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"No what-ifs."

An old, raspy voice came from a corner of the hall.

The demons turned to see an elderly demon emerge slowly from the shadows, hunched over a cane, his body covered in gray-white scales.

His eyes were cloudy white, as though veiled in mist, but his steps were steady.

"The Ancient One is not to be underestimated." The old demon's voice grated like sandpaper on metal.

"I saw her fight her way into Hell. I saw her stand alone at the edge of the Abyss against twelve Highfather-level demons.

She killed eleven of them. One escaped. Care to guess who?"

The demons fell silent. No one asked, because they all knew the answer.

Even so, few favored The Ancient One, and almost none favored Russell.

They dismissed Russell because he had none of The Ancient One's reputation. They also feared Mephisto too deeply.

In Hell, power was everything, and Mephisto was one of its greatest powers.

Inside the isolated space.

Dark red energy flowed in every direction like invisible rivers.

The walls were translucent. No one outside could see in, but anyone inside could see out.

Russell stood at the center on a floor of condensed hell energy, smooth as glass, quietly watching his opponent.

Mephisto stood a dozen or so meters away, hands clasped behind his back, as relaxed as an old man strolling through a park.

The Ancient One stood at the edge with her hands tucked into her sleeves. For now, she showed no intention of intervening.

Mephisto struck first. He pointed at Russell, and a dark red beam shot from his fingertip with astonishing speed.

But Russell's Subatomic Vision resolved its structure the instant it fired. The beam was not energy. It was the rules of Hell compressed to their limit.

It was the