About to break into Belphegor's home, Beelzebub received a call.
It was from Lucifer.
"Did you get Belphegor?"
Beelzebub kicked the door in annoyance.
"He has locked himself in his home. I am about to break in."
"No need. Make haste. Return immediately."
"I am right outside his door. Just give me a moment. I will—"
"If he can't be bothered, we don't need him. He isn't made for this, as I see it." For a moment, there was silence. "Reports suggest that around thirty percent of their faction has already mobilized. And many more are traveling still from across the country."
Beelzebub was sweating profusely. He was feeling the hunger. He needed to devour something.
"They must have been planning for some time now."
"Satan must be after my position. They will be organized. We will have to strike quickly, or else we won't stand a chance. Return with your men. We need to plan our offense."
