Zerasos stumbled as he exited the teleportation, the rush of ambient mana from his home world momentarily overwhelming him. After subsisting on the meagre mana generated within the house he'd been assigned by the System, the devil breathed in mana like a man possessed, sucking every drop of fire-aspected mana he could get into his body.

He stood within his office, an ornate and regal space he'd decorated to convey one thing.

Power.

Those with discerning taste would note the designer rugs, the prohibitively expensive soulwood desk and the signed artworks that adorned Zerasos' walls. They would fixate on the tasteful fresco that adorned his ceiling and the golden chandeliers that hung from it. This was his financial power, the ostentation of a man whose company ruled an entire world.

The ones who lost themselves in the splendour and flattered him were worthless in Zerasos' eyes. He cared for the observant ones, those whose eyes locked on the mounted heads adorning his walls, each one with an accompanying plaque to explain their transgression against the President of Hellstone Incorporated. Those who could hear the endless wailing of the seventy-one rebels locked within his desk, their souls slowly corroding under the influence of the soulwood.

These were the people Zerasos liked to do business with.

Those who recognised that the business world was cutthroat- and that President Zerasos had cut a few throats in his time.

Taking a seat behind his desk, the devil rifled through the piled-up papers. Most were of little consequence, easily handled by the corporate machine he had painstakingly assembled.

A few required direct intervention, though not from him but rather on his behalf. One of his sons would leap at the opportunity to do their father a service. Pitiful whelps that they were, they expected an accumulation of merit would compel their father to action, that once their worth was recognised he would help elevate them to [F] Grade.

Shattering their delusions was counterproductive- a willing tool is more pliable after all and Zerasos always required more pliable tools.

Aside from the various plates the company was spinning, a few issues on Zerasos' desk were of a more...personal nature.

They could wait- he had meetings to schedule.

Pulling up his crystal display, Zerasos sent a summons to his assistant.

The doors to his office burst open a second later, hinges rattling from the force of the man who'd pushed them open.

Tall and muscular, the devil who had entered the office shared many similarities to Zerasos, though his veins lay beneath his skin and his eyes featured black pupils within their milky centres. Dressed in an impeccably tailored scarlet suit, the devil was the very image of civility and poise, posture ramrod straight, features schooled in an image of refined grace.

When he spoke, in contrast to his appearance, his tongue was as unrefined as his boss'

"Ah boss, good to see ya back! Me an' the boys were gettin' worried you'd gotten hooked on workin' for upstart brats- thought we'd hafta to deal with this shitshow on our own!"

Kicking his feet onto the desk, ignoring the howls that increased in volume due to his actions, Zerasos grinned at his friend turned right-hand man.

"Get your head checked out then, you son of a bitch- I'm back and my Infamy point is gone for good. Worked it off, finally. Enough foreplay Orth, whatta we have on the Shepherds I can use?"

Summoning a binder from thin air, Orth threw the thick stack of papers at his boss, pulling up one of the two chairs opposite his friend, summarising the thick sheaf of papers as Zerasos skimmed them, searching for a usable nugget of info.

"Human supremacists, [F] Grade faction, not System recognised. Plenty of dirt, but nothing anyone'll take action for. They're the number one slave exporter around. They colonise planets, enslave any non-human inhabitants, sell em' off, then populate the now empty world with clueless [H] Grades who worship the Shepherds as gods. I mean, not exactly the nicest types but slavery is a big market- they got a lotta fingers in a lotta pies and a lotta powerful people giving creampies to their merchandise. Boss, quick one- why are we going to bat for this fuckin kid anyways?"

Continuing to leaf through the dossier, Zerasos let a puff of air escape his nostril, arching his brow as he did so.

"First off, we're goin to bat for ourselves. These cock munchers threatened to cut off access to their markets. A threat like that can't slide, gotta answer it one way or another- as you well know. Second of all- where's the smokin' gun here?"

"Y'know that miner revolt we had- back when you first got that Infamy point?"

"I remember it being a pretty minor revolt. With all the shit that was hitting the fan at the time that was small potatoes, but go on."

"We still have a tonne of those guys locked up- waste not, want not y'know? So, my idea was we bribe these guys off with sulphur devils in exchange for them backing down. Pretty rare merchandise for them and I'm confident they'll take it. They save face by getting a very public bribe, and we make a new connection with some shakers and movers. Not bad eh?"

Zerasos found himself nodding along. It rid him of a lingering reminder of his past failures, removed a potential future headache and helped him forge ties with another power in the universe. Plus it meant he didn't have to meet with the sanctimonious bastards. Not a bad plan from Orth.

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"Do it then- slap the slave brands on and ship them off, alongside a handwritten note from me inviting their leader to dinner after the Tutorial is over."

Orth grinned, his own crystal flaring to life as the orders were executed.

"Done and done. I'll have an intern write the note."

"Hedonic Path whatta we know?"

Another binder, another skim session commenced while Orth beat around the bush.

"Hedonic Path, [E] Grade faction, System recognised. Mercs for hire, these guys also make a killing off of conquering worlds and auctioning them off to the highest bidder. Disinclined to rule any of the worlds they conquer, they take their payday and move on. Hell, they're disinclined to do much aside from party all day. Their founder's outta commission but that's a recent development, the jury's out on whether that's good or bad for us. We do have an in with these guys and they've been pretty upfront that their boss just wants to talk to you- if our source can be believed he's interested in making a deal on some of our choicier merchandise."

Raising his brow higher Zerasos bit down on the dangling bait.

"Who's our source?"

"One of your daughters- she's been hooking up with their boss ever since you cut her off."

