Having traversed countless realms, can you possibly be as clever as me?

“Look at these fools,” Samael said with a rare irony, “who see wealth as everything in life and remain slaves to it in death. The hoarders hoard without using it, the wasteful squander it; they are essentially the same—both become servants of wealth.”

"But I think accumulating wealth is not wrong."

"Striving for money is certainly not wrong, but using improper means to plunder wealth from others and hoard it without giving back to the source of that wealth is an unforgivable sin. And squandering that wealth is also an unforgivable sin of trampling on the laborers behind it!"

"This is hell specifically set up for capitalists," Tsurugi thought. "Whether good or bad, those who cannot properly use the wealth they have seized will suffer here. This may seem like an incomprehensible punishment to modern people, but hell doesn't care about the rules of a society; it only follows punishments based on virtue."

After all, although the Bible's teacher Yahweh did not explicitly advocate any public economy, he was very strict with the wealthy because he knew that such plundering based on what humans considered their due was a deeper form of trampling and enslavement of humanity than other sins, and even a way to make them willingly accept enslavement.

Dongjiang admired the view once, then continued downstream.

Next, they arrived at the enraged domain.

They were first greeted by deafening roars, like a never-ending storm. The air was thick with the smell of sulfur and charred iron, and the scorching rain, rusty in color, left fine burns on the skin.

The landscape here resembles a land forever torn apart—crisscrossed plains where crimson lava rivers flow slowly. Tsurugi sees the souls, molded into the shapes of weapons—swords, spears, warhammers—yet still attacking each other. A volcano built of rage continues to erupt, spewing not lava, but solidified curses that fall like obsidian, piercing the earth and souls.

"Isn't this Khorne's territory?" Tsugumi complained, but upon closer inspection, it was different here.

Because the souls of sinners are not worthy of killing here; all those killed here are demons. The only value of sinners here is to be tortured and forged into weapons, to be provided for the demons to clash and kill each other.

Here flows a river that cuts through the plain, its waters as black as ink and as viscous as oil, yet reeking of blood—this is Flegton, the River of Blood, the abode of raging, fallen souls. On the surface, souls wrestle and bite each other, their mouths and noses choked and agonizing by the dark, murky blood. Beneath the surface, however, lies an even more horrific scene—those naturally somber, habitually wrathful souls are forever trapped at the bottom of the filth, only occasionally surfacing with bubbles to express their silent fury.

“Those on the surface of the water are easily angered, while those underwater harbor resentment,” Samael succinctly explains. “Both are trapped by anger, only their forms of expression differ.”

"And—welcome to my hometown, let's get right to your preparations!"

Sigrún has taught at the Iceland University of the Arts as a part-time lecturer since and was Dean of the Department of Fine Art from -. In – she held a research position at Reykjavík Art Museum focusing on the role of women in Icelandic art. She studied fine art at the Icelandic College of Arts and Crafts and at Pratt Institute, New York, and holds BA and MA degrees in art history and philosophy from the University of Iceland. Sigrún lives and works in Iceland.

P.S.: It's time to give the image a new form.

Having transmigrated, my only purpose is to kill, kill, kill! : 86. The Wrathful Demon Body, King of Life and Death

Tsugumi felt that if she was guilty, the greatest sin must be the sin of rage.

The souls that fall into this place are all driven by irrational rage. They lose their minds because of anger, whether it is rage on the water or pent-up anger underwater. One is explosive slaughter, and the other is secret crime driven by pent-up anger.

Tsugumi committed both crimes, and thinking about it that way, he is absolutely unforgivable!

"The scent of your soul is truly fitting for our Ring of Wrath."

Samael led Dongjiang deeper into the burning plains, encountering groups of demons resembling fire demons and red dragons everywhere they went, all sharing the common characteristic of a violent appearance.

“The realm of rage doesn’t have that many branches of power.” Samael led the Tsurugi River towards the end of the blood river, amidst the prostrations of countless demons, speaking as they went.

“Unlike Asmodeus’s realm, the Ring of Wrath leads to only one destination, and is by no means a result of creation.”

He walked through scalding lava, step by step, yet each step seemed to traverse countless distances.

“Slaughter, destruction, sins committed in anger. Wrath is the first sin committed by mankind after leaving the Garden of Eden, turning the knife against other creatures in order to survive—in my opinion, this is not wrong, but in any case, it also means the spread of original sin in the empty human world.”

