way they remembered me, the way I slept—it defied normal biology.
'Ah, Sloth Force expenditure.'
Forced hibernation to recover extreme power drain. That was my body's survival mode. After our first full-power clash with Bael, I'd scraped the bottom of my reserves and slept eight thousand years to refill. And yesterday—no, a month ago—I'd indulged Satan's taunt and crashed for another month.
'...This is riskier than I thought.'
I'd assumed Sloth Force was limitless, but nope. Overuse triggered 'forced shutdown.' If someone came for my throat while I was out? Perfect setup to become Hell's dew.
And efficiency-wise, it was trash.
'Wait, calculated like this, isn't it total garbage?'
A few minutes, maybe hours of fighting, and eight thousand years offline? This wasn't some outdated laser cannon draining its battery in one shot. Awake less than ten times in two hundred million years meant 99.9% of my life was logged out.
'No way... have I been a total slacker all this time?'
I sank into a brief funk, sighing hollowly before shelving it. No aging, no loneliness or madness—so no immediate crisis, right...?
Then I glanced at Bael, and my chest twinged.
'...Hold up. I at least got to sleep. She endured all that time wide awake?'
Two hundred million years. Imagining Bael alone in this barren Hell for eons made my eyes sting.
I stared at her with pure pity. She paused mid-sip, tilting her head at my gaze.
The sight of those flat eyes unleashed an overwhelming wave of sympathy. My hand shot out, engulfing hers on the table.
"...Bael, you've been through so much. You're amazing."
Her eyes widened ever so slightly at the sudden touch. She glanced between my hand and face, bewildered, then mumbled,
"I... see. I don't know why, but thank you."
She responded awkwardly, and I patted her shoulder. Wait, no—that wasn't it. Snapping out of it, I heard Satan chuckle and cut to the chase.
"Back to business. What're you curious about, Sloth?"
"Oh, you mentioned upper demons crossing to the mid-world before. How? I thought we couldn't leave here."
Satan's eyes sparkled with amusement.
"Heh, that what you wanted? Fine, I'll tell ya. Not like you can go anyway."
"Huh? Why not!"
"Contracts."
Lucian took over.
"Mid-world humans or other races can summon us. For a price, of course."
Demon summoning? Like in novels and anime? As I pondered, Bael continued.
"We demons are prisoners and wardens, bound eternally in this sealed Hell to mete out sinners' karma. But the heavenly ones are different. They roam the mid-world unbound by causality, intervening openly to cultivate their paradise."
Bael's gaze turned slowly to me.
"Awareness of that unfair revelry beyond the invisible wall—that was the spark of all our troubles."
Satan slammed his teacup down with a sharp clang that shattered the room's quiet.
"Outrageous. We're rotting in this filth and screams for eons, while those smug upstairs pricks treat the mid-world like their playground. How infuriatingly unfair."
He gnashed his teeth, eyes flashing murderously.
"That's why all us roots—except you—rose up. To rip those heavenly bastards' mouths off, smash dimensions if needed, and invade their paradise."
Undaunted by Satan's ferocity, Bael spoke calmly.
"Of course, it ended as mere attempts. Causality upholding the world isn't so easily twisted. The dimensional walls were sturdier than expected, forcing us to endure massive backlash."
As Bael calmly admitted failure, Lucian—propped arrogantly on his chin—quirked his lips.
"Thus, that insolent causality responded to our wrath and opened a 'path' for us noble roots to enter the mid-world. Albeit with annoying conditions. The privilege once exclusive to heaven has finally crumbled."
I nodded, intrigued.
"Yeah? But Satan said I can't go. I'm a root too—feels unfair to leave me out."
Lucian snorted.
"I said it before: conditions. Mortals summoning us require a fitting price—a contract. Proportional sacrifice to the demon's rank."
He inspected his nails idly.
"Normal offerings summon mid-tier demons; the bold might manage upper ones. But for roots like us? No mere human could bear the cost."
Lucian turned, fixing me with a stare. Beneath the arrogance gleamed recognition of an equal.
"You stand shoulder-to-shoulder with Bael and Satan, Hell's twin absolutes, as the third apex. What could a human offer to summon you? Drown a nation in blood, and it still wouldn't pique your interest."
His haughty words stunned me inwardly.
'...What? So I'm not trash after all?'
I'd been self-deprecating over my inefficient sack-of-flesh, but by Hell's standards, apparently not. Peer to Bael and Satan.
My shoulders straightened unconsciously—until cold reality slapped me.
'Oh... so I'll never get summoned.'
If a whole nation fell short, what would? My rank was too high for mid-world sightseeing.
Deflating, I sank deeper into the sofa with a sulky pout. Life—or demon life—never went your way.
Lucian watched my mood swing, smirking as if he'd caught on.
"Interested in the mid-world? That dump full of ignorant human trash? Other races aren't much better. You'd lose interest fast."
I fiddled with my teacup, replying flatly.
