It seemed that during the angels' occupation, Robin had grown famished, constructing three large Nurseries in one breath. However, Azazel had no desire to inspect rooms writhing with worms, so he delegated full authority over the Nurseries to Robin.
With the increase in food supply, the number of lesser devils multiplied tenfold in an instant, swelling into the thousands. Azazel's fortress was now home to over a thousand lesser devils.
"How did we, uh, suddenly end up with so many lesser devils?" Azazel was taken aback by the sudden influx of the lowest-tier devils, even though he rarely saw a soul around the fortress in the past days.
"Lesser devils, you say? I hadn't paid much attention to such inferior creatures." Azazel was not satisfied with such an answer, so he simply stared at Robin, wordless. After a moment, Robin couldn't bear his gaze any longer and, raising her hands as if to surrender, she confessed, "Fine, master, I understand. I will give you an answer. These lesser devils are but trifling beings. Toss some food their way, and they'll swarm in. It's beyond me why Hell even bothers with such lowly creatures; they're useless, barely fit for hard labor, and when they perish, their corpses serve as fertilizer."
Azazel could only nod vaguely in approval, urging himself to adapt quickly, "Hmm, good, good. Now, what shall we do next?"
"With enough labor at our disposal, it's time to construct a series of foundational buildings: an armory, a forge, an apothecary." Robin's voice grew somber, "Of course, to manage these undertakings will require a considerable sum. Although our finances are somewhat strained, selling most of the 'soul larvae' should yield a tidy profit, enabling us to purchase the necessary tools."
"I understand, but as the master, I still have some savings set aside. Let's hold off on selling the foodstuffs for now."
"I think we must consider it sooner rather than later. You may not fully grasp your position; we must satisfy not just a small band, but an entire fortress. We need not just to repair weapons, but a complete set of tools. And those to wield them. As impolite as it may sound, I must tell you, the little fortune you've adventured for is hardly sufficient."
Unaware of her master's sudden wealth, and with Azazel not inclined to reveal it, he simply responded, "Oh, is that so? Thank you for your counsel. I'll check with Valis. Until later."
Valis had chosen a vacant hall and tower on the western side of the castle as his residence, now dubbed the "Fallen Angel's Hall." En route to his chosen abode, he had erected signs reading "To the Fallen Angel's Hall."
The main Fallen Angel's Hall was still quite rudimentary, merely a small chapel. But in Valis's vision, it would one day rise into a grand, luxurious temple.
When Azazel found Valis, he was in a small courtyard, instructing Alice in swordplay.
Valis quickly noticed Azazel's arrival, "Alice, look who's here?"
"Who is he? Brother Valis, I don't know him," Alice dropped her sword and hid behind Valis.
"It's Uncle Azazel, whom I've mentioned to you, dear. Come out and greet him."
Once a mighty archangel, Alice had become this after a few sips from the Stygian waters; now as blank as a sheet of paper, having forgotten all her past, the new Alice appeared as a simple-minded girl. Nodding timidly, she approached Azazel and curtsied, "Hello, Uncle Azazel!"
Azazel nearly choked on his own blood. A girl calling him uncle? And this girl was only seemingly youthful; who knew how many centuries the archangel had lived? "Cough, cough, call me what? Um, just call me brother, or master, captain, commander, anything. Just not uncle."
"Brother Valis, Uncle Azazel is upset!" Alice looked troubled as she turned to the only kin she had known since her "rebirth." Valis was the first and only person she had recognized, and she instinctively looked to him for guidance.
Azazel was indeed upset; he needed a warrior, not a simpleton. As he glared at Valis, Alice suddenly began to wail.
"Ah! I can't hold it anymore; I need to pee!" She announced as casually as if she were declaring hunger, then proceeded to squat right there between Azazel and Valis, in the small training yard, and relieved herself.
The sound of the golden stream hissing against the ground filled the air.
"Do angels pee too? Valis, you've outdone yourself! Is this how you've taught her?" Azazel clutched his head, ready to explode with frustration, and gestured for Valis to come aside, "Come on, let's have a proper talk."
Once out of earshot, Azazel's fury burst forth, "Is this how you train her? Really, Valis? Do you know our situation? Do you understand, you fool? Is this a time for play? Any random force could flatten us like a squashed egg, scattering our innards. Do you know what we need most? We need strength, hands to wield swords, mighty warriors, not a..." Azazel's tirade halted abruptly as Alice's voice echoed not far off.
"Brother Valis, I'm done. Come wipe me."
Azazel nodded, then turned to the nearly mortified Valis, "You're doing great, really great. Where was I? Ah, I've nearly been driven mad by you. We need strong warriors, not a girl who can't even wipe her own bottom!"
Taking a breath, Azazel then roared, "You were once an archangel, damn it! No wonder they say the fallen angels are the most powerful. Repressed for a lifetime, longing for a lifetime. How could they not be powerful? How could they not be twisted? You outdo me in wickedness; standing before you, I feel like a kind-hearted little girl pretending to be a devil."
Azazel didn't hold back, venting his anger upon Valis, "Teach her how to kill, damn it! I want her on the battlefield, cutting down foes! It's unbearable, you're driving me insane."
After letting Azazel vent, Valis finally spoke up with a pained expression, "You see, Azazel..." A glare from Azazel made him correct himself, "Lord Azazel, please allow me to report. Teaching her to wield a sword isn't difficult. But killing is another matter; she's like a newborn angel. In fact, she is a newborn angel. Fortunately, her body remembers how to fight, and she learns quickly. She's already capable of combat. But fighting and killing are different; she's never taken a life, and now she even has a mild case of hemophobia."
"That's no problem! I'll have the butler Robin send you a hundred lesser devils every day for practice, and she must kill at least a hundred of them daily."
"That's... not ideal. They may be lesser devils, but they are still our own."
"Bullshit 'our own.' They're not people; lesser devils are the lowest slaves! Here in Hell, remember this: compassion withers, hatred flourishes. Slaves here have no rights; they are merely slaves! You just need to learn to distinguish between useful slaves and useless ones!"
Azazel unleashed his tirade, as much for Valis as for himself.
Such was the way to survive in Hell, and this was just the beginning. For now, the sacrifices were merely lowly lesser devils. In the future, humans, elves, devils, angels, all manner of creatures might become Azazel's slaves. Slaves are not people; they are tools. Only by learning to disregard the lives of slaves can one truly support the "slave system."
Azazel had to remind himself: this was Hell, where compassion withers and hatred flourishes.