RD 3 Ch 16 (Patreon)

Somewhere in the strange expanse of the vault, there was a room filled with demons. In it, a demon named Bart back on a chair, observing a myriad of screens.

Each of them showed a very similar situation: a set of stairs and a group of initiates taking their steps. The first stage of the selection process had ten levels and all of them were currently being utilized.

The demon looked bored, glancing to the side where his many subordinates were all taking notes while watching the screens. They’d have to give a detailed reporting of each host’s powers so that the demon souls that they prepared were choosing an ideal body. After all you couldn’t have an infernal demon jumping into an ice mage’s body. That would just completely cripple their power output.

It was vital that they paired them well. Which was why the work that his grunts did was so important.

The demon waved his hand, and another came over and served him a cup filled with purple liquid. It was good to be the boss.

"Got a good haul this time," the demon commented to no one in particular. "Though there's a number of weak ones. Do we have anyone that'll be willing to take those hosts?"

Those who were scribbling hurriedly answered. “They seem to have a powerful class. Not to mention, all of them had bloodlines.”

Bart nodded along. Potential was always valuable. Some demons would throw a fit over have to level, but others got off on ‘starting over’. "Well, if they have bloodlines, then I'm sure we can find some demon to take them. We have a lot here to offload."

The supervisor demon sipped his drink while he leaned back in the chair.

Everything in the vault could be seen from this room. Not to mention, there were plenty of controls laid out on in desk in front of him. All he had to do was flip a switch here or there, and he could change the scenario, protect one of the people, or suck them into the soul pit.

Speaking of, he glanced behind him, and in the giant room, there was one monstrous object. It was a bank of giant tubes filled with eerie liquid that swirled on its own occasionally. The ghastly face of a demon would press up against the glass before it continued to swirl. That was where all of the souls were kept, separated by strength so that the big fish didn’t swallow up all the rank and file.

All Bart had to do was make sure they found strong enough people and put them in there, and the souls would take care of the rest.

A light on his desk blinked, and he went from being relaxed, leaning back like it was any other day, to jumping to his feet and snapping a salute.

A crack appeared in the space, and a head that made his knees weak, his legs quake, pulled itself through. Everyone who was working stopped what they were doing as the Demon Lord himself entered the room.

"L-L-Lord!" Bart couldn't help but stutter under the pressure of the Demon Lord. After all, who was he? But a ruler that was sent to this fresh, fertile world to take it over. He was by no means the most powerful demon in the universe. However, he was favored enough for this task, and to pluck a ripe fruit for demonkind.

It was the kind of demon that if you impressed them, you were set for life.

"How were the assessments?" The Demon Lord spoke slowly, his eyes raking over the screens. Those eyes were like a pair of molten orbs who’s perception pierced through every detail.

Bart wouldn’t be surprised if he knew what everyone in the room had for breakfast.

"Better than expected, we have a good number of strong initiated that have come in here," Bart hurried to give out his report. "And not to mention, there's a large number of weaker ones with high potential. They had an SS-ranked class." He read off a sheet of paper that one of his subordinates had slipped over his desk. "And bloodlines."

The Demon Lord narrowed his eyes at the screens. Something had caught his attention.

"Would you like any more information on one of them?" Bart hurried to offer. Whatever the Demon Lord needed, he would get. As long as it was in Bart's control, and preferably not Bart's head.

The Demon Lord continued to look at one screen, and Bart noticed which one he was looking at. It was the one with the two who had climbed high up on their highest tier of steps. The two of them were bickering like old men.

"Both of those seem incredibly promising. We do have a general soul in here. Which one would you like the general to take? I think the younger one might have more potential." Which was the obvious answer. But Bart was just trying to impress his big boss.

"Slow it down," the Demon Lord said.

"Pardon me?" Bart froze. That was the last thing he expected to hear. The energy requirements for that were astronomical.

"Slow it down." The Demon Lord walked over to his desk and began to flip several of the inscriptions.

"No, no, no, no, no, no, no. Sir, we need to discuss that. There are protocols." Bart started to stop him, only to freeze halfway as the Demon Lord slowly turned his head. Bart swallowed, at least happy that his throat still worked.

"Sir, if we slow it down that much, we will drain the energy from the souls… in…" he gestured towards the tank behind him while giving one of his subordinates the kind of look that said ‘get me an exact number’. While they were using the souls to possess humans, the souls were also what powered the whole thing. "If we drain them, we'll start killing all of the demons in there. That's not going to last." Bart stalled.

