```

"Did you know all along, brother Morocoy?" Two Dragon Priests leaned against the black stone walls of Black Abyss Arena, their shadowed figures watching the one in the center of the stands, helping Lyle up—the Prince of the Black Abyss. "Was it all just an illusion?"

"What do you think, my sister Irason?" Scholar didn’t go out, dealing with Lyle’s matter didn’t require his intervention, and he was inclined to keep a low profile.

Irason shook her head, the new sprouts hanging from her crown emitting a sweet fragrance.

"I’m not certain, an illusion that sows confusion and spreads emotion. A capable Dream Messenger could do it, and so could a Soul Master. That revived omen has the power to manipulate fear, meaning it can taint souls and naturally create hallucinations. And the other speculation... brother, isn’t that why you nurtured Lyle?"

"Lyle is a good student. Even if he doesn’t have this talent, my attention to him wouldn’t decrease by much," Scholar emphasized his stance as a teacher, a brother. He didn’t want Irason to harbor a twisted impression of him—a mere profit-seeking Spellcaster who exploits his students.

"But it wouldn’t be as extraordinary as it is now, brother Morocoy. He’s nurturing your desire, your cravings, reviving your soul. Lyle has given you hope, albeit tainted. After so long, the last time I saw you act so impulsively was when you were alive."

Scholar simply smiled.

"People always tend to believe what they wish, applying their own rules to the incomprehensible. Misconstruing the unknown as the known, using denial to flee from fear."

"Are you referring to my prejudice towards you, or their understanding of Lyle’s actions?"

Scholar didn’t answer but posed a new question.

"Irason, which truth do you want to believe?"

"A false illusion of shattered Hell?"

"Or after the shattering of Hell, the invisible existence of the creator remaking it all?"

The Green Dragon Priest took a deep breath, her mint-scented breath spraying into the cold shadows.

"I hope it’s an illusion. I hope... the future is still within our grasp."

"But brother, you mean the omen already possesses divine power to twist and reshape reality..."

"No, the omen doesn’t, he is merely Lyle’s container for fear, another half-entity. The shattering of Hell was indeed an illusion. The omen isn’t foolish, he recognizes his frailty, wouldn’t stir the fragile nerves of the Demon Race. That episode of a fear illusion was just an unsatisfied threat."

"Thank heavens." Everything hadn’t surpassed Irason’s grim expectations—it was a mere illusion. Irason looked at Scholar. "But if that’s the case, does it not mean, brother, that your wish is still unfulfilled?" After all, Scholar desired power that could twist and corrupt reality.

"Aren’t you disappointed, brother?"

"Of course not, Lyle has exceeded my expectations."

"The omen cannot shatter Hell and then rebuild, but Lyle can. The omen is simply a part of Him." Scholar started walking towards the exit of the Arena. "That illusion was His protest to me, for my dissociating Nia from his whole being. Only capable of dispersing fear through an illusion now..."

"Did the revival of the new deity surpass your expectations, brother?"

"Yes. My original plan was for Lyle to begin reviving his divinity after reaching Five Locks, ensuring the absolute dominance of his human nature. But now it erupted prematurely, something has triggered Him, making the nature of Lyle’s existence unstable. Plans can’t keep up with changes, fusion has already begun, and we must further implement our plan."

Irason watched Scholar’s moving footsteps—he didn’t display the cheerfulness spoken in his words, remaining calm as if nothing had happened. It shouldn’t be a big issue, she thought.

"But why does the returning Prince of the Black Abyss seem like a completely different person, as if under some sort of spiritual control..." 𝗳𝚛𝗲𝕖𝕨𝕖𝗯𝚗𝚘𝕧𝕖𝗹.𝗰𝗼𝕞

Scholar stopped his steps, turned around, and looked at Irason as if she were waiting for some dire news.

"You’re overreacting, my sister. Your sensitivity to the Evil God has made you forget to remain calm, becoming jumpy now. You need to return to the Dream to properly adjust your emotions. Otherwise, the Dragon Priests will have another mad one."

Scholar’s fingers gently tapped the face of the Green Dragon Priest.

```

"Mental guidance, you can do that too, right?"

"The Demon Race venerates strength, and they respect victors, especially those who have triumphed over themselves."

"The ill omen did not warp Gogallan’s mind, but he did what any hypnotist would do—he planted a subconscious suggestion."

"The fear that Gogallan harbored for the ill omen and his respect for the victor melded into his fondness for Lyle. This was what the ill omen wanted to see..."

The voice dissipated with the departure of the Dragon Priest, its secrets veiled by the ensuing tranquility.

At the center of the arena, the Black Abyss Demon Race’s investigation of the hellish plane had come to an end.

"I am terribly sorry, Lord Raymontos, my child was right. The hellish plane has suffered no losses, nor have there been any casualties (those awaiting resurrection from the Demon Race do not count); it was all an overreaction on my part. If possible, I would like to host a banquet to express my apology."

Pomfrey Black Abyss handed the unconscious Lyle to Raymond, looking up at the towering figure with beautiful golden eyes rippling like water waves; should Raymond look directly into them, he would see a striking silhouette—his own. No one could refuse an invitation from a queen who stood at the pinnacle of her race, humbly seeking pardon.

Unless he did not look.

Mr. Raymond laid Lyle in his arms and enveloped his torso with Holy Light, checking him from head to toe. Then, he departed on his own accord, leaving only a sentence behind.

"Consider yourselves lucky, Demon Race."

Raymond had not spared a single glance at the Queen of the Black Abyss, who displayed enticing demeanor, except when she stood in his way.

All the surrounding Lords of Hell bowed their heads, not daring to observe the embarrassed queen. Their eyes wandered aimlessly, afraid of being sent back to Hell for rebirth themselves.

Gogallan’s cheerful voice emerged behind Pomfrey, "Mom, you failed to invite Lord Raymontos again, didn’t you? I told you not to look at those socializing manuals produced by the Liches."

"The Demon Race should select their mates in their own way."

The Prince of the Black Abyss, who did not hesitate to rip open his mother’s wound, quickly received a heavy blow of motherly love; a mouthful of fresh blood sprayed onto Pomfrey’s gown. Glancing at her son convulsing in her arms like a curled shrimp, Pomfrey’s eyes were cold.

"You’ve failed again, my child."

The Prince of the Black Abyss managed to pull a smile on his face, "It can’t be helped, Dr. Plague Doctor is very strong, truly worthy of being Lord Raymontos’s progeny. And it’s not the first time I’ve lost."

"After the celebration ends, roll back to Hell and continue your challenges against the Lords of Hell. What a disgrace of a son."

Gogallan laughed it off as Fema Black Abyss stepped forward to defend him.

"Mother, brother is not a disgrace. Under three hundred years old and still able to challenge a Lord of Hell without being killed—the only one is my brother."

"And then he lost to Liches," the Queen of the Black Abyss conclusively declared.

"...Even though you all were frightened by Dr. Plague Doctor," Fema muttered in a whisper too soft to be heard.

The Queen of the Black Abyss clapped her hands, commanding the Demon Race to immediately tidy the arena.

"The exhibition match is over. Now, the City of Wandering supremacy tournament officially begins."

The winner of the Hellfire Invitation Tournament.

Andrei Academy, Dr. Plague Doctor!