Hell didn't change loudly.
It rarely shifted through war, declarations, or public upheaval.
No Hell changed through whispers.
And after Warren Hale stepped through Ouroboros' gates and wasn't thrown back out?
Hell began whispering.
THE GOSSIP CHAIN
It started in Lust Ring, the fastest place for rumors to mutate.
At a bar lit by neon hearts and bad decisions, demons leaned close:
> "Did you hear? Ouroboros took a sinner."
> "Not just took him recruited him."
> "Why him? What does he have?"
> "Brains. Dangerous ones."
A succubus twirled her drink, wings twitching.
> "Malerion doesn't collect weak things."
The bartender shivered.
> "If he's hiring sinners now… everyone should worry."
The whisper spread.
Because if a sinner could gain protection?
Then maybe others could too.
And hope in Hell was more dangerous than any weapon.
WRATH RING
At a fortress scarred by molten rock and old battles, two overlord war chiefs argued over maps.
One growled:
> "They're consolidating. Stopped expanding… so now they're building inward."
The other spat:
> "Cowards."
But neither of them truly believed that.
Because Ouroboros wasn't shrinking — it was changing shape.
Strengthening.
Sharpening.
Preparing.
The one with broken horns muttered:
> "If they're taking specialists… it means Malerion's planning something that doesn't require armies."
That was the first time Wrath learned fear in a long time.
ENVY RING
The Watcher listened.
Not amused.
Not surprised.
Something closer to impressed.
He traced a symbol on a crystal tablet and murmured:
> "So… the serpent grows a second brain."
His spies waited silently.
"Do we interfere?"
The Watcher smiled without warmth.
"No. Let him build."
His eyes glowed a sickly emerald.
"Systems collapse best after they believe themselves perfect."
GREED RING
Doona's channels made the news travel fastest here.
Banks, black markets, soul stock exchanges all recalculated the risk.
One broker said:
> "If Ouroboros starts integrating sinners as specialists, competition goes extinct."
Another corrected:
> "No loyalty becomes currency."
A third whispered:
> "…and Malerion just raised the value of genius."
GLUTTONY & SLOTH
In these rings, news didn't travel fast.
Except one phrase:
> "Ouroboros is selecting."
Not saving.
Not ruling.
Selecting.
Like a collector choosing which pieces mattered — and which didn't.
That terrified people more than open conquest.
PRIDE RING NOBILITY HALLS
Inside high balconies and gold trimmed corridors, nobles discussed the development the same way they discussed assassinations and scandals: politely, but with sharp undertones.
A Goetia lord murmured to another:
> "First territory. Then respect. Now innovation."
Another replied:
> "He's behaving like someone preparing for something unavoidable."
Third voice older, colder:
> "…like someone who knows when the storm comes."
Silence.
Then:
> "We should watch him."
But none volunteered to approach.
ASMODEUS
In his private suite above Ozzie's, the Lord of Lust sipped a drink and watched the footage replay that malerion send him.
Warren.
The interaction.
Quill's reaction.
Asmodeus chuckled.
> "Well well well…"
Fizzarolli (younger, not yet the version from canon) glanced over.
"Problem?"
Ozie
"No."
Asmodeus smiled wickedly.
"A development."
THE FINAL WHISPER
Hell always distilled chaos into one sentence.
And this time, the sentence was:
> "Ouroboros isn't just a power anymore.
It's a system."
And systems didn't fall easily.
They replaced what came before.
Back inside the Pride facility, Malerion watched the city from behind reinforced glass.
Verosika stood beside him, arms folded.
"You know Hell's losing its mind over what happened today."
Malerion nodded once.
"Good."
She smirked.
"You like causing chaos."
"No," he said quietly.
"I like building inevitability."
Verosika tilted her head.
"…and you think this sinner helps with that?"
"He proves something," Malerion answered.
"That Hell isn't prepared for what comes next."
She studied him.
"Do you know what comes next?"
His gaze stayed fixed on the distant skyline.
"Not yet."
A beat.
"But I will."
Verosika didn't laugh.
Didn't tease.
Didn't flirt.
She simply said:
"Then I'll be here for it."
And for the first time that day, Malerion allowed himself a small, very real smile.
Not for Hell.
Not for Ouroboros.
Just for her.