Chapter 173

Tyson

With the smell of fresh baked bread wafting in the air, we approached the area where they made the food. It was a giant gallery of various factories, with demons gleefully whipping the mortal cooks who were never satisfied with their craft.

In life, some of those people baked bread of blood and bone, loafs with a little of their own people to hide their murders, obsession with taboo flavors, or those who purposefully poisoned their food for unsuspecting victims to perpetuate their morbid fancies.

And now they toiled, making 50-pound loaves of bread, roasting whole cows, seasoning everything to perfection, brewing beer to its best possible flavor, or sauté vegetables to be grilled to be perfectly tender. The food was seasoned skillfully, and it could be scented, but I would rather have a soul or two…

How they made my mouth water now…

My stomach growled.

“Young master, I must insist a soul or two if you are to deal with these nonguilty ones. You may find yourself eating their veal flavored meat.”

“Alright.” I said as we landed.

“Bring me some charcoal!” he yelled.

A 4ft gray cat demon with wings the same size as their Layer Lord came with a bucket of coals… Those were souls in that gallon metal pail… Those who never learned their lesson were converted to charcoal. The cylindrical, uniformly compressed brickettes looked like tubes. They must have pressed them into this shape, one last painful punishment.

“Have as many as you like master!” beamed the little cat, and I said nothing.

The moment I touched one, I saw a vision of a woman punching a servant child with all her might. They were hungry, and there was drought… They only asked for a piece of bread that hit the floor, and she gave it to a dog who didn’t even want it. It had steak, as did she, while her people starved.

And when she was poisoned by her rival, she was set at the long, wooden tables back at the park.

I bit into the charcoal, which was not hard. It had the consistency of a buttered biscuit, with cheese and sausage baked inside. It was flakey, meaty, tender, filling, and I was full from just that one.

I hummed with every bite, feeling refreshed from using so much magic today. “That was delicious.” I said with an approving head nod.

“By all means young master, feel free to have as many as you like.” Grinned Consumptus. “They can be ordered from Hellmart’s delivery service as well.”

“As convenient as it sounds, I live on Urth, grandmother’s home world.” I said honestly.

“Then by all means, we’ll arrange at least a crate to take home.” He offered but I shook my head.

“Only a five gallon bucket.” I said and he nodded vigorously.

He jiggled as he did so, and I looked up how much this would cost. While another darker furred tabby cat flapped over with a black, five-gallon bucket, I did a bit of mental math. On my phone, and being Below, I could look up Hellmart’s pricing.

One gold could get me ten. Twenty fit in a one gallon bucket, and I still hadn’t gone to the bank. I knew I had enough, and I waved my hand, summoning 10 gold.

“Master!” he exclaimed. “To take your money would be an insult to you my lord!”

“To not give you anything for such quality work is an insult to your craft.” I said firmly. I also gave a gold to each little cat demon, and they bowed repeatedly before flying off incredibly happy. Not only had I complimented them, but they received physical praise. In many instances, they tend to make jewelry out of the gold we pass in instances like this. “Take this as my gratitude, a gift for your efforts. I live in the world of the living, where souls, and the consumption of them is not looked upon so positively….” I said and he hesitantly reached out.

He really did take his time on taking it, looking at it intensely. Consumptus did want it. I didn’t know how long it took to crush, compress, and season a soul with such rich flavor, but I felt like I had a hearty breakfast sandwich. He Needs compensation.

This solves a problem that I didn’t know had a solution… If I’m not hunting for the Horned One, I have back up food that feeds my magic. I didn’t like feeding off my prisoners… Yes, some did terrible things to earn prison, but they still lived to at least reconcile their actions….

These souls were awful people who did not want to change, and refused to see the error of their monstrous ways… They were given tests, chances, and even torture, yet they still remained evil.

We walked a few paces, until we reached the fire witches. They stoked the fires of multiple 75 feet tall, walk in black brick ovens. The 30ft door had 15ft demons standing in front, managing the souls meant to either put the fresh racks of dough in, or take them out. There were multiple down the lane, and I saw the souls I meant to claim.

Consumptus was very organized, summoning black scrolls that floated in place as he unrolled them, and passed them to flapping cats. They swarmed in the air to fetch them, telling them to stop stoking fires, kneading dough, or brewing alcohol. The nearly four thousand mortal souls looked worse than I expected, but such is the fate of being where they do not belong.

They can’t work their penance here, and it showed.

The witches looked emaciated, unlike many of the healthy, well tenderized souls here… They did not thrive. Because this was not their punishment, it wasn’t where they were supposed to be. About a third of them needed to go to the Layer of Aggression, and another third needed to go to the Layer of Murder, the last third could go to Repentance with me. Those were the young souls, ones that were only teenagers, or those who didn’t get a chance to sacrifice humans yet.

None of them would have been punished by Apolis for doing his bidding, but because it was Eternya that killed them, they are cut off from their fiery afterlife. Now, about 50 cat demons flapped in the air, while the souls stood in front of the closest oven.

“I’m going to point to the ones who will go to the Layer of Aggression first. I will start with Ignis.” I pointed to that soul, who looked at me in utter fear that I knew his name.

He tried to run, but he only got about 10 steps before he was swarmed with cats who love chasing prey. They dragged him to my feet by his ankles, and he was on his belly in the dirt embarrassingly clawing at the cobblestone the whole way.

What scum he was.

“Pl-” I stopped his talking.

“Be silent.” I spat. “Be lucky I am here to be fair. You belong to the Layer of Aggression for how you treated not only Elinore, but also your wife. Where is she?” I asked.

They were all kept separated from their spouses, but his bride slowly stepped forward. “I’m here great one.” She saw what the cats would do if they ran. Her X was for Murder, as she’d killed 18 people. Those sacrifices were now counted as crimes.

Again, had she died any other way, she’d be with her maker. It almost felt unfair to send her to another Layer other than One, but it isn’t fair to the humans that they died and were burned alive in a volcano for her joyous pleasure either.