Chapter 12: The Storm is Coming

  The games of the four mountains were considered a great success by the general public. The devils had gotten their spectacle and could now return to their virtuous lives of pride, greed, lust, envy, wrath, gluttony, and sloth. The commentary about them, however, did not cease.

  "Did you see that cursed human from the Mountain of Plague and Misfortune? He'll surely oust Empty-headed soon!"

  "He's diabolical, indeed, but he was clearly weaker than Maleficius's she-devil!"

  "Don't forget about Eusebius's representative, who couldn't take part in those low-level festivities!"

  There was no doubt, however, that the reputation of the Mountain of Plague and Misfortune had soared. Ignatius took advantage of this, disappearing for a full week of drinking while pretending to be an ordinary adept.

  Such precautions were necessary, as, due to the "Emptyhead" nickname, his subordinate was de facto held in much higher esteem than he was...

  On the Mountain of Misfortune and Plague.

  'Why are there always problems with this cursed devil?'

  Sighing, Justinian decided that he must focus on cultivation until his return. The games had clearly shown that he lagged behind the devils in fighting skills, and this was an area he wanted to improve.

  'I also lack strength...'

  The scene where Septima effortlessly sent him flying several meters with a single blow was still fresh in his memory. He therefore focused on considering the cases from his notebook of transgressions and atonements.

  Analyzing the recently added cases, he had to sigh heavily, for it seemed to him that when considered individually, they did not seem just at all.

  'I defeated over a thousand rivals not through my competence, but by sheer chance...'

  Of course, he had no intention of complaining, but it led him to other thoughts.

  'Should such considerations be a part of my justice?' he wondered. -'And if so—should justice manifest itself in the context of a whole life? Perhaps at the level of the context of interconnected events? If so—how to recognize them?'

  The doctrine of the Great Order proclaimed that everything was connected and would ultimately be just. Those who suffer now will receive justice in the future, while those who deliberately break the laws will eventually be punished.

  'But what about more mundane matters, and how does their context relate to the final reckoning?'

  Meditating on these topics, he finally reached the level of the second mark of Ki Gathering.

  He felt significantly stronger and could now defeat any ordinary human in a physical contest.

  On the Mountain of Swamps and Darkness.

  Septima was meditating, focused, in a room completely covered in darkness. This was not natural darkness, but powerful magic woven by her subordinate, Maleficius. With a frown, she replayed fragments from the games in her mind, especially those related to... Justinian!

  "Have you checked on that boy?"

  She asked her servant, who materialized nearby.

  "Yes. It seems the events of the games were a coincidence."

  This judgment surprised the girl somewhat, so for a moment, she considered its weight.

  "Why do you think so?"

  "He ended up here by freeing the Empty-headed. Although blind faith in justice is rare among humans, it does happen sometimes."

  Surprisingly, the moment he mentioned justice, the world did not react in any way. The earth did not tremble, and no lightning came from the sky.

  "And my camouflage?"

  "As far as I can trust my skills, no one in this dimension is even close to the power required to see through it."

  Septima narrowed her eyes—after the strange games, she had been sure she had been exposed.

  'Can such coincidences really exist?'

  Finally, she sighed heavily, and a glint of determination appeared in her eyes.

  "The coincidence is too strange to let it go."

  The devil nodded.

  "So, shall I get rid of the Empty-headed and the human?"

  "If you wish, you can send a message to the pathetic devil, but for now, I don't want any extra attention from Boruta on us. I will deal with the human myself at the next opportunity."

  Maleficius bowed to her once more and soon dissolved into the air. Septima, in thought, gazed at the horizon, where the sun was currently setting. Fragments of associations and shattered memories collided chaotically in her mind.

  'Why does it seem to me that I've seen that human somewhere before?'

  Back on the Mountain of Plague and Misfortune.

  A week had passed since Ignatius began his heavy partying. Now, floating through the air, he swayed a bit as if he were about to fall, but somehow, he maintained his course.

  'How wonderful it was to taste infernal vodka again,' he thought with satisfaction about the past few days.

  Although he hadn't managed to pick up any she-devils, he appreciated his first party in twenty years.

  'All because of that damned queen!' he grimaced in fury.

