Another full ten millennia had passed.
The silent depths of Hell were once again shrouded in the celestial calamity known as the Extermination.
The piercing, cold light of Heaven tore through the perpetual dark red clouds of the Pride Ring.
The silver-white figures of the Exorcists descended upon the land once more, looking down from on high as they hunted every wandering impure soul and demonic being.
Howls, clashes, and the explosions of holy light and fire erupted across the region.
Fear spread like a tide, soaking into every inch of the soil.
Yet, amidst this chaos where everyone was for themselves, Spade’s toy factory, nestled deep within the eastern desert, remained entirely unaffected by the fires of war.
Inside the plant, the roar of machinery was constant.
The assembly lines ran day and night at a fever pitch, and business was booming to an absurd degree.
The war doll soldiers he had designed and built with his own hands were peak killing machines, perfectly tailored for the warfare of Hell.
They didn’t need to eat or drink.
They didn’t need rest.
They felt no pain, and their hearts held not a single trace of cowardice or fear.
Upon receiving a clear, simple command, they would obey absolutely, devoid of self-will, marching and slaughtering in perfect formation.
Compared to the greedy, selfish gang trash of Hell who would desert at a moment’s notice and bicker over spoils after the fight, these cold, obedient doll soldiers were on a completely different level of reliability.
Because of this, whenever the Extermination arrived and warfare spiked, Spade’s dolls became a hot commodity.
The moment new stock hit the shelves of the weapon shops managed by Carmilla’s territory, gang leaders and tribal chiefs from across Hell would fight over them.
They would clash until they were bloodied just for a chance to hoard another batch of these reliable trump cards.
A steady stream of massive demon-trucks, lined up bumper to bumper, moved tirelessly through the day and night.
They rolled out from Spade’s remote factory and headed steadily toward the bustling prosperity of Carmilla’s domain.
The transactions were simple and clean, bypassing the endless trouble of haggling and scheming.
Spade took full advantage of this once-in-a-ten-millennium business opportunity, easily amassing a massive fortune of soul energy and Hellsian wealth.
Having lived through such a long span of time, Spade no longer needed to toil over trivial matters himself.
He only needed to sit securely in his spacious, luxurious office on the top floor of his castle, slowly counting his accumulated wealth and resources.
When he felt bored, he would wander out at his leisure to clear his head.
When he was in a relaxed mood, he would head to Carmilla’s noble estate to pay a visit, passing the time by teasing her two daughters—two little girls with completely different personalities, each charming in her own way.
When he felt contemplative, he would set off alone to visit his old friend Zestial, who had walked through the long ages with him and lived through countless cycles of time.
He would enter Zestial’s ancient, dark, and eerie lair to brew a pot of hot tea, and they would chat face-to-face about the same mundane stories and old affairs they had revisited for ten thousand years.
Year after year, millennium after millennium.
His life was thriving—stable, leisurely, and comfortable.
However, only Spade knew that every time the ten-millennium Extermination arrived, he would use the chaos of the world to quietly handle a certain “private job” that no one knew about.
He would specifically choose the dead of night, using the fog of war as cover, to slip out of his territory and factory alone.
Shrouding his presence, he would prowl the edges of the battlefield, specifically hunting Exorcists who had strayed from their units.
He performed this hidden task with extreme caution and absolute secrecy.
In all those eons, he had never breathed a word of it to anyone; not even those closest to him knew.
After all, he was a transmigrator from outside these two realms.
He knew a secret truth that the denizens of Hell did not—Angelic Steel was inherently of the same origin and could counter itself; it was the only treasure capable of truly slaying the angels of Heaven.
If this secret were exposed to the sinners and demons of Hell, it would trigger a cataclysmic wave, bringing him endless greed and trouble.
He always acted with steady prudence.
Every time he struck, he only picked off one or two isolated targets, never letting greed push him to kill more.
Killing too many would inevitably draw the attention of Heaven’s high command.
If they traced the marks back to him, the trouble would far outweigh the gains.
Spade wasn’t about to throw away his carefully cultivated life and his very soul for the sake of a momentary thrill.
The stray Exorcists he quietly disposed of were never discarded or wasted.
They were eventually brought back to his secret workshop deep underground.
After meticulous processing, they became his exclusive, secret snacks—treats that no one else would ever have the chance to taste.
It was a special kind of meat: fine, tender, richly fragrant, and possessing an exquisite texture that was savory without being greasy.
It was a rare delicacy unique to the chaos of the world.
In the treacherous and barren land of Hell, ordinary demons would never have the chance to taste such a flavor in their entire lives.
Odette and Clara, who stayed by Carmilla’s side, were the only two people who had developed a particular fondness for this special meat.
Speaking of which, this long-hidden secret had been exposed by accident.
It happened during a previous Extermination cycle.
The war had escalated suddenly, and the stock of doll soldiers in Carmilla’s territory hit a critical low.
Out of necessity, Odette and Clara were ordered to travel together to the factory to pick up a large shipment.
As fate would have it, just as the two arrived at the factory courtyard, the range of Heaven’s holy light suddenly expanded, covering the entire eastern desert.
The roads were completely blocked by the holy light.
Caught between a rock and a hard place, the two were forced to stay at the factory and wait for the storm to subside.
