“They say I’ve got a screw loose?
Those morons don’t know anything!
Why build a fortress when you can build a toy factory?
Instead of making a legion of those gore-splattered demons, I’d rather make a bunch of toys that are both cute and lethal!
They don’t break, they can’t be killed, and they’re absolutely loyal—ten thousand times more reliable than those demons who turn traitor the second they get the chance!” “And besides, these toys aren’t just bodyguards and soldiers—they’re a goldmine!
The gangs of Hell, the minor lords, the mercenary bands—which one of them doesn’t drool over my immortal toy weapons?
They’re lining up with demonic coins and resources just to buy them.
All I have to do is sit in my office, watch the toys roll off the line, and count my money until my hands cramp.
Isn’t this better than all that hacking and slashing?” He glanced down at the mountain of demonic coins on his desk and the resource manifest beside it.
His tone held a hint of pride, though it was quickly swallowed by boredom.
“I mean, counting money makes me happy for maybe a second, but the rest of the time is pure boredom!
I’ve made enough from selling toys to last a hundred lifetimes.
The factory runs on auto-pilot, the toy legion guards the territory, and I can’t even find an opponent worth fighting.
This dump of a Hell…
aside from the scenery being a bit creepy, everything else is just tedious!” During his ten-thousand-year reign, Spade hadn’t been entirely alone.
He had befriended the only sinner Overlord in this part of Hell who could go toe-to-toe with him: Zestial.
Zestial was a powerful Overlord who controlled a territory adjacent to Spade’s.
He was stoic and of few words.
While his raw power wasn’t the absolute peak, he could always rely on his eerie demonic sorcery to fight Spade to a draw.
The two didn’t become enemies; instead, through years of confrontation and skirmishes, they became the rarest of things in Hell: “friends.” Occasionally, Zestial would visit the workshop.
The two Overlords would sit in the office—one drinking in silence, the other ranting non-stop.
It was the only relief Spade had during his ten millennia of boredom.
Ten thousand years of time slowly trickled away in the eternal night of Hell.
In those ten thousand years, the landscape of Hell shifted drastically.
Aside from Spade and Zestial, those two old-guard Overlords, almost all the other ancient Overlords had died out.
Some were slain by powerful new sinners who had just fallen into Hell; others were backstabbed by their own subordinates; still others wiped each other out in mutual slaughter.
The old powers of the Rings had been reshuffled countless times, and the fires of war never ceased.
Yet Spade’s toy territory remained a haven of stability—a stability built upon the bones of countless invaders.
Over those ten thousand years, innumerable newly spawned powerful sinners, greedy gangs, and envious neighboring lords had set their sights on Spade’s lucrative prize.
His workshop could produce a game-breaking army of immortal toys, his territory was filthy rich, and while his strength seemed to rely on his toys, his actual body was incredibly formidable.
Countless demons entered his lands with ambition, howling that they would slay the Toy Overlord and seize the factory.
But the result was always the same.
Not a single invader ever walked out of Spade’s territory alive.
Those who dared to trespass were either torn to shreds by his immortal toy legion or captured by Spade himself and dragged into the subterranean lab to be made into new toy guards, toy soldiers, or toy assassins.
All of Hell knew that Spade’s territory was a forbidden zone—a death-trap workshop where things went in but never came out.
Even though he sighed and complained of boredom every day, no demon dared to set foot there lightly anymore.
Zestial’s territory was much the same.
The two Overlords looked out for one another, and by joining forces, they held their ground, becoming the last two pillars of the old-guard Overlords.
Spade flexed a mechanical arm, thinking of those suicidal invaders, and let out a scoff full of mockery.
“A bunch of brainless morons.
Do they really think my sighing means I’m a pushover?
They should take a good look at themselves before trying to rob my factory.
If you come here, don’t plan on leaving.
It just so happens the factory is short on a new batch of toy security guards.
I’ll take free test subjects any day!” Just as Spade was getting into the rhythm of his rant, the sky outside the office window suddenly flared with a piercing golden light.
The crimson miasma was torn asunder in an instant as a holy yet murderous power descended from the heavens, sweeping across the Rings of Hell.
Spade’s faceless head snapped up.
The mechanical cables atop his head tightened instantly, and his metal claws slid out with a sharp *shink*.
The boredom in his voice vanished, replaced by a chilling edge.
“Oh?
They’re finally here.
