Chapter 68: Decision

  Justinian cast his mind back to his previous encounters with Septima: the murderous aura when they first met, the anger over his rescue following her duel, and recently, being locked in that strange darkness. Seeing that his acquaintance wore the same emotionless expression as always, he sighed in resignation.

  "Your greetings are getting more and more original."

  "I’m serious. We need to leave a significant portion of your group behind."

  He looked at the deviless before him in surprise. This wasn't the best moment for controversial declarations. Instead, they needed to figure out how to ensure their group—and their dimension—survived the upcoming ceremony.

  "What do you even mean?"

  Septima met his gaze. "You heard what the ceremony is going to be about."

  The corner of Justinian’s mouth twitched awkwardly. He hadn’t expected her to eavesdrop on the conversation in the tavern. Not that it was a problem for him; he believed it was only fair to share the information with his entire team, which he intended to do soon. After all, this concerned their lives, as well as the fate of the entire 66th Hell Dimension.

  Refraining from judging her intentions superficially, he asked for more details.

  "The situation is very simple. Of this entire 'crew', only the two of us have enough power to cope reasonably well without Devilish Virtues. The rest will not just be dead weight; they will be a weak point."

  "..."

  He remained silent, listening to her words. It was true that the gap in power levels was obvious. Bogna, Franciscus, and likely young Rudnicki, too, were completely useless in a fight. This created various problems.

  "This ceremony won't be just a few official tasks like during the Holy Pilgrimage. The devils will do everything to make life difficult for others. Your weak companions will immediately become targets."

  Septima said all this without venom or a raised voice. It was as if she were describing the distant state of a world she was indifferent to.

  "So, what do you propose?"

  "You are the leader of this group. Send them back to the 66th Hell. That decision is your duty."

  He looked into her deep eyes, which seemed unnaturally dark.

  "And what about Seweryn?"

  She shrugged. "He didn't take part in the pilgrimage, so his role would be purely for show anyway. He is too weak to ensure his own safety."

  Silence soon fell.

  On this windy, overcast day, on the fragment of a long-dead dimension, Justinian considered everything she had told him. Somewhere in the distance, the slow churn of lava from one of the local volcanoes could be heard.

  Finally, he reached a conclusion.

  "I will present everything we’ve learned, as well as your point of view, to our companions..."

  The she-devil nodded. "That is the right choice."

  "...However, I have no intention of imposing anything on them. I won't be treating them like subordinates. The decision is solely theirs to make."

  Justinian didn't believe that forcing them to leave would be fair. His cultivation, focusing on his own small piece of justice, was meant to serve precisely that purpose: protecting the people close to him. Also, what certainty did he have that sending them away would actually contribute to their safety?

  What right did he have to decide their fate and take the mission concerning the whole dimension on his shoulders alone? He had been in the 66th Hell for a little over a year, whereas for many of them, it was their birthplace.

  Septima clenched her fists.

  "Don't you understand the ceremony could end in the destruction of the entire dimension? These aren't the Sarmatians' stupid games, but a real threat!"

  Justinian smiled. "You care an awful lot for someone with such a terrible reputation. You put up a cold front, but I know I can count on you when needed."

  Septima looked at him in disbelief. Only after a few seconds did she seem certain that she hadn't misheard. A small vein popped out on her pale temple, an evident sign of barely suppressed anger.

  "You..."

  Before she could demonstrate just how big of a fool he was, however, he waved his hand. Contemplating his problems in such a raw, natural setting had allowed him to arrive at a few significant ideas that required testing.

  Therefore, believing that continuing the discussion here was ill-advised, he returned to his training. For the next few dozen meters, he felt the ignored Septima glaring at him. Her glare felt like daggers against his back, so, feeling a bit uneasy, he channeled a fair bit of cultivation into his legs and sped up.

  Five hours later...

  The atmosphere in the dirty mansion occupied by Henri and his mignons from the 58th Dimension was heavy with boredom and hangovers.

  The aristocrat lay on a velvet chaise longue that had seen better days. He let out a loud, theatrical sigh, observing his two mignons; the rest were still dying from drinking too much last night.

  "No, no, no! You are doing it all wrong! You are walking too aggressively! The calf must be revealed with subtlety, like a mystery waiting to be solved, not like a butcher displaying a ham!"

