The lean demon nodded. "Seven have been completed. There's enough energy to create two hundred demonized angels."
Mammon stared at the dark-gold crystal core, greed gleaming in his eyes.
"Two hundred isn't enough." Greed flashed across his brow. "Bartholomew had eighteen thousand angels, and didn't they all end up dead? We need more—at least a thousand. A thousand demonized angels, plus my demon army. What the hell is the Demon Hunter Guild?"
He raised a hand and pressed it against the crystal core.
The core flashed, and the tiny specks of light within flowed faster.
"That idiot Crowley." Mammon muttered to himself. "Does he really think I'll obediently listen to him? Restrain demons? Make nice with humans? He's afraid of that Demon Hunter Guild president, but I'm not. Once my demonized angel army takes shape, he'll be the first one I kill."
The lean demon lowered his head.
"My lord is wise."
Mammon withdrew his hand and turned toward the row of demonized angels.
"Keep injecting them. Make those angels willingly accept the transformation. Tell them this is the only way to grow stronger. Once they're stronger, they can return to Heaven, take revenge, and slaughter all those demon hunters."
He paused.
"As for those unwilling to comply... turn them into energy sources. Their grace will be perfect for strengthening the crystal core."
The lean demon nodded.
"Yes."
Kyle crouched in the shadows, the recording crystal still running.
He recorded every word Mammon said, every image before him.
The altar, the dark-gold crystal core, the angels being infused with dark energy, and Mammon's own words—about Crowley, the demonized angel army, and the Demon Hunter Guild.
Ten minutes later, Mammon left the underground chamber with the lean demon.
The demonized angels remained where they stood, like puppets awaiting orders.
Kyle put