Not one bit of this made sense. The arena, the countless "people" in it (who did not look like people to him, more like fleshy mannequins) watching the "people" onstage (mostly mortals, aside from him, an angel, and one he-isn't-sure), the explanation and the compliments -- none of them made sense. His brothers would often say he was the dumbest of them all, but even he's not dim enough to miss how bizarre this was.

The Celestial Realm didn't work like this, and he'd know. Neither the Devildom, and as far as he knew those were the only options available for someone who'd died. Some demons had shown up in the Celestial Realm after they were killed, but he was certain he'd never be allowed back in after his rebellion against his Father. The words he heard during the orientation just couldn't be true, and Mammon bristles visibly.

When he was called forward he raised his hand and asked "Uhh, did you guys make a mistake?" The resulting answer was vague and unsatisfactory. No, this wouldn't do. He didn't remember dying, nor did he remember being in immediate danger, and he knows none of the three worlds work exactly like this. He needed to talk to his "soul" mate (he didn't even have a soul!), that angel, his neighbors.

"HEY! YOU!" he yelled out, advancing on the stranger in the residential cul-de-sac. "I need to talk to you!"