Hell.
Circle of Pride.
In front of the entrance of the Hazbin Hotel, the neon sign flickered faintly, as always. But today, the place seemed a little more lively.
Inside, Charlie was pacing around the main hall, a wide smile on her face.
— This is incredible!
She held a list in her hands.
— We have… one, two, three… eight new clients!
She raised her arms enthusiastically.
— Eight!
Vaggie, leaning against the counter, sighed.
— Yeah, eight… and about more than 60 clients who left furious after learning we weren't an extermination camp for angels.
Charlie's smile turned into a grimace.
— I know…
She almost collapsed against the reception desk.
— Why does everyone think that?
Angel Dust was sprawled on a couch, legs crossed, looking at his phone. He would have liked to be bothering Husk, but he and Misty had gone to do something, apparently at Alastor's request.
— Because, princess, after our performance against Adam's personal extermination, we became real celebrities.
Charlie put her hands on her head.
— But that's not the purpose of the hotel at all!
She immediately straightened up,
determined.
— The hotel is for redemption!
Angel burst out laughing.
— Princess… my little Charli, how many times do I have to tell you? We're in Hell.
He gestured toward the window.
— People here would rather learn how to shoot angels than become better people.
Charlie sighed deeply.
Then she looked at her list.
— But that's okay.
She forced a smile.
— Eight new clients… it's a start.
Angel raised an eyebrow.
— You want to know why they really came?
Charlie looked at him.
Angel pointed toward the entrance door.
— Because they think that if the extermination starts again… the hotel will be the safest place in Hell.
A silence fell.
Charlie remained still for a few seconds.
Then she whispered:
— Then… we have to show them that this place can be more than that.
Angel sighed.
— Or we could just sell anti-angel shooting lessons and get rich.
Vaggie gave him a murderous look.
Angel raised his hands.
— What? It's business!
Charlie took a deep breath.
— No.
She smiled.
— We're going to show them that even in Hell… people can change.
Angel looked at Vaggie.
Then murmured:
— She's never going to give up, huh?
Vaggie answered calmly with a smile.
— No.
Angel shrugged.
But at that moment…
the television in the hall turned on by itself.
The screen crackled.
A silhouette appeared.
A huge smile.
Red eyes.
A familiar voice echoed through the room.
— Helloooooo, dear residents of the Hazbin Hotel!
Alastor.
The hall of the Hazbin Hotel remained silent for a few seconds after Alastor appeared on the screen.
Then, with a burst of static, the television shut off.
A shadow slowly stretched across the wall.
And suddenly—
POP!
Alastor appeared directly in the middle of the hall, his eternal smile fixed on his face.
— Ah! What a pleasure to see this establishment so… alive!
Charlie jumped.
— Alastor!
She immediately regained her usual enthusiasm.
— You arrived just in time! We have eight new clients!
Alastor placed a hand on his chest.
— Eight? But that is absolutely wonderful, my dear! Even if this rumor concerning the hotel must not please you.
Angel Dust looked up from his couch.
Vaggie crossed her arms.
— What do you want, Alastor?
The Radio Demon calmly turned his head toward Charlie.
His smile never disappeared.
— In truth, princess… I came for a very particular question.
Charlie tilted her head.
— A question?
Alastor clasped his hands behind his back.
— Tell me… would you, by any chance, have some connections with the Ars Goetia?
The hall suddenly became silent.
Angel Dust lifted his head.
— Wait… the what?
Vaggie frowned.
Charlie blinked.
— The Ars Goetia?
She thought for a moment.
— Well, I know someone thanks to my father… why?
At the mention of Lucifer by Charlie, Alastor's eyes twitched for a second.
Charlie continued.
— Why?
Alastor's smile remained unchanged, but his gaze grew slightly darker.
— Because, you see…
He paused.
— The very esteemed Prince Paimon wishes to speak with me.
Angel burst out laughing.
— Wait a second…
He pointed at Alastor.
— You're telling me one of the kings of the Ars Goetia wants to talk to you? Hmm… did you do something to him that might have annoyed him?
Alastor pretended to think.
— Hmmmm… not to my knowledge!
Charlie frowned slightly.
— But… why would Paimon want to talk to you?
Alastor gently raised a finger.
— That is precisely what I would like to discover.
Angel asked:
— Why is it such a big deal that this Ars Go… whatever wants to talk with Alastor?
Alastor answered calmly:
— Let's simply say that the Ars Goetia generally prefer to deal with… certain lineages.
Vaggie added:
— And Alastor, being a simple sinner, wouldn't really be one of the guests of that nobility.
Then Alastor gently raised a hand, as if he had just remembered something.
His smile widened.
— Oh… actually, I believe I have a small idea of the person who mentioned me to Prince Paimon.
Charlie tilted her head.
— You know who it is?
Alastor slowly spun his cane between his fingers.
— Let's just say… that some old acquaintances like to talk a lot.
His eyes glowed for a moment with murderous intent.
— And that my name sometimes circulates in places… very interesting.
He slightly inclined his head toward Charlie.
