High above, Mephisto's figure slowly coalesced beneath the dome of Oblivion Hell, like a dark sun wreathed in sulfur flame.
His eyes, burning with eternal fire, swept across the central region and settled on Blackheart's slightly startled face for roughly three seconds.
Blackheart raised his head, looking through the overlapping currents of dark energy in Oblivion Hell at Mephisto's face, which wore its usual teasing smile.
The flames in his eye sockets burned quietly, betraying no outward disturbance. Deep inside, however, wariness spread rapidly, like a venomous snake coiling around his spine.
That old fox really was watching him every moment.
Blackheart cursed inwardly.
He had only just taken his seat as Lord of Oblivion Hell and had not even familiarized himself with the crystalline patterns on the Throne's armrests, yet Mephisto had already appeared above him again.
The timing, the manner of his arrival, his ostentatious display before all the demons below—every detail made Blackheart feel a subtle discomfort, as though someone had seized him by the scruff of the neck.
Outwardly, however, Blackheart merely straightened slightly on the Throne and pressed his right hand to his chest, adopting a flawless, formal posture of respect.
His voice carried a carefully measured tone, neither servile nor overbearing, yet sufficiently humble.
"Father, it is an honor to have you visit Oblivion Hell in person. There's no need to bring me anything."
Above the dome, Mephisto leaned forward slightly. His eyes, burning with sulfur flame, lingered on Blackheart's respectful posture before he gave a soft chuckle that sounded like sulfur scraping together.
"Blackheart, those are pretty words, but I didn't come here to listen to your pleasantries."
Mephisto's voice rolled down from above the dome, carrying the composure of someone announcing a matter already decided. "You must see what I've brought you