Lilith immediately shook her head. "Even my old master couldn't do that!"
Freyr turned to look at Naya. She added, "Do you think wizards are gods?"
"Oh, the little girl with white hair, what did you say..." The figure overheard Naya. "You said 'Do you think wizards are gods', hmm, if that's what you think..."
He floated a few steps closer to Naya, his tone severe and low. "Then, what do you think a so-called god is?"
Naya, nervous, instinctively leaned back. "A god... a god is a god! Gods created the world and everything in it..."
Before Naya could finish, the figure suddenly erupted in anger. His robe inflated like it was filled with air, and he let out a roar that stunned Freyr and the others.
"Lies!!!!!!"
The roar echoed in the cave, making Freyr feel dizzy.
The man's face twisted with rage, his robe billowing, clearly in a state of extreme fury.
Freyr cautiously asked, "Then... sir, what do you believe the 'truth' is?"
This question immediately calmed the man. He lowered his arms and seemed to glance at Freyr. "Now is not the time to discuss that."
He stepped back a little, looking at his three guests. "First, tell me your names, my little guests."
"Why?" Naya asked.
"Because it's the least respect you owe your host," the man replied with a mocking smile.
Freyr didn't hesitate and promptly spoke first. "Freyr Russell, of the Russell family from the Wallace Empire, Vice Commander of the Imperial Command, son of Earl Edward."
Lilith then reluctantly gave her name, followed by Naya, who hesitated but eventually said, "Naya."
"Very good," the host smiled. "A noble and two witches. This batch of guests is much more interesting than the last."
"And your name?" Freyr asked with a smile. "As our host, you should show us the same respect."
"Me?" The man's voice dropped. "My name is not important, but if you must know, I am called... Samael Duriel Sonnier Alabat Igral..."
He rattled off a long, complex name that left Freyr and the others dizzy.
Finally, he got to the point. "In fact, I am not the master here. I am merely a servant. The most loyal servant of my master!"
A servant?
A servant with such magical prowess? Who could have a servant like this?!
"Then... your master is..." Freyr asked cautiously, his tone becoming more respectful given the display of power.
"My master..." The man smiled, a slight curl at the corners of his mouth. "You must know his name. Though he goes by many names in different texts... the common term among the worldly is..."
He paused, smiling. "The Devil."
A servant of the Devil?!
If someone suddenly came up to you and seriously claimed to be a servant of the Devil, you'd likely think they were mad.
But if this person had just performed astounding magic—like walking through walls, conjuring elaborate chandeliers, exquisite candelabras, and a host of furniture from an empty cave, transforming a cold cave into a warm reception room in an instant...
Would you still think the "servant of the Devil" claim was a joke?
Freyr wanted to laugh, but couldn't muster the sound. The two women beside him also looked uneasy. It was clear that this powerful magician wasn't joking.
"Ha... haha..." Freyr's laugh sounded dry. "You, the servant of the Devil... what purpose do you have in bringing us here?"
"You may call me Samael," the servant said, glancing at Freyr. His eyes were cold, and Freyr noticed they were of different colors—one green and one black.
"...Alright, Mr. Samael," Freyr took a deep breath. "You, who claim to be the Devil's servant, what exactly do you want with the three of us?"
Samael didn't answer immediately. He floated to the other end of the rectangular stone table. "Young nobleman, what is your view on history?"
Freyr's mind raced, and he replied instinctively. "History... is just the lies of the victors."
"Oh... an interesting perspective," Samael smiled. "My dear young nobleman, I have been observing you for days... and I find you particularly intriguing. You have expressed some viewpoints that fascinate me. For instance, you had a dispute with that witch on the island, during which you declared... let me see, what did you say... Oh, yes, 'There is no such thing as justice or evil. The strong fist defines justice. The strong fist is always right.' Is that correct?"
Freyr nodded. "Though not word for word, that's the gist."
"Then, I have a request. Could you link this viewpoint to your understanding of history?"
Freyr pondered briefly. This wasn't difficult to explain, so he said it casually.
"Alright! In my opinion, so-called justice and evil are merely distinctions based on perspective. The victor is justice! The defeated are evil! Because history is always written by the victors, the losers have no say and must accept being labeled as evil. It's a straightforward truth."