Eddie On a Cross: A Hazbin Hotel Fanfiction

by Kiki94NightWitch588

Eddie, aka Headshot, is a sinner demon assassin. To give his sister a better future, he leaves her at the Hazbin Hotel. An accident convinces him to stay and use his powers for good. Adam's return will disrupt everyone's lives, a birthday present will prove dangerous, Charlie will discover his dual nature, and Angel Dust will finally find someone who truly loves him.

10. The burden of choices

A new day had dawned at the Hazbin Hotel, and the guests were settling into a steady routine. Classes, support groups, trust-building exercises, and lessons in civil behavior were finally starting to bear fruit, albeit slowly. The growing sense that their efforts were making a real difference helped keep everyone motivated.
Charlie, in particular, was feeling much better. Her health continued to improve, and she could now stand for longer periods without growing too tired. Her signature red suit, lovingly repaired by Lucifer with the care of a proud father (and the magic of the King of Hell), brought her a sense of strength and familiarity. Each day filled her with renewed optimism: Charlie was certain that with just one more redemption, Heaven would no longer be able to ignore the progress of her project.

That morning, she welcomed two new guests—a couple determined to redeem themselves so they could reunite with their young children in Heaven after all of them had been caught in a tragic car accident.
Handing them the key to their room with a warm smile, she said: «Here you go, and welcome to the Hazbin Hotel!» The pair thanked her before heading to their room, hand in hand.
With a contented sigh, Charlie added their profiles to the most recent filing cabinet. But as she opened the drawer, she realized it was completely full—the new documents were practically spilling out.
«Oh, darn!» she muttered, realizing she'd need to move the older files to the archive. Grabbing a couple of boxes, she set to work, patiently organizing the papers. But when she tried to lift the boxes, her body immediately protested.

Even at her best, heavy lifting had never been her strong suit.
Now, with her body still recovering from her transformation, it was entirely out of the question.
She paused, thinking of who might be available to help.
Vaggie? She was helping Headshot patrol the hotel with the new recruits.
Headshot himself? Busy, as mentioned.
Her father? Tied up with administrative work.
Alastor? She'd already roped him into more tasks than she cared to admit.

Just as she was about to resign herself to the struggle, she spotted Husk and Adam crossing the lobby out of the corner of her eye. The chain binding them jingled faintly with each step—a sound almost comical in its absurdity—but the tension between them was anything but funny. They walked in silence, keeping a noticeable distance from each other, like two kids forced to team up for a school project.
"That's odd…" Charlie thought. When Adam had been confined to his cell, he and Husk had developed a surprising friendship despite the circumstances. But lately, there was a noticeable strain between them, the kind of tension you could feel from across the room.

She set the thought aside for the moment—she had a favor to ask.

«Husk! Adam!» she called out with her most diplomatic smile. The two stopped in their tracks and turned to face her. Husk already looked resigned, while Adam raised an eyebrow, clearly curious.
«I need a little favor.» Charlie began, gesturing toward the boxes on the counter. «Could you help me move these to the archive? They're a bit too heavy for me.»
Husk let out a long-suffering sigh, glancing at the chain linking him to Adam as if it symbolized all his misfortunes. «Sure. Why not? It's not like I've got enough weight to carry already.» he said sarcastically. Still, he grabbed one of the boxes with minimal protest, though his reluctance was clear.
Adam, meanwhile, smirked and couldn't resist a jab. «Look at it this way—you're finally doing something useful besides drinking and complaining.» With ease, he hoisted the second box, his strength momentarily catching Charlie off guard.
Husk shot him a withering glare, his eyes flashing with restrained annoyance. «Need I remind you who spent weeks doing nothing but drinking and running their mouth?» he retorted, barely stopping himself from saying more.
Adam shrugged as he headed toward the archive, his expression a mix of amusement and irritation. «Don't act like you didn't enjoy it.» he quipped, his tone light but with a subtle edge.

Charlie watched them walk away, concern tightening her chest. She couldn't look away, sensing something deeper at play.
"Things are tense between them. I need to use this task as an opportunity to help them work through it." she thought, biting her lip lightly.

The idea of their budding friendship, so full of promise, falling apart so quickly left her deeply unsettled. They needed each other, and she could only hope they would realize it before it was too late.

–

Adam cast a furtive glance at the princess, watching her out of the corner of his eye. The dragon mask he was forced to wear partially obstructed his view, but every now and then, Charlie entered his field of vision. She walked with a dreamy expression, her arms folded behind her back, her steps light and almost skipping, as if the weight of all Hell wasn't bearing down on her shoulders.
"Like a child." he thought, almost mocking. "To think she'll be Queen one day… I almost pity these sinners."
Almost. The word stuck in his throat. He was surprised to feel even a shred of empathy. Him, Adam, the First Man, the former general of the Exorcists, the one who had always seen Hell as an abomination to be purged, now found himself feeling compassion for its denizens. It was an alien, unsettling sensation.
"I've changed so much..." he reflected bitterly. Eight months had passed since he'd fallen into this abyss—two of them spent at the Hazbin Hotel—and in that short time, he had become someone almost unrecognizable. The arrogance and tyranny that once defined him had nearly dissolved, crumbling under the weight of lived experiences, shared suffering, and, above all, a mistake he couldn't forgive himself for.

The memory struck like a dagger to the heart: the deal with Alastor. Husk had tried every possible way to stop him, even though he was bound to that treacherous demon. But Adam, blinded by pride and desperation, had ignored every warning.
The scene replayed in brutal clarity. That omniscient, mocking smile of Alastor's still haunted him. Adam had let his guard down, and in a moment, the Radio Demon had wormed his way into his thoughts, forcing him to reveal every secret about the Deus Ex Machina: its origin, who had given it to him and why, the path that had led him to Hell, and, ultimately, to Headshot. But most damningly, Alastor had learned how to unlock the artifact's full potential—all thanks to him, the First Man, who had been manipulated like a fool.
"Ironic." he thought bitterly. "During the last extermination, I managed to force him to retreat… and now he's outsmarted me. What goes around really does come around."

A knot of guilt tightened in his chest, heavy and suffocating. Husk had every right to react the way he had—anger, disappointment, frustration. Adam knew he deserved it. But the pain of that distance, of the fracture between them, was still hard to bear. Despite the physical chain that bound them, the emotional connection between him and Husk had frayed, and the weight of remorse was eating him alive.
"I'm no longer a general. I'm no leader. I'm just dead weight."
That realization hurt more than any reprimand. But remorse wasn't enough. It couldn't be enough.
"I have to fix this. I have to do something useful, something meaningful, before I disappear from this place."

Determination began to rise from the rubble of his self-esteem. He had to make amends, and the first step was freeing Husk—and himself—from that damned chain. If not for himself, then at least for Husk, who didn't deserve to be dragged down with him.
Adam clenched his fists, trying to focus his thoughts. He needed to convince Charlie, to make her see that the chain was a pointless burden, a symbol of punishment that served no one, least of all Husk. But how? He couldn't rely on words alone. Charlie was naïve, but she was also perceptive; she would need a convincing argument, something beyond a simple request.

The only good thing to come out of his pact with Alastor was the art of persuasion. That same skill that characterized the Radio Demon had been, in a way, "copied and pasted" into his mind in exchange for the precious information about the Deus Ex Machina.
Adam took a deep breath. He knew using that weapon was risky—every time he tapped into it, he felt a part of himself waver, as though he were slipping closer to a shadow that unsettled him. But he had no choice. Husk deserved freedom, and Charlie might be the only one who could make it happen.

Adam approached the princess with a cordial expression, his smile seemingly spontaneous but laced with calculated intent. When he spoke, his tone was soft, almost velvety, with a subtle hint of Alastor's unsettling charm.
«Princess…» he began, tilting his head slightly in a respectful gesture. «…I'm deeply honored by the trust you've placed in me and the forgiveness you've granted. It's not everyone who would offer a second chance, especially in a place like this.» He paused, letting his words hang for a moment, carefully gauging their effect.

Charlie offered him a smile, radiant with her trademark hopefulness. «That's the whole reason I built the Hotel. I firmly believe everyone deserves a second chance.»

Adam nodded, his smile appearing genuine. «There was a time I thought differently, of course, but now I couldn't agree more.» His tone dropped to something softer, almost confiding. «And speaking of second chances, I was hoping we could discuss the chain linking me to Husk.» A hint of camaraderie glimmered in his gaze, as though he were about to share an important secret. «Alastor put it in place as a sort of 'house arrest' for me—I understand that. But… I find it deeply unfair that someone else has to pay for my mistakes. Husk is already carrying so much: serving Alastor, being tied to the bar for endless hours, often without a moment's rest. I know because I'm there too.»

Adam cast a sincere, melancholy look at the cat demon, who watched him with a mix of irritation and weariness. He then turned back to Charlie, his gaze pleading.
«I have no desire to run away, Princess. I have no reason to. Down here, everyone wants me dead, and I can't even dream of returning to Heaven. Frankly, I'd rather stay here and be useful… but I could do so much more without this chain holding me back. And Husk, above all, deserves to be free. He's already bound to Alastor—that's more than enough weight for anyone. He shouldn't have to bear mine as well.»

He stepped back, the smile still present but with a hint of vulnerability in his eyes—a reflection of the guilt eating away at him.
«I don't mean to seem ungrateful, Charlie, but I believe Husk has already suffered enough. And if you decide to free me, I'll do everything in my power to repay you.»

Charlie crossed her arms, her expression turning pensive. She was clearly conflicted, the inner struggle visible in her eyes. Adam's words rang true, impossible to ignore. Husk was already dealing with more than anyone should have to, and the chain only added further weight to his already burdensome existence. Freeing him from that tether seemed like the only reasonable thing to do.

But then there was Adam—a man whose past was steeped in blood, responsible for countless exterminations and the death of Sir Pentious. And despite everything, he hadn't even had the decency to tell her that her mother, Lilith, was in Heaven—a detail that could have changed so much.

Yet, there was also the good. When she had lost control and transformed into that destructive Nephilim form, Adam had been among those who helped stop her. He wasn't without his merits. Redemption, after all, was made of actions like those. And finally, there was Alastor. She had to tread carefully, maintaining a delicate balance with the Radio Demon without appearing to challenge him directly.

Her mind spun in circles, but her heart remained steadfast in the direction it had always chosen: hope. She took a deep breath and looked Adam straight in the eyes.
«I'll… talk to Alastor.» she said finally, her voice steadier than she expected. «We'll discuss the matter and see what can be done.»

Adam nodded, the relief he felt hidden behind a mask of composure. It was a small step, but it was a step in the right direction. And for now, that was enough.

Behind him, Husk carried the box without much effort, his feline ears twitching slightly, picking up every word with his sharp hearing. He didn't stop but rolled his eyes, his disapproval evident on his face. He knew exactly what Adam was doing: he just wanted to rid himself of the chain and leave the Hazbin Hotel as soon as possible. It wasn't an act of altruism—it was an attempt to lighten his own guilt. Husk could see it clearly.

Part of him couldn't help but feel relieved at the thought of finally being free of that cumbersome bond. But another, more cynical part of him couldn't help but worry. Adam, free to roam wherever he wanted and with the new persuasive skills he'd gained from his pact with Alastor, was a risk. He could manipulate anyone and cause even more chaos. Without someone to keep an eye on him—without Husk to keep him in check—who would stop the First Man?

Husk's ears flattened for a moment, reflecting the turmoil of his thoughts. His soul belonged to Alastor, and that silenced him in ways that made his blood boil with rage. But if he weren't bound, if he had the freedom to speak, he would have already told Charlie everything—about Adam's betrayal, the pact with Alastor, that cursed day when Adam had revealed the secrets of Headshot's artifact.

Husk sighed, shaking his head. «At least I don't have to pretend I'm a good person.» he muttered to himself, his cynicism laced with a faint trace of bitterness. Then, with resolute steps, he continued toward the archive, gritting his teeth against the tangle of thoughts and worries he couldn't express.

–

Charlie walked a few steps behind Adam and Husk, her hands clasped behind her back and her gaze lost in thought. But her mind was far from calm. "This isn't going well at all." she reflected bitterly. From the reception to the archive, the two hadn't exchanged more than a distracted glance, while the chain binding them jingled in an increasingly heavy silence. Adam's altruistic request had seemed sincere, but it was clear that something between him and Husk had broken. And that silent fracture weighed heavily on her heart.

She had even chosen to take the longer route to the archive, hoping to find an excuse to coax them into mending their relationship. But no matter how hard she tried, she couldn't think of a solution that hadn't already been tried—and failed. The last time she'd attempted to strengthen the bonds between her friends, things hadn't gone quite as she'd hoped.

The trust exercise she had proposed had been a total disaster, Angel's suggestion of a bondage club had resulted in nothing but embarrassment and palpable tension, and in the end, only the battle—where Vaggie had literally thrown them into the fray—had sparked a faint connection between the participants. But Charlie didn't want to send them into another life-or-death scenario, not a real one. It wasn't that they couldn't fight, but there was a difference between a forced situation and something that could genuinely help them reconnect. Unless…

A spark of inspiration crossed her mind. Maybe it didn't have to be a real battle, but a simulation. Something engaging, sure, but not dangerous. Her thoughts raced to find a solution that could combine competition and collaboration. A smile slowly spread across her lips.

Clasping her hands together in an almost theatrical gesture, Charlie turned to Adam with an expression of genuine enthusiasm.
«Tell me, Adam… do you miss fighting?» she asked, her tone trying to sound casual.

Adam glanced up at her, confused. «Uh?» The question caught him off guard.

Charlie tilted her head slightly to the side, maintaining her smile. «You know… the thrill of battle, the rush of adrenaline, the race to victory… that sort of thing.»

Adam considered her question for a moment, his face serious as he mulled it over. Finally, he nodded slightly. «Yeah, sometimes. Why do you ask?»

Charlie took a small step forward, gesturing with her hands as she spoke. «Because I've been thinking about proposing a paintball-style game to the guests.» she explained, her excitement growing. «Something to help people learn to trust their teammates and, for those who died in battle, to work through any lingering trauma. But before I roll it out to the whole Hotel, I'd need to test it with a smaller group… maybe with people who already know each other, so I can better predict their reactions.»

Adam raised an eyebrow, curiosity flickering in his eyes. «And I'm guessing this small group includes me and Husk.»

Charlie nodded vigorously, her enthusiasm almost contagious. «Exactly! You and Husk are perfect for this trial. It'd be a great opportunity to… uh, test the game and, at the same time, work on teamwork skills.»

Husk, who had been silent until then, let out a loud scoff. «Paintball, huh?» His tone was skeptical, but there was a hint of interest, even if he'd never admit it openly. «I'll do it only if it gets me out of this damn chain.»

Charlie shot him an amused look. «If I'll be able to persuade Alastor, absolutely! No promises, though!»

Husk rolled his eyes, but one corner of his mouth lifted in an almost imperceptible smile. «Fine, count me in. But if Adam blows me up, I want someone else to cover my bar shifts on alternating days.»

Charlie clapped her hands, beaming. «Perfect! Then get ready, because this is going to be an… explosive experience!» Her pun earned her a small laugh, while the two men exchanged a look of shared exasperation mixed with reluctant amusement.

It was only a small step, but Charlie was convinced it was the right one. Now, all that was left was to organize the game.

—Heaven

The Seraphim took a deep breath, trying to calm the tension tightening her chest. She stood before the grand entrance to the Hall of the Archangels, an intricately carved wooden door that seemed to separate the rest of Heaven from this sacred, unreachable place. Securing this audience had been surprisingly easy—perhaps because few angels dared to disturb those who bore the weight of divine decisions, the three closest to Elohim.
With a resolute gesture, she raised her hand to knock, but the door opened smoothly, almost as if it had sensed her presence. She found herself in a vast elliptical hall bathed in ethereal light. The dominant colors - blue, white and gold - lent the room an aura of majestic solemnity.

The area before her was empty except for a small, truncated cone in the center, slightly raised from the ground. Atop it floated a glowing sphere pulsing with pure energy, as if it contained fragments of Elohim's will itself.
Along the curved walls, set like jewels in a celestial diadem, were three thrones. Each was occupied by an Archangel, all facing the sphere but now turning their gazes toward the Seraphim who had just entered. Their presence was imposing, almost overwhelming.

