It was raining when Satan awoke. The sound of thunder echoed in the distance, and the Hellbeast groaned beneath. Satan sat up. His chest burned. He could still feel the crossbow bolt impaling him. Unconsciously, he tried to pull it out. His hand passed through thin air. Satan shivered uncontrollably. He was smaller; he could tell. His ribs pressed against the pale skin of his chest as if they were prisoners trying to escape. His limbs were scrawny and slow. Satan ran his hands through his hair. Clumps of strands came out, dry and wiry. Satan wiped his hands on his sweat-soaked bedding and achingly rose to his feet. Orobas sat at a table in the corner of the hut. He seemed worried.

‘How long have I slept?’ Satan asked.

‘Are… are you feeling well, my lord?’ Orobas replied.

‘Answer the question.’

Orobas flinched. ‘Six hours, more or less.’

Satan grunted, then collapsed into a nearby seat. He felt like he had just run a marathon. Winchward Beach was draining him in more ways than just mentally.

‘I’m cancelling the banquet,’ Satan said after he had caught his breath. ‘Take me back to the fortress.’

‘Lord, are you sure that’s wise?’ Orobas said, visibly concerned. ‘This is a very important diplomatic – ‘

‘TAKE ME BACK,’ Satan demanded. ‘I need to mobilize Legion.’

Orobas jumped to his feet. ‘What? W-why? Are we under attack?’

Satan gave a pained smile. ‘You could say that.’

Orobas tried to stammer out a reply, but Satan stopped him with a raised palm.

‘I’m going back to sleep. If we reach the fortress and I’m still out, you are to wake me by any means possible, no matter what. Understood?’

Orobas nodded.

‘Thralls,’ Satan said. ‘Help me back to my bedding. I’m… tired.’

He couldn’t show weakness. Not yet.

It’s raining in Winchward Beach too. Hailing, even. Satan feels stronger than ever as he digs himself from out of the wet sand. The purple-red glow of sunset peeks from behind billowing storm clouds. The beach is abandoned, the artificial tourists and residents all huddling indoors. Beelzebub waits nearby under an umbrella. He hands Satan another one. Satan is still wearing his makeshift armour, but there’s now a sizable hole in the chest plate. The skin beneath is flawless, however.

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‘How long has it been?’ Satan asks.

Beelzebub counts on his fingers. ‘A couple of hours, I reckon.’

‘How does time move both faster and slower here?’

Beelzebub shrugs.

The hail hadn’t let up as Satan and Beelzebub made their way back to the hotel. Beelzebub had suggested they find a vehicle of some kind, but Satan accepts nothing less than a full grown Hellbeast. The pair walk through the double doors to their stolen penthouse and freeze. At the dining table is Lilith, and in the kitchen is Mr Legion making her tea. Satan summons his weapon. He knows it won’t do any good, but he needs something he can fight with, no matter how ineffective. Lilith leaps out of her chair, surprise on her destroyed face. She’s wearing average street clothes now. It seems the formal wear is only for the museum.

‘Thanks for that earlier,’ Satan says. ‘It really hit the spot.’

‘They were onto me,’ Lilith replies. ‘Asmodeus somehow knew I had taken the pipes here and figured that I was betraying them. I had to do it.’

Satan smirks. ‘Get out.’

‘But…’ begins Lilith.

‘I want to hear what she had to say,’ Beelzebub interjects.

Satan raises an eyebrow. ‘Oh, do you? Last time I checked, I was the Satan here.’

‘I also vote she stays,’ says Mr Legion.

‘I DON’T EVEN KNOW WHAT YOU ARE!’ Satan spits back at him. He doesn’t want Lilith interfering anymore. Sure, there’s a good chance she is telling the truth, but Satan doesn’t care. He just wants to beat the DLF into the ground and get back to ruling. These complexities are distracting at best. Hail batters the windows. They might break soon.

‘Abaddon didn’t create Winchward Beach!’ Lilith shouts. ‘He reports to someone called Atazoth!’

Satan suddenly sees value in a more complex strategy.

‘Continue,’ he says.

Lilith clears her throat. ‘I’ve never seen Atazoth. All I know is that he’s the one who made Winchward Beach. It’s supposed to do more than just kill you. It’s supposed to invalidate your entire rule.’

Satan stabs his weapon into the floor and takes a seat at the dining table. He gestures for Lilith to do the same.

‘And what’s that mean, then?’ he asks.

‘I don’t know. This is just what I overheard.’

Mr Legion walks from the kitchen with a tray of tea. Four cups.

‘Does the DLF know what his deal is?’ Satan points to Mr Legion.

Lilith hesitates. ‘Well, he is part of the DLF.’

‘Excuse me?’

‘Mr Legion was made by the DLF as a receptacle for Legion’s true power,’ Lilith explains. ‘As long as Mr Legion exists, you can’t harness Legion in Winchward Beach.’

Satan chokes out a humourless laugh. ‘You’re telling that if this idiot wasn’t around, I could have Legion here?’

‘Pretty much.’

Satan bursts into laughter.

‘So how do we get rid of him?’ Beelzebub asks, taking a seat at the table.

‘Get rid of me?’ says Mr Legion.

Lilith takes a sip of her tea. ‘You have to kill him with a demonic weapon. Really kill him. Like what happened to Aosoth. There’s an armoury where the DLF keeps their weapons. I can show you where it is, but I can’t guarantee you access.’

Mr Legion butts in. He seems concerned. ‘Wait, what’s happening?’

‘Shut it,’ says Satan. He turns back to Lilith. ‘Tomorrow, you’re gonna take us to this armoury, alright?’

Lilith shakes her head. ‘I can’t be seen there. They have my real body. If they find proof that I’m doing this, they’ll kill me.’

Satan slurps on his tea. The hail is growing louder. ‘Not my problem.’

‘Give her a break,’ says Beelzebub.

‘You’re on her side?’ Satan slams his palms on the table. The teacups rattle. Hail cracks the windows.

Beelzebub remains calm. He adjusts his glasses. ‘A dead informant is useless to us.’

Satan licks his lips. He thinks for a while. No one else moves. ‘Fine.’

‘Does this mean you’ll help me?’ Lilith asks.

‘It means I don’t entirely distrust you,’ Satan replies. ‘And it means something might happen in the future to your benefit.’

Lilith smiles with her half-fused, crooked mouth. ‘That’s all I need.’

The hail continues.