— My dear, I would still like you to send me some information about Paimon, because after all I only know him by reputation.
His shadow stretched behind him.
— I will return very soon.
Alastor disappeared.
Several hours later.
BOOOOOOM!
A huge explosion resounded outside the hotel.
The windows shook.
Angel Dust jumped off the couch.
— Oh shit! What the hell was that?!
A second explosion shook the street.
BOOM!
Vaggie already sighed.
— I have a very bad feeling about this…
Charlie ran toward the door.
— Oh no, not again!
They all went outside into the street.
And the scene in front of them was exactly what they feared.
In the middle of the burning street, Sir Pentious was piloting a massive mechanical serpent machine firing lasers in every direction.
Facing him, Cherri Bomb was laughing like crazy while throwing explosive bombs.
— HAHAHA! Come on Pentious! Show me what you've got!
Pentious shouted from his cockpit.
— I WILL DESTROY YOU, CHAOTIC DEMOISELLE!
Another bomb exploded.
Angel Dust sighed.
— Great.
— They're doing their nostalgic nonsense again.
Cherri threw another bomb.
— For the good old times!
Pentious answered proudly.
— FOR THE GOOD OLD TIMES!
BOOOOOM!
Finally, after several explosions, the two opponents stopped, slightly out of breath.
Pentious stepped out of his machine with his eggs following close behind.
— Ah… what a glorious battle!
Cherri placed her hands on her hips.
— Yeah, it's been a while.
They both returned to the hotel and were greeted by Vaggie, who shot them a murderous glare.
While they were being scolded by Vaggie and mocked by Angel for the fifth time, the door of the Hazbin Hotel slowly opened behind them.
Everyone turned their heads.
An individual calmly entered the hall.
Dark suit.
Cold gaze.
Pentious immediately narrowed his eyes.
— You…
The intruder simply adjusted his glasses with an indifferent look.
— Oh, if it isn't my former colleague.
Angel said:
— Wait, if this guy is your former colleague, that means…
Charlie said, pointing at the intruder:
— You… you work for Vox?
Pentious replied:
— Yes, and his name is Baster.
Vaggie said:
— I think I saw that name in the Foundation's hologram. Now I understand why Vox called him "sir," but what would an agent of Vox be doing here?
Baster looked around, observing the hotel like an interesting laboratory.
Then he simply replied:
— Scientific interest.
Angel burst out laughing.
— Scientific?!
Baster continued without caring:
— The concept of this establishment is… fascinating.
He looked at Charlie.
— An attempt at moral rehabilitation in Hell.
Then he slightly shrugged.
— An extremely rare social experiment.
Pentious narrowed his eyes even more.
— And Vox sent you to observe?
Baster immediately replied:
— I couldn't care less about my boss's schemes.
He looked around the hall.
— But this place…
He adjusted his glasses.
— This place could produce very interesting results.
Charlie stepped forward slowly.
— You mean… you want to become a client?
Baster looked at her.
A slight smile appeared.
— Let's say… I want to observe the experiment from the inside.
After a long discussion they finally accepted Baster into the hotel, though not before searching him and making sure he was not a threat, but that still did not remove the suspicions they had about him.
On Constantine's side
The rain was falling softly over the city.
A steady sound, almost hypnotic, tapped against the apartment windows.
Inside, the light was dim.
A single lamp illuminated the room, surrounded by piles of books: theology, philosophy, mythology, ancient texts.
Sitting in an old armchair, John Constantine smoked silently.
In front of him, on the couch, his niece was flipping through an old Bible.
For several minutes she read without speaking.
But something in her eyes revealed a deeper reflection.
Finally, she looked up.
— Uncle…?
Constantine raised his eyes.
— Yes?
She hesitated.
As if weighing her words.
Then she asked softly:
— Who created God?
The room suddenly felt quieter.
Even the rain seemed farther away.
Constantine did not answer immediately.
He inhaled the smoke from his cigarette…
then slowly let it escape.
— You know…
His voice was calm.
— That question… is probably the oldest question humanity has ever asked.
His niece sat up slightly.
— So there is an answer?
Constantine gave a slight smile.
— There are many.
— But before answering… we must understand how humanity tried to answer it.
She nodded.
And in her eyes already shone sincere curiosity.
Constantine stood up.
He pointed toward the window.
Behind the clouds, faint moonlight illuminated the sky.
— Imagine the sun.
He spoke slowly.
— No one can look at it directly.
— Its light is too strong.
He raised a finger.
— In the Christian faith… it is often compared to God the Father.
He took a lamp and projected a beam of light into the room.
— Now look at the rays.
— They come from the sun.
— But they are also the sun giving itself to the world.
He looked at his niece.
— That represents the Son.
He opened his hand in the light.
— And the warmth, the light, the presence that accompanies those rays…
— That is the Holy Spirit.
He smiled.
— Three realities.
— One single source.
His niece frowned slightly.
— So God is three?
Constantine shook his head.
— No.
— God is one.
He placed the lamp down.
— But this one God exists as relationship.
She stayed silent, thinking deeply.