The three Archangels wore robes that were more than mere garments—they were tangible manifestations of their roles and essence. Gabriel, the divine messenger, exuded serene composure. His robe was adorned with intricate symbols of letters, messages, and words, as if he carried the echoes of every divine communication ever transmitted. His posture was welcoming, but his sharp, analytical gaze weighed everything with merciless precision. Every gesture and expression reflected the weight of judgment intrinsic to him.

Uriel, in contrast, embodied the solemn silence of endings. The guardian of transitions and conclusions, his robe bore evocative imagery: deaths, cataclysms, and the inevitable cycle of destruction and rebirth. The air around him was heavy, as though burdened with the knowledge of all things that must end. Even in his silence, there was a finality, an inevitability that permeated the atmosphere.

Michael was different. His presence exuded a vibrant, almost contagious energy. Although his robes were adorned with blades, spears, and symbols of battle — a clear testament to his role as commander of Heaven's armies — he conveyed neither coldness nor condemnation. On the contrary, his gaze was warm, almost joyful, and a faint smile played on his lips. He seemed genuinely pleased to see Sera, as if her presence were a welcome change in this austere place.

The contrast among them was stark but complementary. Gabriel embodied communication and judgment, Uriel the end and transition, and Michael strength and protection. Standing before them, Sera felt the weight of Heaven itself, but Michael's open and welcoming demeanor gave her a moment of reprieve.

After offering a brief bow of respect, Sera began to speak: «Your Excellencies, thank you for granting me this audience.»
«The pleasure is ours, Sera.» Gabriel replied, his tone measured. «However, your request for this meeting has left us deeply unsettled and perplexed. Normally, you Seraphim handle your own concerns.»

Sera cleared her throat, striving to maintain her composure despite the palpable tension in the room. Uriel's piercing gaze seemed to bore through her, while Gabriel remained motionless, as if he were a living statue. Michael, however, observed her with curiosity, his blue eyes filled with a light that seemed intent on putting her at ease.

«I understand your surprise.» Sera replied firmly, though her heart pounded in her chest. «But I am here to bring to your attention something that could change the fate of not only Heaven, but also Earth and Hell.»

Her words hung in the air for a moment. Gabriel tilted his head slightly, his expression growing even more severe. «Heaven is no stranger to matters of great importance, yet it is rare for a Seraphim to appear with such audacity. What do you wish to bring to our attention?»

Sera took a few steps closer to the glowing sphere at the center of the room. The light it emanated seemed to draw her in and push her away simultaneously, as if it were alive and aware of her presence. «As you know, some time ago, Charlie Morningstar, princess of Hell and the daughter of Lucifer, proposed an alternative to the extermination method—a solution that was supported by Adam, by Uriel… and by me.» Her voice faltered slightly, reflecting the weight of the confession. But she regained her composure, her tone growing firmer. «Charlie has singlehandedly created an unimaginable project for a place like Hell: a hotel, an opportunity for sinners to achieve redemption. She brought as proof one of her longest-standing guests, demonstrating his change and improvement. Yet, despite her efforts, her proposal was rejected.»

Sera paused, meeting each Archangel's gaze, as if to emphasize the gravity of what she was about to say. «And yet, something has happened. After the last extermination, one of the Hazbin Hotel's guests, Sir Pentious, managed to ascend to Heaven. This redemption, as rare as it may be, was no accident. It was the direct result of Charlie's work and determination. That moment opened my eyes. I realized I was wrong—that extermination is not only cruel but also ineffective in creating true change. Now, Heaven is divided. There are those who wish to continue with the current system, seeing extermination as a necessary evil, and there are those who see the potential in what Charlie is doing. I stand with the latter. I believe the redemption project has real value—not only for Hell but for us here in Heaven as well.»

Sera took a deep breath, her eyes briefly falling on the glowing sphere at the center of the room. «As the rules dictate, a debate has been opened and continues even now. Unfortunately, I have not been able to sway the majority to our side. Meanwhile, Charlie has achieved something equally extraordinary since founding her Hotel: she found and used the Heaven Phone—the only means capable of bypassing the imposed blockade. Through that call, we learned that Adam, the First Man, is alive… and has become a sinner. And just as Sir Pentious redeemed himself, Adam has fallen. This proves two things: redemption is possible, even for those in Hell, and beatitude is not guaranteed, even for those in Heaven.»

Her voice softened but grew even more intense. «I am here today to ask for your help in giving Charlie's project a chance. I ask that you provide her with the documents on Nephilim training so she can learn to control her potential and use it for good. And I ask that you allow Adam to ascend to Heaven. His presence here, as a sinner, could be the key to convincing Heaven's inhabitants that this path is not only right but also not a threat to our balance—an opportunity to show that Heaven remains a place of hope.»

Sera paused, her gaze burning with determination that seemed to illuminate the room. «We cannot continue to ignore this possibility. We cannot turn our backs on a change that could redefine our purpose, our very existence. I ask you to have faith—not just in Charlie but in what Heaven stands for: redemption, love, and forgiveness.»

Her words were deliberate, her eyes moving from Uriel to Gabriel and finally to Michael, as if to convey to each of them the value of the virtues she had underscored in her plea.

For a moment, the hall was immersed in heavy silence, the tension palpable, like a taut rope ready to snap.

Uriel was the first to break the stillness, his voice ringing out in the chamber like a solemn toll, weighted with authority. «The redemption of Sir Pentious is nothing more than an isolated incident, a rare coincidence—not proof of a functioning system. Extermination has been, and remains, an effective method for maintaining balance. Any deviation from it risks undermining our authority and destabilizing not just Hell, but Heaven as well.»

Michael clenched his jaw, his piercing blue eyes seeming to burn with restrained anger. He rose from his throne with a smooth motion, his figure radiating contained energy, like a storm on the verge of breaking. «Extermination has never been anything but an admission of failure. It is proof that Heaven has failed to guide humanity or redeem it. We haven't created balance; we've imposed silence with blood.»

Uriel remained unmoved, his gaze fixed on Michael, sharp as a blade. «Your inclination toward emotion makes you weak, Michael. Decisions concerning cosmic stability cannot be driven by feelings. Extermination is cruel, yes, but it is necessary.»

Michael's hands curled into fists, his wings trembling slightly, though his voice stayed steady, a thunderous force. «Necessary? Your solution to cosmic stability is death?! You are the Guardian of the End, Uriel, but not everything must end. Sometimes, what's needed is a new beginning.»

Uriel didn't yield, his sharp tone dropping an octave without losing its intensity. «A new beginning that risks bringing chaos. Charlie's project is a utopia that cannot sustain itself, Michael. Every isolated redemption is nothing more than an illusion.»

Gabriel raised a hand, the gesture calm but resolute. «Enough!» His voice cut through the rising tension, authoritative but devoid of anger. «Sera has brought forth an issue that deserves consideration, not your recriminations. We must stay focused.»

The silence that followed was thick as Michael returned to his seat. His eyes still burned with determination, but for now, he allowed the others to regain control of the conversation.

Sera stepped forward, her heart pounding but her voice steady. «I am not asking you to abandon all precautions, Your Excellencies. I am simply asking for a chance. Charlie Morningstar and her project represent a different path—one that doesn't require extermination and destruction. But for it to succeed, she needs help. She needs those documents. And we need Adam here, in person, to speak to Heaven directly.»

Uriel pressed his lips into a thin line before speaking, his tone icy. «And what if she fails? What if her Nephilim nature causes her to lose control, as it has before? If bringing Adam here as a sinner creates more confusion? We would have another catastrophe on our hands.»

Michael shot a fierce glare at Uriel. «And what if she doesn't fail? What if this is the first step toward something better? If Adam is the proof the undecided need? Perhaps you're afraid of what you cannot control, Uriel, but Heaven was not built on fear.»

Gabriel sighed, his gaze shifting between his brothers before settling on Sera. «You mentioned Sir Pentious and Adam. Tell me, Sera, how do you think Heaven would react if we openly supported a project born in Hell?»

The Seraphim met Gabriel's gaze with unwavering determination. «I'm not asking Heaven to openly declare its support. I'm asking it to provide the tools to give this a chance. If we fail, you lose nothing. But if we succeed, we prove that Heaven is still a place of hope—not just judgment.»

The silence in the chamber grew oppressive as the Archangels exchanged glances.

Sera could feel the weight of their deliberations hanging in the air. Every beat of her heart echoed in the elliptical hall. The silence was dense, laden with meaning, as the three Archangels considered her words.

Gabriel was the first to speak, his analytical gaze scrutinizing her. His voice was composed but not without severity. «You've presented a bold proposal, Sera. What you're asking for isn't just a change in approach—it's a challenge to the established order. You offer hope, but hope alone is not enough. Heaven must act with certainty, not risk. A misstep would bring incalculable harm to all of creation.»

Uriel, rigid as a shadow, added, «Your proposal implies that Heaven must rely on a project born in Hell and led by the spawn of Lucifer. This isn't a calculated risk; it's a dangerous gamble. If Charlie Morningstar fails, the repercussions will echo beyond time.»

Michael leaned forward slightly from his throne, breaking the rigid stance his brothers had maintained. His voice was firm, imbued with passion. «She's already succeeded once—it could happen again. Let's not forget that our purpose is not only to judge but also to guide. Sera is right: we need hope. We need to show that Heaven is not just a place of rigor but also of redemption.»

Gabriel remained silent for a moment, his gaze shifting from Michael to Uriel before returning to Sera. «If we were to grant the documents on Nephilim training, how would you ensure that Charlie does not lose control again? How would you prevent another catastrophe like the one we've already seen?»

Sera stood tall, her voice firmer than ever. «I can't guarantee there won't be mistakes. No one can. But I can guarantee that I will do everything in my power to prepare Charlie, to support and guide her. She is not like other Nephilim. She chose to create a place of redemption, to try to repair what she thought was impossible. Doesn't she at least deserve a chance to prove she can succeed?»

Uriel scoffed, but Gabriel leaned forward slightly, clasping his hands together. «And Adam? What assurance do we have that his presence won't further destabilize what you're trying to build?»

Michael spoke before Sera could answer. «Adam is a crucial piece. Let's not forget he was the First Man—once our ally. If he supports Charlie's project, he could convince others to do the same. And as for his redemption, let's not forget that Elohim has always left room for forgiveness.»

Gabriel leaned back into his throne, his hands folding in his lap. «Sera, you've raised significant points. But keep in mind that if we agree, failure will not be yours alone—it will be ours as well. Are you prepared to bear that weight?»

Sera took a deep breath, her eyes sparkling with unshakable determination. «I am.»

The silence returned to the hall, but this time, it was different. It was heavy with reflection, not tension. The Archangels exchanged long, wordless glances. Finally, Gabriel spoke.

«We will make a decision and inform you. For now, continue your preparations. If we choose to support Charlie's project, it will require total commitment. There will be no room for hesitation.»

Sera nodded respectfully, holding back a sigh of relief. It was a small step, but it was a beginning. She bowed slightly before turning to leave the hall, fully aware that this was far from over.

—

With Sera now out of the hall and safe from prying ears, silence descended like a heavy shroud over the room. For a moment, it seemed as though calm might prevail, but the centuries-old tensions between the three Archangels, always simmering beneath the surface, were ready to erupt.

Uriel was the first to shatter the fragile peace, his tone as sharp as a freshly forged blade. «Same as usual, Michael. You get carried away with your "good intentions" like a naïve mortal. Sometimes I wonder how Elohim could have chosen you to be the third archangel.»

Michael merely tilted his head slightly, a mocking smile curling at his lips. «Simple, Uriel. Gabriel has a stick so far up his ass he might as well be a statue, and you have the sensitivity of a boulder. Elohim needed someone with a modicum of emotional intelligence to balance out your duo of heartless automatons.»

Michael's words hit their mark. Uriel gripped the arms of his throne tightly, leaving deep scratches on the golden surface. His voice came out as a venomous hiss: «Our 'duo of automatons' has maintained order since the dawn of time, long before you and your wretched brother came into existence.»

Michael wasn't fazed. If anything, his tone grew more disdainful. «All those millennia of putting up with you? It's no wonder Elohim now rests—anyone would prefer eternal slumber over dealing with you.»

Uriel's eyes blazed with primal fury, and silver flames began to flicker around his body, filling the air with an oppressive energy. His voice became a razor-sharp blade. «Would you like to join your beloved Nephilims, Michael? I could arrange it.» With slow but deliberate steps, he moved menacingly toward the youngest of them.

Michael, completely unperturbed, rose from his throne in a flash, blue flames enveloping his body, pulsing to the rhythm of his indignation. Every step he took caused the ground beneath him to shake. «Oh, come on, Uriel! Prove once again how predictable you are! Your solution is always the same - destroy what you don't understand! It doesn't matter if it's something powerful or beloved!»

Uriel scoffed, his icy roar echoing through the hall like an avalanche. «Still clinging to this? Those Nephilims were unstable and dangerous! We couldn't allow them to destroy the balance we worked so hard to maintain!»

Michael stepped closer, his eyes blazing with an intense light, the floor cracking beneath his feet. «They were a symbol of hope, Uriel! A bridge between the planes of existence! And you exterminated them because you couldn't handle the complexity of what they represented!» His voice thundered, shaking the very walls of the hall as though they might collapse under the force of his words.

Gabriel, who had remained motionless like a statue, finally moved. His voice roared like a celestial explosion, golden flames erupting around him in a shockwave. «SILENCE!»
His power flooded the room, forcing Michael and Uriel to step back. Their flames abruptly extinguished, and silence reigned once more.
As the echoes of his outburst faded, Gabriel stood tall in the center of the room, his fiery gaze piercing them both. «We have discussed this enough! What is done cannot be undone. The Nephilims are gone, Michael. You must accept that. Dwelling on the past will not bring them back.»
He turned to Uriel, his gaze as sharp as a newly honed blade. «And you, Uriel — stop provoking him. All you're doing is feeding a pain that will never heal. You've made your choice, and it's too late for regrets.»
Gabriel took a deep breath, his tone softening slightly but retaining its authority. «Now sit down. Let's discuss Sera's proposal. And this will be the last time I order you to leave the Nephilims out of it. They are a closed chapter. It's time to move on.»
Michael struggled to regain his composure, though the pain in his eyes was unmistakable. He returned to his throne with slow, heavy steps. Uriel, jaw set and fists clenched, dropped reluctantly into his seat.
Once they were all seated, the tension in the room eased slightly, but the echoes of their argument still lingered in the air. It was a ghost of the past that none of them could truly exorcise.

«We shall deliberate.» Gabriel announced with a fluid motion of his hand. His Deus Ex Machina emitted a bright golden glow, and a book materialized out of thin air, floating in midair before him. It opened on its own, the pages flipping as though searching for a decision already written.

Uriel mimicked the gesture, his bracelet shimmering with a silvery light. A second book appeared before him, opening with mechanical precision, casting a cold, metallic glow over his figure.

When it came to Michael's turn, however, nothing happened. No blue light, no book. The absence of his Deus Ex Machina was palpable, and it didn't go unnoticed by the other two.

Gabriel was the first to speak, suspicion tinging his voice. «Michael? Your Deus Ex Machina hasn't returned yet?»

Michael tilted his head slightly, the mischievous smile spreading across his lips starkly contrasting with the solemn air of the chamber. «No.» he replied with disarming calm. «It must still be with its new champion.»

Uriel glanced up from his book, his silver eyes glinting with irritation. Gabriel, however, appeared confused. «A… new champion?» he asked, trying to grasp the meaning behind Michael's words.

With a casual gesture, Michael conjured a goblet filled with lemonade in his hand and took a leisurely sip. «Yes. Don't look so surprised—it's not the first time this has happened.» He leaned back in his throne, his tone as relaxed as if he were recounting a story at a dinner party. «Didn't yours end up with Joshua, Gabriel? And Uriel's… with that guy raised by the Pharaoh? What was his name… oh yes, Moses?»

Gabriel closed his eyes for a moment, running a hand over his face as if summoning every last ounce of patience he had. When he spoke, his tone was calm, though a faint weariness underpinned his words. «Do you at least know who it's with?» he asked, striving to maintain an air of composure.

Michael swirled the goblet in his hand, a faintly amused smile playing on his lips as he watched the liquid inside with apparent interest. «Oh, of course. His name is Edward Mitchell. A sinner in Hell who goes by the name of Headshot.»