  A tall devil lowered his head in shame, quickly adjusting his hose.

  "Forgive me, Monseigneur! I shall try again!"

  The duo of skinny devils returned to their training, marching in circles and practicing their special 'Revealing Step of the Beautiful Leg.' It was a silent, solemn affair, interrupted only by Henri’s occasional groans of dissatisfaction.

  Stolen novel; please report.

  After another hour, the noble was bored out of his mind.

  He walked to the window, looking out at the dead landscape of the transitional dimension. The sky was exceptionally cloudy today—perfect weather for the gloom in his heart.

  'Don't cause any trouble.'

  The Cardinal's words echoed in his mind. He recalled the serious eyes of the old politician and shivered. Jean had always protected him. And yet, he was warning him of a monster that not even he could control.

  Frowning and annoyed by all of this, he was approached by one of the mignons.

  "Monseigneur Henri, perhaps... we could go out? The air is heavy, but a little entertainment might lift our spirits?"

  "A little entertainment, you say?"

  "Yes! Even if we have to lay low for now, what if we 'practice' for a bit?"

  His eyes had a particular shine when mentioning "practice".

  Henri fell into thought. His eyes finally wandered towards the inn in the valley below.

  "We must be more discreet today. We cannot alert the Cardinal."

  "Do you have something peculiar in mind, Monseigneur?"

  Henri chuckled, adjusting his high collar. "Oh, I definitely do."

  Justinian was returning from his testing ground through the forest. He couldn't say anything with certainty, but at least he had some options for further exploration.

  He was far from the lake now, deep in a valley that seemed to have been a settlement once. It was long abandoned, and yet, something seemed off about it. The ever-chirping birds, abundant when he was going in the opposite direction, were now completely silent.

  'This silence is unnatural.'

  He stopped, his senses on high alert.

  A loud explosion echoed from the north, followed by raucous laughter.

  Justinian frowned. He changed his direction, moving silently to locate the source. As he crested a small hill, he looked down into a hollow where an abandoned village lay in ruins.

  'Hmm?'

  There, amidst the crumbling walls, were Henri and two of his mignons.

  But they weren't just loitering.

  "Pull!" Henri shouted.

  One of the mignons threw a stack of books high into the air.

  The aristocrat extended his hand. Without any weapon, his fingers twisted in a grotesque gesture, and the air around him shimmered with heat.

  A lash of fire, shaped like a long, slobbering tongue, erupted from his palm. It moved with a life of its own, snapping through the air and striking the flying books with terrifying precision. They soon exploded into ash and burning scraps of paper.

  "Bravo, Monseigneur! There is now one less unorthodox treachery in the world!"

  Justinian narrowed his eyes.

  'What are those idiots doing?'

  As the burning pages fluttered down, one of them landed near his hiding spot. The paper was charred, but the ink was resistant to the fire. It showed a fragment of a prayer. And right in the center, unmistakable even in its damaged state, was a symbol.

  It was easy for him to recognize the peculiar three horizontal lines.

  His eyes widened. He looked closer at the pile of "ammunition" the mignons were using. All of them had the particular sign he had already seen before.

  'The burning house...'

  The realization dawned on him like a physical blow. The fire technique that Henri was using had the same energy signature as the fading echo he had found inside the crumbling building.

  The arson they had witnessed upon arriving wasn't an accident. It was them. These foppish, ridiculous devils were the ones who had set that house ablaze.

  He watched as Henri summoned another tongue of fire. The flames lashed out, striking an old wooden beam of a ruined hut. The fire caught instantly, spreading with unnatural speed.

  'If they keep this up, this could quickly spiral out of control.'

  Justinian wrestled with himself a bit. Had it been him from many months ago, he would have simply punished the injustice.

  But now? He had vowed to focus on his own garden. Getting involved in a fight in the middle of a far-away death dimension was the complete opposite of that.

  'But should I really allow them to simply continue?'

  He looked at the fire spreading to the nearby dry brush. He saw the mignons laughing as they threw more books into the air. While he didn't care about hellish religions, there were a lot of animals in the forest. He also saw settlements on the other side of it.

  Yet, he couldn't simply try to impose his justice on a whole world once again. Caught in this conundrum, it took him a long moment to reach a decision.