  The memory of his imprisonment and the cold-eyed human woman still irritated him almost as much as his new nickname. One of the main reasons he had partied for so long was his reluctance to talk about it.

  'But good times can't last forever...' he shook his head sadly.

  He knew he couldn't avoid this moment. He had failed to persuade Boruta to remove the nickname, and recruiting someone else in place of the unfortunate human had proven impossible.

  'And the holy pilgrimage has only just begun...'

  Looking at his beautiful mountain, he hesitated for another moment, then flew to the village to bring the waiting adept to his peak.

  A few minutes later, in a chamber filled with fragrant incense and scented candles that had been quite fashionable twenty years ago, the devil began his story.

  "It began with the appearance of a comet in the sky here, which led to great interest in our dimension."

  Justinian nodded; from what he knew, all holy and cursed books associated this sign with the coming end of the world.

  "It was then that the famous Wernyhora also came to our sect to calculate the implications of this strange phenomenon," Ignatius continued.

  "That cursed soothsayer, who supposedly predicted the shattering of hell into pieces?" the adept asked, surprised.

  The devil nodded at this, clearly proud of his connections and the fact that even an ignoramus like Justinian recognized them.

  "The very same."

  "And what did you ask him?" There was tension in the boy's voice.

  Wernyhora's power was immeasurable, and his visions were without limit. He could supposedly predict the most secret and conspiratorial events even 1000 years into the future!

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  The boy himself didn't even want to imagine what kind of question he would use such a wonderful opportunity for.

  'Maybe I would ask him how to make the world more just?' he thought.

  The master of his mountain smiled broadly, as if pleased that the question had been asked.

  "I asked him for the 10 most beautiful women in the world who would want to sleep with me!" he announced with satisfaction, diabolically lifting his chin. He clearly imagined that he now looked like the lord of all creation and that only the Lord of Hell could compare to him.

  The adept's reaction, however, was different than he expected.

  "But seriously?" he asked, unmoved, which only angered Ignatius.

  "I am being serious!" the irritated devil replied.

  An awkward silence followed, during which Justinian processed the whole situation. At first, he seemed not to believe it, but finally, he looked at him as if he were an idiot and ultimately hid his face in his hands.

  "And what happened next?" he asked, not knowing whether to laugh or cry.

  "What do you think happened next? When he started listing figures from dimensions as distant as the second hell, I thought nothing would come of it!"

  The adept sitting opposite him felt more and more absurd and even began to wonder if there was any point in continuing this conversation at all.

  "...then he mentioned a queen from the Kingdom of Justice!" the devil, getting into his stride, continued. "I immediately had to check if, ahem... she was really as beautiful as they said and went to your dimension," he said, a little embarrassed.

  Justinian could only react to all this with an open mouth. For a few seconds, he processed what the devil had said and compared it with the knowledge available in the kingdom. Finally, he couldn't contain his curiosity and asked:

  "And then?"

  "Well... she used her powerful magic to imprison me."

  The boy nodded at these words. It matched the urban legend, but he wanted to know more details.

  "How did it even happen?" he asked.

  To his surprise, the devil began to sweat—as if at the memory of the traumatic pain that had cost him his freedom.

  "She cast a powerful curse on me, but I don't want to reveal the details," he lied, avoiding eye contact.

  In reality, he was ashamed because he had put himself in shackles, thinking the queen liked such games. He couldn't say that in front of his adept, though. What would his reputation as a mountain master be if he did?!

  Justinian, unaware of his host's internal dilemmas, could only ponder.

  'I've heard that some people can cast curses.'

  "Since then, she regularly came to let my blood to maintain her youth! When, a few years ago, even that didn't allow her to stop aging, she increased the frequency of the rituals and started doing it every year!" Ignatius added indignantly, unable to withstand the pressure of talking about the previous topic.

  Hearing this, the adept's eyes widened in amazement. While he had never met the queen personally, he had a positive opinion of her and had been told that the rituals with the devil were for the good of the kingdom. Now, however, he had to admit that this version... seemed much more logical!

  'That's why she hasn't aged in the last 20 years...' he thought, devastated.

  This plunged him into deep thought about what the Kingdom of Peace, where he had grown up, was really like. Suddenly, it occurred to him to ask about something else.

