Not Even Fit to Be a Dog!

In the hell beneath the Prison of Suppression, Gide, former High Shepherd of the Cleaning Association and current ruler of hell, lay on a patch of soft dead grass alongside Monboto, former High Shepherd of the Black Continent and now a messenger of hell; Alexander, former High Shepherd of the North New Continent; Painter, one of the previous generation's Twelve Knights; and the others. They stared blankly at the magnificent vista of hell before them, dry grass stems clamped between their teeth.

As the administrators here, they lived peaceful, wonderful lives in hell.

When they had first become hell's administrators, Gide and the others had been overjoyed.

They understood that even if they had not become gods, they had at least become saints—perhaps even something akin to demigods.

At the very least, they too had received the eternity bestowed by the Lord of the Abyss.

And they were rulers of hell, equivalent to figures like Hades, the Ten Kings of Hell, or Satan, lord of hell, from other religious mythologies.

That was an unbelievably lofty status.

They had originally thought that simply gaining immortality would be wonderful enough, never expecting the Lord of the Abyss to grant them far more than they had anticipated.

At the same time, perhaps out of consideration for them, the Lord of the Abyss had never assigned them any work. Every day, they simply chatted and joked happily. The sights across these nine layers of hell were especially magnificent; merely admiring the scenery was immensely pleasing.

This was the legendary domain of the Lord of the Abyss—the fabled divine realm!

Being able to stroll here was the height of prestige.

What was more, they had companions to chat with, flatter each other, and exchange mutual praise. Every one of them felt they had achieved the