The Scythe Demon now only wanted to use its own claws to commit suicide.
Her Royal Highness the Princess of Hell, could they really produce her body?
That was the most noble of Hell's royal family, purest of the Bart ancestral nobility. The entire Hell had sung her name on the day she was born. It was no longer a question of whether it could be done—if they truly could create such a body, who would dare to tamper with it?
Did they think the Hell Lord would sleep through everything while they desecrated the princess of Hell, thinking the torture guide wasn't thick enough and wanting to use themselves as test subjects to write a few hundred more volumes?
But they wouldn't dare say this; after all, the new Grand Duke in front of them was notoriously ruthless. He wasn't even officially in power yet, and the number of devils he had killed was already in the thousands, and that was just counting the famous devil lords, not mentioning those lower down.