Then she murmured:
— But… that doesn't answer the question.
Constantine smiled.
— You're right.
— And that's where it becomes interesting.
Constantine took an old mythology book.
— In every human culture…
He turned a few pages.
— The gods are born.
— In Greek mythology, for example, the first gods come from Chaos.
He closed the book.
— Human beings always imagine their gods like themselves.
— With a birth.
— An origin.
— A story.
He looked at his niece.
— Because our mind understands things that begin.
She murmured:
— But God… in the Bible…
Constantine finished her sentence.
— Has no beginning.
She looked perplexed.
— But how can we imagine something that never began?
Constantine sighed softly.
— Exactly.
He tapped his temple.
— The human mind resists that idea.
— Thinking about an uncreated being…
— Is almost a violence for our intelligence.
He looked at his niece.
— That's why the question troubles so many people.
Constantine took the Bible.
He opened it slowly.
— When Moses asks God His name…
He showed the passage.
— God answers:
He read softly:
— "I am who I am."
— Exodus 3:14
He looked up.
— It's a strange answer.
His niece nodded.
— Yes…
Constantine continued.
— God doesn't say:
— "I come from somewhere."
— He says:
— I am.
He closed the Bible.
— That means God has no origin.
— He exists by Himself.
— He is what theologians call the thrice-holy.
— The one who transcends everything.
His niece seemed fascinated.
Constantine lit another cigarette.
— Now…
— Let's look at science.
He drew a circle in the smoke.
— The universe, according to modern science, begins with the Big Bang.
— Space.
— Time.
— Matter.
— Everything begins there.
His niece asked:
— But… before the Big Bang?
Constantine smiled.
— Good question.
He shrugged.
— Science says something very strange.
— It does not say there was nothing.
— It says…
He paused.
— That there was no "before".
His niece stayed silent.
— Time itself begins with the Big Bang.
— So asking "before"…
He raised his hands.
— Is like asking:
— "What is north of the North Pole?"
She laughed.
— That makes no sense!
Constantine nodded.
— Exactly.
Constantine sat down again.
— The question "who created God" is very similar to another question:
— "What existed before the universe?"
He looked at her.
— Both questions bring us to the same wall.
His niece whispered:
— The mystery…
Constantine nodded.
Constantine took a notebook.
— Philosophers asked another question.
He wrote:
Cause → cause → cause → cause
— If everything has a cause…
— Then each cause depends on another.
He continued the chain.
— And again.
— And again.
— And again.
He looked at his niece.
— That creates a problem.
— An infinite regression.
She thought.
— So there must be a first cause?
Constantine nodded.
— That's what Aristotle thought.
— A first cause.
— An unmoved mover.
Constantine took another book.
— A philosopher named Plotinus pushed the idea further.
— For him…
— God is not really a being.
His niece widened her eyes.
— Huh?
Constantine continued.
— He calls it "the One".
— The absolute source.
He drew a circle.
— The One does not decide.
— It lacks nothing.
— But from it…
— everything overflows.
He raised his hand.
— Like a spring of water.
— Like a light.
He quoted:
— Bonum diffusivum sui.(Phrase used in the Middle Ages)
— The good diffuses itself.
His niece murmured:
— Like the light of the sun…
Constantine smiled.
— Exactly.
His niece murmured:
— So the world exists… because the source overflows?
Constantine smiled.
— You are right again.
Constantine crushed his cigarette.
— But Christianity says something even more radical.
He looked at his niece.
— God is love.
She remained silent.
Constantine continued softly.
— If God is love… it simply means He has no cause, because absolute unconditional love, free love, cannot be explained nor have a cause. The moment love has a cause, it becomes conditional. That love comes from something else. But that is not all.
— If GOD is love, then GOD is…
He raised three fingers.
— The one who loves.
— The one who is loved.
— And the love between them.
His niece almost whispered:
— The Father…
— The Son…
— The Holy Spirit…
Constantine nodded.
— That is what Hugh of Saint Victor discovered in the Middle Ages in order to think about the Trinity: the Father gives being, the Son receives being from the Father, and the Spirit is the living bond of that love. And that relationship never began. God has no cause because He is the eternal love that arises from its own overflowing abundance freely and that circulates forever between the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit. And that is the origin of divinity. If God created all things, who created GOD? The answer: God is His own Father, His own Son, and His own life. God does not come from something. GOD comes from God. And the origin of God completely changes the notion of cause. It does not arise from a need, a cause, or an event, but from an overflowing, a free gift. The being of God is not the condition of love — it is its radiance. And thus God cannot have a creator, because true unconditional absolute love cannot have a cause.
Constantine watched the rain fall.
— If God is relationship…
— then reality is not founded on domination.
— But on gift.
He looked at his niece.
— Maybe violence, solitude, hatred…
— exist because people forgot that.
He placed a hand on her head.
— At the origin of being…
— there was gratuity.
His niece murmured:
— So love is older than everything…
Constantine smiled.
— Exactly.
Then he stood up.
— And remember one thing.
He looked out the window.
— In the end…
He smiled slightly.
— Love will win.