Oblivion Bar was far livelier at night than during the day. Dim candlelight swayed, coating the bronze goblets in the magicians' hands with a bright sheen. Magicians in robes of different colors sat together in groups of two or three, accustomed to whispering among themselves, while horned half-demons and elves from Maia gathered together to shout and compete in drinking.
Jim, the Night Master and owner of Oblivion Bar, sat behind the counter polishing glasses. A female half-demon with horns and goat hooves walked up to the bar and sat down. She flicked her whip-like tail, tapped the countertop, and said in a lilting tone.
"Night Master, have you heard any fresh news lately? You know, the Demon General I served was recently killed by his own son. I need something entertaining to cheer up that greenhorn who just took over."
Jim admired the spotless glass in his hand with complete focus. Without even looking up, he said to the half-demon woman, "I didn't expect you to actually persuade that quail-like young general to make a move against his father, Shalia. Do you really think he can hold up the entire Shadow Scorpion Legion?"
"He's much better than his father." Shalia propped up her face with one hand and said, "The times in Hell have changed. That old scorpion only knows how to throw punches. He's nowhere near as clever as his son. I merely want to follow a worthy master."
"There has been some new information lately, but don't think you can get it from me for free."
"Oh? What kind of information?"
Seeing Jim's impassive expression, Shalia smiled and said with apparent helplessness, "Give me a glass of soul reserve, with extra sinner's blood. I'll pay top price."
Only then did Jim nod in satisfaction. He turned around,