His words fell into the chamber like a bolt of lightning, freezing the air between the three Archangels. Gabriel and Uriel went rigid, their eyes locked on Michael with a mixture of disbelief and suspicion. The word "sinner" seemed to hang in the air, heavy and cutting, slicing through any semblance of truce.

Michael, however, continued as though his revelation wasn't deeply unsettling. «Can you believe it? "Mitchell"—as if it were destiny.»

Uriel was the first to react, his voice a cold hiss carrying the weight of divine judgment. «A sinner? You gave your Deus Ex Machina to a sinner?»

Michael raised his arms in a carefree gesture, as if absolving himself of any blame. «Ah, but I didn't give it to him. I gave it to Adam for... protection. The bracelet decided to stay down there. You know how it works—it has a mind of its own.»

Gabriel tilted his head slightly, his expression betraying a growing concern. His usually impeccable composure visibly faltered. «Michael, do you understand what this means?»

Michael simply smiled, his tone light, as though immune to the gravity of the situation. «Of course, I do. It's the next step—or at least… that's what I believe.» He paused for a moment, his gaze turning more serious as he set the goblet on the armrest of his throne. «Don't forget, brothers, the bracelets bestowed by our Father are integral parts of Him. And as such, they have their own will. Perhaps, in the end, even Elohim desires His son to come back home.»

Uriel gripped the armrests of his throne tightly, silver flames flickering through his eyes. «So that's that.» His voice was a mixture of contempt and disbelief. «You've orchestrated all of this for your absurd obsession with bringing Lucifer back. Do you really think that after thousands of years as King of Hell, he's remained the same? That he hasn't adapted to his dark throne?»

Michael shot to his feet, blue flames erupting around him like an explosion, illuminating the hall so intensely that Gabriel had to shield his eyes for a moment. «YOU DON'T KNOW HIM THE WAY I DO!» he thundered, his voice filled with both rage and pain.

The flames extinguished almost immediately, leaving Michael standing, his figure trembling with restrained emotion. When he spoke again, his tone was calmer, but no less intense. «He was a joyful dreamer, full of the creativity that YOU and the other elders have never been willing to listen to. He was a free and independent spirit who was deceived by a being who was infinitely more powerful and more malevolent. He thought he was doing good. He thought he was giving a gift. And because of one mistake, YOU wanted to destroy him!» He turned sharply, pointing an accusatory finger at Uriel. «You forced me to make him fall. Don't be surprised if I want to bring him back, now.»

Gabriel, who had remained silent until that moment, lowered his gaze, an emotion too complex to decipher crossing his face. «Michael…» he began, but the words eluded him.

Uriel cut in, his tone still cold but more restrained. «You can't change what's been done. And even if you could, what makes you think Lucifer wants to come back?»

Michael didn't answer immediately. He turned toward the glowing sphere at the center of the hall, his gaze fixed on it. When he spoke, his voice was a whisper, laden with a hope that was almost painful. «Because I know that deep down, he never stopped longing for it.»

Michael continued to stare at the sphere, his eyes distant, lost in thoughts that consumed him. His words, though softly spoken, seemed to fill the hall, echoing with a mixture of hope and sorrow. «Charlie is living proof that Lucifer hasn't completely renounced his origins. He has a daughter who was born in darkness, yet she fights for redemption. Isn't that a sign that, deep down, his desire to be a part of the light is still alive?»

Uriel sprang to his feet, pacing near his throne, his frustrated roar echoing like thunder. He grabbed at his hair, as though trying to wrench the anger out by force. «Why must I share the title of Archangel with someone so naïve?! Your blind faith in change is a luxury we cannot afford, Michael!»

Gabriel raised a hand, a gesture that radiated authority and composure. «Uriel, compose yourself!» he commanded, his calm voice carrying the undeniable weight of authority. «This discussion has already spiraled too far into chaos. We cannot allow our disagreements to become personal conflict.»

Uriel clenched his jaw, the silver flames in his eyes still burning, but he obeyed. He dropped heavily back into his throne, his fists clenching on his knees as he avoided Michael's gaze.

Gabriel turned to Michael, his expression stern but tinged with curiosity. «Michael, I understand that you see a glimmer of hope in Charlie, but hope does not mean certainty. If this girl were to fail, if her Nephilim nature were to overwhelm her in the worst possible way, we could be facing a catastrophe. Are you prepared to bear the weight of that responsibility?»

Michael turned slowly, meeting Gabriel's gaze. «I already carry the weight of choices forced upon me, of lives I couldn't save. If believing in Charlie means giving Lucifer and Heaven itself a chance for redemption, then yes, I'm ready. And I won't back down.»

Gabriel was silent for a long moment, his gaze shifting between Michael and Uriel. Finally, he let out a deep sigh, as though the weight of the entire world had fallen upon him. «So be it. But know this, Michael—this is a dangerous path. And if it goes wrong… there will be no redemption for you either.»

Gabriel's words hung in the air as Michael, with a firm and resolute expression, sat back down on his throne. «I accept the risk,» he replied. «Because without risk, nothing can change.»

Uriel scoffed, the sharp sound cutting through the hall. «So it's decided? We support them, let them proceed, and cross our fingers hoping for the best?!»

Gabriel regarded Uriel with a composure that masked a hint of exasperation. «With Michael's Deus Ex Machina in the hands of a sinner in Hell, our ability to intervene is already compromised. We don't have many other options.»

Uriel ground his teeth, his gaze dropping to the pages of his book, which continued to flip as if moved by an invisible wind. «Very well.» he said at last, his tone resigned. «Last I checked, Lilith had taken possession of the critical documents. I'll send someone to retrieve them.»

«Wait!» Gabriel interrupted, his gaze suddenly dropping to the pages of his own book. He studied one page in particular, his composed expression showing a flicker of surprise. «Emily has beaten us to it. She's already convinced Lilith to hand them over.»

Uriel stiffened, his face a mixture of horror, anger, and frustration. «Excuse me?» he snapped, his voice a sharp hiss.

Gabriel, seemingly unfazed by his brother's outburst, continued reading, his tone calm but thoughtful. «Right this moment, Emily is handing the documents over to Sera. And from what I can discern…» He paused for a moment, his gaze fixed on the page. «…Sera doesn't appear particularly thrilled about the situation.»

Michael leaned back in his throne, a faint, satisfied smile spreading across his face. «Emily got ahead of us, huh? I shouldn't be surprised. That Seraphim has always had a knack for moving quickly when matters of the heart are involved.»

Uriel clenched his fists, his wings trembling slightly with irritation. «Unacceptable. This exceeds her authority. How could she—»

«Oh, relax, Uriel.» Michael interjected, raising a hand in a calming gesture. «A little initiative never hurts, especially in times like these.»

Gabriel, who had continued leafing through his book, stopped on a specific page, his eyes scanning the angelic script carefully. «Perhaps this is exactly what we needed.» He looked up at his brothers. «Emily's initiative isn't just admirable—it's necessary. If Heaven itself begins to act, we must do the same. Remaining idle risks not only losing the respect of the angels but also the very essence of our purpose.»

Uriel scoffed, crossing his arms over his chest. «Heaven is not a democracy, Gabriel. Our priority is not earning trust but preserving order and balance.»

Gabriel fixed him with a piercing gaze, his tone calm yet firm. «And yet trust is the foundation of our authority. Do not forget that we are the representatives of Elohim's will. If we appear deaf to change or incapable of listening, we risk losing what makes us leaders to others.»

Michael leaned forward slightly, his hands clasped before him, his tone imbued with quiet determination. «Change doesn't come without pain, Uriel. But would you rather remain stagnant while the world evolves around us, or be part of that transformation?»

Uriel remained silent for a long moment, his gaze locked on Gabriel as the tension in the room thickened. Finally, with a slow and reluctant gesture, he nodded. «Very well. But know this: if this decision leads to disaster, I will not hesitate to hold you both accountable.»

«And we will accept that.» Gabriel replied, his voice weighted with gravity, leaving no room for doubt. «But for now, Heaven must act as one. We will ensure that these documents are delivered directly to Charlie. By someone trustworthy, of course. We must be certain they don't fall into the wrong hands.»

Michael relaxed into his throne, a more pronounced smile lighting up his face. He raised the goblet still in his hand in a symbolic toast. «Finally, a sensible decision. To a Heaven that evolves.»

Gabriel regarded him sternly but couldn't entirely suppress a faint smile. Uriel, on the other hand, remained still, arms crossed, his hardened gaze betraying deep reluctance. Yet consensus had been reached, and with it, Heaven had taken its first, tentative step toward change.

The three Archangels continued their deliberations, touching on the matter of Adam as well. It was going to be a long afternoon.

—

Sera stared at the tomes and documents laid out before her, disbelief and indignation mingling in her eyes.
The writings in ancient angelic script shimmered faintly under the light, while the ornate bindings seemed to pulse with significance. Among the tomes stood a modest, smaller book, impeccably preserved. The emblem embossed on its cover—a sacred angelic mark Sera recognized instantly—sent a shiver down her spine. It was the ancient seal of the Nephilim, a symbol she thought she'd never see again, relegated to forgotten legends.

The book detailing the training of the Nephilim, the key she had desperately been searching for, had been in Lilith's possession all this time.

«I… I've been searching everywhere for these documents for days!» Sera burst out, gripping one of the tomes as though she could pierce it with her glare. Her voice vibrated with anger, but there was a shadow of pain in it too. «And Lilith had them this whole time?!»

Emily, ever calm, raised a hand in a gesture of peace. «I know, I know. It was wrong, and kind of unforgivable, but… she did it to protect Charlie. Let's not forget that.»

Sera shook her head, her eyes flashing with frustration. «Protect Charlie? By hiding crucial information from her? Everything is here, Emily.» She ran her fingers along the pages of the documents as if caressing a long-lost treasure. «The myths of Elohim, the origin of Heaven's creation… even the mechanism of death after death!»

She stopped, her breath quickened, then lifted her gaze to Emily, her anger and frustration momentarily revealing her true form. «Why hide all of this?»

Emily hesitated, searching for the right words. «Lilith… Lilith is a mother. And like any mother, she made decisions she thought were in her daughter's best interest. Even if they were wrong. Even if they caused more harm than good.»

Sera let out a heavy sigh, setting the tome down gently on the table as she returned to her usual appearance. «Meanwhile, we've been breaking our backs trying to convince the blessed souls that we're on the right side, fumbling in the dark for answers. Charlie had no idea about her destiny and came so close to losing herself. All while Lilith kept the answers hidden under her roof.»

Emily placed a hand on Sera's arm, her eyes filled with solidarity. «We have the answers now. Now we can act. We can't change what's been done, but we can change what happens next.»

Sera nodded slowly, her fury subsiding, replaced by a steadier resolve. «Fine. Now's not the time to ask her why she hid them. What matters is that we have them now. And that Charlie learns everything.»

With one last look at the documents, Sera braced herself for what lay ahead. But her body tensed when a shadow moved at the edge of her vision. Before she could react, a long, slender hand darted across the table, snatching one of the tomes with startling speed.

«Hey!» Sera exclaimed, spinning around.

Sir Pentious, in his usual theatrical manner and with a look of determined defiance, was already flipping through the pages of the book. His reptilian eyes darted over the angelic script, scanning it frantically.

«What do you think you're doing?» Sera barked, striding toward him with a menacing air.

Pentious glanced up, his expression teetering between arrogant and earnest. «I'm looking for answers!» he declared. «Perhaps here I'll find why I was… privileged»—he raised a hand dramatically—«or cursed! I must know why I, Sir Pentious, was chosen for redemption!»

Sera stiffened, her eyes flashing with restrained severity. «Pentious, these documents are incredibly delicate! You can't treat them like flyers!»

Pentious responded with a pompous smile. «Ah, my dear, you speak of delicacy, yet these documents have been gathering dust for centuries. Is it not ironic that they must now be protected by me, the misunderstood genius?»

Emily stepped in with her usual calm, taking a step closer. «Pentious, we understand your need for answers. It's natural. But we can work together. If you tell us what you're looking for, we can help you.»

Pentious let the pages fall dramatically, placing a hand over his heart like a seasoned performer. «What am I looking for? Oh, my dear Emily, I seek to understand why I was chosen for redemption! Why me? And why was Adam condemned?»

His theatrical voice dropped suddenly, becoming a whisper laced with vulnerability. «And most of all... why can't I forget Cherri Bomb? Every night I still hear her laugh in my ears, smell the gunpowder that clings to her. It's like she's right here, next to me. And yet, Heaven seems determined to keep us apart forever. She's still down there, fighting her battles, and I'm here. Redeemed, perhaps, but without her.»

Silence filled the room. Emily and Sera were taken aback by the unexpected confession. For a moment, the usual flamboyance of Sir Pentious faded, revealing a deeply tormented soul.

Sera stepped closer, her tone softer. «Maybe these documents can help you understand why. But, Pentious, if Cherri means so much to you… shouldn't you fight for her redemption, just as you're trying to understand your own?»

Pentious looked up, his theatricality slowly returning. He straightened, puffing out his chest. «Fight? Oh, my dear, I have never stopped fighting! Every day, every second, I think about how I might see her again, how I might show her that she can be something more… that she can be free. I've never been more determined!»

He took a deep breath, as if to dispel the weight of the emotions he'd just shared, and then returned to his usual exaggerated tone. «But alas, my genius alone is not enough. If these tomes hold any clues, any secrets that might illuminate my path, I will not hesitate to use them! For there is no redemption for me without Cherri Bomb by my side!»

Emily smiled gently. «You know, Pentious, maybe your redemption isn't complete without her because your stories are intertwined. Maybe by helping her, you'll find the answers you're looking for within yourself.»

Pentious paused, considering Emily's words. «Helping her…» he repeated, as though the idea struck him for the first time. Then, with a burst of theatrical energy, he straightened up. «Of course! How could I not think of it before? I, Sir Pentious, the greatest genius Hell—or Heaven—has ever known, shall use my brilliant mind to save my beloved Cherri Bomb!»

Sera rolled her eyes, crossing her arms. «Well, at least you've found some motivation… even if you have to turn everything into a performance.»

Emily, however, gave him an encouraging smile. «What matters is that you don't lose sight of your goal. If Cherri truly means so much to you, prove it through your actions, not just your words.»

Pentious nodded, a spark of determination lighting up his golden eyes. «Oh, my dear Emily, fear not. My actions will be epic, legendary, worthy of being recounted for millennia!»

Sera sighed, but couldn't suppress a slight smile. «Fine. Then let's get to work. But if you ruin even a single page of these documents, so help me…»

Pentious placed a hand over his heart with a solemn expression. «I swear it on my tail!» he proclaimed.

Emily chuckled softly, shaking her head.

As the three delved into the documents, the atmosphere in the room grew more focused, but also more collaborative. Perhaps, just perhaps, they were starting to function as a team. And for Sir Pentious, it was already a step closer to reuniting with the one he longed for.

—Hell, inside the Hazbin Hotel

Charlie stood back, hands on her hips and chest slightly puffed out, admiring the results of her work with a proud smile. The Hotel lobby had been transformed into what she considered the perfect paintball arena: colorful, welcoming, and cheerful. Sofas and furniture had been cleared away to make space for inflatable figures shaped like adorable plush toys, serving as obstacles and cover. A pink carpet covered the floor, while banners and decorations in every shade of the rainbow gave the room a vibrant, festive atmosphere. Scattered among the decor were nods to various holidays—Halloween, Sinsmas, and even a whimsical nod to Chinese New Year.

Presenting her masterpiece to Vaggie and Alastor, Charlie spread her arms theatrically, a spark of excitement lighting up her eyes. «Ta-da! The Hazbin Hotel's very first paintball arena! Isn't it amazing?» she announced proudly.

Vaggie surveyed the scene, her one good eye scanning the garish colors and smiling inflatables. The smile she attempted to maintain on her face was clearly strained.

«Sweetheart…» she began, her tone calm but practical, the one she reserved for the most delicate situations. «I love your enthusiasm and your unique way of seeing things, but…» She gestured at the collection of decorations. «…I'm not sure this is the most suitable environment for a battlefield, even in game form.»

Alastor, on his part, observed in silence, his perpetual grin intact. The crimson light in his eyes hinted at amusement mixed with a touch of mischief. Resting his cane on the floor, he offered a comment.

«Oh, my dear princess, I must admit you've created a truly unique atmosphere, worthy of a theatrical production. But if I may… it seems to lack a certain balance. A battle, even a mock one, might benefit from a bit more tension.»

