With a dazed expression and a slacking jaw, Beelzebub was staring at the paintings of the seven devils on the wall of his restaurant.
His eyeballs were red and bulged, and his index finger twitched.
As the camera panned, three neat lines of white powder on the table behind him came into focus.
The scene changed.
It was early evening.
Asmodeus was standing outside his mansion.
Unable to find Leviathan, he had returned home for a warm bath and a hot meal. But it wasn't over. He was planning on continuing the hunt even if it took him forever.
His eyes turned to the overcast sky.
The sun had only just set, and the dark clouds were gathering on the horizon. The wind carried the pleasing scent of petrichor.
It was going to rain.
"Secure the area," he instructed his subordinates.
As they shuffled their feet in silence, Asmodeus approached the entrance.
The main door opened, and the housekeeper greeted him.
"Welcome back, sir."
She took his coat and hung it on the rack.
