Azazel plucked a feather and, while gently caressing Saint Terial's neck with it, he taunted, "Are you mine? Are you sure? Think about it. Is it worth it? For such a woman?"
"None of your concern! Will you agree or not?"
Azazel emerged from behind Saint Terial, giving Valis a contemptuous look and said in a tone of worldly wisdom, "I bet you're still a virgin, aren't you? As naive as they come. I suggest you find a woman to educate you soon."
Valis, fuming with frustration, retorted, "It's none of your business! Will you agree or not?"
"I agree, why not? From now on, you'll heed my commands. Swear an oath, then let's seal a contract... wait, hold on a moment." Azazel pulled out his tome of black magic, which floated before him, flipping wildly through its pages with a rustling sound, until he found what he was looking for.
Azazel might not know much about this multiverse, but he was no fool. He remembered the last contract that took over a year just to research and prepare, three years to finalize a perfect contract. But even that was no match for someone like Burt, who didn't play by the rules. The result was a powerful father brought low, and Azazel himself nearly lost his life. Once bitten, twice shy, Azazel would not stumble in the same place twice.
"You're an Archangel?"
"Yes, I am an Archangel. My word is my bond. Now, bring the contract."
Azazel referred to his book, which also detailed some habits of Archangels—beings whose words were to be trusted. He produced a contract and handed it to Valis.
Valis quickly glanced over the contract, ready to sign with his bloodied finger, but he paused midway. His eyes fixated on a clause, reading it again and again. Then, looking up at Azazel, he exclaimed, "My God, what kind of contract is this? Only a devil could write such terms!"
Azazel shrugged indifferently, "I'm surprised you didn't realize sooner that I am a devil."
"But this clause here, it would bind me to obey you forever, under your rule. Forever? Isn't that a bit much? I think we should add a term that I obey you until you die."
"Ha, do you take me for a fool? That I should obey you until I die—or until you kill me?"
"Fine, we'll add 'natural death.' But even that seems unfair! You should adhere to the Iron Rules of Hell," Valis brandished the Sword of Dawn, "The second rule: the strong rule the weak. Who's stronger between us?"
"Yes, you're correct," Azazel said, taking a couple of steps back and gently grasping Saint Terial's neck, "Now, who's the stronger among us?"
Valis sighed and lowered the Sword of Dawn, "You are stronger." He added grudgingly, "You're cunning, Azazel, terribly cunning."
"Thanks, I suppose there's a reason for that—I'm a devil, after all."
The two continued their heated discussion over the contract, which Azazel found quite enjoyable.
In fact, for most beings of order, whether devils or angels, they inherently respect and are inclined to operate according to terms and rules.
Like nine people playing a game—if one doesn't play by the rules, it harms not just one person's interests but all the others. Sometimes, the game can't even continue due to the collapse of the rules.
Azazel valued this principle; he liked being surrounded by rules, which made him feel secure. Before coming to this world, rules had always been a part of his life.
Students have their conduct codes, pedestrians wait for traffic lights, people respect the elderly and cherish the young. Most rules serve to maintain social order, and some protect individuals, but overall, a universally followed set of rules benefits everyone.
Azazel was smart, with a whole lifetime's extra experience. Having lived through an era of information explosion in his past life, he possessed a cunning that few could imagine. But Azazel's shrewdness had to be built on a stable foundation.
Like three people playing poker, if Azazel is left with a king and a three, while the opponent has a handful left, Azazel plays the king, and the opponent dumps all their cards in a chaotic mess, claiming victory. What can you do?
There's no recourse but to quit the game. But what if the opponent isn't human? What if it's the demon Burt?
Azazel detested those who didn't play by the rules because you can never predict their next move.
Luckily, there were still many reasonable people in this world, and Azazel watched Valis haggle over the contract with a sigh. Then he began to lament the purity of angels in this world—my contract is nothing harsh! Considering it's my first time being lenient, the terms I've put forth are already quite soft. You haven't even seen the true evil nature of Earth's capitalists!
"No, no, there must be at least one day of rest every seven days. It's a divine right granted for life; you can't take that away from me. I'm your subordinate, not your slave."
"Alright, alright, but if I have an emergency and summon you, you must come and 'work overtime.'"
"'Overtime'? That's a nice term, but if it's overtime, you must pay me double."
"You dare ask me for 'overtime pay'?" Azazel was astonished. You know about overtime pay? Why don't you ask for health insurance then? What about national holidays? Weekends off? Damn it, I didn't have any of these in my past life, and you dare ask? Who says pure laborers are easy to deceive, who says men in other worlds are stupid, and women even more so. Even in the harmonious land of Shenzhou, only a few employees ever receive overtime pay. I never got any in my past life. This angel might be a virgin, but he's no fool.
"Alright, one and a half times, and the woman is yours! That settles it. Sign it, and remember to use your real name! Don't try to fool me here." As he spoke, Azazel cast an advanced spell to detect lies, a spell he developed specifically for signing contracts, to ascertain their effectiveness.
As the two engaged in their spirited debate, the cloaked mage Falling Star, who had been watching the commotion from a distance, slowly approached.
Valis had just written his "true name" in blood on the contract, the crimson script vanishing in a flash. Then a green glow emanated from the contract.
"What's this?" Valis had signed many contracts before, but none that glowed.
"Red means stop, green means go. It's just an aid, showing you haven't deceived me. Now we're good." Azazel casually pocketed the contract, a sly smile spreading across his face, "What are you planning to do with this woman? You've killed her husband, and she hates you now."
Valis lowered his head, "I... I don't know. I just wanted to be with her."
"I have a suggestion. Why not immerse her in the River Styx for a couple of days? When you pull her out, I guarantee she won't even remember her own name."
"That seems... a bit harsh," Valis winced, clearly struggling with the idea.
"What's so harsh about it? It's all about training, training. Think about it, a Seraph who will belong to you from now on. If you wish, she might even call you 'Daddy.'" Azazel continued to tempt Valis, "Would you rather have her hate you forever? Buddy, you're not that foolish, are you?"
"Let me think about it," Valis said, his face flushed as he pondered the difficult decision, oblivious to the imminent danger.
But Azazel sensed it, "Move!" He pushed Valis aside and leaped away, a freezing chill grazing his face, enveloping the spot where he had just stood. Had he been any slower, he might have become a popsicle.
Falling Star had unleashed a spell on them both—the Cone of Cold. An icy breath would cover a conical area in front of the caster in an instant, and all living beings within that zone would inevitably suffer from the chill.
Immediately after, a white orb shot from the elven mage's hands, striking Saint Terial and merging into her body. Azazel's expression darkened in an instant—it was a detoxification spell. The spell quickly took effect, and Saint Terial, no longer frozen in place, seemed as if someone had just lifted a petrification spell. Her first action was to kneel on the ground.
Azazel exhaled in relief. Although Saint Terial had regained her ability to move, it seemed she had no immediate fighting capacity—his venom was still potent.
But then he was furious. "Damn it! Detoxification? Falling Star, what are you doing? I'll sell you to a brothel!" Azazel roared, enraged by the sudden and inexplicable assault and Cone of Cold.