Charlie raised an eyebrow, her smile fading slightly. «Tension? I don't want this to be a place where people feel stressed or overly competitive. The goal is to have fun and learn to work together, not to fight each other.»

Vaggie stepped closer, gently taking Charlie's hand. «I know, love, and that's one of the things I adore about you. But competition isn't always a bad thing. It can teach people to overcome challenges together, foster teamwork, and unite minds to overcome obstacles. If you want your guests to truly grow, maybe you should consider adding a little… intensity. Just enough to get the adrenaline going.»

Charlie was silent for a moment, her gaze drifting around the room as she reflected on their feedback. Determination began to replace the faint flicker of uncertainty on her face, her expression growing resolute. «Maybe you're right. I want this to work for everyone.» She turned to Alastor, a small, playful smile tugging at her lips. «Alastor, what would you suggest to make this… a masterpiece?»

Alastor bowed slightly, his cane brushing the floor in a theatrical flourish. «Oh, my dear princess, I'm delighted you asked. I just happen to have a few ideas to add that touch of drama your vision lacks.» He paused strategically, his grin widening as he began listing his suggestions. «Imagine: bubbling vats of acid to keep everyone on their toes, suspended, rickety bridges to test courage, flames shooting unpredictably from the ground… and, of course, a few strategically placed explosive traps. You know, to keep the pace lively.» Alastor's signature unsettling laugh echoed through the room like an off-key melody.

Charlie swallowed, inhaling sharply through her teeth as she searched for the right words. «Isn't that… excessively dangerous?» she asked, attempting to maintain a diplomatic tone.

Vaggie, however, wasn't about to hold back. «Are you out of your mind?! This is supposed to be a game, not a deathtrap!»

Alastor raised an eyebrow, as if finding her reaction slightly exaggerated. «Weren't we just talking about adrenaline, my dear?» he replied with unnerving calm. «Of course, there might be casualties...but wouldn't that make things more interesting?» The word interesting rolled off his tongue with a sinister weight, and for a moment, his crimson eyes glowed with an eerie light.

Charlie closed her eyes briefly, taking a deep breath. She knew she had to do something she absolutely dreaded: contradict him. «Alastor… I c-... I c-...» The words stuck in her throat, refusing to come out. «I c-... I can't—»

She felt Vaggie's hand gently rest on her shoulder, a simple yet supportive gesture. Turning to her, Charlie met Vaggie's kind, encouraging gaze. The message was clear: I believe in you.

With one last deep breath, the princess turned back to Alastor, finally ready to speak. «I can't let you do that.» Her voice was firm, even as the knot of insecurity lingered within her. «I'm okay with adding some adrenaline, but your ideas are far too dangerous. This game is supposed to foster connections, not put people's lives at risk!»

Alastor regarded her for a long moment, his ever-present grin devoid of genuine warmth. Finally, he let out a soft sigh, nodding slightly. «As you wish, princess. For now.»

Charlie exhaled a sigh of relief but didn't waste time basking in the small victory. Determination shone in her eyes as she turned to her companions. «So…» she declared with renewed energy. «…I'll tweak Alastor's ideas to make them safer and, most importantly, more fun. Let's get to work!»

Vaggie nodded, a small smile on her face. Although she sometimes doubted the grandeur of Charlie's ideas, she couldn't help but support her. Her quiet encouragement was a constant, a pillar Charlie could always rely on. Alastor, on the other hand, remained silent, his immutable grin tilting slightly with a subtle note of amusement. «As you wish, my dear.» he said at last, offering a slight bow. Though disappointed by the more "innocent" direction the project was taking, he appeared content to see her creativity in motion.

Charlie had no intention of giving up. This wasn't just a game—it was an opportunity. An opportunity to rebuild the broken bond between Adam and Husk, and perhaps to prove once again that Hell could be a place of redemption, not just suffering. Not even the Radio Demon's most theatrical objections would stand in the way of her vision.

—A few hours later

The playing field was unrecognizable, transformed into a space that merged the best of Charlie's ideas with a touch of Alastor's suggested drama—appropriately toned down, of course. The atmosphere was darker, but it struck a balance between fun and safety. The cuddly animal-shaped obstacles had been replaced with more realistic structures, still colorful and approachable but now with a touch of practicality.

The acid vats were now filled with fizzy soda, harmless and perfect for generating laughs rather than panic. The rickety bridges were reinforced with sturdy safety nets underneath, allowing participants to test their mettle without risking injury. The flames, which in Alastor's original design could have incinerated anyone, were now soft fabric tongues animated by hidden fans. The sharp, menacing spikes were replaced with rubber props that maintained an "intimidating" aesthetic without posing any real danger.

Charlie surveyed the final result with a satisfied smile. «Now this is a playing field worthy of the Hazbin Hotel!» she declared, hands on her hips as she turned toward Vaggie and Alastor.

«I'll admit, it's improved.» Vaggie conceded, crossing her arms but allowing a faint smile to show. «Especially now that it doesn't look like something straight out of one of Alastor's nightmares.»

The Radio Demon tilted his head, his sharp grin unwavering. «Ah, my dear, you hurt me.» He paused, his crimson eyes scanning the field analytically. «But I must admit, it has its charm. A blend of sugar and thorns—a passable compromise, I suppose.»

Charlie chuckled, ignoring the jabs and savoring the moment. «Now let's see if it really works! All that's left is to call in the players.»

—

Charlie gathered Headshot and his security guards in the Hazbin Hotel lobby, joined by Adam, Husk, Angel, Cherri, and Niffty. Excitement buzzed in the air as everyone took in the newly revamped playing field, a curious mix of adrenaline and creativity. But as the princess scanned the group, a small problem began to creep into her mind: they had an odd number of participants.

«So…» she murmured, tapping her chin as she studied the group before her. «We've got Headshot and his team, which makes six. They're already a team, so I won't split them up, which leaves…» She quickly counted the remaining players: Angel, Cherri, Niffty, Husk, and Adam. Five players against six.

«Oh, heck, we're one person short!» she exclaimed, furrowing her brows. «Who can I add?»

Silence fell over the room, broken only by the faint rustling of Headshot's wings retracting into his back and the rhythmic tapping of Angel's nails. The atmosphere felt heavy with anticipation, as if everyone was waiting for their princess to make her next move.

«Hey, why don't you join us, Charlie?» Angel suggested with a mischievous smile, tilting his head slightly. «You did pretty well during the last extermination. You could show us again why you're the one running this place!»

Charlie blushed slightly, the red tinting her cheeks betraying her embarrassment. She cast a nervous glance toward Vaggie, who was watching her with a mixture of concern and encouragement. «I'm not sure if it would be fair… I mean, I need to supervise, make sure everything goes as planned...»

«Oh, to hell with supervising!» Husk interrupted, lighting a cigarette with a casual half-smile. The smoke spiraled upward, adding an air of relaxed nonchalance to his tone. «Jump into the fray, Princess. You might surprise yourself.»

Cherri giggled, giving Angel a playful pat on the back. «And besides, it'd be fun to watch you running around, dodging paintballs.»

Alastor, who had been silent until now, chimed in with his usual honeyed, vaguely unsettling tone. «That would be absolutely delightful—if only our dear princess weren't still recovering from her… little nervous breakdown.» He placed his hands theatrically on Charlie's shoulders.

The room's temperature seemed to drop. The playful tone evaporated, as though Alastor's words had cast a shadow over the moment. Gazes dropped, and the excitement dimmed. No one had considered that Charlie might still be struggling, and the realization weighed heavily on them all.

Even Charlie lowered her gaze, the smile that had formed on her lips vanishing as she began to imagine a game now out of her reach.

Vaggie was the first to break the silence. She stepped closer to her girlfriend, her voice soft but firm. «Don't worry, sweetheart. I'll step in for you. You just focus on keeping everything running smoothly, okay?»

Her words were accompanied by a reassuring smile, and as she spoke, she gave Charlie a gentle kiss on the cheek. The small gesture seemed to lighten the mood, if only a little.

Charlie returned her smile, shy but grateful, and nodded slightly in acceptance. Even if she wasn't playing, she knew her role was still important.

«Alright, everyone, make way for the expert!» Vaggie announced as she joined the group.

The announcement was met with enthusiasm. Angel clapped theatrically, Cherri whistled in approval, and even Husk gave a small nod of acknowledgment.

Headshot approached Vaggie, loading his paintball gun with a mock-serious tone. «Careful, Vaggie. I won't hold back just because you're the princess's girlfriend, got it?»

Vaggie chuckled, her competitive spirit already kicking in. «I wouldn't want it any other way.»

Angel, watching the exchange, chimed in with a sly grin. «Don't get too cocky, Shotty.» Pretending to inspect his nails, he added nonchalantly «You should already know she's full of surprises. And honestly, you should be more worried about me!» He displayed all six of his arms, each holding a paintball gun, ready to fire.

Headshot didn't flinch. «I've taken down bigger folks with more arms than you. Covering you in paint won't be a problem.» With an ironic smile, he inspected the colorful paintballs in his gun. «What color do you think pairs best with pink? Orange? Blue?»

«Green, obviously. It's complementary,» Angel quipped with a touch of malice, adjusting his guns.

The remark didn't go unnoticed by Headshot. A faint blue glow coursed through his veins beneath his skin, briefly revealing his tension, but he kept his composure. «Green, Angel? What a curious coincidence, considering I am green.»

«Yeah. What a coincidence…» Angel replied with mock casualness, though his smile was anything but innocent.

Charlie, watching the exchange brimming with unspoken tension, bit her lip to stifle a smile. Quickly, she typed a message on her phone: "Kitty, get to the lobby! I've got fresh material for your ship!" She ended it with a smirking emoji, a spider, a shield, and a heart.

The game hadn't even started yet, but the challenge, it seemed, was already underway.

—

The teams were set: on one side, Headshot and his security team, armed with green paintball guns; on the other, Vaggie and the rest of the staff, wielding red paint. The atmosphere crackled with excitement, a mix of friendly tension and the adrenaline of the imminent challenge.

On their side of the field, Headshot's team prepared with military precision. Gathered in a tight circle, they listened intently to their captain. Well, all except Sprock, who bounced around like an overexcited spring.

Headshot cleared his throat, his tone firm but motivating. «Alright, team. I know this is just a game, but that doesn't mean I want to see anyone slacking off. Treat this like a drill. Let's do it right.»

The group nodded, and Headshot continued, his voice low to keep their strategy private. «Yaga, find a high vantage point. From there, you'll guide us and provide clear intel on their movements.»

The witch nodded with a confident smirk, already picturing herself perched atop an obstacle.

«Linda, Tiger.» he went on, turning to the two stronger members of the group «You're on offense. Grab that flag and bring it back here. I'll cover your backs.»

Linda grinned mischievously, while Tiger responded with a firm nod.

Then Headshot turned to Sprock, who was drawing circles on the floor with his foot. «And you, Sprock… focus!» he snapped, snapping his fingers for emphasis.

The small demon straightened immediately, throwing a clumsy salute. «Yes, boss!»

Headshot allowed a faint smile before continuing. «Do what you do best: create chaos in their ranks. Distract them, confuse them, make sure they don't know where to look.»

Sprock nodded enthusiastically, already imagining the mayhem he would unleash.

Finally, Headshot looked at Muto, who stood silently, as still as a statue. «Muto, your job is to protect Yaga. She'll be too focused on guiding us to defend herself.»

The samurai gave a slight bow of acknowledgment, his silence as eloquent as ever.

Headshot scanned his team, satisfaction evident in his expression. «Alright. The moment those horns sound... we unleash hell.»

A murmur of approval rippled through the group as they moved to their positions. For them, this wasn't just a game—it was a mission.

On the other side of the field, Vaggie took a similarly pragmatic approach. «Alright, team!» she called out, her determined and authoritative gaze sweeping over her teammates. «First thing's first: I want a clean game. No cheap shots, no dirty tricks. Aim for arms, legs, and torsos. Sure, we've got visors, but paintballs still hurt, so no aiming for the face, got it?»

A series of nods and murmurs of agreement followed her words, though Angel raised one of his six hands theatrically. «Do we get a prize if we win?» he asked with a playful smirk.

Vaggie shot him a sharp look, brushing off the remark as she raised her voice to continue. «And most importantly... no one gets reckless. I don't want this turning into another excuse to unleash chaos, okay? Let's do this right!»

Adam cleared his throat, the chain binding him to Husk jingling with the movement. «Not to spoil the motivational speech, Captain, but… has Charlie given any thought to my little proposal?» He gestured pointedly to the chain between them.

Vaggie pressed her lips together, clearly irritated, but kept her composure. «Yes, yes, she hasn't forgotten.» she replied curtly. «She's working on it.»

Husk rolled his eyes, muttering under his breath, «Yeah, working on it, sure...»

Vaggie ignored him, only sparing a sharp glance in his direction before refocusing on the game. «Alright, everyone ready? Then... don't let me down!»

The team quickly took their positions, each armed with a paintball gun. The air was thick with adrenaline and friendly tension, and as both teams braced for the start of the game, it was clear that this paintball match was about to be more than just a game.

—

The voice of the Radio Demon rang out with theatrical enthusiasm, louder than usual, as he announced the start of the game: «Ready... set... GO!» A horn blared, and the teams sprang into action, rushing from their bases to their respective positions.

Yaga climbed nimbly up a tall obstacle resembling a ship's mast, securing a strategic vantage point to oversee the field. Muto followed her like a silent shadow, positioning himself near the base of the structure, ready to defend her against any intrusions.

Linda and Tiger, strong and aggressive, charged straight for the center of the map, tackling obstacles with relentless determination. Headshot, on the other hand, utilized his tactical prowess, moving swiftly from cover to cover and picking off anyone who ventured too close to his tanks. Sprock, with his boundless energy, wreaked havoc among the enemy lines. He leapt from obstacle to obstacle like an over-caffeinated spring, drawing attention and sowing confusion.

On the opposing side, Vaggie's team was much less coordinated. Their attacks were haphazard, and the group spent more time dodging paintballs than executing a cohesive strategy. Chaos reigned until Vaggie took charge with her natural authority and pragmatic leadership.

«Adam, Husk! Block them at the center!» she commanded, her voice firm and charged with determination. Adam and Husk, who had spent most of the match arguing over where to go, finally threw themselves into action, intercepting Linda and Tiger and keeping them from advancing toward the base.

Angel Dust used his natural agility and dizzying jumps to maneuver laterally across the field, firing with deadly accuracy as he darted between obstacles. Covering him was Cherri, whose impeccable aim and paint grenades created a storm of red chaos around their opponents.

Niffty, small but lightning-fast, zipped through the obstacles with precision. Her target was clear: the lookout. Moving almost invisibly, she darted toward Yaga, ready to exploit any opening to take her down.

The tension escalated with every passing minute. Headshot's team maintained a tactical advantage thanks to their discipline and organization, but Vaggie's team was gaining ground, fueled by the sudden cohesion that her leadership had sparked. Paintballs flew in every direction, painting the field in vibrant splashes of red and green, each movement like a choreographed dance of chaos and strategy.

Headshot studied the opposition carefully, searching for the smallest weakness. Every movement was calculated, his breathing steady as he calmly reloaded his paintball gun. A smile tugged at the corner of his lips. «Not bad, Vaggie...» he murmured to himself. But he didn't get to finish the thought.

A shadow loomed over him. Reacting with lightning speed, he dodged just in time to avoid a barrage of red paintballs that splattered where he had stood moments before. Six paintball guns aimed in his direction forced him to take cover. Peeking out from behind his barricade, he saw him.

Angel Dust.

The spider demon advanced with feline grace, his multiple arms wielding several paintball guns at once as if it were second nature. That smug, mischievous grin lit up his face.

«Hey, Shotty!» Angel called out, his voice sugary and taunting. «What's the matter? Given up already, or do you need a little reminder of who's the best around here?»

Headshot sighed, but the smile remained on his face. «You're good with guns, Dust. But don't forget—I'm a sniper. You spray, I hit.»

Angel laughed, a crystalline sound that seemed almost too light for Hell. «Always so serious, huh? But I know there's a fun side buried under all that rigid discipline... Let it out, you might even enjoy yourself.» He aimed one of his guns at him with a gesture that was more theatrical than threatening.

