He nodded, got up, and left. With a determined step, he advanced straight to the Throne Room. But as soon as he entered, he stuck a somewhat surprised look at Lucifer. He had expected to meet someone else.

"Where is Belz?" he asked at last.

"Where he's better off," snorted the god of war, not particularly interrupting his reading of the documents.

"More specifically, where is he better off?"

"Not here." Lucifer read the page and reached for the next one, so the god of memories came closer and leaned against the tabletop to lean menacingly over the table.

"There's no denying his logic, I admit. Now, seriously... where is he?"

"I don't feel like answering," he said as Tiramis took the papers from his hand, put them down on the tabletop, and moved even closer to him.

"I want to know where he is. It's a simple question."

"What for?"

"Let's just say I have a case against him, although you pull this off for a while longer, and I'll have a case against you too," he muttered very unambiguously, leading his gaze back to his sword and then back to Lucifer.

"Actually, I'd rather you came to me, not him."

"Yeah, right, got it. Where can I find him?"

"In the Wardens' Room. At least that's where I last saw him."

At this point, the god of memories didn't wait for the rest of the conversation and questions. He simply turned back to the door and moved where he was pointed. He walked quickly, as long as he still felt he was doing the right thing and as long as there was still silence, until no one stopped him. He walked inside, found the Hell Hunter, and grabbed him firmly by the arm.

"We're leaving," he declared.

"I'm not going anywhere. Come later."

"You're going, unless you want to explain to Lucifer why you're still carrying Dream Powder in your pockets. I'm sure he'll be glad you're still taking it," he bit out coldly. So Beelzebub got up and followed him into the corridor despite himself. They were now walking slowly into the depths, towards the deserted corridors.

"What do you want?" After a long moment of silence, the Hunter finally opened his mouth.

"And do I have to want something, Pretty Eyes?" asked Tiramis immediately, smoothly removing a pouch filled with Dream Powder from his own pocket and slipping it into Beelzebub's jacket pocket so smoothly that if it weren't for the weight, the god of fidelity might have missed it.

"What?" Beelzebub repeated much more confidently.

"I need a squad. I helped train them, and you didn't pay me for that."

"What do you need them for?" Beelzebub looked around investigatively, making sure nobody could hear them.

"It doesn't matter. Do you trust me?"

"If not, we wouldn't be standing here. And mutually, you wouldn't be here either, so tell me why you need a squad." They stopped, and the Hunter fixed an expectant gaze on him.

"Belz... I shouldn't and can't explain it to you. Instead, you should know that they won't come back. You will probably send them to their deaths. If there's trouble with that, I'll take it entirely on myself, say I made you do it. Will you make it happen?" The god of memories tried to smile when speaking, but, as if to make matters worse, his own body betrayed him even in such matters.

"In exchange for the ashes, I'm supposed to remain silent, yes? I don't feel like playing any more games. Lucifer is jealous of the attention I'm giving the demons. They're busy as once with work, and I should be sitting in the Throne Room right now, calculating the percentage tax revenue for this quarter. Instead, I'm drinking wine. I don't need any more problems."

"You owe me after I locked up Andrielach. You know how much it cost me..." began Tiramis slowly.

Indeed, when the Almighty began to retreat, he was the one who sent him back to the Interbeing, beyond the limits of matter. Of all of them who were free from his commands, he was the one who stood up. He, whom the Almighty had bought for himself years ago. That's exactly what he was paying for now, that the son of a bitch was making up his own plans and draining into his head whenever he wanted.

Beelzebub took out a bag, which he slipped into his pocket and pressed into Tiramis's hands.

"How much are you going to get away with this? It was your bloody duty after you let him go. If it hadn't been for all that, you wouldn't have paid with your health, and which didn't entitle you to expect me to cover for you every time."

"Belz, please." The word passed his lips with marked resistance. He wasn't used to asking for anything, especially not for such bullshit. He wanted to walk away from here, to pretend it was all irrelevant. If he needed a ward for himself, it would probably end up that way. But he knew Beelzebub would cave, and the goddess had to be off the field of the coming battle.

"I'll do it, but this is the last time." The Hell Hunter finally threw in. "Go to the barracks and take them. I didn't pull back the permits after those training sessions; you're entitled. I'll sort it out with Lucifer. Even if they are not to return, he is unlikely to fire me."

"Thank you." Hissed the God of Memories quietly, so Beelzebub, already turning around to leave, stood still.

"Since when do you give thanks? Don't make fun of me or I'll have you hooking up with the spies," he snorted before moving across the corridor.