The Demon Lord spoke slowly, "Do you doubt my words?" He turned away from Bart, the supervisor’s vision flipping upside down as his head fell to the floor. He could see his own feet for just a moment before everything went dark.

The Demon Lord then turned back to the crowd, "You are now in charge. Leave the settings as they are."

The demon that stepped up into Bart's seat did so slowly, looking out over all the others who were watching him, hoping his head would roll and they would get the next opportunity.

"Yes, sir. The settings you have-- holy shit-- I will not touch." The demon hurriedly corrected himself as he looked back up at the Demon Lord. What he had set things to would absolutely destroy this place. And it wouldn't even last that long. The Demon Lord had set a time dilation between this false realm and the world outside.

Going against an immutable law like time was beyond expensive in terms of energy. The souls in the tubes started wailing, already feeling the pull on their mana.

The Demon Lord put a hand on the new supervisor's shoulder, "I trust the settings will remain until the trial is finished." He then walked back to the crack that still existed on the side and ripped it open to step through.

The new supervisor looked over all the demons who were hurriedly going back to work. He folded his hands behind his head and leaned back in the chair, "Someone, get me a new drink. I'm in charge now." If all he had to do was not touch the settings, that was easy enough. Sometimes being in charge was good.

***

Gloria had wondered why Bran had given her and Simone enough gold to raise their stats equal to Nyx. However, given that they all appeared amid other initiated suddenly, but without Bran, it made sense.

“He fucking knew what was going to happen.” Gloria turned to Simone. The Saintess has on a peaceful smile as always like she knew things that others didn’t.

"Of course he did. Or he at least suspected." Simone bowed her head slightly, "Bran is just that incredible."

Nyx's serpents were all nodding along with Simone's words even though the woman why trying to remain stoic.

"You two are hopelessly in love," Gloria said, crossing her arms and cocking her hip to the side as she stared at the stairs ahead of her.

"Don't pretend like you aren't," Nyx deadpanned, "I can hear you guys all night."

"What?" Gloria stood up straight, "But I make him put a talisman..." Gloria snapped her mouth closed. She closed her eyes slowly, "I mean, I have no idea what you are talking about."

Simone and Nyx laughed and their group garnered no small amount of attention. Three ravishing beauties laughing was always going to get attention.

Standing in front of the stairs, one of the ones who paid to come in asked, "So who's first?”

“Where's everyone?" Another looked around, confused.

Most of the people here were not the elites Vincent had brought, but rather their close subordinates. One thing was evident. This trial that they all appeared in had divided them by strength. It has also isolated them from their original groups.

Instead of charging up the stairs on their own, people started talking and forming alliances while promising favors.

Not that it mattered for Gloria. The three ladies already knew who was on their side.

"Let's give it a shot. We'll go up together," Simone said, taking the first step and feeling the pressure on her joints like she had suddenly put on a backpack. Nodding, she continued to walk up.

Gloria stood up beside her, seemingly less affected than the saintess. Her physique exuded ferocious power and the change in pressure was barely noticeable. Compared to being thrown off cliffs it was nothing. "Don't tell me you already know what this is too.” She squinted at Simone.

“Bran explained some of the things that might occur in here. I had taken the opportunity to ask," Simone glanced sideways at the other two, "which it seems neither of you two have done. Don't worry. I will ensure we make our way through this unscathed."

“What when? Oh.” Gloria blushed as she realized when Simone would have been privately with Bran and asking questions. “There’s not a whole lot of talking when I’m with him.”

Nyx chuckled. “No, you’d have to be able to control your voice for that.”

“You haven’t heard anything, stop trying to get something out of me.” Gloria snapped back. The only person that could tease her was Bran and even then she had a limit.

The giant hourglass came flipping down from the mist and the three of them got serious, moving up the steps while supporting each other.

Throughout all of the different trials, similar situations were occurring, echoing throughout each level of the trails.

The Malbranova, many of whom ended up in the lowest tiers of the stairs. Each and every one of them significantly weaker than those like Bran's ladies. Not to mention Vincent and the people paying for entrance didn't spend money sending people as low-leveled as them into the vault.

Still, their willpower was not to be underestimated. All of them were bloodied relying on their Blessing of Bran to resist the pressure and heal from the damage they were taking with each step.

Yet their eyes shone brilliantly with fervor, unwilling to let something so simple stall them.