Headshot moved quickly to another obstacle, the veins on his hands briefly glowing blue. «You'll settle for a green shower, Dust.»

Angel advanced with his signature elegance, his grin widening as his paintballs splattered against the edge of Headshot's cover. «Oh, sweetheart, don't tease. You know I love it when you light up for me.» He paused, his gaze sparkling with intrigue. «One more little glow, and I might start thinking I'm having an effect on you.»

Headshot froze for a moment, his breath catching in his throat. He wanted to fire back with a sharp retort, but instead, he felt that familiar warmth rising in his chest. Before he could stop it, a faint blue glow rippled across his body, visible for just an instant.

Angel noticed. How could he not? He raised an eyebrow and bit his lower lip, a satisfied smirk playing on his face. «Ah, I knew it. I make you glow.»

Headshot cleared his throat, regaining his composure. «Focus on the game, Dust, or you'll end up under a shower of green paint for real.»

Angel laughed again, but this time his tone was softer, almost affectionate. «We'll see, Shotty. We'll see.»

The duel continued, but now every move seemed more intense, every remark laden with a new tension. It was no longer just a game—there was something subtle and unspoken between them, something that sparkled—literally—in the chaos of flying paintballs.

On the opposite side of the field, Adam and Husk were locked in a fierce struggle against Linda and Tiger. Despite the overwhelming strength of their opponents, the duo managed to hold them back, though it came at a significant cost of effort. Husk, visibly winded, leaned briefly against an obstacle to catch his breath.

«Couldn't we just spend the afternoon at the bar as usual?» Husk grumbled, shooting an irritated glance at Adam.

Adam, ignoring his teammate's grumpy tone, gave the chain connecting them a slight tug, signaling the direction they needed to go. «I thought you could use some exercise. Plus, it's quality time together—just like old times.»

Husk scoffed, dodging a paintball with surprising agility for someone his age. «Yeah, because a paintball match is exactly what I had in mind today. A quiet chat over a glass of wine wouldn't have been enough?»

Adam allowed himself a faint smile as he evaded another shot. «Tell you what—if we win, I'll buy you all the drinks you want, anything you want.»

Husk raised an eyebrow, sarcasm dripping from his tone. «And if we lose, I might just file for divorce.»

Despite the fatigue and Husk's biting sarcasm, a spark of camaraderie flickered between them—a testament to the bond that, despite everything, continued to tie them together even amid the chaos of battle.

With Adam and Husk keeping Linda and Tiger occupied, Angel was pressing Headshot with his six paintball guns, and Niffty had seemingly vanished into thin air. The only hope for Vaggie's team to capture the flag now rested with her and Cherri Bomb. Yet even they had their hands full. Sprock, with his boundless energy, relentlessly targeted them, darting between obstacles and weaving through their legs, giving them no chance to catch their breath.

«I'm everywhere and nowhere! You can't catch me!» Sprock yelled, laughing hysterically as he launched himself into impossible acrobatics.

Vaggie tried to hit him, but every shot missed. Cherri, exasperated, struggled to track him with her eyes, but the little demon's speed made him nearly untouchable.

«Someone stop that damn flea!» Cherri shouted, firing a barrage of shots in his direction.

Sprock, still in motion, called back in his usual carefree tone, «Never stop, always jump!» before disappearing behind an obstacle like a mischievous whirlwind.

Despite the chaos, Vaggie and Cherri managed to inch closer to their objective. From her vantage point high above, Yaga noticed their determination and the looming threat. «Vaggie's heading for our flag!» she announced firmly. Then she shouted, «Linda, Tiger, hurry up and cross that bridge!»

Just as Headshot's team's defenses began to falter, Niffty suddenly reemerged from nowhere. Like a small tornado, she burst out of a tunnel she had dug beneath the field, wielding a rubber dagger smeared with fresh paint. With an excited battle cry, she charged toward Yaga's lookout post.

«Stab! Stab! Stab!» she yelled, sprinting full speed toward the elevated position.

But Muto, ever vigilant and silent, reacted with the precision of a samurai. In one swift and calculated motion, he unsheathed his wooden katana, also coated in paint, and delivered a symbolic strike that drew a green line across Niffty's torso, separating it from her legs—at least in theory.

Niffty froze mid-charge, staring in disbelief at her "wound." She looked up at Muto with a mix of shock and indignation. «おい！お前、何をしているんだ！» she exclaimed, followed by a string of Japanese curses that made the samurai smile faintly.

Yaga, watching the scene unfold, gave Muto an approving nod, satisfied with how impeccably he had neutralized the threat. The tiny cyclops was officially out of the game, but the frenzied action on the field showed no signs of slowing down.

Vaggie and Cherri exchanged a determined glance. The path ahead was still challenging, but they knew the only way to win was to keep pushing forward, even against all odds.

Meanwhile, Angel wasn't giving Headshot a moment's respite. The sniper was forced to constantly change cover, dodging rapid bursts of colorful paintballs raining down on him. The situation was becoming critical: Vaggie's team was steadily gaining ground, while his own team began to falter under the pressure. He needed to act—and fast—before it was too late.

But once again, Angel distracted him.

With a triumphant grin, the spider demon closed the distance quickly, his paintball guns held with a theatrical flair that seemed designed to provoke. «Gotcha!» he exclaimed, ready to fire with unmistakable confidence.

Headshot's instincts kicked in. His wings unfurled suddenly, beating powerfully as he darted to the side in a blur, narrowly avoiding the barrage. In one fluid motion, he aimed his gun and fired, striking Angel with a flurry of green paintballs that splattered across his torso.

Angel froze, glancing down at the splashes of green now adorning his fur. For a moment, he was silent, then he let out a dramatic huff. «Oh, come on, Shotty! You couldn't let me have my big moment?» he said, throwing his hands up in mock exasperation.

Headshot stifled a smile, though his eyes gleamed with quiet satisfaction. «Sorry, Dust, but you're out.»

Angel tilted his head, his grin turning sly. «Out? Oh, honey, with you, no one's ever really out.» He stepped closer, closing the distance between them. «You know, though, you've got this unique way of making an impression—hit and run. Is that your go-to strategy, Shotty?»

Headshot stood still for a moment, his breaths just slightly deeper. He felt the familiar blue glow spark beneath his skin but tried to keep it hidden. «Only when the target is this... distracted.»

Angel burst into laughter, clutching his side. «Distracted? Sweetheart, I was making the game more fun. A little flair never hurts, you know.» His tone dropped as he stepped even closer, his mischievous gaze locking onto Headshot. «Though I'll admit, I like it when you're this... focused.»

Headshot shook his head, a reluctant smile tugging at his lips. «Focused? I'd say you're the one losing your focus. Now, Dust, get off the field. You're eliminated.»

Angel sighed dramatically, rolling his eyes. «Fine, fine, I'm going. But only because you hit me in just the right spot.» He turned to walk off toward the edge of the field but paused halfway, glancing back over one of his upper arms. «Don't have too much fun without me, Shotty. You know the game's a little less exciting without me in it.»

Headshot watched him go, his gun still steady in his hands, but he didn't reply. In a way, he knew Angel was right. Without him, the field felt quieter, though his heart was still pounding in his chest. Forcing himself to turn away, he refocused on the battle at hand.

—

The paintball field was a whirlwind of colors and chaos, but the tension was palpable.
Now, with Niffty and Angel eliminated, Team Vaggie was outnumbered, but the former Exorcist refused to give up. «Come on, team! We've got this!» she shouted, rallying her group with unshakable determination.

At the center of the field, the real showdown was between Adam and Husk—still chained together—and Linda and Tiger, who were pushing aggressively toward their base.

«Got a plan, or are you just hoping they'll get bored and give up?» Husk growled, tugging the chain to pull Adam behind a barrier.

Adam smiled, calm as ever, and surveyed the field. «Actually, yes. But we need to move in sync. Can you handle that?»

Husk rolled his eyes as he loaded another paintball into his gun. «Do I have a choice?»

«Exactly.» Adam replied with a mischievous grin. «Here's what we'll do: You cover the right side and keep them busy. I'll distract them on the left. When Linda moves, you take the shot. Got it?»

Husk let out an exasperated huff but nodded. «If we lose, you're gonna regret this idea.»

Adam sprang into action, dragging Husk along as he fired a couple of shots into the air, drawing Linda's attention. The warrior turned toward them with a confident grin, ready to fire back.

«Hey, Linda! Ready to add some red to your look?» Adam taunted, firing deliberately imprecise shots.

Linda chuckled. «Oh, we'll see who ends up covered in paint, little angel.»

While Linda focused on Adam, Husk sidestepped, finding the perfect angle. With a quick, precise shot, he hit her square in the torso, sending a burst of red paint across her chest.

Linda froze in surprise before raising her hands in surrender. «Okay, you got me. Nice shot, Cat.»

Tiger, however, wasn't about to give up. With a roar, he charged straight at them, determined to avenge Linda and secure the flag for Team Headshot.

Adam reacted instantly, pulling Husk behind another barrier to dodge the incoming fire. «It's now or never, Husk!» he shouted, tugging the chain to nudge the demon into position for a shot.

Husk grumbled but took aim steadily. «I hope you know what you're doing.»

An instant later, Tiger was just a few meters away. Husk, with perfect precision, nailed him on the shoulder, stopping him in his tracks. Tiger glanced at the splatter of paint on his arm and shook his head with a grin. «Nice shot.» he admitted before stepping off the field.

With Linda and Tiger out of the game, the path to Team Headshot's flag was finally clear.

«Our turn now.» Adam said, a triumphant smile on his face.

Husk followed, albeit reluctantly, as they maneuvered across the field, careful not to trip over the chain linking them. They reached the flag, and with one final push, Adam grabbed it.

As they sprinted toward Team Vaggie's base, the opposing team tried to stop them, but Cherri and Vaggie intervened, raining down a flurry of red paintballs to cover their advance.

The sound of the victory horn echoed across the field as Adam planted the flag in Team Vaggie's base.

Vaggie threw her arms in the air, cheering. «We did it!» she yelled, a satisfied smile lighting up her face as she ran over to hug her teammates.

Adam turned to Husk, his grin full of satisfaction. «Told you it would work.»

Husk collapsed onto a nearby barrier, exhausted. «Don't tell anyone, but maybe you were right.»

Adam laughed, sitting down beside him. «We should do this more often.»

«Don't count on it,» Husk replied, though his tone was less gruff and more companionable this time.

As the field filled with laughter and applause, it was clear that the bond between Adam and Husk had finally found its first spark of balance.

—

The hotel lobby was a chaotic blend of greens and reds. Paint splatters decorated every corner, every obstacle, and every participant. The battlefield had transformed into a vibrant, colorful mess, but laughter and friendly chatter had already filled the air.

Standing at the center of the field, Charlie was beaming. With her hands on her hips, she surveyed the participants with a satisfied smile. «Alright, everyone, that was incredible! You all were amazing!» she exclaimed, her voice radiating enthusiasm.

Adam and Husk, still sitting near an obstacle, exchanged a brief but meaningful glance. They didn't need words; the results spoke for themselves.

Charlie continued «I have to say, this game was more than just a fun activity. It was an opportunity to connect, to get to know each other better, and to prove that even the craziest ideas can work if we believe in them.» Her gaze settled warmly on Adam and Husk. «And I'm thrilled to see that even the most unlikely teams can find their rhythm.»

Husk let out a quiet huff, while Adam gave a thumbs-up. «Great. Now can we get rid of this damned chain?» Husk grumbled.

Charlie chuckled. «I'm working on it!» she replied cheerfully before addressing the rest of the group. «Thank you all for participating! It was fun, and we'll definitely do it again in the future. But for now... I declare the battle officially over.»

Applause filled the hall, accompanied by laughter and chatter. The winners exchanged congratulatory pats on the back, while the others began cleaning themselves off from the paint.

But Angel Dust wasn't done yet.

With his signature elegant stride and a mix of satisfaction and mischief on his face, he sauntered over to Headshot. The sniper, focused on the red splotch on his jacket, was scrubbing at it with almost obsessive precision.

«Hey, Shotty.» Angel called in his honeyed tone, a sly smile playing on his lips. «I didn't think you'd be so ruthless. Taking me out without mercy... I have to say I'm impressed.»

Headshot looked up, trying to maintain his usual neutral demeanor, but a faint smile betrayed him. «That was instinctive. I didn't mean to hurt you.»

Angel chuckled lightly, placing one of his hands theatrically over his chest. «Oh, don't worry. You didn't hurt me, Toots. Just my poor pride. You know, it happens to the best of us.»

Headshot sighed, pulling a handkerchief from his pocket. He motioned toward Angel's cheek with a tilt of his chin. «You've got a smudge there. Come here.»

Angel tilted his head, his grin widening, though this time it was softer, almost uncertain. «Well, aren't you the gentleman? I didn't know you had such a… chivalrous side.» He stepped closer, letting Headshot approach.

«Don't make a thing of it.» Headshot replied calmly.

With precise movements, he began wiping the paint from Angel's cheek. His expression was focused, but neutral. As he worked, a faint blue glow flickered under his skin, coursing through his veins like a wave. It wasn't prominent enough to draw everyone's attention, but Angel noticed it immediately.

He raised an eyebrow, a wry smile masking a flicker of hesitation. «What's this, Shotty? Do you always glow like that, or is this some kind of special treatment for people you like?»

Headshot stiffened for a moment, then resumed cleaning with the handkerchief, ignoring the teasing. «Don't start. It's just a reflex.»

«A reflex, huh?» Angel let out a softer, almost shy laugh. «You know, Shotty, if I didn't know better, I'd think you were trying to charm me.» He stepped back, resting his hands on his hips in an apparently casual pose. «But don't worry, I get it. We're just friends, right? At most… friends with some perks, if the thought ever crossed your mind.»

Headshot paused, the blue glow pulsing briefly, but he didn't respond. He finished cleaning Angel's cheek in silence, then stepped back, tucking the handkerchief into his pocket. «You're good. No more excuses to complain.»

Angel raised a hand, touching his cheek as if inspecting the results. «Hm, not bad. You've got a good touch, Shotty. Maybe next time I'll let you clean something else.»

Headshot rolled his eyes, shaking his head. «Don't get used to it.»

Angel grinned, but this time it was different. There was a mixture of satisfaction and a subtle sadness in his gaze, as if he wanted to say more but couldn't bring himself to. Breaking the silence, he spoke again, his tone light, though tinged with something softer.

«So, Shotty, now that the game's over and you've taken me out so mercilessly, I think you owe me something.»

Headshot raised an eyebrow, crossing his arms. «Something like what?»

Angel shrugged nonchalantly, though his eyes gleamed with mischief. «A drink. Come on, think of it as a way to make up for your cruelty. Besides, do you know how exhausting it is to be an icon and lose in style?»

Headshot sighed, but a faint smile crept onto his face. «Fine. But only because I don't want you crying over your defeat.»

Angel placed a hand over his chest, feigning offense. «Me? Cry? Sweetheart, this is just hydration to keep my fur fabulous. Now move it, Shotty. Don't keep me waiting.»

The two began walking together, Angel with his elegant, theatrical stride and Headshot trying to maintain his usual stoic composure. As they made their way to the bar in the corner of the hall, they failed to notice a small figure recording the scene from behind a pillar.

Kitty grinned with satisfaction as she held up her phone, capturing every moment. «Oh, this is pure gold.» she murmured, continuing to record. «They need a ship name. EddieAngel? Nah, can't use his real name. AngelShot? No, sounds like a code cocktail… HeadDust… DustShot… OH! DustShot! Yes, that's perfect for them.»

With a quick tap, she typed the name into the screen and saved the video under the newly minted title. «Wonder how long it'll take them to figure it out.» She chuckled to herself as the pair disappeared from view.

On the opposite side of the field, Headshot's team stood silently, watching the scene unfold. Headshot and Angel were leaving the hall, exchanging their last remarks with a tension so subtle it was obvious to everyone.

Tiger was the first to break the silence, his arms crossed and a skeptical expression on his face. «The boss likes the porn star.»

A chorus of agreement rippled through the group.

«Mh-hm.» Yaga confirmed with a solemn nod.

«Oh, absolutely.» Linda added, chuckling.

Muto raised his notepad, a single word written in bold, blocky letters: YES.

Sprock hopped in place, clapping his hands together. «Of course! Did you see how he glowed? He's practically screaming "I like Angel Dust" without even realizing it!»

