The Little Demon flew crookedly, as though its body would not obey it. Before it was even within a few dozen meters of Deathstroke and the other two, it crashed to the ground, then scrambled over in a panic, kowtowing repeatedly.
"Lord Sorcerer Supreme, please do not kill me. The Queen sent me to guide you. I have never eaten a human soul. I am a good demon."
Hell was filled with chaos, but it was also the place with the clearest hierarchy. The only truth observed here was that the strong ruled.
Everything belonging to the weak, including their lives and souls, belonged to the strong. Deathstroke had not even spoken, yet the title of Sorcerer Supreme alone had frightened the imp into trembling like a sieve.
Was the title of the strongest spellcaster in the Material Dimension something just anyone could wear?
It did not know Deathstroke, nor did it know that Deathstroke was actually an anti-mage. But as long as it knew that it could not afford to offend the humans before it, that was enough.
Although Su Ming liked instilling fear in others and using it to achieve tactical objectives, he was not about to target a Little Demon like this. That would be beneath him.
"Get up and lead the way. Waste any more of my time, and I'll pull out your soul and feed it to the Fourth-Dimensional Tapeworm."
He gave the Little Demon a friendly smile as he spoke words of warmth and encouragement.
It could not be helped. That was how the world worked. Did you want to have a reasonable conversation with demons? They would not understand it. When speaking to demons, you needed either temptation through profit or threats through terror.
Hearing that familiar curse and threat, the Little Demon