The original sin was extremely harsh; even for the sake of survival, choosing to kill was tantamount to embracing the sin of rage. But after the New Testament, the sin of rage became unnecessary killing driven by anger and irrationality.

And as Samael said, the domain of the Ring of Wrath is far less extensive than that of other demon lords, because the only outcome of rage is destruction.

Their authority is also strictly established within this field, at most achieving destructive results through different methods and in different fields.

They finally reached the end of the Blood River.

Here, the churning river is so thick and dark that one cannot see what lies beneath its surface, and the human soul simply cannot exist at the source of this fury.

"Drink it down, water from the source of Frigton."

Samael spoke in a voice like an ancient bell.

"Everything in the Ring of Wrath flows from the river; it will grant you the power of the raging, and give you a new, sinful, demonic form."

Tsuruga stepped forward, bent down, and without any suspicion, reached his hand inside.

Cold and piercing, the water flowing through the river was the complete opposite of the burning plains, carrying a chill that could freeze the soul.

He tilted his head back and drank it.

Icy.

It wasn't the coldness of temperature, but the coldness of memory—the instantaneous surge of countless rages into his consciousness:

A farmer killed his neighbor with a machete because the neighbor had stolen and destroyed a water jug ​​that was his wife's last pottery work.

A general ordered a massacre of a city because the city's defenders killed his beloved warhorse, which had been with him since childhood.

A woman poured poison into her husband's wine glass because he had wasted decades of his life in his company.

A child cruelly broke the butterfly's wings because he couldn't catch the beautiful creature.

Each memory, imbued with burning emotion, was cooled into hard crystals in the river of blood. Tsuruga felt these memories slicing through his soul like blades, each cut attempting to ignite anger—to make him resonate, to make him identify, to make him one of these enraged individuals.

Dongjiang watched, agreeing with some of it and disagreeing with the rest.

He wouldn't deny all the sins like a detached sage; that wasn't something he would do. He had to admit that some of the anger in those memories would have driven him to far greater extremes!

Anger is not a mistake; anger is a person's bottom line, a form of resistance after being pushed to the limit. Tsugumi would never deny the importance of rage, even if its opposite, gentleness, is a praised virtue!

Rage never exists in isolation, and Tsugumi understands this. It is always accompanied by love, regret, fear, and possessiveness—a toxic mixture of emotions that is more deadly than pure hatred.

The original sin contained in these rivers of blood gradually emptied him out.

He didn't stop it, nor did he question whether it was a devil's plot. He had made his choice and couldn't and wouldn't regret it; anyway, if it were—he would flip the table immediately!

The river was sometimes as still as a mirror, sometimes turbulent as a raging torrent. Samael, observing all this, wore a satisfied expression.

This soul truly belongs to their Ring of Wrath.

Or rather—his original sin was so pure and straightforward that rage was merely one aspect of it.

The King of Wrath personally scooped up the hottest flames of the Raging Plains for him, then walked over to his head and poured the flowing flames down upon him.

Hellfire consumed his body

Peeling off the skin wasn't tearing, but rather as precise as peeling the skin of a ripe fruit. Tsugumi felt every inch of skin leaving, but there was no scream, because every bit of pain at that moment was a question posed to him.

Are you qualified to bear this power?

I deserve it, of course I deserve it! If I'm not qualified, who is?

This anger has existed since I was just a weak mortal. I have never minded facing that unbearable past, and even if I were to face it countless times, with countless choices, my answer would be the same.

kill! ! !

Only by killing and destroying the things that make him angry and upset will he feel happy, joyful, and free!

The flames penetrated deep into the muscles. Each muscle fiber was burned away, producing a crisp, snapping sound like a broken string. The bones began to shatter, starting with the most vulnerable little finger bones and working their way upwards. Tsugumi felt her spine being dismantled, each vertebra turning to ashen powder in the flames.

His eyes finally disappeared. Before the flames completely consumed his retina, he saw Samael looking down at him from the edge of the volcano…

He turned into ashes, and Samael picked up the ashes, and from them, he saw the life of this mortal.

Is there anything particularly great about it? No, but the human soul doesn't only shine when one does great things. Often, it is the soul of an ordinary person who simply lacks an opportunity that is more dazzling than that of a great person.

Rage doesn't care whether the reasons are justified; it only cares about choices. Every time Tsurugi chose anger, violence, or destruction, no matter how reasonable the reasons, that choice itself became a part of his soul.

Always choose the most direct answer

He always chooses to destroy things that harm or cause him pain.

