"Are there any specific criteria for granting wishes?"
The nightclub's disco ball spun, scattering flecks of light across Deathstroke's armor. He sat at the bar, looking at Maze's face, where it seemed as though maggots were constantly writhing beneath the flesh and blood.
"What I mean is, what kind of people have their wishes granted? It can't work for everyone, right?"
This might have been Blank's handiwork, but Su Ming was betting that she had rules for selecting targets. Not every wish could come true.
Forget her—even God himself would not answer every believer's prayer. Supposedly, God's standard depended on whether the person praying was devout enough. So what was Blank's standard?
Anyway, Su Ming felt that if he had the ability to grant wishes, he would charge for it.
And as everyone knew, free things were the most expensive. Those whose wishes had come true might pay a price beyond their imagination sometime in the future.
Once they chalked up their fulfilled wishes to good luck, it might no longer be good luck at all.
"I don't know. I'm not Lucifer, and I don't care about human affairs, remember?" Queen of Pain rubbed her hair, then began spinning the glass on the table again. "Besides, my great master won't allow me to leave this place, so I've never had the chance to verify it."
To her, Lucifer was her god—supreme and unquestionable.
Because of their chaotic nature, many demons held no respect for Lucifer. Even though the former Satan possessed boundless divine power, few demons feared death. A demon that did not want to become Satan was no good demon. Most of them dreamed of climbing higher, believing that killing the previous Satan was merely a matter of time.
That made Maze's loyalty especially precious in Hell. She always