Hell's Actor-Chapter 57: Lost In Storm

In the melancholic rain, a sleek sedan came to a drifting halt in front of Asmodeus’s mansion.

A hurried Lucifer climbed out of the car and rushed to the main door. His shoulders were broad and his steps disciplined like that of a soldier. free𝑤ebnovel.com

Waiting for him in front of the house was Beelzebub, dressed entirely in black like his brother.

"How long has it been?" Lucifer asked.

Beelzebub followed him inside the mansion, skirting around the mountain of corpses strewn around.

"At least seven hours according to the doctor."

Beelzebub guided him to the bedroom where the body was left untouched.

"We haven’t cleaned anything yet."

The place was a mess.

Flies were swirling around the pair of bodies. Congealed blood was everywhere, and it smelled awfully rancid.

Lucifer scrunched his nose.

"Who’s the girl?"

"One of his prostitutes." Beelzebub walked up and nudged the dead girl with his foot. "She had been missing for a while now."

Lucifer covered his nose with a plain black handkerchief.

"Did she do it?"

"No." Beelzebub shook his head. "Something cracked his skull—something sharp and weighty. The weapon is missing, and he couldn’t have killed her in that state. Her corpse is fresher than his."

"She was missing you said?"

"We interrogated one of his men. Apparently, Leviathan had abducted her more than a week ago. Our little brother was on a crusade to find that disgrace."

Lucifer tore his eyes away from the corpses.

"He should have informed me."

Beelzebub turned to him. "I haven’t heard from our brothers. What do you think?"

"He was severely beaten before they killed him with a repulsive method. Who could possibly do this if not our lunatic half-brothers?"

Lucifer’s eyes burned with resolution.

"So, this is what they were up to while the Altobelli case was keeping me busy."

Lucifer was burning with intense emotions.

This act of defiance had left a mark on his pride.

"You have a few hours." He turned around and left the room. "Call every man. We will clean this mess before midnight."

Beelzebub chased after him.

"What about firearms? What should we restrict?"

"Nothing, no restrictions. Open the entire arsenal."

"The authorities will retaliate if we don’t restrict ourselves."

Lucifer walked out into the rain and instructed his subordinates before turning back to Beelzebub.

"This is war. We don’t have time. They will have prepared in advance. We will have to be heavily armed; bring out the machine guns, grenades, and everything else we have kept hidden. We will treat this as a threat from the outside. We will obliterate every last one."

His subordinate opened the sedan’s door, and Lucifer climbed in.

"And contact Belphegor."

As Lucifer drove away, Beelzebub tried to call his little brother.

"Switched off? He’s switched it off, this fuck!"

He slammed his phone to the ground, ran a hand through his wet hair, and glanced around.

Making sure no one was following him, he naturally walked towards the mansion’s first-floor bathroom.

Once inside, he locked the door and took out a tin can full of white powder. He arranged some of it in a line, rolled a note, and took a big whiff.

In his eyes, excitement swirled.

Neurons fired electrical signals of pleasure with enthusiasm.

Cells burst with renewed energy.

And in the mind of the modern monkey, the sin of gluttony craved more.

The scene changed.

A convoy of seven black SUVs carrying more than thirty men arrived at Leviathan’s mansion.

They looked to be in a hurry as they entered the house unannounced.

"It’s quiet."

Unlike usual, the place was awfully silent.

"Shut up, and get to it. Don’t leave a single bullet behind."

They were there on Leviathan’s orders to retrieve his large collection of firearms and ammunition from his armory.

"Shit, I don’t want to risk my life for that sick fuck."

"Shut up, idiot."

One of them, having sensed something, stopped in his tracks.

He shushed the rest and tried to listen, but the only thing he could hear was the sound of rain.

"Everything is fine, man."

He looked at his colleague. "There are no noises."

"What’s wrong with that?"

"Servants make noises, especially when the owner of the house is out. Maids like to chat."

The man looked around.

"There is no one here."

He wasn’t the only one suspicious.

One of them, a burly man, also found a concerning detail.

"Hey, look at this." He kneeled down to examine the carpet. "Bloodstains."

Before any of them could react, the men hiding in the shadows of the second floor stood up.

"Get cover!" one of Leviathan’s men yelled.

But it was a futile attempt.

Unaware of their boss’s demise, Asmodeus’s subordinates opened fire.

Gunfire rained down on Leviathan’s men. Most were instantly killed, but one of them managed to escape.

He climbed into his SUV.

"Come on; start already. Come on, you piece of junk!"

The engine roared to life, and the heavy vehicle drove away at high speeds.

On the anxious man’s mind was only one thing.

Escape.

Loyalty did not matter. He did not care about informing Leviathan about the attack.

He only wanted to get away from the horrible place.

He turned his head to confirm that no one was following him.

And indeed, no one was following him from behind.

But while his attention was elsewhere, at the intersection, an eight-wheeler truck crashed into his SUV.

The impact sent the car hurtling meters away.

After a moment of calm, the man groaned and crawled out of the wreck. His blurry sights were trying to make out the truck driver hurrying towards him.

"Are you conscious?" he asked. "Are you alive?"

The injured man spewed out some blood and nodded his head with extreme effort.

He was gravely injured, but he was still alive.

"Damn, I’ll have to waste a bullet."

Those words sent shivers down his spine.

Against his better judgment, he looked up.

A gun was pointed at his head.

In the rain, in the middle of an intersection that was unusually empty and quiet, the injured man was executed.

The scene changed.

In a dark and untidy room, on the edge of his bed, Belphegor lay on his side.

His pupils were dilated, and he was dripping drool like an infant.

While murmuring a nursery rhyme, he watched the raging storm through a gap in the curtains.

"Open the door, you shit!"

Banging on the entrance of the house, Beelzebub’s voice could be heard over the thunder and rain.

But Belphegor did not answer.

Lost in a state where he was unaware of his actions and his surroundings, he could do nothing but murmur the words from his earliest memories.

He was lost in a world that was without storms.

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