Energy Beings, Hell Broadcast

"As everyone knows, nearly all living beings can be classified into three types: material beings, energy beings, and law beings.

The Prime Material Plane contained nearly eighty percent of the material beings in the Nine Planes universe, such as Bitterroot Grass, snails, humans, and so on.

Most of the remaining twenty percent of material beings were scattered across Dreamweaver's Cradle Plane, where dragons and Vine Spirits resided. It was worth noting that pioneers had also reported traces of material beings in the Forest of Myriad Forms and the Slaughter Domain.

Material beings were exceedingly cumbersome and unable to leave their native planes, which limited their horizons. Energy beings and law beings, however, were not bound by such restrictions..."

--<An Introduction to Biological Classification: Not Everything Is Edible Once You Remove Its Head>

"I understand the theory, but how did you do it?"

As Keir questioned Yicha, he kneaded Nese's golden head this way and that, seemingly checking its quality.

"I haven't published it yet." By "published," he naturally meant making a public announcement in the academic paradise—the Garden of the Equilibrator. He had intended to discuss it with Keir afterward. That was what they had originally arranged to do two days ago.

"Fine."

Keir let go of the plane warlock, whose hair had all puffed up, looking thoroughly dejected.

"In any case, in your current state, you can travel with us." Yicha spoke casually to Nese while combing through the energy in the air—good, nothing had been missed. It had all been guided into the warlock's new form.

"Us?! What about me?" the angel asked. Then, recalling something, he pointed at Xiqisi with a strong sense of teamwork. "What about her?"

Yicha glanced at Xiqisi. She stood with her arms folded, apparently deep in thought. That was an exceedingly rare sight.

He decided not to disturb this precious moment. Turning around, he removed the golden horn chain from his long scarlet horns and tossed it to Keir. "Put this on, and you'll be able to conceal that wooden, pedantic aura of yours. So long as the other demons don't get too close, they probably won't notice you."

"What? Mine is an extraordinary holy aura." Enraged, Keir turned into a white bear because of his profanity, but that did not stop him from holding up the lovely golden chain and examining it closely. "Why? What's the principle? What principle?"

"The principle hasn't been published yet," Yicha said. At that moment, he felt deeply accomplished. Sparks of inspiration burst forth with whooshes, and in an instant, he came up with two more lines that would make the angel fly into a rage—

"Teacher," Nese cautiously interrupted him. His hair still looked like cauliflower.

Yicha raised a brow, his burning cyan eyes fixed upon him.

"What am I now?" the warlock asked, enunciating every word, his voice full of worry.

What a strange question. Did all humans ask such strange questions? As though things would somehow become different once they knew...

But they were truly too fragile, too easily affected...

He had better explain it properly to this fellow.

"You are an energy being now."

Yicha adopted a perfect attitude as he considered his wording. "How should I put it? I broke down your material body through a disorder process, preserved your spiritual energy using the coagulating power of a Vine Spirit, and then extracted it through law-based means..."

"Aha! You said the process out loud! Now I know!" Keir clapped his hands and burst out laughing.

Wonderful. I was just about to get to the important part.

Yicha shot Keir a glance. The angel had perched the golden chain atop his head. It caught on one of his furry white ears and dangled down. He was patting his broad chest with a bear paw, immersed in the wild delight of finally having outsmarted someone.

He was not stupid, merely a little foolish.

Nese lowered his head in thought. His face still carried the dazed expression of someone newly born, making him look even more like an immature youth. "I understand."

"You'll still need some time to adjust." After thinking for a moment, Yicha rummaged through his robes and handed over The Nine Planes Handbook. "Read this for the time being."

The clear gratitude in the young warlock's eyes could have moved even the most hardhearted person, but the demon merely bared his teeth in a grin and circled around toward the Joyful Saintess.

The Joyful Saintess gave him only her slender purple back.

You're the only one left. That was what Yicha had originally wanted to say. Then he suddenly realized that she was not needed at all.

Xiqisi, the Joyful Saintess, envoy of all beings' delight, goddess half-demon and half-fey, lord of desire, holy mother who sowed impulses.

She was the daughter of Yifomiet, the Hand of Destruction, and a wandering demon from four hundred and fifty years ago. She knew of the Apocalypse War. She knew Yifomiet had been recalled because of it. It was even quite possible that she had personally watched Yifomiet answer the summons and return to Chaos Hell.

Could she not know how to reach Chaos Hell?

It was possible.

Was it likely?

Xiqisi turned and said to him—

Yicha saw the Joyful Saintess mouth, "I have something to tell you," but he heard nothing.

Because his mind was suddenly filled with that damned, buzzing Hell Broadcast.

Hell Broadcast.

If there was anything bad about being a demon, the omnipresent, all-pervading Hell Broadcast was definitely one of them.

So long as you were still using Disorder Energy, it could find you at any time: while you were flirting with a beautiful half-goat woman, while you sat in a Soulreaper Troupe theater with a moved expression, while you solemnly discussed the ultimate theorem of the universe in the Garden of the Equilibrator.

Just as angels had the punishment of Thirty-Five Thousand Unholy Utterances built into them, every demon could be contacted by Hell Broadcast at any moment. Sometimes it appeared in especially irritating forms, such as directly leaving a line of raised, crooked demonic script on your arm.

Like now.

Yicha lowered his head and saw filthy words, like fly wings, emerge from the red and green vomit-like puddles staining the ground. They seemed to provide a synchronized commentary for the unceasing noise in his head.

"Knowledge-seeking demon Echaint Sinkardesto, why are you absent from our great assembly..."

"The formations of Hell are about to depart..."

"Do not resist, do not linger..."

"Otherwise, you shall be branded with the mark of wicked transgression, the mark of a sinful traitor, the mark of a miserable prey..."

"Knowledge-seeking demon Echaint Sinkardesto... return to your brethren..."

Yicha felt as though a fly had crawled into his heart.

Thank you.

Thank you, Beelzebub.

Thank you for bringing up that title of mine every single time, even though no one remembered it. Thank you, King of All Demons, for condescending to notify me personally. Thank you for explaining the consequences so clearly.

"You look a little unhappy. What's wrong?"

Xiqisi's gentle voice appeared beside his ear, and only then did Yicha realize that the Hell Broadcast had ended.

The puddles beneath his feet returned to their muddy, disorderly appearance. A ray of fresh sunlight shone in through a hole in the wall.

"Can you do it?" he asked Xiqisi concisely.

Xiqisi nodded. Her expression seemed somewhat complicated, but Yicha was not in the mood to care at the moment.

"Let's go," he said.

"What are we going to do?" Xiqisi asked.

Was she someone worth trusting? Yicha wondered.

"Stop the apocalypse," he finally said.