Asmodeos hid in the shadows of the roof beams, peering at the black-haired spellcaster who seemed to be unaware - the little devil had so many questions in his mind that it could not understand that the more human-like half-elf had always reminded him of his former master when he was in the White Tower, and for that reason it had tried to do so. He was nearly sent back to the Abyss, and then, because of the stupid Dermon, it was forced to stay with him and his wife for a long time, instead of tracking down the caster as it wanted (not that it dared to enter the Grey Ridge). Anyway, it took a lot of effort to get rid of those two idiots who were born by nature, and get a little ...... Ah, small, temporary freedom.

It tastes slowly like a child snorting a soul stone like a candy, and the subtle spell of the gray robe can make the soul imprisoned in it still alive even if it is melted to the last point, although this will bring some stinging sensation, but the devil who is not very sensitive to the taste that humans love and can feel likes this, the taste is unique, and, quite rich, from the bitterness of resentment, from the sourness of jealousy, from the saltiness of frustration...... Mixed with a small bit of sweetness, either from low desires or from self-delusional fantasies - so the devils don't like soul stones made from the souls of people who live a dull life and have a smooth journey, and although they have some magical energy, they taste as light and tasteless as we drink boiled water.

Many gray robes, or red robes, would do a lot of things that seemed superfluous to people before they took the souls of mortals as raw materials for soul stones, not only because they were too expressive (that was only part of the reason), but also because they wanted to fill the hearts of these mortals with fear and pain, if not enough. But at least there's a little bit of flavor - the lich had shown a few of his soul stones to the souls of the Atlas, lest he make any undeserved jokes or get into trouble because he didn't know the hard currency used to trade with creatures in the abyss. They look like egg-shaped gemstones wrapped in transparent ice, and they are very beautiful, ranging in size from small ones like hummingbird eggs to large ones like goose eggs. Colors also vary, with the longer the life and the richer the experience, the larger the shape of the 'egg' and the more mixed the color of the gem encased in the ice. The Otherworldly Soul Position was amazed by a soul stone resembling a Black Opal, and the lich lightly told him that it contained the soul of a lord who had inherited his father's domain and wealth at a very young age, and who had done well in his first few years, after all, when he was still a bright and strong young man. But as his position and power grew, he became arrogant, arrogant, and brutal, employing many thieves and red robes to serve him, oppressing his subjects like stone mills and crushing beans, pretending to make peace with his enemies and marrying his eldest daughter, but killing pregnant women and babies at the feast of oaths, and having many lovers, when he was dying. When he could no longer convince them as a man, he ordered his soldiers to drag them all out and behead them, even though he had set up a small sanctuary in the castle for good gods such as Rosada. But in fact he neither listened to the teachings of the priests nor accepted their condemnation - such a sinful and stubborn soul who had not made a pact with a hungry demon would sink into the River Styx or be captured by the devil and demons into the endless abyss as soon as he entered the Plain of Mourning. Perhaps after a long and terrible torture, he could be directly transformed into a barb demon or a little devil, instead of being drained of the energy in his body like other mortal souls and reduced to the lowest level of the endless abyss, that is, an inferior demon without a mind.

But before he died, he was captured by the Lich's Mentor. His soul was also crafted into a soul stone and soon passed to the lich as a reward, a large candy that even a succubus would salivate over, let alone his pet, but because Asmodeos had not done anything good to be appreciated by the lich, at least, there was no one worthy of the soul stone.

If the Lich had also kept the soul stone in his dimensional bag, perhaps Asmodeios would have really linked the black-haired spellcaster to his own skeleton owner, but the cautious undead had taken the original dimensional bag, crown, and staff before leaving Sharp Jaw Harbor- Everything that might have made others doubt his true identity sank into the water thousands of feet deep, and the little devil did not know, of course, it was only puzzled why this mage, who was half of elven blood, had changed like an uncertain sol monster, and the things that made it familiar and familiar had disappeared in the blink of an eye, and now it was a stranger at all.

It muttered silently as it wrapped its slender tongue around the soul stone and sucked the energy inside—the stone had sold its soul to the devil's trader for a few gold coins, and the taste was rich but not rich enough—a miserly hybrid bastard! The little devil complained in his heart about Anrui, who was thousands of miles away, that this woman could become the "powerful" she wanted to be. The characters can't get away from the little devil's dedication, but in terms of remuneration, the endless abyss is below, and she is not as good as Demon!

I wanted a host, a generous, tolerant, and really strong host.

Asmodeos thought, lamenting absentmindedly, as he casually let his gaze sweep across the room, its gaze suddenly stalling when it touched the tub—it saw itself in those black eyes.

The little devil jumped up, and he tried to escape, but a small bolt of lightning had struck it, and it convulsed and screamed, and fell off the beam.

It can still escape, the question is why did it flee, it came for Cremar in the first place.