Samael stretched out his pale hand, from which appeared a bone container. With a gentle gesture, all the ash from the volcano, including the embers of the Tsuru River, flowed into the container.

He poured the container into the source of the Blood River. The ashes began to boil the moment they touched the river water.

The river water gradually became viscous, and its color changed from turbid black to a dark iron gray. Metal began to grow from the riverbed.

A massive ribcage rises from the riverbed, constructed of dark iron-colored metal, its surface covered with energy patterns resembling veins. The spine extends segment by segment, each vertebra a sophisticated war machine capable of independent movement or merging into a single unit.

The head was formed, not a skull, but a heavy, fully enclosed helmet with horn-like protrusions. The eyes were two narrow, dark slits—the traces of the Blood River's fire burning in the metal.

The metal continued to grow, covering the skeletal framework and forming armor.

The shoulder armor was as thick as the walls of a castle, as if time had been frozen in an eternal moment of rage reaching its peak. At the center of the breastplate was a recessed vortex pattern, a symbol of the source of the Blood River, Fleggon. Within the vortex, countless faces could be vaguely seen—the memories of those enraged beings drunk down by the Thrush River, now part of his power, imprisoned in the center of the breastplate, providing an inexhaustible wellspring of fury.

Arm and leg armor covered his entire body, each plate as thick and heavy as a coffin lid. The joints weren't hinges, but rather a dynamic darkness, allowing for flexible movement while ensuring absolute defense. Even the breastplate, with its openwork structure, flowed with a translucent, dark green mist.

Behind him, a massive metal cloak extended from his shoulder armor; it was not cloth, but a flowing curtain composed of countless tiny chains. Each link of the chains was a tiny rune, inscribed with the laws of the Ring of Wrath: no forgiveness, no forgetting, no reconciliation.

Finally, weapons rose from the river of blood.

A massive warhammer emerged from the center of the vortex, its handle resembling a twisted spine, its grip covered in some kind of black leather, and its body made of steel as cold as his own, surrounded by a soul as cold as a river of blood.

The blood river receded, leaving behind a new entity standing in the heart of the river.

He stood nearly five meters tall, clad entirely in dark iron-colored heavy armor, so thick it resembled a mobile fortress. The horns on his helmet extended upwards like two sharp swords. Dark, emerald-green weapon gleamed through the gaps in his visor and drifted through the openwork armor on his sides.

"How are you feeling, Marquis?" Samael asked with interest by the Blood River.

The character card [Demon Noble] has been changed!

'A deeper surge of power has been detected in your Rage pathway; your Inscription skill [Seven Seals (Lv3)] has changed!'

Your inscribed skill 【I Am Hell (Lv4)】 has been upgraded to 【I Am Hell (Lv5)】!

Your inscription skill [Goetia Grimoire (Lv2)] has been upgraded to [Goetia Grimoire (Lv3)]!

'You have acquired a new inscription skill, [Power of Destruction (Lv1)]!'

Character Card: Demon Noble

Inscribed Profession: [Goetia Noble (Marquis)]

Skill Status: [Seven Seals (Lv3)], [I Am Hell (Lv5)], [Goetia Grimoire (Lv3)], [Media Power (Lv3)], [Destruction Power (Lv1)] [His legs were broken by the butler (LvMAX)] [General skills omitted]

【Seven Seals Lv3】

'Seven deadly sins, seven powers, seven spheres of authority, seven crowns. You are a favorite of Hell, favored by multiple realms simultaneously. This is a great honor only a demon can attain—to simultaneously receive and wield the favor and blessings of multiple sinful powers! At this moment, you simultaneously possess the crowns of the realms of desire, wrath, and pride, and you have three opportunities to gain a demonic body and power (two already used).'

【I am hell (Lv5)】

'You are a marquis of hell, and death will be utterly powerless against you. Your soul departs from your body, choosing to seize the husk or coalesce into a demonic form. Only the divine power of an archangel can purify your existence; if your magic is insufficient, you will be banished back to hell, awaiting resurrection. Fulfilling sins and seeking advancement in your power will increase the level of this skill, corresponding to the level of your authority.'

[Destruction Power: (Lv1)]

'Born from the realm of destruction, the demonic nobles possess your own unique methods and means of annihilating others. You have gained the power to absorb the souls of the dead and control death, becoming the King of Life and Death!'

【Goetia Spellbook (Lv3)】

Current number of engraving spells: 8

[His legs were broken by the butler (LvMAX)]