Another full ten thousand years passed.
Spade’s toy factory had long since been completely renovated.
The machines roared once more, and the production lines were back in full swing.
Countless small toys were being packaged, carried, and loaded by the rough hands of demon workers.
Cans of demon meat were also neatly stacked, waiting to be shipped to every corner of Hell to be placed on stalls and in shops of all sizes.
For several years now, the Radio Demon had been completely MIA—not a single sound, not a single shadow of him to be seen.
Spade knew better than anyone why.
In his past life, he had learned from “official data” that Alastor had once vanished from Hell for exactly seven years.
During those seven years, all of Hell speculated, yet not a single demon truly knew where he had gone or whether he was dead or alive.
But now, in the outside world, the shadow cast by the Radio Demon had faded significantly.
The general atmosphere of Hell was also slowly beginning to take on a modern flair.
This was because a television demon named Vox, along with his two partners—Valentino and Velvette—had, in a very short time, seized a firm grip on the entertainment and media lifelines of Pentagram City.
As the business empire of these three expanded and spread, mobile phones naturally became widely popularized throughout Hell.
It was exactly like the familiar original plot.
That Princess of Hell, Charlie Morningstar, had built a so-called “Happy Hotel” on the edge of a cliff.
It was called a hotel, but in reality, the interior was dilapidated, looking like little more than a pile of ruins.
Don’t ask Spade how he knew—it was mentioned in the story, and he remembered it more clearly than anyone.
The phone Spade held in his hand was produced under Vox’s brand.
His fingertips twitched slightly, and that ability of his—as precise as a scalpel, capable of dismantling and rewriting anything—lightly swept through the phone’s internals.
He merely altered a few lines of low-level data and code, silently and without leaving a trace.
“Tsk, who knows if that crazy TV-head Vox put a wiretap in his stuff.” He gave a low sneer and tapped the screen casually.
“One can’t be too careful.
Wouldn’t want this guy to secretly steal something; that would be a massive pain later.” This small maneuver was enough to ensure that no matter how the TV demon checked, he wouldn’t detect the slightest anomaly.
As for his toy factory, it had also changed its appearance with the times.
The overall architecture had been rebuilt to mimic the skyscrapers and modern corporate buildings of the mortal world, looking much more prestigious.
After all, they had entered the modern era; some old things were bound to be phased out.
However, he still intentionally kept a small section of the area as a primitive factory, merely renovating the exterior walls to put on a bit of a show.
This year, the day of the Exorcists’ descent arrived once more.
Spade had slipped into the city early, finding a secluded spot to wait quietly and observe.
Soon, he saw that face—a face he knew all too well.
An Exorcist slowly removed her helmet, revealing the features beneath.
With just one look, Spade recognized her.
It was Vaggie.
He stood in the shadows, hands in his pockets, with no intention of stepping forward.
“Tsk, that’s the Princess’s little girlfriend.
Why would I go looking for trouble by messing with her?” He curled his lip, his tone carrying a hint of playfulness.
“Mind your own business, avoid trouble, and just enjoy the show.” Not long after, Spade watched as Vaggie chased a small child-like Sinner demon into a dark alleyway.
The corners of Spade’s mouth quirked up slightly as he muttered to himself: “Heh, the good part is about to start.” He leaped up, landing on the edge of a skyscraper’s rooftop.
From his high vantage point, he silently watched everything in the alley.
Just as he expected, Vaggie’s heart was ultimately too soft.
Seeing the trembling little demon, she couldn’t bring herself to deliver the fatal blow and quietly let the child go.
But before she could breathe a sigh of relief, a sharp figure suddenly appeared.
It was Lute.
Without a moment’s hesitation or a shred of mercy, a sharp blade swung out.
With one strike, Lute sliced through Vaggie’s right eye.
Blood sprayed out instantly, golden droplets splattering against the cold stone wall, a striking sight.
Lute didn’t even stop there.
With another vicious slash, she shredded the wings behind Vaggie that symbolized her angelic status.
Having finished this, Lute turned and left with Adam, leaving Vaggie collapsed in a pool of blood, curled up in agony.
Outside the alley, low-level demons occasionally hurried past.
Upon seeing this scene, they either quickly lowered their heads to avoid it or whispered among themselves, afraid to approach.
“The angels are killing again…” “Hurry up, move, don’t get involved.” “Is that an angel?
How did she get hurt like that…” The fragmented bits of discussion drifted into the alleyway, but not a single demon dared to step forward to help.
On the rooftop, Spade crossed his arms, watching it all coldly without the slightest ripple of emotion.
“Sure enough, same as always.” He commented in a low voice, his tone flat, showing neither sympathy nor malice.
“Even among the angels, there isn’t much warmth to speak of.” Vaggie trembled all over, struggling against the wall as she moved forward inch by inch.
The wound throbbed with pain, her wings were broken, and her magic was almost exhausted.
Every step felt as though her body was being torn apart.
Before long, she could no longer hold herself up, slumping weakly beside a dumpster as the light in her eyes slowly dimmed.
She thought she was going to die like this, in this neglected little alley.
Right then, a slender and frantic figure came running over in a hurry.
It was Charlie.
She saw the wounded Vaggie immediately.
Seeing that hollow right eye constantly leaking golden blood, her face turned pale instantly.
Charlie assumed that Vaggie, like herself, was a high-born demon, which was why her blood was golden.
Fumbling, she pulled out bandages and carefully, gently covered Vaggie’s empty right eye, her voice filled with tears and panic: “Are—are you okay?
Hang on, I’ll get you out of here…” On the rooftop, Spade remained quiet as he watched it all, saying nothing.
He watched as Charlie supported and half-carried Vaggie, struggling to leave the alley until they gradually disappeared at the end of the street.
Once the two had completely gone and the alley entrance returned to its desolate state, Spade slowly straightened up, a cold light flickering in his eyes.
His form flashed, vanishing from the rooftop in an instant.
When he reappeared, he was standing behind two Exorcists who had fallen behind their unit.
There were no extra movements and no unnecessary words.
He struck with clean, lethal efficiency.
One strike, two kills.
Having finished this, he suppressed his aura.
As if he had never been there, he turned and vanished into the city shadows.