One day, Ishnofel, in his role as the direct representative of Lucifer Morningstar, attended the annual meeting of the Seven Deadly Sins. The council hall, vast and dark, was lit by floating torches that cast shadows dancing like specters across the black onyx walls. His mere presence seemed to absorb the light, unsettling Mammon, Leviathan, and Satan, while Asmodeus, Belphegor, and Beelzebub received him with a curious mix of respect and expectation.
—Good afternoon —Ishnofel greeted as he took his seat—. I see you're all still… alive.
Beelzebub offered a faint smile.
—Always so cordial, Ishnofel. Is everything in order with the King?
—As long as Hell still stands, yes —he replied, his tone neutral, as if the tension hanging in the room didn't affect him—. Though some seem to enjoy hysteria far too much.
Satan frowned, his burning scales radiating suffocating heat, making the air ripple around him.
—I don't understand why they allowed this to happen —he growled—. He doesn't belong on this council.
Ishnofel turned his face slightly toward him, his calm as cutting as a blade.
—I'm here because I represent Lucifer Morningstar. That should be enough.
Satan rose abruptly, the floor trembling beneath his feet.
—I am the second-in-command of this Hell —he roared—. I don't have to accept orders from an impostor.
—Curious —Ishnofel replied coldly—. For someone who boasts so much power, you've done very little lately… executing Imps doesn't count as leadership.
Mammon let out a laugh that echoed like metallic thunder.
—Well, well… this guy really knows how to provoke.
Ishnofel glanced at him sideways, his eyes gleaming with a spectral glow.
—Says the one who measures his worth in coins —he commented—. Quite predictable.
Mammon's grin widened, a spark of excitement running through him.
—Oh, I like him. He talks like he can't die.
Satan was no longer listening. With a roar that shook the hall's foundations, he threw a direct punch that slammed straight into Ishnofel, sending him crashing through a wall of blackened stone. The air burst with a sharp crack, dust swirling in eddies as fragments of rock fell around him.
—Satan! —Asmodeus shouted—. Control yourself!
But the fight had already begun. Mammon lunged in for sheer entertainment, his laughter ringing like shattered bells as he struck Ishnofel with one of his arms, the atmosphere buzzing with electric tension.
—Come on, representative… make it interesting!
From the shadows, Leviathan advanced, her two faces reflecting jealousy and contempt; the ground cracked beneath her weight.
—Always in the spotlight… —she whispered before wrapping Ishnofel with her tail and slamming him into the floor with a thunderous crash that made the walls vibrate—. You're not invincible.
Ishnofel rose slowly, his helmet cracked and his breath clouded with blood and dust. He inhaled deeply, letting a faint glow emanate from his eyes.
—Three against one… —he said, wiping the blood away with his palm—. I admit I expected less creativity.
—I'm going to tear you apart! —Satan bellowed.
The next impact shattered part of the helmet and tore off one of his wings; the air filled with the whistle of torn flesh and metal. Mammon tried to pierce his armor, but Ishnofel reacted with superhuman speed: a single direct blow to the face sent him flying, spitting blood and crashing into the rubble.
—Ow… —Mammon muttered, amused even on the ground.
Leviathan slashed at the armor with her claws, a metallic screech echoing throughout the hall, but Ishnofel broke free with a sharp movement, hurling her into a column that exploded into pieces. His wounds began to close before his enemies' incredulous eyes, as if darkness itself were healing him.
—See? —Ishnofel said, advancing with steady steps, the floor trembling beneath each one—. Pain doesn't weaken me. It defines me.
In a matter of seconds, he knocked Satan down with a spinning blow that sent him rolling to the edge of the hall, dropped Mammon once again, and left Leviathan pinned beneath a block of debris. Satan fell to his knees, exhausted, his breathing reduced to a muted growl. Ishnofel, with half his helmet destroyed, turned around and walked out of the room as if nothing had happened, leaving behind an echo of fear and respect.
Hours later, he arrived at the Hazbin Hotel. The warm light of sunset streamed through the windows, contrasting with the violence he had left behind.
—Ishnofel! —Charlie exclaimed when she saw him—. What happened to you?
—Nothing important —he replied calmly—. Just a productive meeting.
He went straight to Baxter's lab and set the helmet down on the table with a dull thud.
—Fix it —he ordered—. And don't mention it to anyone.
Baxter swallowed hard, examining the damage.
—I-I… when do you need it by?
—Before the day is over —Ishnofel added, leaning slightly forward—. If you value continuing to breathe.
Baxter nodded immediately. As he worked, he couldn't help but freeze when he noticed what lay behind the broken helmet: a fragment of black essence, like a heart of shadow, pulsing.
Ishnofel paused for a second, his cold gaze piercing the gloom.
—Don't ask —he said without turning around—. There are truths that weigh more than death.