Hell's Actor-Chapter 60: Unceremonious Deaths

The screaming and screeching over the call had attracted the mistresses’ attention.

Bella looked at them and addressed the room.

"Both of them were found in his bedroom. They were killed."

Life was sucked out of the eyes of the women gathered.

"He was hunting for Leviathan," one of them murmured. "He could have done it."

Asmodeus meant a great deal to most of these women.

To some, he was like a younger brother. To others, he was an occasional lover.

In his own way, he had looked after them, and they were aware of it.

Yet he was abruptly taken away.

The loss they felt was far greater than anticipated.

A few broke down in tears, while others fell quiet.

"What are we going to do about the hostages?"

They had about seventy of Leviathan’s men captured. The question of what to do with them was a grave one.

It was a delicate matter. If they didn’t handle it properly, there could be consequences.

"What now?" One of the younger ones stood up from her seat. "Will we have to work under whoever wins this war?"

"Let’s hope Leviathan loses, then."

"Let’s hope he dies."

While they discussed their futures and the fate of the hostages, Bella made a radical suggestion.

"Let’s kill them."

Those chilling words were met with silence. No one wanted to say it, but they all knew the danger of letting them go.

What Leviathan had done to the abducted girl was vivid in their minds.

They knew that once the men were freed, their disgraceful boss would seek vengeance. And even if he didn’t, some rogues would certainly take pleasure in harassing them.

Something like that would have been impossible when Asmodeus was alive. His terror and authority had ensured their safety.

But now that he was gone, there was no one left to protect them.

Even then, the ladies were unsure about Bella’s suggestion.

They had seen and experienced violence their entire lives.

Some were widows of wifebeaters. Some were ex-wives of alcoholics and daughters of gamblers.

Some were victims of child abuse, and some were victims of sex trafficking.

Being subjected to violence was nothing new to them, but taking another’s life was not something they were used to.

If Bella were talking about killing a single person, they would have convinced themselves with little to no effort.

But that wasn’t so.

It wasn’t a suggestion of murder.

It was a proposition to massacre.

It took some time—a long and pensive silence—to imagine the repercussions.

The horrifying thoughts spurred one of them to raise her voice.

"I agree."

One by one, the others followed.

As the clock struck 9 PM, all of the ladies had concurred to the extreme course of action.

Immediately, they returned to their respective brothels and—with the help of their girls—carried out the gruesome task.

Those who were drugged had their wrists sliced in bathtubs.

Those who were tied to beds were stuck with syringes and forcibly overdosed.

Some were drowned in buckets.

Others had their throats cleanly cut.

A few were stabbed in the heart repeatedly.

One was choked to death.

And the rest had their drinking water poisoned.

The numerous bodies were buried, burned, thrown into the bloody streets, cut into pieces, packed into bags, and fed to the sea.

It was a complete and cruel massacre.

And in doing so, the mistresses had unwittingly helped in keeping Asmodeus’s word to Leviathan.

Just like he had promised before his death, every last man under Leviathan did bleed that day.

The scene changed.

It was less than an hour before midnight.

Hundreds had died in the effort to breach Satan’s mansion, and it had finally been done. The snipers had failed in killing Lucifer and Beelzebub.

Outside, the majority of both factions were still fighting, stopping each other from entering the luxurious home.

And inside, a chaotic gunfight was underway.

Half of the mansion—both the first and second floors—was occupied by Lucifer’s forces. And the other half was being defended by Satan’s forces.

Every now and then, someone would throw a grenade in such a dangerously closed space, causing both sides to run for cover.

The damage it had caused was evident.

Debris had spread everywhere. The walls were destroyed. And the ceiling was threatening to collapse.

Sharp pieces of glass could be seen stuck in the faces of men—both dead and alive. One of the rooms had caught on fire, billowing smoke towards the second floor.

The obstructed view had complicated the gunfight. It was as much an enemy as the man across.

In this chaos, an armored truck broke through the door, spraying bullets from its mounted machine gun.

Both sides scrambled to take cover, but not all survived.

With a well-timed start, just as the machine gun stopped, Lucifer abandoned his cover.

He ran a meter and slid across the floor.

Hiding behind the corner, Mammon saw him a moment too late.

Lucifer shot him in the leg as he tried to turn and escape.

With a shrill scream, Mammon fell to the floor, holding his shin.

Sneakily, he tried to reach for his pistol with the other hand.

But Lucifer shot it, too.

Breathing heavily, he stood over the groaning, wailing Mammon and looked him in the eye.

"So, you were behind this."

He knew Satan wasn’t capable of all the planning and scheming.

"This is pathetic."

Mammon glared at him.

"You are just like Asmodeus."

Lucifer raised his revolver and—without hesitation—put a bullet right between his younger brother’s crazed eyes.

Glaring until the end, Mammon died.

Smoothly, the scene transitioned.

On the links attached to Satan’s backyard, Beelzebub was chasing after Leviathan, who had escaped after the appearance of the armored truck.

Too exhausted to continue the chase, Beelzebub stopped in his tracks.

Slowly, as if he were hunting a deer, he pointed his pistol at the shadowy figure sprinting towards the beautiful full moon.

A gunshot rang out in the rain.

Leviathan was lying on the ground.

Without confirming whether he was alive or dead, Beelzebub—in his cocaine-fueled excitement—emptied rounds after rounds in his brother’s face out of spite.

This was partly revenge for spying on him and ratting to Belphegor.

Suddenly, Beelzebub’s hand shook violently. He was sweating profusely and shaking all over.

He tried to pull the trigger, but he couldn’t. He tried to scream, but his voice wouldn’t come out.

Clutching his chest, he collapsed to the ground.

He had a third heart attack.

Muttering to himself words of desperate encouragement, he tried to pull himself towards the mansion lights through sheer will.

Without a warning or notice, his movements completely stopped.

Only a few feet away from the corpse of Leviathan, he had suffered a cardiac arrest.

Beelzebub had unceremoniously died.

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