  "And what about the bandits?"

  Ignatius grimaced.

  "What bandits?"

  "The ones from the tomb. They had a symbol on their cloaks," he replied, drawing an image of three eyeballs pierced by a long nail on the ground. Now he waited with emotion to see what the devil knew about them.

  Ignatius thought for a moment. Finally, he sighed and shook his head.

  "If your symbol is accurate, they must be some new cult. 20 years ago, no such group certainly existed. However..." here he deliberately paused his voice to once again appear mystical and powerful.

  The boy watched him attentively, which improved his mood a little after the earlier revelations. So he said what he knew about the events from the tomb:

  "...at the moment you were freeing me, there was a powerful evil aura in the tomb. It was almost as stro—ahem..." he coughed before he said too much. "It wasn't as strong as me, but it was still powerful," he added, in his own opinion, maintaining the dignity of a mountain lord.

  Justinian narrowed his eyes at this news—he hadn't considered before that there was a cultivator among the bandits. Although he was disappointed by the lack of details, the information was still crucial.

  He also appreciated that Ignatius had kept his promise, and soon the two men parted ways.

  His next goal was to prepare for the next stage of the holy pilgrimage, the upcoming internship with the voivode in a month.

  'If the mountain lord is right about that cultivator, then before achieving my revenge I must reach this level as well...' The boy was not blind and had seen during the earlier fights that he was far behind the devils.

  'The internship is the perfect opportunity to learn...' he thought, quite excited that his teacher would now be the strongest devil in the entire dimension.

  Over the following days, he contemplated various issues related to his kingdom, which had been troubling him since he learned the devil's version of events.

  'Should I really trust Ignatius's words?' he wondered.

  What he had heard was a powerful blow to one of the great authorities he held in his heart. After all, the eternally beautiful queen had been considered a wonderful heroine throughout his entire life.

  Now that this monument was slowly beginning to crumble, his soul was restless, which also affected the quality of his cultivation.

  It was then that he sensed a new presence had snuck into his village.

  'Ignatius didn't say anything about a new adept... could an enemy have snuck in here?' The boy frowned.

  He cautiously exited the dormitory where he was currently cultivating to encounter the said intruder.

  "Good day," said a devilish child, looking to be around 12 years old.

  He had swamp-green hair and a serious expression.

  "Err... good day? What are you doing here?" Justinian asked.

  He remembered that he had met this little devil once before. He had just arrived in hell and had noticed the child, who had dropped a toy. When he picked it up for him... he had thrown it into the river.

  The muscles in the visitor's face twitched slightly, as if he were preparing for something awful. Soon, he bowed low and confessed:

  "I am here to ask Justinian the Just for an apprenticeship on the Mountain of Plague and Misfortune." As soon as he spoke the adept's name, blood began to drip from his mouth and nose.

  Apparently, even the formal mention of such a name and surname caused physical wounds in devils.

  Justinian watched the absurd scene in terror.

  'Just as the holy books say, the very name of Justice is hurtful to devils!'

  Of course, he immediately told the boy to stop hurting himself and explain what he wanted.

  "My name is Franciscus de Deviliare; my dream is to become a respected devil like my uncle. After watching the recent games, he recommended that I spend time with you on the mountain and observe the chaos that surrounds you."

  Justinian frowned at these words.

  'Have I become a local attraction?' he thought, a little irritated. 'Chaos... that must be a term for my bad luck. I don't know if the kid can just join the mountain, but a little company certainly wouldn't hurt.'

  Ultimately, Justinian shrugged at his request, on the condition that the stay be agreed upon with Ignatius when he returned. And so, he gained his first companion in this world full of torment.

  A few days later, after Ignatius had dragged himself out of his cavern, he flew down to issue some new orders to his representative adept.

  Unfortunately, a completely unexpected sight greeted him there. Besides the meditating human, who had already reached the second mark of Ki Gathering, a young devil was sitting on a nearby bench. This teenager was sometimes looking at the buildings, sometimes writing something in a handy notebook.

  "Ahem..." Ignatius cleared his throat, hungover and outraged by the incomprehensible situation.

  Justinian opened his eyes, and Franciscus stood up and bowed to the newcomer.

