Chapter 176: The Golden Calf in Chains

The first thing Damian felt upon regaining consciousness was an unbearable pain spreading throughout his body.

His chest burned with every breath, his limbs felt unusually heavy, and a persistent throbbing sensation radiated from the back of his skull.

He attempted to move his right arm, only to hear the metallic clinking of restraints.

Opening his eyes, he found himself lying on a reinforced medical bed beneath the harsh white lights of an unfamiliar room, surrounded by monitoring equipment and several unfamiliar devices.

Damian blinked repeatedly, struggling to understand his surroundings.

Thick bandages covered his torso, while additional dressings protected the burns across his arms and shoulders.

Both wrists were secured by metallic restraints connected to the bed, and a strange collar rested against his neck.

Beyond the transparent observation window, two armored officers stood motionless beside a reinforced security door.

He immediately recognized the insignia displayed on their uniforms.

O.R.D.O.

"What the hell?" Damian muttered, attempting to raise his head before a sharp pain forced him back against the pillow. His expression twisted with anger as he pulled against the restraints. "Why am I here? Who authorized this?"

A warning light flashed above his bed, accompanied by a sharp electronic sound.

Damian instinctively attempted to circulate his Mana, intending to break the restraints through sheer force, but the familiar energy refused to respond properly.

Something was interfering with his connection to Mammon, suppressing the golden power that normally flowed through his body.

His expression darkened.

Then the memories returned.

The ruined industrial district. The destroyed convoy. The white-haired Awakener wielding a sword and an enormous axe. The terrifying golden-white flames that had burned through his defenses.

And that final attack.

Damian remembered constructing more than a dozen reinforced golden shields, layering them together in desperation as Jet gathered an overwhelming concentration of Divine Fire around his fist.

He remembered the shields shattering one after another, the unbearable heat consuming everything in its path, and the tremendous impact that struck him before darkness swallowed his consciousness.

"Dammit!"

Damian whispered, his fingers curling against the restraints as humiliation flooded through him.

A 2-Star Awakener had defeated him.

Not merely injured him or forced him to retreat.

Defeated him completely.

Damian clenched his teeth, remembering Jet standing above him with the Vorpal Blade raised. If someone hadn’t intervened, he might already have been dead.

The thought made his blood boil.

The security door suddenly opened, interrupting his thoughts. A physician entered accompanied by two armored officers, carrying a medical tablet and several instruments.

Upon noticing that Damian was conscious, the physician approached the bed while one of the officers remained near the entrance.

"Mr. Visconti, you’ve regained consciousness," the physician observed, examining the readings on his monitor. "Please remain still. You suffered extensive injuries, and unnecessary movement could worsen your condition."

Damian glared at him. "Remove these restraints. I want to speak with whoever is responsible for bringing me here."

The physician continued checking his condition without reacting to the hostility. "You’re currently receiving treatment in an O.R.D.O. medical detention facility. The restraints are mandatory under your detention conditions, and I don’t have authorization to remove them."

Damian attempted to sit upright again, ignoring the pain tearing through his abdomen. "Do you have any idea who I am? Contact Alessandro Vittorio Orsini immediately. Tell him his nephew has been arrested."

The physician exchanged a brief glance with the officers before returning his attention to the medical monitor. "Guildmaster Orsini has already been informed of your condition, Mr. Visconti. In fact, he’s requested permission to visit you. He’s expected to arrive shortly."

Damian stopped struggling.

His uncle was coming.

A faint smile appeared on his face as he settled back against the pillow. Alessandro was one of the most influential Awakeners in Zenith City, a respected First Generation 5-Star Awakener whose authority extended far beyond Darkstar Guild.

Surely, once his uncle understood the situation, he would arrange for his release.

The physician completed his examination and departed, leaving Damian alone with his thoughts.

Nearly twenty minutes passed before the security door opened again, and Alessandro entered the chamber accompanied by an O.R.D.O. officer.

Damian immediately straightened as much as his injuries permitted.

"Uncle!" Damian exclaimed, relief appearing across his face. "Thank goodness you’re here. These people have restrained me like some dangerous criminal. Tell them to remove this equipment."

Alessandro stopped beside the bed, examining his nephew’s injuries with a troubled expression.

Seeing Damian conscious brought him visible relief, but that relief was accompanied by something Damian couldn’t immediately identify.

"How are you feeling, Damian?" Alessandro asked, pulling a chair closer to the bed. "The physicians told me your condition had stabilized, but you suffered considerable injuries."

Damian glanced dismissively toward the monitoring equipment. "I’ll recover. That’s not important right now. I need you to get me out of here before O.R.D.O. starts interfering with my businesses."

Alessandro remained standing for several seconds before slowly sitting down. His expression grew serious as he examined the restraints around Damian’s wrists.

"Damian, you’re under investigation for organizing attacks against the Palladium expedition survivors," Alessandro explained. "O.R.D.O. has recovered substantial evidence connecting your businesses to the assassination campaign."

Damian’s smile faded.

He studied his uncle carefully, searching for some indication that Alessandro was merely repeating accusations he intended to dismiss.

