Chapter 65: What Devils Dress Like This?

  The green-haired devil with skinny calves somehow rolled off his "mount" onto his feet. Septima easily estimated that he was at the first level of Foundation Stabilization. Given his state, she also concluded that he couldn't pose much of a threat.

  The young Sarmatian watched with superiority, eyeing the guest's outfit, though he had looked at everything else in much the same way earlier. The diary kid didn't even look in that direction, and the dim-witted ghost was nowhere to be seen.

  That left only her roommate. A roommate who... was watching her nervously? For some reason, great discomfort was visible on the village she-devil's face. Her restless eye movements and a barely maintained expression testified that something was wrong.

  'Did I miss something?'

  Septima looked at Bogna seriously and leaned in, signaling for her to pass the information by ear, which the girl did very quickly. Then, with a grave expression, the she-devil from the common folk whispered what lay on her heart.

  "That guy has legs like a stork!"

  Bogna looked as if she had just seen the funniest thing in her life. Her shoulders shook with suppressed giggles, and her eyes shone with genuine, childlike joy. Septima, though not as moved herself, wasn't at all surprised by her companion.

  After all, in the 66th Dimension, tight tights hugging a newcomer's spindly calves looked like pure madness.

  'In the 58th Dimension, however, it’s the height of elegance...'

  Seeing Bogna covering her mouth with her hand to keep from snorting, she could only shake her head.

  Meanwhile, the green-haired "stork" shuffled toward the bar, where he immediately started making a scene about who had started the fire. However, it looked like he was doing it just so someone would buy him a drink.

  Just as the storm seemed to be passing, the inn doors opened with a bang.

  Five gentlemen marched inside. They all wore identical short jackets that barely reached their waists, and bizarre, narrow blades at their sides resembling overgrown sewing needles.

  But it wasn't the weapons that caught the eye.

  Like one man, they all paraded in tight hose, exposing calves compared to which even the table legs seemed like massive columns.

  They rushed to the bar, surrounding the swaying Henri. From their gestures, it appeared they were trying to calm him down, addressing him as their leader, but their appearance was the nail in the coffin for Bogna's self-control.

  The girl had withstood the pressure of one "stork." But a flock of six skinny pairs of legs, crowded in one place, was too much.

  "Pfff... BWAHAHAHA!" Bogna couldn't hold it in. She exploded with loud, contagious laughter that instantly cut through the hum of conversation.

  Dead silence fell over the inn.

  Henri slowly, with almost theatrical gravity, turned his head in their direction. His five companions followed suit. Six pairs of eyes fixed on the still-giggling Bogna.

  The conflict wasn't just hanging in the air anymore. It had just crashed down on their heads.

  At the same time.

  Seweryn listened to Justinian's story about the strange symbol he had seen in the burning house. When the boy finished his tale, the nobleman scratched his temple in embarrassment.

  "The truth is, as devils, we don't have a single religion."

  Without going into too many unnecessary details, he laid out the most important information regarding the beliefs prevailing in Hell for the human.

  First of all—all hellish religions were based on common assumptions: The King of Names and Symbols was the most powerful being in the world, the main enemy was the Great Order and Justice, and the way to achieve power was through Diabolical Virtues.

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  The problems, however, appeared in the details.

  "The Ruler of Hells is known for very ugly handwriting; it's particularly hard to tell when he writes a 2 and when a 3. His ancient decrees, stating how many fingers one should use to perform rituals, were so illegible that the hellish church split into two branches."

  Justinian stopped his friend there.

  "Wait, are you telling me that devils created a separate sect of religion just because they couldn't read how many fingers to use for religious signs?!"

  Seweryn nodded, somewhat ashamed.

  "That is essentially just the beginning. You've probably already noticed that the hellish kin loves all kinds of pranks and gets angry quite easily."

  "Mhm."

  The nobleman looked at him, wiping sweat from his temple.

  "So, imagine what happened when one side started joking about the other over the span of the hundred thousand years of the current ruler's reign."

  The young man was stunned by these words. He remembered how easily the devil Eredinus had caught fire, and the exploding heads of Micromegas's entire delegation. If one were to transfer such behavior to billions of devils across all hells...

  It was one giant powder keg waiting for a spark!

  In the moment of silence that followed, Justinian pondered the situation when a certain inconsistency striking the whole story occurred to him.

