Without waiting for Russell to respond, he tapped his fingers rhythmically against Russell's shoulder, something deeper stirring in his flaming pupils—a hint of genuine scrutiny and curiosity.
"And then there was that time in Hell, when you defeated Oblivion and took over his realm.
That was a complete, primordial hell-space, independent of all conventional dimensions. On some level, it was a complete model of a world, with its own energy cycle and soul-conversion mechanism.
An asset of that caliber has no equivalent by which to measure its value on the intercosmic market. But you? You turned around and handed it to me as casually as passing someone a glass of water."
Russell turned his head to look into Mephisto's burning eyes, the curve of his lips particularly pronounced.
He did not rush to answer. Instead, he first shifted his gaze away from Mephisto to the old maple across the street, its branches and leaves swaying in the wind, as though admiring some pleasant roadside scenery that hardly warranted special attention.
After remaining silent for roughly two breaths, he finally spoke at an unhurried pace, his voice carrying that distinctive ease, as though he had just finished yawning.
"If you feel bad about it, if you think I've given you so much that you're saddled with some kind of... what's the word, moral debt?
You can give that realm back to me. I really wouldn't mind taking it back. As spatial assets go, it's certainly worth quite a bit.
I could turn it into a resort, or an oversized multilevel parking garage. It's not like I'm short of uses for the space."
Hearing that Russell wanted to turn a realm of Hell into a resort, Mephisto snatched his hand off Russell's shoulder as though he had been burned.
An almost instinctive