Demons can only afford the scraps, which is why the Church always forbids people from studying forbidden powers. The forbidden power offered by the Demon, although evil, is indeed powerful.
The war previously initiated by Duke Astro had drained a lot of the Demon Kings. They are torn between the output of human world forces and the internal battles. After all these years, even the richly resourced Demon Lords are sowhat stretched thin.
However, there is no good solution to this situation. Most demons can only continue to deplete their resources, depending on whose power is more considerable. This situation leads to the continuous consumption of Hell's life force, which is precisely what the Angels want.
The human world is like a chain that restrains the demons, and also like a thorn thrust into their hearts. Sooner or later, all power will be drained through this blood vessel. Azazel can see this future but is powerless to change it.
"Do you have a solution?" Azazel had to ask. He knew how risky it was to cooperate with Shiller, but he had no choice.
"Your Majesty Azazel, presumably after all these years of hard work, you have a stable base of believers in the Human World, right?"
"Certainly."
"So, your believers are very devout?"
"You could say that."
"Then why don't you harvest them?"
Azazel's countless golden eyes pierced the black fog, fixed upon Shiller. He spent a long ti observing Shiller's indifferent expression and then finally spoke.
"Do you know what you're suggesting? You want —a demon—to seize the souls of your kin?"
"That's too primitive, Your Majesty. A soul can only be harvested once, but if you only grant them a little power yet let them seek other forces for you, you can reap even more."
Shiller lifted his head to look at one pair of Azazel's eyes, his cold tone revealing his true objective, just like drawing a long concealed sharp dagger.
"Or, we can unite all the demons in Hell, harvest the entire Magic realm. The monopoly is already in place, now we simply refuse to deliver, violate the agreent, and collectively raise prices."
Azazel stared hard at Shiller, who also looked back at him and said, "Beelzebub and Astro are dead, Beelzebub stands with us, the remaining Demon Kings are insignificant."
Shiller looked down at his palm, his low voice echoing in the throne hall.
"Once you give the order, the demons will collectively break the agreent—the proud birds in the Magic realm that were used to flying simply cannot bear to be grounded, their feathers muddied."
"Then, they will prostrate at your feet, begging you for power at any cost, paying the price they should pay for audaciously dreaming of standing shoulder to shoulder with gods, as the weak creatures they are."
In the rainy night of Gotham, a female figure carrying a cello case lumbered down the street. She heard the variety show advertisents coming from the shop windows but didn't stop, as the cold and sadness made her long for the warmth of the fireplace in her rented apartnt.
Just as she rushed to open her front door, the enchanted telephone floated up and emitted a shrill ring. She put down her cello case and answered the call.
"Zatanna! Little Zha! It's , it's your Uncle Scott!" From the other side of the line ca a near-inhuman scream: "Little Zha! The contract with Lord Stross, it's been broken! I can't use magic anymore! I've beco ordinary!"
The man on the other end spoke in a trembling voice, tears streaming down his face: "And Uncle Boke, Aunt Stuart, and, and your cousin and nephew, the magical family is over! We're over!"
"The demons have collectively broken the contract! The magic realm is completely over!!!"
With a "clack," the phone receiver fell to the floor, but Ms. Magician was already long gone from the dark apartnt.
London tonight, nobody can sleep.
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