  "Greetings, Ignatius the Empty-headed," he said in a serious tone in a formal greeting.

  The adept standing nearby opened his eyes wide and burst out laughing; it was perhaps the first time he had heard his "master's" nickname.

  Unfortunately, his joy did not last long. For those words terribly irritated Ignatius himself. With a wave of his hand, he trapped the young devil with his power and, squeezing tightly, pulled him through the air towards himself.

  "You have three seconds to explain who you are," he hissed, tightening a spiritual hand around Franciscus.

  "F-Franciscus de Deviliare."

  Ignatius frowned, then after a moment, a flash of understanding appeared in his eyes, as if he had remembered a long-forgotten fact. The look with which he regarded the boy became complicated. A keen observer would have noticed that he had paled a little, and his hands had begun to sweat.

  "From those Deviliares?" he finally asked quietly.

  "Yes," the child answered him, without losing his seriousness.

  An awkward silence followed, which dragged on unbearably. Justinian didn't know whether to intervene, and finally... Ignatius burst out laughing loudly!

  "Hahaha, excellent. Wonderful! Welcome to my humble abode; I was just teasing you!" he said, placing the bewildered little devil back on the ground. He even smoothed out his tattered frock coat to show the sincerity of his words.

  "I don't know what you're doing here, but you can stay as long as you like! Say hello to your uncle too!" he added with a smile, in a very pleasant tone.

  Inwardly, however, Ignatius was completely terrified by the situation.

  The famous pamphleteer had been known for several things for hundreds of years. First and foremost, for the courage that allowed him to mock many rulers of the infernal dimensions, and also... for his relentlessness in hunting down his enemies.

  'They say he's so petty that for years he hasn't forgotten someone praising his rival's poem...'

  Ignatius felt a headache coming on. He was trying to come up with some solution when, to his horror, he noticed that the young devil he had almost killed had begun to write something in his little notebook with a serious expression.

  'I'll have to take that from him later...' Emptyhead finally sighed heavily.

  Meanwhile, in a distant, 61st infernal dimension, a richly decorated ship was battling a ghostly storm. Demonic servants hired to safely guide it through the next few dimensions were perishing overboard and doing everything to somehow survive the tempest.

  Below deck, however, several dozen figures dressed in bright, high-quality fabrics... were feasting away!

  "My beloved friend, pour me another, to a successful pilgrimage and a return to our 66th home!" said a devil sitting at the very head of the table to one of his companions.

  The companion, barely conscious after a terrible drinking session, nodded drowsily and, reaching for the cognac, fell off his stool. The rest of the company, of course, reacted with a roar of laughter.

  "Ah, our noble brother has had enough! What kind of nobleman is he to pass out so quickly?!" shouted the man who had just wanted a drink, lively. He was echoed by general merriment and toasts.

  What was noteworthy was the fact that everyone present was... terribly fat and also had long beards. One of them, who had not yet drunk enough, at one point frowned with a serious expression, as if listening to the sounds from outside.

  "Do you hear that, my noble brothers?! A terrible storm is raging outside again!" he said with a slight fear in his eye.

  This silenced the rabble for a moment, who looked at him seriously.

  "What are you suggesting?" asked Nikodem Rudnicki, the leader of the entire expedition, sitting at the head.

  "W-we must throw out this cursed artifact! Since we got it, it's as if the world itself is r-rebelling against our presence and the infernal dimensions cannot stand us!"

  The noblemen looked first at each other, then at their leader, who put on a serious expression. Finally, he sighed heavily, stood up with difficulty, and approached the young noble who had raised these objections. Then he placed a hand on his shoulder.

  "You speak rightly..." he said to the young nobleman, who was visibly relieved. "...for a beardless youth!" he added suddenly, then powerfully struck him on the temple.

  "Come on, my noble brothers, let's shave this chump! Such a minor noble can't pretend to be one of us, the great Sarmatians!"

  "Aye!" roared the rest, raising a toast and pouncing on the dazed nobleman. In another cabin, lay a pipe, from which—if one listened carefully—quiet sounds could be heard. As if one word was being rhythmically repeated:

  "...ice... st... ice... just... JUSTICE!"