Chapter 835

Mephisto certainly hadn’t expected Gabriel to appear out of nowhere.

One moment he had been playing the charming proprietor of the Devil’s Den. The next, he was flat on his back with the former Sorcerer Supreme’s bare foot planted firmly on his face.

That might have been enough to stop an ordinary demon.

Mephisto was not an ordinary demon.

His head began shifting beneath Gabriel’s foot, rubbing back and forth with increasingly suspicious enthusiasm.

Gabriel had been about to deliver a few choice words.

Then she noticed what he was doing.

Her expression changed instantly.

She stepped back several paces, looking genuinely disgusted.

Mephisto calmly got to his feet.

"My goodness. You didn’t wash your feet before coming, did you?"

He wiped his face several times.

Then he grinned.

"Still, I suppose I should appreciate the authenticity."

"You—!"

Gabriel looked as though she’d just swallowed a fly.

She pointed at him, utterly speechless, while the foot she’d used to step on his face scraped furiously against the floor as if she could somehow sand the experience off her skin.

So this was the infamous nature of demons.

Apparently, if they couldn’t kill you, they’d settle for making you wish they had.

Mephisto’s grin disappeared, replaced by his usual charming smile as though nothing had happened.

"Your Eminence."

He spread his hands.

"We are practically old acquaintances, yet this is our first time meeting in person."

"That is technically true."

Gabriel walked behind the bar, grabbed the strongest bottle she could find, and poured herself a glass.

She had known Mephisto existed for years.

She had even tracked him down on several occasions and ruined more than a few of his schemes on Earth.

But she’d never actually managed to meet him.

She’d always found traces.

Evidence.

Agents.

Never the demon himself.

That was why Mephisto had privately given her a nickname.

Bloodhound.

"Forget the past," Gabriel said.

She tossed back her drink.

"I’m not the Sorcerer Supreme anymore."

She set the glass down.

"I have a new name now."

"Gabriel."

Mephisto smiled.

"Not bad."

His eyes moved to the bottle in her hand.

"That cost a thousand dollars, by the way."

"Put it on my tab."

Gabriel didn’t care.

She took another drink directly from the bottle.

"Gah—!"

She immediately doubled over coughing.

Her face turned bright red.

She had never been much of a drinker.

Apparently, there was a learning curve.

Once she’d recovered, she wiped her mouth and looked at Mephisto suspiciously.

"You aren’t surprised."

"Why would I be?"

Mephisto raised an eyebrow.

"Surprised that you didn’t actually die?"

He leaned back against the piano.

"I’ve been waiting for you to die for a very long time. You could even say I was looking forward to it."

His smile faded slightly.

"But when I received the news, I found it surprisingly difficult to accept."

A being who had lived for more than a thousand years.

One of the most powerful spellcasters in the entire multiverse.

Suddenly dead without warning.

And not after some desperate last stand, either.

She had apparently been winning.

Then she’d been instantly killed.

No final victory.

No dramatic sacrifice.

No last-second reversal.

Just dead.

It was the sort of ending that made a platinum-ranked player look like he’d handed his account to someone in Bronze.

Mephisto was a paranoid creature by nature.

So when he heard of Gabriel’s death, he’d decided to wait and see.

"You’re far too powerful for your death to make sense."

He picked up his glass from beside the piano.

"You’ve lived for an extraordinarily long time. And you possess that artifact."

"You should have been able to foresee your own danger and avoid it in a thousand different ways."

He took a leisurely sip.

"So yes, I was surprised."

"Then I thought about it."

His eyes gleamed.

"This had to be bait."

"You wanted to draw out whatever threats had been hiding in the shadows and eliminate them all at once."

He smiled.

"And judging by what I’m seeing now, I was right."

"I’m impressed."

Gabriel rolled her eyes.

"Really, you thought all that through?"

Somewhere in the back of her mind, she couldn’t help thinking that the Ancient One really should have used the Time Stone to check how things would develop.

Instead, she’d died, only to be dragged back into the world and forced to keep working.

She pointed at Evenson.

"The truth is, I died quite peacefully."

She sighed.

"This idiot is the one who dragged me back."

Mephisto’s smile became downright sinister.

"Really?"

His expression clearly said he wasn’t buying a word of it.

"That’s the problem with a convincing deception. It has to look real."

He shrugged.

"Everyone knows that."

"If you hadn’t actually died, nobody would have taken the bait."

"Excellent."

Evenson clapped his hands.

"Absolutely brilliant deduction."

He gave Mephisto an exaggerated thumbs-up.

"Truly worthy of the Lord of Hell."

Mephisto gave a dry laugh.

"Cute."

His expression suggested that Evenson’s flattery wasn’t nearly enough to impress him.

"The plan was well executed, but it had one flaw."

