Chapter Fifty

"You look miserable," a familiar voice called out to him as Aeron's eyes fluttered open. In front of the fallen Angel stood Satan, surrounded by a large group of bearded Demons. Each one held a small chain that was attached to the portal he'd just walked out of. "He has arrived. You can stop the ritual," the Demoness ordered—causing the devils to all let go of their respective chains. It must've taken an ungodly amount of strength to hold them back. As, the moment they were released, the chains shot back towards the portal. Once they had all been absorbed, the doorway crumbled into nothing. As the remnants of the gate wafted up to the ceiling, Aeron took a moment to take in his surroundings. Currently, they were standing in the middle of a giant conference hall. It was the very same auditorium that, just weeks ago, held the massive inter-realm summit he'd taken part in.

"I never knew that you could teleport someone back to Hell. Did you use a new curse or something?" he asked as his eyes darted to the hall's entrance. Standing next to it—just outside the giant doors—was Dr. Leeson. The devil was currently talking to a group of armored Demons. "Those guys," Aeron thought, "are they Satan's personal guard?" At first glance, that was what they appeared to be. However, his instincts said otherwise. Those Demons were far too rugged just to be regular soldiers. "They couldn't be… military… could they?" he thought as he narrowed his eyes. Such an idea was laughable. Hell had no use for a standing army; they weren't at war with anybody.

"Mr. Weber, are you okay? You're staring into space," Satan said as she playfully patted him on the shoulder, shocking him out of his thoughts. Once she'd regained his attention, the Demoness smiled and walked back to the center of the room. "Anyways, to answer your question. Yes, what we just used to teleport you back here was an experimental curse. Think of it as a less advanced version of the Bureau's bridge. Of course, I and my Demons can only use it to venture within Hell's borders. But, for someone like you, that's not a problem. The only downside is that it requires a lot of energy from the casters, but I guess that can't be helped." Satan shrugged. Such was the price of progress.

"You must be working these poor bastards down to the bone. They look exhausted." Many of the casters seemed to be on the brink of death. A few of them had even passed out! "I doubt that it took this much of their energy to get me back here. Did you use them to transport something else?" If their condition was anything to go by, it must've been one hell of an endeavor. After asking that question, Aeron assumed that Satan would act coy—like she usually did—and try to avoid answering. However, much to his shock, Hell's leader didn't waste a moment to clear up his confusion.

"Yes, we did. If I'm being honest, recently, we undertook quite the operation. It took everything these guys had to succeed." As she spoke, Aeron felt his heart start to beat like a war drum.

"May I ask what it was that you had them retrieve? If it drained so much of their energy, it must be important and powerful," he continued. Instead of answering him, Satan smirked, turned around, and started walking up the steps towards the conference hall's exit.

"Words won't do it justice," she said as she motioned for him to follow. "I'll personally show you our prize." With a shrug, Aeron obeyed and hurried after the Demoness. "Dr. Leeson," Satan started as the two of them strolled up to the giant Demon. "I'm going to take Mr. Weber to the safe. Make sure you have everything ready by the time we return."

"Yes, ma'am, as you wish," the fiend mumbled as he respectfully bowed his head. Aeron was shocked. He was seriously expecting that Dr. Leeson would protest his presence. After all, it was clear that the devil didn't trust him. However, he let him pass without a fuss.

"That was strange," he thought as he stared at the back of Satan's head. "What's going on?" Yet again, even though he didn't speak, Satan was quick to answer his question.

"Me and Dr. Leeson were watching as you rampaged through Atlantis. And I've got to say; you were positively demonic. Dr. Leeson was speechless. Although, I can't say I'm surprised. During your time as a judge, you were known for being thorough."

"I never sensed anyone the whole time I was there." He was constantly checking for spies throughout the entire assault. "Besides God himself, I doubt there's anyone that can hide from her gaze," he conceded with a chuckle. With all that was happening, it was easy for him to forget who he was dealing with. Satan was known and feared throughout the Universe, and for a good reason. "If you were watching the whole time, then I assume that you overheard my conversation with Poseidon?" he asked. Satan nodded.

"Yes, quite the bizarre man, that Poseidon. I never thought that he'd escape for such petty reasons. Speaking of which… did he happen to tell you how he slipped through? I had my Demons search every inch of Tartarus, but they couldn't find a thing."

"Sorry, but no, although there was that strange riddle he gave me. But I severely doubt it'll be useful." In his mind, those words were little more than the ramblings of a madman. However—much to his surprise—Satan seemed oddly pleased by his answer.

"Then it's as I feared," she said as they walked into the palace's grand lobby. "Mr. Weber, I may be able to tell you the cause of your woes. Though you may not believe it." Aeron frowned; just what was she trying to say?

"Are you telling me that you know how Poseidon escaped? If so, please enlighten me." Whoever aided the false Angel was, in Poseidon's own words, responsible for many of the misfortunes that he, Zia, Kashif, and Elizabeth, had to trudge through during their journey. Hell, depending on the person, they might've had a hand in their transmitters malfunctioning. Truth be told, he already had an idea of who this mysterious figure might be. But there was no way that his guess was correct. The concept of such a thing happening was simply ludicrous.

