Northern Wasteland.
The territory of Devil Archduke Baimon.
On the smooth marble floor, the shattered remains of a Lemure still twitched. The splattered black-red blood had shattered the refined facade of this magnificent hall.
"Clean it up."
Baimon's cold voice rang out. He calmly wiped the stains from his hands, his androgynous face betraying no expression.
The Lust Demons attending him immediately sprang into action. Purple-red sinister flames consumed the Lemure's remains, reducing them to ashes in an instant. To prevent the not-quite-dead Lemure from making any noise, the Lust Demons thoughtfully added a layer of soundproof magical medium.
The ashes were then completely cleared away.
So-called cleaning up merely meant speeding up the Lemure's return to Hell.
None of the Devils present reacted to the Lemure's fate.
That was a Lemure's job.
Devils did not keep idle Devils.
Every Devil needed a job that could fully demonstrate its value. Lemures, clearly, had little value themselves, so they were usually used as slaves, test subjects, Magic Beast feed, or simple little "toys" for venting stress.
Whenever their owners were angry or anxious, Lemures would be broken, ravaged, and crushed by all manner of methods to relieve that pressure.
Given how common this use for Lemures was, it rather showed that being a Devil was not exactly stress-free either.
Once the hall had been swiftly cleaned, Baimon stood with his back to his subordinates and asked calmly, "Was it found?"
As a Devil Archduke, Baimon bore almost none of a Devil's visible traits. At first glance, he looked like a gaunt human. But upon closer inspection, one could sense something off—a dissonance in a face so exquisite it did not seem alive.
Now, a line of powerful Devil warriors knelt before that humanlike figure.
"It has been found. It confessed every