His eyes shifted toward Gabriel, whose eyes were already rolling toward the ceiling.

"Death carries a price."

"Even for you."

"Your temperament is different. Your presence is different."

He paused.

"And most importantly, your power has been reduced considerably."

Evenson immediately raised his thumb again.

"You noticed that too? Sharp eyes, Your Infernal Majesty."

"Flattery will get you nowhere."

Mephisto waved a hand modestly.

"But yes. Since her power has diminished, I’ll have to reevaluate exactly how much of a threat she represents."

"Is that so?"

Gabriel smiled.

"I may not be what I was."

She reached toward her waist.

"But don’t underestimate me."

She pulled something out.

It was thick, yellow, and vaguely ridiculous-looking.

She raised it to her lips.

A horn.

"You want me to blow this?"

Mephisto’s expression changed immediately.

Even Evenson froze.

Everyone had heard stories about the Archangel Gabriel’s trumpet—the instrument whose sound would herald the end of the world.

But this wasn’t that Gabriel.

At most, she was someone borrowing the name and stealing a little of the brand recognition.

So where had she gotten a trumpet like that?

Mephisto stared at it for several seconds.

"Joshua’s Horn."

Evenson’s eyebrows rose.

Of course.

The legendary horn said to have been used by Joshua during the fall of Jericho.

Although, considering the scale of cities in that era, Evenson suspected it was less a world-ending weapon and more a village-level superweapon.

Still, apparently the thing actually existed.

Then again, the Sword of Victory existed too.

At this point, reality had stopped surprising him.

"I knew it."

Mephisto nodded slowly.

"If you planned all of this, you would have anticipated the loss of power caused by death."

"So naturally, you’d find something to compensate for it."

To Mephisto, Joshua’s Horn wasn’t merely a weapon.

It was a message.

Gabriel had been the Sorcerer Supreme for an absurdly long time.

Over those centuries, she’d accumulated countless supernatural artifacts.

This was simply the first one she’d chosen to show him.

Not impressed by Joshua’s Horn?

What about Pandora’s Box?

Hydra’s fangs?

The Ark of the Covenant?

Oh, don’t worry about that one.

Which Pope was it again?

He sold it to me.

Mephisto spread his hands.

"Well."

"Looks like our relationship has returned to what it used to be."

He smiled.

"But as you can see, I’m probably the nicest demon in history."

"You really don’t need to be so suspicious of me."

"What about Nahash?"

Evenson cut straight to the point.

"What is that serpent actually looking for?"

Mephisto tilted his head.

"Sounds like you’ve had a disagreement with him."

"I’ll say it again. Nahash’s affairs aren’t my concern."

"Then do you remember Coulson?"

Mephisto paused.

"Let me think."

He put on an exaggerated expression of concentration.

"Yes."

"I remember him."

"And I also remember that I followed our contract exactly."

"Every word."

"I know."

Evenson sighed.

That damn contract.

"But Coulson has been kidnapped."

Mephisto’s expression sharpened slightly.

"And whoever took him knows that he died and came back to life."

"So that’s why you came here."

Mephisto slapped both hands against the piano.

His patience was beginning to wear thin.

"Demons are evil, so whenever something bad happens, everyone immediately points at me?"

He snorted.

"I’d love to see an anti-demon discrimination law someday."

"Not many people know about Coulson’s resurrection."

Evenson’s voice was cold.

"And you and Nahash have the strongest connection to him."

"You said Nahash was looking for something important."

"So what if those people happened to possess it?"

"Maybe Nahash used Coulson as leverage to make a deal."

"No."

Mephisto rejected the possibility immediately.

"Nahash isn’t like me."

"He prefers deception to contracts."

"And he’s extremely good at it."

"If he were responsible, he’d have done it perfectly."

"You wouldn’t have known anything had happened."

Mephisto leaned forward.

"Remember, he had the advantage."

"You only discovered he was still inside Coulson because he allowed himself to be exposed."

"You should have realized that."

"I did."

Evenson frowned.

"But—"

"But you couldn’t figure out what that meant?"

Mephisto smiled.

"Do you know why mortals so rarely come out ahead in deals with demons?"

"Because you’re arrogant."

"And because your thinking is rigid."

"You find one explanation and keep forcing everything to fit it."

"You decided that very few people knew Coulson had died and returned."

"And because you trusted those people, you assumed the secret was secure."

"So naturally, you concluded the only possible leak had to be us."

Mephisto raised an eyebrow.

"But think about it."

"They don’t need to know that Coulson was resurrected."

"They don’t need to know how he was resurrected."

"They don’t need to know where it happened."

"They don’t even need to know who brought him back."

"They only need to know one thing."

"That he died."

Evenson froze.

Then everything clicked.

He and Fury had fallen into the same trap.