"Human lives have their fun bits. In all sorts of ways."
Lucian nodded slightly, as if Bael had already briefed him.
"Ah, yes. Bael mentioned you witnessed 'another universe's providence.' Hmph."
A faint smile ghosted his lips before he set his cup down silently. Gazing at Hell's red horizon, he murmured in a low, icy tone.
"Humans are fools. Rotten from one to ten. Frail things who can't even fend for themselves, yet stuffed with filth they can't handle."
His eyes held the deep loathing of one who'd witnessed every human depravity.
"They never stop warring. Over scraps of land and rotting excuses, they stab each other's hearts. Singing victory atop their kin's corpses—nothing more pathetic."
"Their greed and envy know no bounds. Coveting what they lack, stealing from others, then crumbling in fear it'll break once held."
His finger tapped the table slowly.
"Even 'love' is repulsive. They bind, betray, hate under its name. Craving divine love while first breaking God's commandments."
"Praising themselves as crown of creation, yet selling souls for coins, abandoning kin for illusory power."
He fixed me with a piercing stare, eyes like abyssal depths.
"Foolishly acting eternal, they're dust in the end. Their brief lives leave only destruction, deceit, and karma for Hell. What did you see in those vermin's existence?"
His sharp question nearly made my tea go up my nose.
'...Not that bad.'
Cold sweat trickled down my back.
Hadn't I just said human lives were fun? Listening to him, they sounded like a plague needing cosmic deletion.
Ugh. I scratched my head, opening cautiously.
"Well, you're not wrong, but... I saw growth."
Lucian's brows shot up.
'Growth'—to Pride's king, the word reeked unpleasantly of humans.
"Growth? What growth beyond piling karma?"
"Sure, they're dumb, but over time they create things, ponder better tomorrows. Wars and greed? Twisted hungers to climb higher."
"That energy births absurd miracles or refined civilizations sometimes."
I shrugged.
"Even the 'foolishness' you describe? Looked like desperate thrashing to live fiercely. Kinda intriguing."
Lucian mulled silently, his golden hair shimmering statically under the light.
"Hmph, miracles. True... their pathetic flailing occasionally swells enough to fluster even gods."
He gazed down, reminiscent.
"Maybe that's why I answered that puny mage's summons—curiosity about where that 'flailing' ends."
I blinked wide.
"Huh? You got summoned? You, root of Pride?"
"Once. Mad humans pop up occasionally."
A thick, intrigued smile curved his lips.
"One bet a kingdom's worth of lives to summon a great demon like us. And won—thousands of years ago."
"I had no idea. A great demon descending would've shaken Hell."
He chuckled, gazing lazily down at me.
"You were deep in hibernation then."
'...Asleep again. Damn, sleep's my nemesis.'
I grumbled inwardly, scratching my head.
"So? What happened next?"
His eyes deepened.
Thousands of years ago, the mid-world skies bled crimson. It began with a mage's scream—stripped of all by ancient royalty, plunged to ruin. He offered his soul and a kingdom for forbidden magic. Bloody revenge, remaking a rotten world to his taste—an arrogantly human ambition.
Lucian liked the twisted pride. Daring to wield a demon to recreate the Creator's world? He joined the game gladly for a time.
But as Hell's apex lingered, mid-world causality screamed. Overreach drew 'gods' intervention. Even Lucian couldn't solo hordes under constraints. As tides turned, he wrenched Hell's gates for his army.
Severe limits yielded mere dozens of elites—but the result was devastation.
Hell legions clashed divine alliances, reducing the world to rubble. Mountains crumbled, seas boiled in carnage. Lucian seized one god, erasing its existence. The dying wail shook the earth; survivors burned lifespans and divinity to repel him.
Only when they exhausted themselves did causality force him back to Hell.
Gazing into the dark outside, Lucian murmured quietly.
"Their twisted faces then... still a delightful memory."
Thrilled, I pressed.
"And after? That it?"
His eyes chilled. Setting down his cup, he intoned lowly.
"No clue. Whatever those bastards did, no demon's been summoned since. Not one."
"Huh? They sealed the gates over a little chaos? Overkill."
Bael answered my bafflement.
"Not quite. Contract summons still work system-wise. But upstairs meddled—likely banned rituals, erased records."
They made humans forget summoning entirely. I sank deeper, clicking my tongue.
"Tch... makes sense. From their view, another you popping up is nightmare fuel."
Lucian took my jab as high praise, smirking arrogantly again.
I stared at the ceiling, envisioning Lucian's mid-world tale: vengeful mage, Pride's root, gods' despair, now a forgotten radiant world.
"Ha... the mid-world."
My soft mutter faded into the room's hush. Satan, lounging lazily, chuckled.
"Why so wistful? Opportunity will come."
His red eyes gleamed.
"No matter how they hide it, human nature can't be buried. Their greed and hate will knock again soon."
Heavy silence settled over the garden once more.