The little devil deftly spread his wings in the air, flipped over, and landed at the end of the tub, where there was a handle in the shape of a mermaid, and the curled tail was a pull ring, and the rivets embedded in the walls of the bucket were struck on the back of the hand that parted on both sides, and Asmodeos stopped on its head, claws grasping the erected ear fins.

Cremar frowned and held up a finger, thin bolts of lightning swirling around it.

"Please stop. The little devil hastened and said, "Please stop - I am harmless, at least to you - absolutely harmless, great and powerful spellcaster, respectable and forgiving lord, I do not mean to peep...... Oh squeak!"

Cremar's lightning bolt struck the black, shaggy mass accurately. It smacked its head on its back and fell with a thud.

The black-haired spellcaster stood up from the tub, and when he was disturbed by this, he lost the appetite for hot water and sesame oil, and he put on the clean and soft muslin ** prepared by the maids, put on his tight trousers, and stepped on it without hesitation as the hairy bat or winged hamster-like creature crawled out of the shadow of the tub - he didn't know why he did it, but it was as natural and skilful as breathing. There was also an indescribable sense of comfort—almost without thinking that if this was really an ordinary hamster, he might be tragically trampled into a small black bread that had to be shoveled up with a shovel.

Of course, Asmodeos wasn't just any hamster, it had the high heat of the devil, it was still fluffy, its muscles were elastic, and it was very full, well, in terms of the feeling of otherworldly souls. It's quite similar to stepping on a living rubber ball and squeaking.

"10,000...... Chirping...... I'm sorry. Uh......" cried the poor little devil, "...... I have no choice but to respect ...... Uh, sir, I have ...... Squeak, something important to tell...... Mutter. You!"

Cremar walked away from it.

The little devil gasped viciously and lifted himself from the ground—the devil hurt too, and of course, its bones and entrails were squeezed together, and it pulled its own wings. It was smoothed out before it flew up, and carefully landed on the dressing table, keeping a considerable distance from the caster - it twisted its neck, feeling pain all over its body, but with a strange, well, even refreshing familiarity.

"I'm a little demon pet," it raised its wings and bowed deeply to the caster (though not very recognizable), "you can call me Asmodeos. ”

The black-haired caster pulled up the restored white robe and draped it over his body, pulled over the chair next to the tub, which was covered in thick white bear skin, and was not cold at all barefoot.

"I was made by a good warlock. Asmodeos brazenly continued his lie, "After his death, his apprentice got me, and then traveled with me everywhere until I came here," it snapped its paws, and its voice carried just the right amount of sadness: "Beautiful spirit, kind spirit—who would have thought that such a terrible calamity would befall him?" Unfortunate child, he was only an apprentice, and when he thought of taking me away, the plague took his life, and my lord, he died, and the gods were above, what a painful thing...... I lost my master, and then I lost another owner...... My lord, can you see what this means for a pet?"

"What?" the caster asked, but there was not a hint of sympathy in his tone that Asmodeus wanted to hear, but rather an ominous perfunctory.

"Don't you understand?" Asmodeos jumped to his feet and struck his four paws in turn: "The Demon Pet needs its master! The Demon Pet is made to serve its master, and the meaning of its existence lies in hard work! The greatest, the most powerful, and the most beautiful Lord, isn't this a revelation from the gods? I have lost my master, and you have no Demon Pet! We are a match made in heaven!"

The caster coughed and swallowed the phrase "I don't want to be engaged to a squeaky hamster" back into his stomach: "I already have a pet." He said.

"That little spider!" Asmodeus screamed, "Endless...... Gods above, can that also be called a pet!? It's just a useless elemental creature - can it speak? Can it think? Can it understand you? It's just an elemental! No, I don't mind when you want to roast it and summon it, but you can't call it a pet, it's an insult! You'll know that I'm much more capable and clever than it is—I can be invisible, I can fly, I can help you gather spellcasting materials, or I can keep an eye out for even the slightest strangeness around you, and the spikes on my tail can easily paralyze a bison...... I can tell jokes, I can sing, I can dance a short leg dance, and I look so cute, if you want to be courteous to that beauty...... Aha, I've got you covered—my most honorable caster, what are you hesitating about, I, the wise and capable Asmodeus," it confidently declared, "is the one who best suits your heart, and can best serve you." ”

“...... Well, that sounds pretty good......" said the black-haired spellcaster, hiding half of his face under his palm: "Okay, as long as it can agree ......"

"Who?" asked Asmodeus—but it knew who it was at once—and there was a sudden heat on one side of the room.

After struggling to get to the kitchen, using every means to make the humans understand what they meant, and retrieve a large glass full of mead for their master, uh, useless fire elemental creatures stood in the doorway, their two chelae still holding the silver cup high—the honey in the silver cup was already boiling over, and it emitted an endless stream of sweet aromas—Cremar's elemental servant let out a shrill cry that humans couldn't hear, and pounced on the bastard who dared to take advantage of the fact that it was not driving the excavator to dig into the corner. (To be continued......)