  "But your ruler, from what I know, is alive and well! Couldn't you have just asked him for the correct interpretation?"

  He was answered by one huge burst of laughter.

  "Do you know anything at all about the Ruler of Hells? As soon as he realized the conflict, not only did he not solve it, but he started fueling it, saying that only one version can be correct! He also confirmed that he will reveal the truth when one of the factions is completely annihilated."

  Since then, in many hellish dimensions, true massacres had occurred between supporters of the opposing sides. in some places, entire cities ran with blood during particularly dark days of history.

  Concluding, the somewhat pale nobleman shook his head.

  "Our 66th Dimension and many lord brothers might seem ridiculous. However, the truth is that thanks to our famous Golden Liberty and focus on ourselves, similar situations bypassed us."

  Justinian smiled wryly. It seemed that the absurdities of the hellish dimensions did not end with his new home. However, something else intrigued him.

  "Why does the King of Names and Symbols need such a conflict? Doesn't he need the strength of unity to begin the invasion of the world of humans and heavens?"

  Seweryn thought for a moment.

  "It seems to me that he is looking for something. Even the original classification of dimensions took place on a similar principle. Pitting warriors from hells against each other and promoting those who survived. Maybe it's about something similar here?"

  This thought was very disturbing. After all, what could someone so absurdly powerful be looking for?

  The young boy and the nobleman spent a dozen or so minutes talking this way before deciding to return to the inn. The view they found, however, was diametrically different from the one that had bid them farewell.

  Now, in one of the building's wings, there was a gigantic hole in the wall, next to which sat... a three-meter wild boar?

  The men exchanged glances.

  The beast was lying on its side, and its every snore kicked up clouds of dust and made the tiles on the roof tremble slightly.

  "Well, I'll be damned..."

  Seweryn grabbed the hilt of his saber, his expression grim. However, there was no time for caution. A shrill scream came from inside the inn, followed by the sound of a table being overturned.

  "We must enter. Now."

  They moved toward the hole in the wall, trying to step lighter than shadows. Justinian felt sweat trickling down his back. As they passed the beast's giant snout, the boar suddenly twitched an ear. The snoring cut off midway.

  Both froze motionless, holding their breath.

  The beast smacked its lips, revealing tusks the size of Justinian's forearm, and then... rolled over to its other side, letting out a fart that could compete with chemical weapons.

  Not waiting a moment longer, the men slipped through the hole inside.

  What they saw made Justinian forget about the boar for a moment. In the middle of the room stood a group of five men in strange, skimpy jackets, surrounding a drunk leader with green hair. They all had weapons drawn—long, thin, almost like toothpicks. Opposite them stood Septima and a terrified Bogna.

  Nearby were Franciscus and Totius, while young Rudnicki was hiding under the table.

  Justinian quickly assessed the situation. It looked like this group of oddballs didn't just have the numerical advantage, but a cultivation advantage as well. After all, he couldn't see the cultivation base of one of them, and all the others were at the first and second levels of Foundation Stabilization.

  "Who are these people?"

  Seweryn joined him, furrowing his brows with distaste.

  "And those calves... as if they forgot to eat breakfast for the last ten years!"

  Despite the absurd detail, the situation was serious. A clash in such a tight space could end in a bloodbath.

  Henri, swaying, aimed the tip of his rapier at Bogna.

  "Are you laughin' at me?"

  His aura suddenly thickened, becoming sharp and dangerous.

  Justinian tensed his muscles. There was no time for negotiations. He gripped his weapon tighter, ready to leap and attack by surprise to even the odds. He was about to take the first step when he suddenly felt the hair on the back of his neck stand up.

  Right next to them, in the same hole they had entered through, a figure materialized.

  Upon seeing him, Septima looked with concern. It was the same older, hooded man she had spotted earlier. He stood there, leaning on a cane, as if he had simply gone out for a walk, and he didn't emanate power similar to that of the Mountain Lord.

  The old man smiled gently, and his voice, though quiet, rang through the hall with the force of a church bell, drowning out all other sounds.

  "I believe we should all calm down."

  His words carried no technique, and yet... the green-haired Henri almost jumped at the sight of him! The group of men surrounding him stepped back, tucking their heads into their shoulders like scolded dogs. In the tense silence, the surprised voice of the skinny-legged man rang out.

  "Car... Cardinal, you returned!"