The moment they’d learned that someone knew Coulson had returned from the dead, they’d assumed the TAHITI Project had been compromised.

But did the people who kidnapped Coulson actually need to know about TAHITI?

No.

If someone who had definitely died suddenly showed up alive and healthy, nobody needed to explain the concept of resurrection to them.

They’d already seen it.

The real question was simpler.

Who knew Coulson had died?

That list was enormous.

Coulson had been killed by Loki aboard the Helicarrier.

The battle had been chaotic.

There had been countless people present.

Who knew who had seen what?

And who had transported Coulson’s body to the TAHITI facility?

Surely Nick Fury hadn’t personally carried him there.

How many people had handled the body along the way?

Then there was the Kree corpse Fury had used in the resurrection process.

It had clearly been studied for years.

The so-called Deathlok Project had been underway for more than a decade.

How many people had known about it?

How many people had participated?

It only took a handful of loose lips.

Give the right person enough fragments, and connecting the dots wouldn’t be difficult.

Which meant the most obvious suspects weren’t Mephisto and the other demons at all.

They were Hydra.

Hydra had infiltrated S.H.I.E.L.D. so deeply that its agents were practically everywhere.

But this was the first time someone had brought the information out into the open and placed it directly in front of Nick Fury.

Evenson’s eyes narrowed.

The Insight Project must be almost complete by now.

He looked at Mephisto with a strange expression.

"Thanks for the warning."

He smiled.

"And thank you, Lord of Hell, for your invaluable contribution to maintaining world peace."

"Maintaining?"

Mephisto suddenly stood.

"I’ve done far more than maintain it."

He looked almost excited.

"I assume you’ve heard about what I’ve been doing in Los Angeles."

"But there’s something you don’t know."

"I’m conducting an experiment."

He looked like a child showing off a rare collectible.

Evenson played along.

"Oh?"

"What kind of experiment?"

"I’ve been mediating gang conflicts."

"Reducing crime."

"And, wherever possible, helping people who are destined for Hell live longer."

"But that’s only a temporary solution, isn’t it?"

Mephisto’s expression grew serious.

"Human lives are short."

"No matter how hard I work to keep these people alive, sooner or later they’ll die."

"And when they do, they’ll still end up in Hell."

"So you came up with a solution?"

"I’m still testing it."

Mephisto’s eyes lit up.

"Hell exists to contain sinners."

"But what if I could convince these people to abandon their evil ways?"

"What if they repented while they were still alive?"

"What if they cleansed themselves of their sins before death?"

He spread his arms.

"What if, when their lives finally ended, they all went to Heaven?"

Mephisto practically glowed with pride.

For one glorious moment, the Lord of Hell looked like a saint announcing his sacred mission.

Hell must be emptied.

Only then can salvation truly begin.

Gabriel stared at him.

Then she laughed.

"That’s your plan?"

Her expression was almost incredulous.

"Why waste time delaying the problem when you can solve it at the source?"

The world had become absurd.

A demon lord was now actively trying to send humans to Heaven.

"What a wonderful plan."

Evenson gave Mephisto another thumbs-up.

But before Mephisto could bask in the praise, Evenson’s expression changed.

"You can stop the experiment."

Mephisto’s smile vanished.

"It won’t work."

"And I think you have a much more serious problem to worry about."

"What problem?"

Mephisto’s excitement evaporated.

"Hell’s population is about to explode."

Mephisto’s eyes widened.

"Explode?"

That word alone gave him a headache.

He’d spent all this time trying to reduce the number of people going to Hell, and now Evenson was telling him the population was about to surge?

Had someone finally decided to start World War III?

And without warning?

Mephisto grabbed his glass.

"What’s happening?"

He brought the drink to his lips.

"Is this a war?"

"Some kind of plague?"

"How many people are going to die?"

Evenson waited until the drink had already reached Mephisto’s mouth.

Then he answered calmly.

"Conservative estimate?"

"At least one billion."

"PFFFT!"

Mephisto sprayed his entire drink across the room.

He didn’t even bother wiping his face.

He pointed at Evenson with a trembling finger.

"How many?"

"Did you say that wrong?"

"Or did I hear you wrong?"

"One billion."

Evenson repeated it calmly.

"And that’s the minimum."

He paused.

"According to their plan, the entire process should take roughly two hours."

"So the number is unlikely to be lower."

Mephisto stared at him.

Their plan?

Whose plan?

The demon lord’s expression twisted.

For a moment, the charming bar owner disappeared completely.

His true demonic visage surfaced.

Someone was planning to kill a billion people in two hours.

And Mephisto suddenly wanted very badly to know who.

"Who?"

His voice dropped into something far more dangerous.

"Who the hell is planning this?"

"I want to kill them."

...