Mephisto had previously poured the vast majority of his consciousness into the projection sent to Earth, leaving his true body with little more than the instincts and basic processing capacity needed to keep the Hell Dimension running.
As a result, his true body's mind was nowhere near as sharp as usual.
He was like a programmer forced to process complex data after three straight nights of overtime. His thinking was inevitably sluggish, so he failed to immediately notice anything unusual about the Demon Engine Legion before him-or realize that the steady stream of human souls pouring into Hell seemed to have abruptly stopped with its arrival.
"What the hell is that useless Blackheart up to-"
Out of habit, Mephisto blamed the scene before him on his foolish son's antics. Irritated, he beckoned to the distant Demon Engine Legion, but it remained completely motionless.
"Hm?" Mephisto frowned slightly. "Come here!"
Mephisto's voice rang out across all of Hell like ten million ancient bells tolling at once, yet the distant Demon Engines still did not move.
No response. No reaction. Not even the faintest fluctuation of energy.
It was as though they were not Demon Engines made from Mephisto's elite daemons at all, but something else wearing Demon Engine shells.
Mephisto's true body finally noticed something was wrong.
He raised his hand, gathering a ball of dark red Hellfire in his palm. This special flame shared the same
origin as the power wielded by Ghost Rider, and symbolized a Hell Lord's authority.
The flame instantly transformed into a long whip in Mephisto's palm and lashed toward the nearest Demon Engine.
He intended to examine it closely and find out exactly what had gone wrong with these Demon Engines.
The flaming whip seemed capable of extending indefinitely, crossing nearly a thousand meters to