"With Poseidon's testimony, I'm all but certain that I've discovered your little perpetrator. Honestly, when you stop to think about it, the answer is painfully obvious. There's only one being in the Universe that's in the position to disable the Bureau's communicators. And there's only one person I know of with the power to free Poseidon from his cell. Good old Yahweh himself." Aeron grimaced and bit his lip at her words. It pained him to admit it, but she was right. There were no other options. The Almighty was the only person with the authority, and the strength, to both block their transmitters and free Poseidon from Tartarus.

"But," Aeron stammered, "but why would he do such a thing? It's—"

"Insane? I agree, but, as both of us know, sane is one thing that the Almighty is not," she cut him off as she stared at her reflection on the shiny marble floor. "We're talking about a being that purposefully creates realms full of sinful residents—a strangely lazy one at that. After all, have you ever stopped to think why the Bureau even exists? God is supposed to be an omnipotent, all-seeing creator. So why would he relegate important tasks like judging worlds to his subjects? It just doesn't make any sense."

"Hmm… you do have a point." To be blunt, he constantly pondered these questions, but he never vocalized them. If he did, his kin would imprison him for heresy. "However, one thing doesn't add up. And that's the motive. What is Yahweh possibly trying to accomplish by doing all of this?" It wasn't like he'd gain any new wealth or influence. After all, Yahweh was, quite literally, a god. He already had everything a soul could want.

"You haven't figured that out yet? What he desires is clear as day. In fact, in that respect, I'd dare say that you and him likely see eye to eye," Satan continued. "And that, Mr. Weber, is entertainment."

"Listen," he chortled. "I know you and our creator aren't really on the best of terms, but don't you think that's a bit of a stretch?" he finished as they walked up to an unassuming door in the back of the gallery. Thanks to his Angelic senses, he could tell it was covered in curses and barriers. He'd bet his soul that this was the most secure doorway in Satan's palace. And, after she opened it, he got to see why. Hiding behind that cursed gate was an enormous storehouse, large enough to rival even God's toolbox. Shelves upon shelves of weird and exotic items lined the walls, with many of them being so massive that they reached up to the heavens.

One item that particularly drew his attention was an oddly realistic statue of a horned devil. Instead of eyes, it had two serpents sticking out of its skull. The serpents themselves were also eerily lifelike; Aeron swore they were following his every move. "Yet another sight for sore eyes, how amazing," he pondered as his lips contorted into a frown. In the past, this place might've shocked or even intrigued him. However—after trudging through such a long and grueling journey—the Devil's safe of wonders left less of an impact than the muddy trenches back on Earth. As they tiptoed around the sizeable demonic statue, Satan took a moment to address his earlier query.

"Yahweh has always been one for spectacle. He's constantly busy building new worlds and rarely takes a moment to govern those he's already created. A person like that can get bored easily. For someone like him, the path to alleviating that boredom can be a violent one." Yet again, Aeron smirked and shook his head.

"So what? For nothing more than the sport, he pits one of his precious Cherubs against a member of his fallen kin, really? I don't see it. You're going to have to provide more proof than that," he said as they slowly hiked down a large flight of steps, which led to another expansive hall. However, even though it was the same size as the previous line of shelves, this area was practically empty besides the marble table which sat in the middle of the room.

"Do I need to elaborate more?" Satan groaned as they headed towards the strange piece of furniture. He was confident that something was resting upon the table, but—for the life of him—he couldn't figure out what it was. "We're talking about the same guy, right? I mean, this is the deity that personally tossed one of his legendary tools down to the mortal realm. He'd do anything to stir up a little chaos. Oh wait, now that I think about it, you don't know about that tiny detail, do you?" Like a puppet whose strings had been cut, Aeron stopped dead in his tracks.

"Wait a minute," he started as his eyes went wide—nearly to the point that they popped out of their sockets. "What did you just say?" Instead of answering him, Satan grinned and motioned over to the small marble table. Now that they were closer, he could make out the distinct shimmer of gold resting upon it. Even from that distance, he could detect the weight of the object's power pressing against his body. The aura of the golden staircase didn't even compare. This was different. It was warm, all-encompassing, and… quite simply… deific. "It can't be," he mumbled, too shocked to form coherent speech, as he turned to Satan. "Then, that objective you were talking about earlier, it was—"

"Why don't you go see for yourself?" Satan cut him off as she playfully pushed him forward. In his confused stupor, Aeron could only manage a shaky jog as he scrambled to the counter. Even though he had yet to get a good look at it, he just knew. He knew that what he was staring at was special. It was the reason for all of this, the cause behind his mission, the reason he was damned, and the source of all his suffering. As his heels rattled against the stone floor, a strange mix of emotions shot through him. It was an odd combination of rage, relief, and pleasure. When he could finally make out the object's distinct outline, all these feelings came to a climax. And, in a roar that surprised even himself, he screamed out three words.

"The… the Holy Scale!"

From the desk of Beurt Albere...

It's pathetic when you think about it, really. That the mere idea of one of my fellow Cherubs terrifies me so much. The thought of Aeron Weber's gaze makes me squirm. And—if it isn't the fear that does it—that weakness is what keeps me up at night. I have nightmares of what would happen if he were free from Heaven's restrictions. I wonder what the Universe might look like if he were born with horns instead of wings. For all it took was just one, Satan, to completely throw all of creation into chaos. However, all things considered, the Devil had a goal and was logical. Aeron Weber, on the other hand, is just a bored beast. Over the years, I've crafted the Bureau to be his cage, but if he ever escaped, then God help us all.