Tiger let out a loud huff, shaking his head in annoyance. «This smells like trouble. Big trouble.»

Yaga gave him a sidelong glance, her calm, composed demeanor radiating certainty. «Not your business. As long as they're happy.»

Linda leaned on her paintball gun, a sly grin spreading across her face. «Oh, we all know they'll get there eventually. The real question is, how long will it take?»

A moment of silence fell as everyone seemed to consider the question. Then Sprock raised a hand, his face alight with enthusiasm. «I'm betting three months. Tops.»

Linda shook her head firmly. «Three months? Too generous. I'm saying six weeks. They're already halfway there.»

Muto, ever the silent observer, calmly picked up his notepad, scribbled a number in bold letters, and held it up: FOUR WEEKS.

Yaga nodded, a confident smile tugging at her lips. «Two weeks. Angel's already fallen. Headshot won't take much longer to catch up.»

Tiger let out an exaggerated snort, crossing his arms over his chest. «Ridiculous. It'll never happen. Those two are too different. Angel's got way too much baggage, and Headshot's way too uptight to make a move.»

Sprock stared at him, a mix of disbelief and amusement in his eyes. «Tiger, buddy, are you blind, or just in denial?»

Tiger shrugged with indifference. «I'm just saying the truth. Get ready to lose your bet.»

Linda tilted her head toward Yaga, her grin widening. «Okay, two weeks is bold. But if anyone can win this, it's you.»

Yaga simply gazed at the door Eddie and Angel had just walked through, her serene smile never wavering. «It's not bold. It's realistic. Trust me, those two are practically a couple already—they just don't know it yet.»

Tiger snorted again, mumbling something incomprehensible as Sprock burst into laughter.

It was Linda who wrapped up the debate. «Alright, it's settled then. The bets are in. Loser buys drinks. Oh, and Tiger, remember—you're always the first to back up the boss when he gets into trouble.»

Tiger raised an eyebrow, his tone sharp. «So what? Doesn't mean I have to root for them.»

Linda laughed again, shaking her head in amusement. «Oh, Tiger. You're a hopeless romantic and don't even realize it.»

Tiger glared at her, his words clipped and emphatic. «They are not becoming a couple.»

Yaga arched an eyebrow, a hint of challenge glinting in her eyes. «Are you absolutely sure?»

«Absolutely!» Tiger shot back, his grin full of confidence.

Yaga tilted her head, her tone calm yet decisive. «Then let's make this interesting. If they're not a couple in the next two weeks, I'll give you 50 bucks. If they are, you owe me the same.»

Tiger chuckled, brimming with certainty. «Easiest money I'll ever make. Deal.»

The two shook hands firmly, sealing the wager.

Muto, who had been silent until then, picked up his notepad and scribbled one final note. Holding it up for all to see, it read: I'm betting on Yaga.

—

Magic had restored the hotel's lobby to its original splendor in just over half an hour, erasing every trace of paint and rearranging the obstacles that had transformed the space into a battleground. Charlie looked around, satisfied with the results. However, there was no time to bask in her success. One final task awaited her, one that required all her determination: convincing Alastor to release Adam from the chain that bound him to Husk.

Taking a deep breath, Charlie ran a hand through her hair—a gesture meant more to steady her nerves than to fix her appearance. She knew the Radio Demon wouldn't be an easy opponent. Alastor never conceded anything without reason, which meant she'd have to approach him with a careful balance of logic, empathy, and, most likely, a firm stance.

Her gaze shifted toward the elevator—one of the many new additions to the hotel—that would take her to the Radio Demon's quarters. With a small smile masking her growing resolve, she took a step forward. «Alright, Charlie.» she murmured to herself, as if trying to muster courage. «You've got this. For Husk. For Adam. For everyone counting on you.»

Straightening her back and drawing in a steady breath, Charlie made her way to Alastor's room. Her steps were confident, but her heart pounded in her chest like a war drum. Facing the Radio Demon was never an easy task, and the idea was no less daunting now than it had been in the past.

She reached the elevator, ascended to Alastor's floor, and stopped in front of his door. Her knuckles hovered over the wood for a moment, hesitating. Then, with a decisive motion, she knocked.

«Come in!» came Alastor's voice from within, sweet as honey and just as thick with danger.

Charlie turned the handle and stepped inside.

The room was an eerie mix of decadent elegance and unsettling atmosphere. Alastor lounged comfortably in an antique armchair near a corner he'd transformed into a replica of a Louisiana bayou. Dim lighting and the reflective surface of stagnant water cast dancing shadows on the walls, while fake fireflies floated lazily about. He held a red mug emblazoned with the words "Oh, Deer" and sipped coffee as an old radio broadcast filled the room. The sound of 1930s music intermingled with the occasional ghostly wail, creating an atmosphere as surreal as it was disturbing.
Charlie stifled a sigh. Though she had grown accustomed to Alastor's unnerving presence, it didn't make the unease any less real. Beyond their deal—which loomed over her like a dark, inescapable shadow—there was a part of her that feared redemption for him might never truly be possible.

«Hey, Alastor.» she greeted, striving to keep her voice steady and friendly. «Do I bother you?»

The demon looked up from his mug, one of his ever-present smiles curling on his lips—a smile that always seemed to conceal something sinister. «Charlie! You never bother, you know that!» he replied, his tone brimming with his signature affability laced with ambiguity. «What brings you to my humble abode?»

Charlie hesitated briefly, clasping her hands behind her back to contain her nerves. «It's about Adam.» she said at last, keeping her tone neutral.

At the mention of the name, Alastor stiffened ever so slightly. His perpetual smile seemed to tighten, like a bowstring drawn taut. «Adam?» he repeated, his voice dropping just a fraction. «Has he caused more trouble?»

Charlie shook her head, though the weight of the conversation was already pressing down on her. «Not exactly… But I think it's time we talked about the chain tying him to Husk. I think we should release him.»

Alastor didn't respond immediately. Instead, he tilted his head slightly, his crimson eyes gleaming as if dissecting every word, every tone, every breath Charlie took. The air in the room grew heavier, as though time itself slowed to accommodate his deliberation.

Then, with a graceful wave of his hand, he conjured a chair that slid smoothly into place in front of him. «Take a seat, Charlie.» he said, his voice soft and congenial, yet laden with undertones. «This is a matter that requires careful thought… and plenty of consideration.»

Charlie hesitated for a moment, then accepted the invitation, settling into the chair. She knew every word she spoke would need to be carefully chosen. Alastor was not someone to take lightly, especially when it came to favors and compromises.

Alastor, his ever-present smile unwavering, leaned back in his armchair and brought his mug to his lips before speaking again. «Ah, the chain binding Adam and Husk... A small work of art, wouldn't you agree?» He paused, his tone almost affectionate toward his creation. «But I imagine you have a compelling reason to ask me to break it. I'm all ears, dear princess.»

Charlie took a deep breath, summoning every ounce of calm and determination she could muster. «Alastor, that chain was meant to keep Adam in check, but now... now it's pointless. Adam has committed to following the hotel's rules, and Husk shouldn't have to bear that burden anymore. I believe it's time to set them both free.»

Her words came out with more conviction than she'd expected, and for a brief moment, she caught a glimmer in Alastor's crimson eyes—perhaps curiosity, perhaps amusement, or maybe both. But soon enough, his enigmatic tone returned, accompanied by the rhythmic tapping of his fingers on the armrest of his chair.

«An interesting argument.» he said in his smooth, honeyed voice, laced with subtle menace. «But tell me, Charlie... what do you think would happen if I were to release them?»

Charlie hesitated, then shrugged with an unintentionally childlike gesture. «They'd both be happier?» she replied, her tone a blend of simplicity and sincerity.

Alastor burst into laughter, a sound that echoed through the room and seemed to reverberate in the shadows, carrying an edge of something deeply unsettling. «I adore your view of the world, my dear.» he said, his voice dripping with poisoned sweetness. «But allow me to offer you a different perspective—one more... practical.»

He adjusted his position in the armchair, intertwining his fingers in front of him like a spider weaving its web. «How long has it been since you opened this hotel? A year? A little more? You've poured your sweat, your determination, into this place, and turned yourself into a joke for most of Hell. I, personally, joined your little venture not because I believed in your dream, but because I found immense entertainment in watching people fail miserably in their futile attempts at redemption. For months, you were the laughingstock of everyone, Charlie. No one believed in you.»

His voice sharpened, like a knife slicing through her resolve. «Heaven didn't just ignore you; it slammed the door in your face—not once, but twice. They crushed your dream, sending wave after wave of exorcists and razing the building you worked so hard to create. If it wasn't for your father, this place would still be a pile of rubble. You lost one of your longest-standing guests, thinking for months that he was dead, only to discover—thanks to a phone you had to fight tooth and nail to acquire—that your project isn't just possible, but that someone up above actually supports it.»

Charlie's hands clenched on her knees, but she remained silent, letting Alastor continue.

«And yet, despite all that, Heaven still sees us as weeds to be uprooted, problems to be solved. And Adam... oh, Adam.» He paused dramatically, his crimson eyes gleaming. «He may have fallen to Hell, but do you really think he has given up his divine arrogance? He still sees himself as the First Man, superior to all others. He probably won't run, since everyone outside those walls wants him dead, but here? Here he could be far more dangerous. What if he decides to sabotage your project? To make sure the documents you so desperately need never get into your hands?»

Leaning forward slightly, his voice dropped to a whisper, venomous and insidious. «Binding him to Husk might seem cruel, but it's also the safest solution. And you know it, Charlie. Beneath all that optimism and cotton candy sweetness, there's a smart woman who's learned from her mistakes. Don't tell me you'd let such a massive risk jeopardize everything you've built.»

Charlie found herself staring at him, her heartbeat quickening as she searched for the right response. Every word Alastor spoke was sharp, wrapped in cruel and cynical logic that tested her faith and ideals. Each sentence wormed its way into her mind, making more sense with every passing second. Adam hadn't just been an adversary—he had been a formidable enemy.

The exterminations he led, reducing Hell's population, were a wound reopened every year. His disdain had been evident when he appeared at the embassy as a mere hologram, arrogantly declaring "Hell is forever!". He had threatened her relationship with Vaggie, exposing her girlfriend's true nature, and the weight of Sir Pentious' death lingered heavily. And, of course, there was the fact that he had hidden the truth about her mother.

A knot formed in Charlie's stomach. «Yes...» she admitted, the words heavy with emotion, her voice cracking under the weight of anger and frustration. «... after everything he's done, it's hard to trust him.»

Alastor watched her intently, as if he were reading not just her words but the thoughts buried deep within her. He knew she wasn't finished.

She sighed, then lifted her gaze, a new resolve shining in her eyes. «However...» she began, anchoring herself in memories of the good Adam had done. «... he admitted his mistakes. He admitted that he wasn't a good example. He chose to seek help, even if it was in an unorthodox way. When I lost control, when I became something... monstrous, he stayed to help me. He could've fled Pentagram City altogether. He could've tried to find a way back to Heaven, or changed his identity to make a new life here. But he didn't.»

Charlie paused for a moment, watching Alastor's enigmatic face, searching for any sign of reaction. Then she continued, her voice steadier now: «He helped me with my Nephilim form. He gave Headshot the tools to understand his artifact. And when I returned to myself, he helped restore the Hotel. He works at the bar with Husk—often staying for twenty-four hours straight. If Husk collapses from exhaustion, Adam takes over, letting him rest. It's clear he's trying to atone.»

Taking a step forward, Charlie locked her gaze on Alastor's, her expression blazing with determination. «If we keep him in chains, if we don't give him a chance to show who he has become, he will never be able to make amends. We can't claim to be agents of redemption if we deny someone the opportunity to change. We can't expect redemption if we don't take a step toward them with every step forward they take. When I opened the hotel, I was the laughingstock of hell. I knew that no one would believe in me. No one. So I had to believe in myself. Push myself. While they mocked me, while they disrespected me, I kept on believing. It seemed impossible—and yet we did it. Now the hotel is so full we have to keep a waiting list.»

Her voice grew firmer, each word etched with a determination that seemed carved from stone. «So, even if it seems impossible, I want to believe that Adam has changed. And if I'm wrong, it'll be a mistake I'm willing to pay for. But I can't let fear make us turn our backs on our own ideals.»

She stepped closer, her face mere inches from Alastor's, her eyes boring into his with an intensity that pierced through every defense. Placing her hands on the armrests of his chair, she locked him in place with a bold, unexpected gesture. «Alastor. I want you to free Adam from that chain. And I won't take no for an answer.»

For a moment, Alastor's ever-present grin hesitated. A subtle, nearly imperceptible shadow crossed his face, and Charlie didn't miss it. That tiny crack was enough to confirm that her words had struck a nerve, chipping away at the armor of smugness and condescension he wore like a second skin.

Alastor was no longer facing the idealistic girl who had accepted his help months ago, believing the world could be changed with a song. Now, in front of him, stood a Queen in the making—a leader growing stronger, carving her path through adversity, and ready to challenge anyone, even the shrewdest of demons, to defend her ideals.

And something deep within Alastor cracked. A hairline fracture allowed a fleeting thought—or perhaps the echo of a long-forgotten feeling—to slip through. Like a tiny glimmer in an endless sea of darkness, Charlie's conviction pierced him. It wasn't just her determination that unsettled him, but her unwavering belief in goodness, in redemption, in a world not irreparably broken.

Why now? Why did that spark of light seem so... intolerable yet magnetic? Perhaps it was a whisper of humanity he'd long buried, or the cruel irony of recognizing, for just a moment, that what Charlie fought to protect was exactly what he had destroyed in life: innocence. But there was nothing left of that man. Only Alastor, the Radio Demon, and the vast emptiness within him.

And yet, as he stared at her, he felt an odd tension in his chest, like an ancient clock trying to tick once more. His own darkness, vast and impenetrable as it was, seemed to ripple in response to her light. Part of him wanted to crush it, to snuff out that irritating brilliance; another, confused and feeble, seemed to whisper that perhaps, for the first time in decades, something was worth preserving.

«As you wish, Your Highness.» he finally replied, his voice less syrupy than usual, almost vulnerable before Charlie's unwavering resolve. He rose slowly, his figure still imposing but lacking the usual aura of menace that clung to him like a shadow. «It shall be done.»

Charlie stepped back, holding his gaze for a moment longer. Then she nodded, saying nothing more. She had achieved her goal. Satisfaction gleamed in her eyes as she calmly said, «Very well. I expect to see Adam unchained by tonight. Good day, Alastor.»

With studied elegance, Charlie turned on her heel, giving the Radio Demon her back as she exited the room, leaving him speechless. Alastor remained rooted in place, his eternal smile now appearing less certain as he tried to process what had just happened.

Outside, confident that he couldn't see her, the usual enthusiastic Charlie emerged in an explosion of joy. She bounced on the spot, fists clenched at her chest like a girl who had just won her first battle. Her heart pounded, but this time with exhilaration.

«I did it!» she whispered, almost in disbelief. «I stood up to Alastor!»

A wide grin lit up her face as she made her way toward the stairs, pride swelling within her for asserting her authority without guilt. She hadn't been cruel, as she'd feared. She had been fair—and the feeling was electrifying.

«I can't wait to tell Vaggie!» she exclaimed, her voice brimming with excitement. She had overcome yet another hurdle on her journey to becoming the leader she knew she could be.

—Heaven

While the paintball match raged in the Hazbin Hotel lobby, Sera, Emily, and Sir Pentious were engrossed in a discovery that could rewrite their understanding of Heaven and Hell.

The most unsettling revelation was that death, after life, didn't truly exist. Instead, there was a continuous cycle of souls being exchanged between celestial and infernal planes, governed by individual behavior. Punishment and reward were not static but mutable, dictated by one's recent actions.

Sir Pentious, with his characteristic obsessive dedication, had been studying the book detailing this shocking truth, translating its intricate angelic symbols into digestible concepts. «Basically...» he explained, his serpentine hands carefully turning the pages «...when a person dies, their soul receives a new body, designed for the plane of existence they're assigned to. This body takes on celestial or infernal traits, depending on their actions in life and thereafter.»

He paused, pointing to a passage with one of his elongated, elegant fingers. «The body is more resilient than a human one, capable of advanced regeneration, but even this kind of body has limits. If the damage is too severe—disintegration, incineration, death by angelic steel, devouring, or mutilation beyond 80% of the body—the soul is transferred to a place called the Void.»

