A flurry of footsteps echoed through the Fifth Tribunal. Quentin Kue hurried in, finding the hall still empty and desolate, with nothing inside.
"Fifth Tribunal, you summoned me urgently. What is it?"
A flash of red light swept across the desk at the far end of the hall, and the Fifth Tribunal Yama appeared.
"Nathan Chung, the Judgment Imprints that were branded on the Seven Ghost Lords a century ago have vanished. Go to Abyssal Hell and investigate."
With a whoosh, a token aglow with red light flew into Quentin Kue's hand. He stared in surprise, his eyes wide, and a look of nostalgia surfaced on his face.
"How could this happen? The Judgment Imprint of the Underworld Court—these condemned souls shouldn't be able to remove it. And in Abyssal Hell, there's no way they'd have a chance to overturn their fate."
The Fifth Tribunal Yama nodded.
"Nathan Chung, perhaps your intuition from a century ago was correct. It seems the Seven Ghost Lords have used some unknown power to break the Judgment Imprint."
Quentin Kue said nothing and turned to leave.
"Wait, Nathan Chung."
Quentin Kue stopped, and the Fifth Tribunal Yama looked deeply troubled.
I think it’s best if the Twin Reapers go with you. Wait one day—I’ll have them return.
This can’t wait, Fifth Tribunal.
Quentin Kue smiled.
It’s already been a century. If they planned everything back then, Nathan Chung, your journey will be dangerous. Do you know what I mean?
Quentin Kue didn’t wait for the Fifth Tribunal Yama to finish speaking and had already left.
Holding the Infernal Judge’s Seal, Quentin Kue quickly passed through the path to Abyssal Hell. Before him was a pitch-black wall, but with the seal, he knew exactly where the Seven Ghost Sovereigns were trapped. He raised the token, and the wall began to melt like sludge, revealing a massive door.
With a creak, the door opened. Quentin Kue transformed into a flash of red light and slipped inside. Immediately, he opened his mouth and swallowed the token. The door creaked shut behind him.
Sure enough, as soon as he entered, Quentin Kue sensed something was off. His expression was one of confusion, but also resignation.
What happened here? Why isn’t there a single Hell’s Registrar?