  With a heavy sigh, he stepped out from behind the stone trees.

  "Who knew that you could spot fools on the loose in the forests nowadays?"

  His voice cut through their laughter like a blade.

  Henri froze, his hand still extended. He turned slowly, his eyes widening in surprise, which quickly turned into annoyance.

  "You again? Do you stalk me, peasant?"

  The mignons drew their rapiers, surrounding Justinian, but the human didn't even flinch. He walked down the slope, his eyes fixed on the fire.

  "Wasn't it you who told me something about honor yesterday? I assume this is the perfect example?"

  Henri clenched his teeth, lowering his hand. The infernal fire dissipated.

  "What the hell do you want?"

  Justinian stopped a few meters from them. He looked at the nervous Henri, then at the mignons who were ready to fight.

  "I will say this only once."

  The air around him grew heavy. The pressure of his Foundation Establishment cultivation base began to rumble.

  "If any of your nonsense reaches me or my companions... you will face the consequences."

  It was a statement of fact, delivered with the cold certainty of a verdict. While he didn't abandon the rule of tending his garden, his warning could be interpreted in many ways.

  Henri took a step back, intimidated, still remembering the story he heard from the Cardinal. But one of the mignons, the tall one who had been scolded earlier, saw a chance to redeem himself.

  "How dare you threaten Monseigneur!"

  The underling lunged, his rapier darting forward like a snake, aiming for Justinian’s heart.

  It was a fast attack. For typical cultivators, it might have been problematic.

  But Justinian didn't move. He didn't draw his saber.

  He simply looked at the underling.

  It took only a split second for the attacking devil to fall into the dirt, flat on his face, screaming in agony. His rapier remained stuck in the ground.

  Silence fell over the ruins.

  The other mignon trembled, taking a step back. Henri stared at his fallen servant, then at Justinian, his mouth agape.

  Justinian looked at him one more time and turned his back.

  "Remember my warning."

  He walked away into the forest, leaving the terrified devils alone.

  Later that day...

  Justinian stood by the window, watching the reflection of the volcanoes in the dark lake. Behind him sat his companions: Seweryn, Alfons, Bogna, Franciscus, and the floating spirit of Doctor Totius.

  Only Septima was missing, still too furious to meet with him.

  He had just finished explaining what he learned about the upcoming ceremony based on Cardinal Jean's information. He also told them about the she-devil's proposed solution.

  As the silence dragged on a bit longer, Justinian looked at the faces of everyone present. It was not really as he expected.

  'Franciscus is the same as always...'

  The child simply noted all the details in his notebook. There was also no need to mention Doctor Totius, who was a soul bound to an item he possessed. The noble Seweryn, however, seemed to be sweating a bit too much.

  'Would he prefer to return?'

  "So, just to confirm. You are not forcing any decision onto us?"

  The noble asked.

  "That is correct."

  He looked a bit better after hearing Justinian's confirmation, but soon he furrowed his brows. Sweat was still running down his temples.

  "And you are not sending us back to the 66th dimension without our permission?"

  "Yes."

  Hearing this, Seweryn... smiled?

  "Hahaha, that's great! My umm... honor would not survive that!"

  Somehow, his expression did not seem honest when saying that. Justinian, looking at his nervous friend, reached a ridiculous conclusion.

  'Is he doing all that just to avoid returning to his wife?'

  His line of thought was cut short as Alfons, clearly hesitant and pressured by the other noble already talking, spoke up.

  "I am a descendant of great Sarmatians. I... I will not run from a challenge! My father would disown me..."

  He didn't seem that convinced, but in the end, it was his own decision.

  Bogna, on the other hand, looked at the human as if she had heard something preposterous. In the end, she was a simple deviless—she considered the Ruler of Hell as a great figure who would never hurt a good devil. On the other hand, she believed she would be far less safe if she simply abandoned the Grim Judge.

  Justinian looked at all of them once more and felt the weight of their trust. He could not let them down.

  "Very well," he nodded. "Then we prepare."

  The remaining days flew by.

  They spent the time training, refining their techniques, and mentally preparing for what was to come. Surprisingly, they had not faced any troubles from Henri, who stayed well away from the inn.

  Finally, the day of the ceremony arrived.