"Those investigators don’t understand the situation," Damian replied, shifting uncomfortably against the pillow. "There were complications involving a valuable investment opportunity. Certain people attempted to interfere, and matters escalated."

Alessandro frowned. "Complications? Damian, people were murdered. Families were threatened, and several people lost their lives. Are you seriously describing those events as business complications?"

Damian’s expression hardened. "You don’t understand what was at stake, Uncle. The Palladium Tree wasn’t some ordinary treasure. Do you have any idea how much wealth controlling its entire harvest could generate?"

Alessandro watched him silently, allowing him to continue.

Damian’s eyes brightened with unmistakable greed as he remembered the enormous fortune represented by the Palladium Fruits. "Fifty-seven Grade Three Palladium Fruits were already worth billions of Union Dollars. And that was only one harvest. With exclusive access to the tree, I could’ve expanded my companies across multiple regions."

He paused, wincing as another wave of pain passed through his chest.

"Everything was within reach," Damian continued bitterly, staring toward the ceiling. "The logistics networks, private security contracts, new investment opportunities. I could’ve built something that even the largest corporations would have struggled to compete with."

Alessandro leaned forward, his expression darkening. "And the people who discovered the tree? What about their rights, Damian? What gave you the authority to decide they should die because you wanted their treasure?"

Damian turned toward him sharply. "They were standing in the way! Twenty-nine people knew about that tree, Uncle. Twenty-nine people who could’ve exposed its location, sold the information, or allowed someone else to seize it before I could establish control."

Alessandro stared at his nephew, disturbed by how naturally the words emerged from his mouth.

Damian spoke about the expedition survivors as though they were obstacles in a financial transaction rather than living people with families and futures.

"Odhran was murdered after someone extracted information from his memories," Alessandro said, his voice becoming noticeably colder. "Investigators have connected Lucien Veyr to that operation. Did you authorize it?"

Damian looked away, his jaw tightening. "Odhran was already selling the fruits through the Black Exchange. He understood their value, and he knew what he was doing."

Alessandro’s expression hardened. "That wasn’t my question, Damian. Did you authorize the operation that resulted in his death?"

Damian remained silent, refusing to meet his uncle’s eyes.

Alessandro slowly leaned back in his chair. He had spent the afternoon examining financial records, surveillance footage, and communications connecting Damian to the criminal network.

Some part of him had still hoped his nephew would offer an explanation that might make the evidence less horrifying.

Instead, Damian seemed more concerned about losing his investment opportunities than the people who had died.

"And Jet?" Alessandro asked after a moment, his expression filled with disappointment. "He was eighteen years old, Damian. His little sister is only seven. Your people threatened that child because her brother survived an expedition."

Damian’s face twisted at the mention of Jet.

"That bastard ruined everything!" Damian snarled, pulling against his restraints. "He interfered with my operations, destroyed my men, and nearly killed me. If I’d known what he was capable of, I would’ve dealt with him differently from the beginning."

Alessandro’s gaze sharpened. "Jet was defending himself against the people you sent to murder him. You cannot blame him for refusing to die."

Damian stared at his uncle in disbelief. "You’re defending him? After what he did to me?"

Alessandro closed his eyes briefly before answering. "I’m telling you that your actions have consequences. Jet didn’t create this situation, Damian. You did."

For several seconds, neither spoke. The steady beeping of the medical equipment filled the silence as Damian studied the man who had raised him since infancy.

He had expected anger, perhaps even a lecture.

What he hadn’t expected was the unmistakable disappointment in Alessandro’s eyes.

"You’re not going to help me?" Damian finally asked, his voice becoming quieter. "After everything we’ve been through, you’re just going to leave me here?"

Alessandro’s expression softened slightly, although his answer remained firm. "I’ll make certain you receive proper medical treatment and legal representation. But I won’t interfere with the investigation, and I won’t use Darkstar Guild to conceal what you’ve done."

Damian’s expression gradually changed from disbelief to resentment.

"Unbelievable," Damian muttered, turning his face away. "You raised me, Uncle. You always told me family was important. But now that I actually need you, you’re choosing those outsiders over your own blood."

Alessandro rose slowly from his chair, his face showing the exhaustion of a man confronting something he had never imagined possible.

He looked at Damian for several seconds, remembering the little boy who had once followed him around the mansion, asking endless questions about Awakeners and Divine Runes.

"I haven’t stopped loving you, Damian," Alessandro answered quietly. "But loving you doesn’t mean pretending innocent people haven’t suffered because of your decisions."

Damian refused to look at him.

Alessandro waited another moment before turning toward the security door. The officer stationed outside opened it immediately, allowing the Guildmaster to leave without another word.

Damian remained motionless until the door closed.

Then he slowly turned his head toward the ceiling, his expression darkening as the events of the previous afternoon returned to his thoughts.

Jet Saint-Clair.

The white-haired bastard who had destroyed his plans, defeated him despite possessing a lower Star Realm, and left him imprisoned beneath O.R.D.O.’s authority.

Damian clenched his restrained fists, ignoring the pain spreading through his injured arms.

He had lost their first battle.

But there would be another.

And when that day arrived, Damian silently swore that Jet Saint-Clair would discover exactly how expensive his victory had been.