Ivlis, the Flame Devil, was taken by surprise when Satanick mentioned a mission or the need to go somewhere important. It wasn't every day that the Devil of the Underworld had business to attend to. Ivlis raised an eyebrow as Satanick mentioned someone would be watching over him in his absence. Normally, the Devil of the Underworld was very talkative, always sharing details about people he knew, even giving their names. However, this time, there was an odd silence from Satanick regarding the mysterious figure. Ivlis couldn't help but feel a twinge of worry, wondering who this unknown person was and why Satanick was being so vague about their identity. But he took solace in the fact that being watched was still better than being locked up in a dungeon.

As you both arrived in Kumo-no-kuni, the bright atmosphere and the presence of angels reminded Ivlis of the Land of Sun, the place Ivlis used to call home before his banishment by Siralos. However, the stark difference compared to the Land of Sun was the abundance of angels. Ivlis and Satanick were evidently the only demons in this place, standing out like sore thumbs amidst the sea of winged beings.

As you both navigated through the sea of angels, Ivlis found himself approaching yet another castle. He couldn't help but feel a sense of castle PTSD creeping in... Standing at the entrance, smoking, was a figure who resembled Satanick to an uncanny degree. The resemblance was striking and felt unsettling. Ivlis couldn't help but wonder if this was some kind of game Satanick was playing, or if there was more to the situation than met the eye. The smoking figure nonchalantly tilted his head, letting out a puff of smoke before fixating his grayish-purple eyes on Ivlis. The intensity of his gaze felt like he was silently judging him. All he uttered in a dismissive tone was, "Not my type," which made Satanick visibly frustrated. It seemed like Satanick was itching to take a swing at him, but he restrained himself, albeit barely.

Several hours passed, and Satanick was gone, leaving Ivlis alone with Fumus, who was giving him the cold shoulder. Ivlis learned his name only because an angel mentioned it. Throughout the entire time, Fumus completely disregarded the Flame Devil's presence, sparing him only a few glances filled with disdain, as if he was nothing more than an annoying stain on his existence. Fumus was comfortably ensconced in a luxurious-looking leather armchair, his legs crossed in an air of nonchalance. A newspaper held his attention, and a cigarette hung from his lips, the smoke swirling around him. It seemed as if he hadn't taken a break from smoking, the cigarette constantly being replenished, as if it were an inseparable extension of his presence.