Emily, her sharp eyes scanning the page, read the passage aloud: «"In the Void, the soul regenerates, receiving a new body and being reassigned to a plane of existence based on its most recent actions. For beatitude is not eternal guaranteed, nor damnation irreversible condemned."»

Sera brought a hand to her chin, deep in thought. «So it's true…» she murmured. «... redemption is possible, but even the blessed can lose their state of grace. This system isn't rigid—it's… dynamic. A reality far different from what we've always been taught.»

Sir Pentious nodded, his twisted smile widening as he continued to study. «And yet the question remains: why were we taught that Heaven and Hell are forever?» he mused, staring at the pages as if willing them to yield more answers.

Emily joined the speculation. «Perhaps it's a form of control.» she suggested, her voice soft but penetrating. «If the inhabitants of both planes believe their conditions are permanent, they have no motivation to change. Sinners resign themselves to damnation, the blessed to their grace. But if they knew every action mattered, that every choice could alter their destiny… it would spark a revolution.»

Sera crossed her arms, her gaze resolute. «A revolution… Who would want to prevent that?»

A familiar sound broke the silence.

«Perhaps someone who thinks like Lute.» a deep, velvety voice interjected. The tall, dark-clad figure of Lilith emerged from the shadows, her magnetic presence immediately drawing all eyes.

Emily, Sera, and Sir Pentious looked up, equal parts surprised and captivated by her sudden appearance. «Lilith!» Emily exclaimed, a radiant smile lighting up her face. «You're back!»

Sera greeted her with a respectful nod, though her mind was already racing to connect the dots. Lilith, however, stepped forward calmly, her gaze shimmering with ancient wisdom. «In a dynamic system, you never truly know who you're dealing with. The constant recycling of souls brings change, novelty… and that doesn't sit well with those who prefer things to remain static. What's static is controllable. Isn't that right, Sera?»

Lilith's tone was sharp, a reminder of a past where Sera herself had advocated for rigid, definitive methods. But Sera refused to be cowed. «We won't find out who hid this truth by pointing fingers at past mistakes, Lilith.»

Lilith frowned slightly. «Past mistakes?» She turned to the former sinner with a sly smirk. «Pentious, remind me—how long have you been in Heaven?»

Before he could answer, Emily intervened, cutting through the tension. «Enough with this. We get it. We're not here to point fingers; we have bigger matters to address.»

Lilith sighed, then gestured to the book. «Remind me, how old is that tome?»

Sera quickly scanned the date inscribed within. «About ten years after your and Lucifer's fall. Do you know what was happening at that time?»

Lilith stiffened for a moment, then exhaled, her tone laced with resignation. «I was unsuccessfully trying to improve life in Hell.»

Emily tilted her head. «It must not have been easy to convince hellborns and demons to work together.»

Lilith chuckled softly, though the sound was more bitter than amused. «Oh, that part was easy. The real problem was that for every step forward Roo made us take ten steps back.»

A heavy silence fell over the room, the name Roo hanging in the air like a latent threat, a weight no one seemed eager to address directly.

Emily was the first to break the silence. «Roo? Wasn't she on Earth, corrupting mortals?»

Lilith shook her head, a flash of bitterness in her eyes. «That bitch was able to be everywhere.» she replied sharply. «She could ignite a war on Earth and destroy a haven in Hell at the same time. Her influence was so vast and devastating that Lucifer, the Seven Deadly Sins, and I had to take drastic measures. We gathered what little Grace we still possessed and reduced her to a dormant entity in the Void, kept perpetually asleep by Belphegor's sedatives.»

Her voice hardened, laden with the weight of memories. «Above the Void now lies the Sloth Ring. It's named that way because Bel must expend all his energy keeping Roo in eternal sleep, creating constant strain for everyone in that circle. The other circles were formed later, almost haphazardly, except for the Envy Ring, which was entrusted to Leviathan. That circle is mostly a vast ocean, an additional barrier to shield Hell from her. Beyond that, we could only hope.»

Sir Pentious, listening intently, raised a hand to draw attention. «Erm… pardon me for interrupting this wonderfully dramatic moment, but who—or what—exactly is this "Roo"?»

Emily turned to him, her usually sweet and reassuring tone suddenly cold and severe. «Roo is… a threat.»

The silence grew heavier, and Sir Pentious took an involuntary step back, struck by the gravity of her response.

Lilith resumed speaking, her tone low and grave. «Roo isn't just a threat. She is the threat. An entity that defies every order, every law, knowing no limits or mercy. What makes Roo so dangerous isn't just the power she wields but her unpredictability. You never know what she'll do or where she'll strike. You can't reason with her, you can't negotiate. You can only stop her… or pray she remains asleep forever.»

Emily nodded slowly, her expression serious and focused. «Roo is Death, Nothingness, Entropy. She doesn't follow patterns or logic that we can understand. She's a constant reminder of how fragile our balance is—both in Heaven and Hell. And we must never forget that.»

Sir Pentious swallowed hard, his gaze darting nervously between Emily and Lilith. His usual theatrical demeanor had vanished, replaced by a palpable tension. «And… what if she wakes up?» he asked in a trembling voice.

Lilith crossed her arms, her imposing figure made even more severe by the gravity of the moment. «If she wakes up…» she began, her voice icy as an eternal winter «... it won't just be Heaven or Hell at risk. It will be all of creation—every plane of existence, every soul, everything. And the most unsettling part?» She paused, her words cutting through the silence like a sharp blade. «She is waking up.»

The room fell into a deafening silence, broken only by the soft rustle of Lilith stepping toward the scattered tomes and letters on the table. With a decisive gesture, she picked up a bundle of letters tied with a ribbon, which had been overlooked until now. «And you would know this…» she said, shaking the letters slightly to emphasize their importance «…if you had bothered to read Belphegor's letters.»

Emily frowned, stepping toward Lilith with a mix of curiosity and concern. «Belphegor's letters? We didn't even know they were here.»

Lilith nodded, her expression sterner than ever. «They're here because Belphegor, slow as he might seem, has never let his guard down. These letters are his cry for help, the only way he could warn us that something was changing. He couldn't come himself—he's chained to the Circle of Sloth, pouring all his energy into keeping Roo asleep. And now… he's losing his grip.»

The silence in the room was oppressive, broken only by the uneven sound of Sera's breathing. Her mind wrestled with the enormity of Lilith's revelation, every word digging deeper into her understanding of their reality.

«When were you planning to tell us?!» she demanded, her voice cracking with anger and confusion as she slammed a fist onto the table. Her eyes glowed intensely, nearly blinding, betraying the fiery intensity of her true form.

Lilith remained unfazed, her regal presence unshaken, like a mountain enduring a storm. «And you? When were you planning to help my daughter?!» she countered, her voice as sharp as a finely honed blade. The Hell Queen's piercing gaze was unrelenting.

The tension in the room was palpable, thick enough to cut with a knife. Sera, now visibly agitated, felt her angelic form breaking through her faltering control. Her wings quivered, their luminous contours reflecting across the room. «Don't try to deflect, Lilith!» she shouted, pointing an accusatory finger. «It's bad enough that you took crucial tomes, but not telling Roo is waking up... it's a betrayal—a slap in the face to the trust you've been trying to rebuild!»

Lilith took a step closer, her hands resting on her hips, her voice cutting with icy precision. «Fine. Let's say I had informed you eight years ago when I returned to Heaven. What would you have done, Sera? Wiped out every single sinner in Pentagram City with angelic steel in the exorcists' hands?!» Her voice rose, a contained fury finally unleashed. «Have you ever wondered where angelic steel even comes from, Sera? That mysterious material that conveniently appeared after Eve gained free will?»

Sera turned pale, her voice faltering. «What are you trying to say?»

Lilith inhaled deeply, as if gathering all her strength to reveal the horror she was about to disclose. «When Eve took a bite of the apple, the protective spell of Elohim over the Earth was broken. This left the planet defenseless, and Roo emerged in her monstrous, cosmic form. Towering, incomprehensible, a terror without beginning or end. In her wake she left roots—roots as hard as iron and as malleable as carbon.» She paused, her eyes glinting with a wisdom steeped in pain. «And someone, in all their wisdom, decided to use them to forge weapons.» she said, sarcastic.

«No…» Sera whispered, her voice breaking, but Lilith pressed on mercilessly.

«When I returned to Heaven and discovered this, I did everything I could to bury those roots, to prevent further harvesting. That's why I wanted a villa in the Garden of Eden. It wasn't a whim, Sera. It was a desperate attempt to stop the spread of Roo's corruption. But it was already too late. The angelic weapons were created. And every single blade, every single spearhead, is infused with Roo's dark power.»

Sera brought a hand to her mouth, her breathing ragged. «You're telling me the angelic steel we've used for centuries… isn't angelic at all?»

«Precisely.» Lilith nodded, her voice low but bitter. «It's Roo's steel. That's why it prevents bodies from regenerating. It isn't ordinary metal but a remnant of her essence. A well-placed strike from a blade forged with that steel sends you straight to the Void. Even if it doesn't kill instantly, it poisons, spreading her corruption unless removed in time. Useful for exterminations, yes—but at a cost no one wanted to acknowledge.»

Sir Pentious, who had been listening in stunned silence, finally found the courage to speak, his voice trembling. «So… if angelic steel is a manifestation of Roo's power, does that mean every exorcist who uses it could be… corrupted?»

Lilith nodded slowly, her gaze fixed on Sera. «Exactly. And not just the exorcists. Anyone who has wielded those weapons long enough bears its mark.»

Emily stepped in, her voice calm but laced with concern. «That includes Lute… and Adam, back when he was in Heaven.»

Lilith concluded gravely. «Perhaps only the Archangels' swords and the lances crafted by Elohim himself are safe. But everything else? It's pure corruption. And the more we use it, the more we feed Roo.»

The silence that followed was suffocating. Every unsaid word seemed to weigh heavily on everyone in the room. Sera, visibly pale, leaned against a nearby chair, her heart pounding furiously in her chest. She brought a hand to her face, struggling to calm the storm of emotions raging within her mind.

With a deep breath, she lifted her gaze toward Emily, Sir Pentious, and Lilith. «This situation is so dire that…» she paused, searching for the right words «…we must ensure Charlie is prepared to face Roo, at any cost. Even if it means going against the Archangels' wishes, should they oppose my proposal.»

The determination in her voice was unmistakable, but the tension in the room remained thick, as if no one wanted to be the first to respond.

Finally, Emily spoke, her tone gentle yet resolute. «If that's what it takes to protect Heaven and Hell, then I'm with you.»

Sir Pentious, though still visibly shaken by the revelations, nodded with his usual theatrical flair. «I, Sir Pentious, the greatest genius Heaven has ever known, join this cause! After all, it's in my best interest too, isn't it?»

Lilith simply crossed her arms, her expression stern but consenting. «Charlie is my daughter. If anyone can make a difference, it's her. We must give her every tool she needs, whether the Archangels approve or not.»

Emily shivered slightly, a hint of unease in her voice. «I've objected in the past, sure, but suddenly the idea of disobedience gives me chills.»

Sera nodded, her face set with determination. «Michael seemed to be on my side before. Let's hope he can convince the other two to cooperate.»

Emily tilted her head, her tone curious. «Speaking of which, how long have they been deliberating?»

«Since… early this afternoon, I think. Maybe earlier.» Lilith replied with a shrug, her tone betraying a hint of impatience.

Sir Pentious's stomach growled loudly, breaking the tension. He placed a hand over it, looking sheepish. «I'd say earlier… definitely earlier.» he muttered dejectedly.

Amused, Lilith chuckled softly. «Come on, I'll take you to get something to eat. But if we run into Lute, we'll say we met by chance. I don't want to waste my time explaining a stroll.»

Emily offered a faint smile, but the weight of the impending decisions still loomed heavily over the room. As Lilith and Sir Pentious departed, Sera remained rooted in place, her gaze lingering on Belphegor's letters. She could only hope the Archangels would support her. If not, their mission would become infinitely more complicated.

—

The ethereal sun of Heaven was setting, painting the sky with hues of red and orange.
Sera paced back and forth across the room, impatiently awaiting the verdict from the Archangels—an answer that would determine her next move, whether with their support or in secret.

Lilith had slipped away after leaving letters of apology for her daughter and Lucifer, urging them to send her updates. Emily and Sir Pentious sat at the table, idly flipping through tomes, just as tense as Sera as they waited for their superiors' decision.

«How much longer are they going to keep us waiting?» Sera burst out, breaking the silence. «We've wasted the entire afternoon, and we don't even know if they'll take our side!»

Emily opened her mouth to respond, but she was interrupted by the sound of light footsteps approaching the door. All eyes turned as it opened, revealing a young angel with radiant wings who looked slightly embarrassed by his tardiness.

«Finally!» Sera exclaimed, striding toward him with a mix of relief and irritation. «What's the Archangels' decision?»

The angel cleared his throat, clutching a small folder to his chest. «The Archangels have deliberated… and they approve your proposal.» He extended the folder to Sera, who took it with trembling hands. «Adam will be allowed to ascend to Heaven to participate in the live debate, and… they've also agreed to send a copy of the documents directly to Hell, as requested.»

Sera exhaled deeply, the tension visibly draining from her shoulders. «About time.» She turned to the others, holding up the folder like a trophy. «We did it.»

Sir Pentious raised an eyebrow, his tone dripping with mild sarcasm. «And it only took an entire afternoon of deliberations?»

The angel, slightly offended, added, «The Archangels also discussed important details, such as who will deliver the documents. Michael himself offered, but they decided Emily should take them to Charlie.»

Emily jolted slightly. «Me?» she asked, surprised. «Why me?»

«You are the seraph who connects best with other people.» the angel explained respectfully. «You've already built a friendly relationship with Charlie and understand the situation better than anyone else. The Archangels believe you're the best choice.»

Emily intertwined her fingers nervously, torn between the honor of being chosen and the apprehension of what awaited her. The prospect of descending to Hell both thrilled and terrified her. Her entire existence had been shaped by the belief that the worst fate for an angel was Falling. Now, though not Fallen, she was preparing to cross that threshold.

The thought both exhilarated and unnerved her: leaving Heaven for the first time, descending to Hell… She would see the Hazbin Hotel with her own eyes, meet Charlie again, and perhaps even that sinner who had been her guest the longest, Angel Dust. The thought made her smile faintly—the idea that a sinner like Angel might be on the cusp of redemption was a spark of hope worth pursuing. And maybe she would see Adam's new form as a sinner.

A question sprang to her mind, and she immediately directed it to the angel. «If I'm delivering Charlie's documents, will I need to bring Adam back right after? Or should I stay?»

The angel seemed momentarily caught off guard, rifling through the folder with an uncertain expression. «Uh… it doesn't seem… ah, wait, here it is!» he finally said, brightening as he pointed to a line in the document. In a firm voice, he read: «"A special team of trusted soldiers from Michael's militia will be assembled to retrieve Adam and escort him safely to Heaven for the debate. Until the team is formed, all debates and votes are suspended, and an electoral silence is imposed. Neither side may promote its stance or discredit the opposition."»

Sera ran a hand through her hair, the nervous gesture betraying her growing frustration. «Great, more pointless waiting.» she commented dryly, the weight of impatience clear in her tone. «As if we have the time…»

Emily gently placed a hand on Sera's arm, her voice calm but firm. «I know it's frustrating.» she began. «But at least we have a plan, and the Archangels have approved our proposal. That's already a step forward.»

Sera carefully pulled away from Emily's touch, crossing her arms. «A step forward that still leaves us standing still.» she retorted, her tone sharper than usual. «Every minute we waste gives Roo and those who want to maintain the status quo an advantage. We can't afford to wait.»

Emily tilted her head slightly, regarding Sera with patience. «You're right, every minute is precious. But for now, we've done all we can. Let's use this time to prepare instead of letting anxiety consume us.»

Sera exhaled deeply, trying to release the tension gripping her like a vice. Her posture relaxed slightly, though irritation still lingered in her expression. «Fine.» she conceded, her tone less biting. «But we can't lower our guard for even a moment.»

Emily clapped her hands once, the energy in the room shifting suddenly. «Perfect! If we need to prepare, let's get started. We've got ancient tomes to copy, and it's better to do it now before someone else steals another advantage from us.» A small smile played on her lips, an invitation to action.