An old rage flared up within Zerasos before he crushed it. The daughter he was thinking of had made it very clear she disapproved of the family business. He'd never forgiven her after she'd emptied one of his bank vaults.

He wouldn't let his personal feelings get in the way- he'd deal with his wayward progeny after the Tutorial was over.

"I've heard enough Orth- get me a portal to their boss, express variety. No expenses spared, clear?"

Orth rose from his seat, giving his boss the answer he expected.

"Crystal boss, it'll be done in five."

With that, the doors to his office closed and Zerasos was left to rack his brain trying to figure out how he wanted to play this.

He had decided by the time the notification came through. The coordinates led to a vessel, moored just outside the planet's orbit. At least the teleport wouldn't break the bank. A small consolation.

Accepting the teleport Zerasos felt himself shift, as reality collapsed around him, taking him to his destination. He found himself stepping into the foyer of what appeared to be a nightclub.

Pumping bass, neon lights and the cheers of the crowd. The devil barely had any time to take it in before a humanoid approached, blue-skinned with red eyes, clad in traditional surian garb- a single piece of fabric wound around the body, with holes cut into it seemingly at random.

The humanoid extended her hand to Zerasos, speaking just loud enough to be heard over the thrum of the party.

"President Zerasos? We of the Hedonic Path are honoured by your visit- please allow me to escort you to the Scion's chambers."

Wordlessly, Zerasos declined the physical contact, following behind his guide, the crowds parting as they moved deeper into the nightclub, passing fighting pits that were adjacent to dance floors, the diverse attendees of the club able to indulge both their lust and bloodlust as the mood struck them.

Dens of iniquity shaded in red light stood side by side with traditional surian worship altars, drugs and holy relics side by side. This concerned Zerasos- the surian element hadn't been mentioned in the dossier but he knew enough of their culture to get by, despite his distaste for them as a species.

Passing another DJ, the guide and guided came before a set of argent stairs, leading to a cerulean door. Engraved in the black tile in flowing silver script lay a single phrase.

'The Heights Of Pleasure'

Corny, about what Zerasos had expected from these cultists. His guide peeled off, a wave and a smile given to him as he ascended the stairs, pushing open the silver doors the devil came face to face with the Hedonic Path Scion.

Luis Salathazar had left his private chambers relatively barren. A large bed dominated the room though it was mercifully occupied only by the man himself. Aside from this and a violet rug, the room was empty.

The Scion rose from his bed striding over to greet Zerasos, his deep blue skin and scarlet eyes telling Zerasos the Scion's surian bloodline ran deep. He eschewed surian convention, clothing himself in a dressing gown of silver and azure, his flowing golden hair a sharp contrast against his garb and skin.

Grasping his hand the Devil gauged the man's strength. Weaker than himself, but not by much. If they fought it would come down to specific elements, counters and weaknesses. Not ideal, but workable.

The Scion spoke first, still vigorously shaking his hand as he did so. Zerasos prayed he'd washed up before their meeting.

"Yo, good to meet you in the flesh my devil bro! Kinda wish we could, like, bro down for a bit but I know time's tight for you, so I'll like cut to the chase y'know? What'd my little bro say- he take me up on my offer?"

Carefully extricating his hand, Zerasos did his best not to wipe it on his shorts as the two took seats at a table the Scion materialised from his storage ring. He considered his response only for a moment- Leon had been fairly unambiguous in his wording.

"The kid didn't go for it- told you to fuck off, says he won't tie himself to anyone while undergoing the Tutorial and that you should sit back and enjoy the show like everyone else."

Zerasos expected anger, indignation or disinterest. He got laughter. Luis Salathazar roared for nearly a minute, tears streaming down the man's face as he composed himself.

"Man what a cocky little bastard! That is so fresh though, I've never had a [H] turn down free shit! Funny as hell, I was keeping an eye on his Tutorial anyway, since the old man went and got himself a slap on the wrist for being on the kid's planet while it was uninitialized. I won't kill him, for making me laugh my lil' bro can keep his life."

The Scion moved past his own amusement and onto the heart of the matter.

"Listen my devil bro, big Z, can I call ya big Z? Whatever, anyways I got business shit to discuss- me and the boys were thinking of taking some contracts in and around the Green Belt, conquering the last few holdout planets of those tree huggers. Need some real primo fire aspected gear. Can you hook your boy up? I'll cut you in, first dibs on anything cool we find."

His earlier disgust was gone, as Zerasos extended a hand to the Hedonic Path Scion. The man had surprised Zerasos. It was clear he wasn't a businessman, likely struggling to maintain his position with his father indisposed. Felt a need to make a splash and convince the old guard he was just as capable. The Green Belt was a tough nut to crack, an appropriately lavish laurel on which to rest while awaiting the return of the founder.

Of course, Zerasos didn't have all the facts but he felt confident in this reading of the Scion. A coddled child, with too much responsibility thrust on him all at once, clutching at any straw in sight. A common enough occurrence among the larger clans when an elder fell or was out of commission.

"Deal kid, I'll have my people send an inventory list over- pick out what you like and pay in full and we'll have no problems."

The surian lit up, shaking with the same exaggerated fervour he'd displayed earlier.

"Sweet, thank you to the maximum big Z! I got a [F] Grade Hydragon down in the pits- wanna blow off some steam with me, take it down to seal the deal?"

A common enough business ritual in the Myriad Worlds and one Zerasos had always enjoyed- to complete a deal and then display your trust in the other party by engaging in a fight against a prepared adversary. A deal bound in blood

"What are we waiting around up here for then? Let's give 'em a show!"