The ten-thousand-year Exorcist sweep.
Those annoying bird-men are back to slaughter Hell again.” This was an ancient, unchanging rule of Hell.
Every ten thousand years, the Exorcists of Heaven would descend to perform an undiscriminating massacre of sinners and demons to “cleanse” the sins of Hell.
Countless weak demons would have their souls extinguished by the holy swords, and even many powerful Overlords were no match for the angels.
Many of the old Overlords of the past had fallen to the hands of these Exorcists.
Spade, however, wasn’t panicked at all.
In fact, he was almost looking forward to it—finally, something to kill the time.
He had lived for ten thousand years, but he had never forgotten his memories of his past life.
He remembered the official lore of Hazbin Hotel and Helluva Boss.
He knew clearly that while the Exorcists of Heaven seemed invincible, they had a fatal weakness: Angelic Steel.
Angelic Steel was a metal exclusive to Heaven, the only substance capable of truly killing an Exorcist and countering their holy power.
Ordinary demonic attacks and hellish sorcery could only cause minor injuries, but Angelic Steel could shatter their souls.
In these ten thousand years, Spade had long ago used various channels to collect a massive amount of Angelic Steel fragments.
He had forged his own Angelic Steel claws and equipped his core toy legion with weapons made from the same material.
Facing the Exorcists who descended to slaughter his territory, Spade didn’t hesitate.
He led his toy legion and charged out.
The battle was completely one-sided.
The holy swords of the Exorcists could only hack the toy legion into pieces, but a second later, the toys would reconstruct themselves and leap back at the angels, brandishing their own Angelic Steel weapons.
Spade personally joined the fray, his five-meter-tall Prototype frame weaving through the angelic ranks.
His mechanical claws, glinting with the cold light of Angelic Steel, effortlessly tore through the angels’ wings and pierced their holy bodies.
The Exorcists, who usually acted like untouchable tyrants in Hell, were like lambs to the slaughter before Spade and his immortal toy legion.
One after another, they were cut down.
When the battle ended, Spade returned to his office.
Watching his toy subordinates drag in the corpses of the angels, he went right back into his “tucao” mode, his voice full of disdain.
“Is that it?
The once-in-ten-millennia sweep, and this is the level they’re at?
They weren’t even as tough as some of the demon Overlords I’ve fought.
A total waste of my time.
I thought I’d finally get a good fight to ease the boredom, but it was over in a few hits.
Tedious!” Complaints aside, Spade wasn’t about to let those angelic corpses go to waste.
He commanded the toy mechanical arms to drag the fresh angel corpses into the factory’s exclusive kitchen—yes, he had even built a kitchen in his workshop specifically for “special ingredients.” For the intact corpses, he had the toy chefs clean them up and stew them into an angel meat broth.
While the taste wasn’t anything special, eating angel meat was considered the ultimate luxury in Hell.
It was another way to pass his boring days.
As for the Exorcists who still had a breath of life in them, Spade showed no mercy and had them dragged to the subterranean laboratory.
Just like the sinner demons, these angels were dismantled alive.
Their souls, cores, and holy organs were stuffed one by one into toy shells.
These toys, modified from angels, were even more powerful than the demon toys.
They carried the power of Heaven but remained absolutely loyal to Spade.
They became the top-tier toy security of the workshop, guarding his factory and territory day and night.
Having dealt with all this, Spade sat back down in his giant office chair.
The cables on his head once again hung lazily, and his mechanical claws retracted.
Looking at the hellish sky that had returned to its crimson hue and smelling the faint scent of rubber and demon aura in the factory, he began a new round of heavy sighing.
The demonic coins on his desk continued to shimmer, the factory assembly lines kept humming, the immortal toy legion patrolled the perimeter, and a communication sigil from Zestial landed on his desk.
Everything was impossibly stable.
Spade’s faceless head faced the porthole, his voice filled with that ten-thousand-year-old boredom as it echoed through the empty office.
“Sigh, the angels are dealt with, and now I’ve got nothing to do again.
I’ve counted enough money, the toys are piling up, and I’m tired of fighting.
What is there to actually enjoy in this dump…” “When is something fresh going to happen?
I can’t just keep guarding this toy factory, stewing angel meat, and counting coins until the end of time, can I…” The eternal night of Hell remained long.
The bored complaints of the Toy Overlord, Spade, would continue to drift through the crimson miasma of his eerie factory, on and on into the distance.