With a fluid motion, Emily raised a hand, causing several tomes to levitate from the table. The light of her angelic magic enveloped the books, creating perfect duplicates that materialized beside them. Sir Pentious watched the process with a mix of curiosity and unease. «Oh, it's always fascinating to see you angels at work… though I must say, a bit unsettling.»

Emily ignored him, focused on her task. «Pentious, you can help by checking that the copies match the originals. Sera, look for any passages we might have missed. Lilith mentioned details we could have overlooked in the tomes she left us.»

Sera nodded resolutely and got to work, the determination returning to her eyes.

The room filled with the rustle of turning pages and the soft glow of magic. The frenetic activity of the moment was a testament to the group's resilience despite their frustrations and delays. Each copy, each detail, each preparation was a step toward the impending battle—a tangible sign of their unwavering resolve.

—Hazbin Hotel, bar

Husk crouched behind the bar, his face already painted with an expression of boredom as he rummaged for a fresh bottle of vodka. His hand searched the empty space, and a quick visual check confirmed his suspicion: the vodka was gone.

«Damn it.» he muttered under his breath, straightening with an exasperated sigh. «Adam, keep an eye on the guests while I grab another one.»

Adam raised a hand to stop him, his tone calm. «Don't worry, Husk. I'll handle it. You stay by the door so the chain doesn't cause any problems.»

Husk stared at him for a moment, as if considering an argument, but then he just huffed and shrugged. «Suit yourself. Just don't take all night.»

Without hesitation, Adam moved with purpose, taking care not to pull too hard on the chain that bound him to Husk. His tall, imposing figure moved with almost mechanical precision, avoiding any obstacles. The metallic clinking of the chain followed his every step, a constant reminder of his current predicament.

He reached the shelf holding the liquor, scanning the neatly arranged bottles with surprising efficiency. «There you are.» he murmured, grabbing a new bottle of vodka that gleamed under the neon light like a trophy. He held it up, studying it for a moment. «Brand new.»

As he weighed the clear bottle in his hand, a slow and eerie applause echoed through the storage room, breaking the silence and nearly causing him to drop the prized alcohol. Adam turned slowly, his heart pounding.

The sight that met him made his blood run cold: Alastor emerged from the shadows, his sharp-toothed grin intact and his crimson eyes gleaming in the dim light with an unnatural intensity. The Radio Demon's figure approached with unsettling calm, like a predator savoring its prey. It was a vision pulled straight from a nightmare—or a horror movie.

«My compliments, Adam.» Alastor began, his voice honeyed yet dripping with menace. Each word carried a growing weight of malice. «You've been putting that little gift of yours to good use, haven't you? Somehow, you've even managed to draw something out of Charlie that I didn't think she had in her.»

Adam stiffened, the vodka bottle still clutched tightly in his hand. The chain linking him to Husk jingled softly, amplifying the suffocating silence in the storage room. Alastor's grin glimmered in the dim light, sharp and malicious, like an unspoken warning. The flickering neon above cast erratic shadows across the demon's face, emphasizing his unsettling features.

«Alastor.» Adam said firmly, masking his discomfort. «Didn't expect to have company back here. Don't you usually prefer grand entrances?»

Alastor chuckled—a low, guttural sound that seemed to emanate from every corner of the room. «Ah, but this is a special occasion, my dear Adam.» He took a step closer, his cane tapping lightly against the floor like a metronome counting down to something inevitable. «You see, I've always found your biography… particularly fascinating. The First Man, a fallen general, and now… an aspiring bartender.» His tone was syrupy, yet every word dripped venom.

Adam gripped the bottle tighter, as if it were an anchor of stability. «If you're here just to make snide remarks, save your breath. I have work to do.»

Alastor wagged a finger in mock reproach, his grin never faltering. «Ah, ah, ah! That's no way to treat someone who could take the burden off of you, my dear.»

Adam remained silent for a moment, his expression unreadable.

«You see, Adam...» Alastor continued, his grin somehow widening beyond what seemed possible, «... you've been using your time here… interestingly. You've even inspired our dear princess to show a firmness that, let's admit, none of us expected from her. When she came to me, demanding I remove your chain, she was quite… resolute. She wouldn't take no for an answer.»

His tone dipped slightly, a sinister weight punctuating his words. «And for the first time, I found myself… inclined to oblige. Of my own will, of course.» He paused, studying Adam with eyes that seemed to pierce his very soul. «I must congratulate you. You've had this gift for mere days, and you're already getting what you want. Meanwhile, I'm still planning how to take and keep the Deus Ex Machina from our beloved Shield.»

The grin turned darker, more menacing. «I'm genuinely impressed.»

Adam crossed his arms, the vodka bottle tucked securely under one, his gaze locked on Alastor. «I don't know what you're talking about, but if you have a point, you'd better get to it quickly.»

Alastor's grin didn't waver. If anything, it seemed to grow wider, taking on an even more sinister edge. «Oh, dear Adam, my point is quite simple. In this grand game we call Hell, each of us is merely a piece on the board. But you… you're beginning to look like something more than just a pawn. You might have potential you don't even realize. And who knows what you could become with just a little… guidance.»

Adam didn't move, his expression unwavering. «You already trapped me once, Alastor. I'm not helping you again. It's bad enough you know what I know about Michael's artifact. You're not getting anything else out of me.»

The Radio Demon chuckled, but the sound was hollow, devoid of true amusement—a harbinger of something dark. «Maybe. Maybe not.» He paused, tilting his head slightly as he regarded Adam like a new toy to be evaluated. «But, you see, it's not up to you. Thanks to me, Husk can't tell Charlie a thing about this little exchange of ours. And yet… he is under my control, Adam. You know exactly what that means.»

Adam stiffened, his hands clenching into fists and his jaw tightening. It was clear he understood the implication.

Alastor took another step forward, his cane tapping against the floor like the measured countdown of an execution. «Our sweet, naïve Charlie would be heartbroken to learn… that you manipulated her into getting you released.» His voice softened, like a poisoned whisper. «She fought so hard for you, put her authority and credibility on the line. The mere thought of that betrayal would crush her. It might even push her into another Nephilim transformation—one more devastating than the last. And who knows…» He paused dramatically, his grin widening as he tilted his head in mock curiosity. «…if the Deus Ex Machina would still heed your call. Wasn't the first rule "Be authentic"? Tell me, Adam, how authentic do you feel these days?»

Alastor's words cut deep, like a finely honed blade. Adam hissed through his teeth, trying to mask the anxiety gnawing at him. «You wouldn't dare…»

«You don't know me.» Alastor countered, his tone glacial, each word laced with dangerous intensity. His grin darkened further, and his crimson eyes gleamed as his figure began to flicker and distort. The crackling of a radio signal filled the air, his very presence seeming to twist and warp. For a brief moment, he appeared as a living shadow, a creature devoid of substance, brimming with malevolence. Then, with an almost casual gesture, he reverted to his usual form, relaxed and affable as if nothing had happened.

«But don't worry!» he exclaimed cheerfully, turning on his heel and resting his cane over his shoulder. «I don't need you at the moment. I can handle things just fine on my own.» He stopped mid-step, glancing back at Adam with a sideways smirk. «For now… enjoy your well-earned freedom. While it lasts.»

With a snap of his fingers, the chain binding Adam dissolved into ethereal mist, vanishing completely. The sudden release came like a shock, but any sense of relief was overshadowed by the weight of Alastor's words.

The Radio Demon melted into the shadows, leaving Adam alone in the storage room, his heart pounding in his chest. He stared down at the vodka bottle in his hand, the glass feeling absurdly cold against the heat rising within him. Taking a deep breath, he forced himself to regain an air of calm, though the turmoil inside him was far from settled.

When Adam returned to the bar, the absence of the chain didn't go unnoticed. Husk glanced at his now unshackled wrist, his ears flattening slightly as he registered the missing clink of metal. Raising his gaze, he saw Adam approaching with a grim expression, the vodka bottle clutched tightly in his hand.

«Where's the chain?» Husk asked, his tone low but laced with suspicion.

Adam didn't answer immediately, pretending to busy himself with setting the bottle on the counter.

Husk wasn't having it. He grabbed Adam's shoulder, spinning him around to face him. «Where the FUCK is the chain?!» he growled, his voice sharper now.

Adam hesitated for a moment before replying reluctantly. «Charlie was able to convince Alastor. It's gone.»

Husk stared at him for a long moment, his ears twitching in irritation. «But?» he prompted, sensing there was more to the story.

Adam lowered his gaze, his jaw clenched. «But that bastard still has me by the balls.»

Husk shook his head, releasing Adam with a brusque gesture. «Of course. I'd say "I told you so", but it wouldn't change anything. In any case, you don't have to stay here anymore. Fly free, little bird.»
The cat demon returned to his place on the counter, resuming making the drink he had previously left hanging.

Adam slumped onto a stool and set the vodka bottle down on the counter with a heavy thud. His posture was hunched, as if the weight of hell itself had settled on his shoulders. With a weary motion, he brought a hand to his face and pulled off the dragon mask he wore, setting it aside like discarded armor after a lost battle.
Husk watched Adam out of the corner of his eye, a mixture of pity and frustration etched into his face. Without the chain, Adam should have been out celebrating, gorging on ribs and surrounded by luxurious prostitutes. Instead, here he was, sitting at the bar as if his newfound freedom was an even heavier burden.

For a long moment, the bar was filled only with the sounds of the shaker and the clink of glasses. Then Husk noticed something unusual. Adam's body gave a small jerk. Then another. And another, more rhythmic now, almost trembling.

Husk stopped mid-motion, turning slowly to face the First Man. What he saw nearly made him drop the glass in his hand.

Adam was crying.

The First Man's shoulders shook with each silent sob, his hands pressed against his face as if trying to suppress the flood of emotions breaking through. No sound escaped him, only the ragged rhythm of his uneven breathing and the faint tremble of his hands. Silent tears streamed down his face, glinting under the dim bar lights.

Husk stood frozen, unable to process what he was seeing. In all his immortal life, he never thought he'd witness such a sight: Adam, the First Man, the legendary figure who had set humanity's course, breaking under the weight of his sorrow.

Not anger. Not frustration. Sorrow.

It was rarer than hitting the jackpot, a moment that felt almost wrong to exist.

Eventually, Husk lowered his gaze with a soft sigh. He grabbed a clean glass and filled it with straight vodka, then placed it on the counter in front of Adam. He didn't say a word, but the gesture spoke for him: Drink. You need this more than you'll admit.

Adam slowly lowered his hands from his face, revealing eyes red and glassy. Hesitantly, he reached for the glass, bringing it to his lips. He said nothing, but the way he downed it in a single gulp spoke louder than words ever could.

Husk leaned on the counter, his expression softer than usual, though tinged with weariness. «You're free, Adam. Why aren't you out celebrating?»

Adam turned the empty glass in his hands, the coolness of the glass somehow heavier than it should've been. «Because I'm an idiot, Cat.» he admitted bitterly. «I wish I could go back and not make that damn deal. Now it's extinct because he got what he wanted to know, and I... I can get everyone to trust me more easily. But even so, it's like I'm still tied to him.»

Husk snorted, pouring himself a glass of bourbon. «Yeah, I know the feeling.»

Adam continued, his voice trembling with vulnerability. «I don't know how to break free. I feel trapped.»

Husk took a deep breath, lifting his glass to his lips before responding. «Unlike me, you're not trapped. Sure, Alastor could tell Charlie what you've done anytime, or he could order me to spill the beans. But you still have one move left. It might cost you Charlie's trust forever, but at least it'd break that bastard's hold on you.»

Adam stared at him, puzzled. «You're suggesting I confess everything to Charlie?»

Husk shrugged with feigned indifference. «Better she hears it from you than from me or Alastor. That would be much worse.»

Adam returned his gaze to the empty glass, the weight of his actions bearing down on him. «I don't think I can do it.»

Husk set his own glass down with a small clink, emphasizing his next words. «The longer you wait, the worse it'll be, Adam. If you can't start with Charlie, then talk to someone who might understand. Someone directly involved.»

He nodded toward the booth across the bar, where Headshot sat chatting casually with Angel, Cherri, and his security team. «Go to him and tell him everything you know about his artifact. Warn Headshot to keep his distance from Alastor. Maybe he's sharp enough to steer clear of the Radio Demon.»

Adam followed Husk's nod, staring at the group in the booth. Seeing Headshot so calm and oblivious only deepened his guilt. But it also sparked a flicker of determination.

«You think he'd believe me?» Adam asked finally, his tone low.

Husk crossed his arms, giving him a serious look. «He helped you activate an angelic seal. He already knows you know more than he does.» Husk paused, his tone softening just a little. «You've screwed up a lot, Adam. But if you really want to stop feeling trapped, this is your chance. Do something right, for once.»

Adam's gaze lingered on Headshot, who was casually sipping his usual glass of lemonade. There was something calming about seeing the butterfly demon relax, engaged in lighthearted conversation with Angel and Cherri. However, before Adam could settle on a course of action, a sudden movement caught his attention.

Kitty, Headshot's younger sister, appeared behind him with the playful energy of someone who knew exactly how to surprise her older brother. Headshot, though, seemed to sense her presence and played along, pretending not to notice until the last moment. When Kitty leapt at him from behind the booth, he burst into laughter and effortlessly caught her, ruffling her hair in a playful "punishment" for sneaking up on him. Then, with ease, he lifted her and settled her onto his lap.

The scene was disarmingly sweet—a rare moment of peace amidst the chaos of Hell.

Watching them, Adam found himself reflecting. That simple snapshot of sibling affection and camaraderie was exactly why he needed to act. He couldn't allow Alastor to keep manipulating everyone, especially someone like Headshot, who seemed so genuine in his care for those around him. As he watched them, Adam realized that this small moment of connection embodied everything he had lost—and everything he still had a chance to protect. There was no room for hesitation. If he couldn't safeguard this, how could he ever hope to redeem himself?

«I'll start with Headshot.» he said aloud, breaking the silence. «And with a little luck… I'll make it to Charlie.»

Husk, who had been quietly listening, gave Adam a firm pat on the shoulder—a rare gesture of warmth from the usually gruff bartender. «That's the spirit!» he said with a faint smile, returning to his work behind the bar.

The relative calm of the Hazbin Hotel was abruptly shattered by a commotion at the entrance. Voices rose in a crescendo of whispers and alarmed exclamations, transforming into a chaotic buzz as guests crowded toward the source of the disturbance.

The eyes of Hell's inhabitants widened in disbelief as they pointed and murmured, their expressions ranging from shock to outright hostility. The hum of Headshot's wings grew louder as he, along with the rest of the staff, hurried toward the scene to investigate.

When they reached the entrance, the sight before them stole the breath even from the most stoic among them.

At the center of the crowd stood a figure seemingly out of place in every possible way. A young woman, draped in white and blue robes that seemed to radiate light, was surrounded by six majestic, pristine wings. Above her head hovered a glowing halo, floating like an ethereal crown. In her hands, she held a visibly heavy suitcase, overflowing with ancient tomes and yellowed letters.

Emily stood there, completely out of place in this dark, infernal world. Her wide, nervous eyes darted from one face to another among the diverse crowd of sinners, who stared at her with a mix of awe, fear, and suspicion. The stark contrast between her angelic presence and the shadowy crowd was jarring—like a single ray of sunlight piercing into a deep cavern that had never known light.

For a brief moment, silence fell as Headshot, Angel, Cherri, Husk, and the rest of the staff pushed their way through the throng to get a better view. The tension in the air was almost suffocating, and even Angel's usual cheeky demeanor faded in the face of such an extraordinary sight.

Emily swallowed hard, her face flushed with embarrassment. The sinners around her scrutinized her every move, whispering amongst themselves, their voices a jumble of astonishment and unease.

«A seraph… here? What's she doing?»
«Is this a warning? Or worse, a judgment?»
«Look at her… she doesn't seem threatening, but… she's still an angel.»

The young seraph timidly raised a hand—a gesture so simple, yet so vulnerable, that it somehow made the divide between her and this world even more apparent. Her voice, soft and trembling, cut through the silence.

«Hello!» she said, clutching the suitcase like a lifeline. «Can anyone tell me where Charlie is?»

Her words hung in the air, dissonant and surreal, leaving everyone stunned. For a moment, no one seemed to know how to respond. But that one word, that simple greeting, was enough to make it clear to everyone present: something truly extraordinary was happening.