After hearing Edward's suggestion, Satan let out a strange laugh. "My advice is that you don't give advice."
"Just cower here like a turtle with its head tucked in for five damn days, and you think you can dodge the Red Moon? Did a dog chew up your brain?! You really think that after five days, that bullshit Regi... cough cough, he'll obediently let us go?"
In the extraordinary world, becoming a prisoner was not merely a matter of having one's body confined.
Your soul, your organs, everything you possessed, could be taken and used however the other party pleased.
It was equivalent to handing over all authority over yourself—including life and death—to someone else. And you still had to believe in their kindness, because only then would they release you after five days.
But people did not remain unchanged. Five days was a long time. Perhaps they were willing to set them free now, but who knew whether they might have new ideas five days later?
Therefore, Coleman could not accept placing his life and freedom in the hands of an unknown person he had only just met.
"Besides, so what if we dodge these five days? You said it yourself—the Red Moon is like snot stuck to your sleeve, impossible to shake off! Ten days from now, won't every one of us still have to obediently fork over 450 Soul Coins?"
"If you can't scrape them together in five days, you think another ten days will be enough? Stop having your damned pipe dreams. If these shitty coins are this hard to get, what fucking difference do five more days or five fewer days make?!"
Satan's words remained as impolite as ever, but it was obvious that Coleman had instructed it to express them. Of course, when Coleman