As the master of the factory, Spade was always a gracious host and wouldn’t neglect his familiar young guests.
He thoughtfully arranged clean, comfortable, and fully equipped private rooms for them.
Once they were settled, he turned back to his secret kitchen to continue his usual private business—processing and meticulously cooking the secret meat from the angel he had hunted.
The cooking process wasn’t long.
It involved slow simmering over a low flame and precise seasoning, allowing the aroma to gradually mist through the air.
However, the moment that rich, intoxicating, and soul-stirring scent drifted through the gaps in the kitchen door, it was immediately caught by the incredibly sharp noses of Odette and Clara.
The two exchanged a look and, unable to help themselves, followed the irresistible aroma.
They broke into a quick trot and headed straight for the kitchen door.
Having visited the place frequently over the years, they were intimately familiar with the sprawling factory.
In this massive facility, they were the only ones besides Spade himself who could wander around so brazenly.
Two figures stood quietly at the kitchen door, their temperaments presenting a stark contrast.
Odette reached up and adjusted the clean, delicate round glasses on the bridge of her nose.
Her white lab coat was smooth and spotless.
Usually the epitome of calm, rational, and academic elegance, her nose was now twitching ever so slightly.
Her cool eyes were shining with an alarming intensity, her usual restrained expression had vanished, and the corners of her mouth were tightened as she struggled to control the drool she couldn’t stop from forming.
Even her usual steady composure had completely buckled before this unique aroma.
Beside her, Clara was an entirely different story.
Dressed in a bold, bright, and sexy outfit that highlighted her striking beauty, her personality was usually vibrant and fiery—a bit of a spicy, spirited girl.
Right now, she couldn’t wait.
She stood on her tiptoes, peeking into the kitchen.
Her sparkling eyes were locked onto the plates of meat on the counter, which were glistening with color and smell.
She was salivating so much it was nearly dripping on the floor, her face clearly screaming “I want to eat.” One was quiet and restrained, the other direct and passionate.
The contrast between them was striking.
Spade stood before the stove, still wearing that unchanging, classic clown mask of Subject 1006.
Ten thousand years had passed.
The world had changed, and things had shifted, but this mask had never been removed.
It never changed its appearance, forever maintaining that eerie, soft, and distantly peaceful smile, hiding all real emotions beneath its surface.
Only in his heart did he silently complain with a mix of helplessness and amusement: [Tch, these two brats have noses like bloodhounds…
I should have sealed the kitchen door tight.
Now the cat’s out of the bag.] After a brief silence, Clara was the first to lose the battle against her cravings.
Her crisp voice was filled with a soft, urgent yearning.
“Mr.
Spade!” She blinked her sparkling eyes, looking at him pitifully.
Her tone was full of curiosity and longing.
“W-what kind of meat is this?
The smell is just too incredible!” Odette, standing beside her, quickly followed with a nod.
She pushed her glasses up again, her voice still trying to maintain a semblance of composure, though she couldn’t hide the deep curiosity and confusion.
“Yes…
the texture smells unique.
It doesn’t seem like the meat of any demonic being in Hell.
The scent is crisp yet mellow.
It’s truly too extraordinary.” Spade’s expression didn’t change.
He calmly and slowly turned around, the mask blocking any flicker of emotion.
His low, steady voice rang out, devoid of any ripples.
“It’s nothing special.
Just some rare game I happened across outside.
You children shouldn’t ask too many questions.
No need to look into its origins.” He knew full well that he could never tell them the truth.
Angel meat.
It sounded absurd and far-fetched; no one would believe it.
And even if someone did believe the truth, the trouble, greed, suspicion, and chaos that would follow would be enough to completely shatter his peaceful life.
Having brushed them off with a simple, plausible excuse, Spade didn’t pursue the topic.
He casually divided the freshly cooked, steaming meat into two portions and tenderly handed them to the two girls, who were staring at him with wide, expectant eyes.
Odette carefully took her portion.
She still tried to maintain her polite and elegant manner, taking small, delicate bites.
But the more she tasted, the brighter the light in her eyes became.
Her usual cool, rational demeanor completely shattered.
Bite by bite, her mouth was filled with the fragrance, her brows relaxing in pure satisfaction.
Clara, on the other hand, had no reservations.
She cast aside all restraint, clutching the meat and biting into it heartily.
She ate until her face was glistening, radiating a direct and healing sense of blissful satisfaction.
All her usual spicy spirit had melted into soft, sweet contentment.
Spade leaned lazily against the nearby table.
Through the mask, he watched the two of them devouring the food with such joy.
Beneath the mask where no one could see, he couldn’t help but let out a silent chuckle.
A faint sense of warmth and leisure bubbled up in his heart.
[Millennium after millennium, Hell is a dull and desolate place.
At the end of the day, it’s these tiny, warm bits of fun that make the long, lonely years a little more interesting.] Outside the window, in the distance, the holy light from Heaven remained sharp and cold.
The slaughter and chaos of the Extermination continued to play out across Hell, amidst thick smoke and hidden dangers.
But inside this warm, kitchen-scented room, all the smoke, killing, danger, and fear of the outside world were temporarily held at bay by thick walls.
A room of warmth; a room of peace.