Chapter 632: Killing Zepar

Within the darkness of Damian’s soul, a boundless crimson eye opened.

It stretched across an endless expanse of nothingness, its enormous pupil fixed upon the intruder that had appeared within the physical world.

In the real world, a crimson third eye opened on Damian’s forehead.

Zepar’s laughter died in his throat.

The eye possessed no ordinary iris or pupil. Its crimson surface resembled a blood-red abyss, with layers of darkness swirling beneath it. The moment it opened, the atmosphere within the corridor changed. The darkness that had flooded the mansion began to tremble, and the shadow towering before Damian shifted its weight as though something far more dangerous had suddenly entered the room.

Damian stood with his hands relaxed at his sides. His long hair stirred in the unnatural wind sweeping through the corridor, while the third eye stared at Majin’s Shadow with keen interest.

"There is no time to waste," Zepar ordered, forcing confidence into his voice. "Murder him!"

Majin’s Shadow did not move.

The enormous figure remained where it stood, its crimson eye fixed upon Damian. The darkness composing its body rippled, and one of its long arms twitched before retreating slightly towards its torso.

Zepar frowned.

"Move!" he barked.

The shadow took another step backwards.

For several seconds, Zepar could only stare at it. He had stolen the artifact at considerable risk, evading the Demon Lord’s Armory security and risking execution if discovered. The entire operation had been built around the assumption that Majin’s remaining power would give him the means to kill Damian. Even a fraction of a former Demon Lord’s strength should have been enough to overwhelm a demigod, perhaps even contend with a God.

Yet the creature was refusing to obey him.

"Is it scared?" Zepar muttered in disbelief. "Impossible."

He had heard countless stories about Majin. The former Demon Lord had ruled during an age when the Underworld’s hierarchy was far more brutal than it was now. His power had been so overwhelming that even other great rulers had treated him with caution. The fragment sealed inside the artifact was undoubtedly weaker than the original, but it still contained a portion of that terrifying authority.

It should have been more than enough to crush Damian.

So why was it trembling?

Zepar’s gaze shifted towards the Prince of Lust, searching for an explanation. Damian had not even attacked. He stood motionless, his crimson third eye watching the shadow as though he were examining an old acquaintance.

Then Zepar noticed something else. A transparent barrier had formed around the corridor.

It stretched from the floor to the ceiling, enclosing the entire passage in a faint, shimmering field. The surrounding sounds of battle had disappeared, leaving only the subtle crackle of energy within the enclosed space. Even the darkness spreading from Majin’s Shadow seemed unable to pass beyond its boundaries.

Zepar’s expression changed.

"Isolation barrier..."

The Duke slowly turned back towards Damian.

Darkness was now swirling around Damian’s body, gathering along his arms and shoulders. It moved like living tendrils, responding to a will that was neither visible nor entirely human. The crimson eye on his forehead remained fixed upon Majin’s Shadow, while Damian casually extended one hand towards the towering entity.

A strange voice emerged from Damian’s body. It was neither entirely his own nor completely separate from him. The sound carried an ancient weight, deep and resonant, as though countless voices had spoken through the same mouth across the span of eternity.

"Majin... It’s good to know some of the power I lent you remains."

The shadow shuddered.

The voice continued, its tone carrying a faint trace of amusement. "Now become nourishment for my new successor. He is the future!"

The sound reverberated through the corridor.

Zepar’s entire body stiffened. A chill ran down his spine, and for the first time since entering the mansion, genuine terror seized his heart.

Before Zepar could process the revelation, black chains exploded from Damian’s outstretched hand.

They crossed the corridor in an instant, coiling around Zepar’s arms, torso, and legs. Several wrapped tightly around his neck, while others pierced through the gaps in his armour and fastened themselves around his body. The Duke attempted to dodge, but the chains had already surrounded him. Their movements were too precise, too fast, leaving him no opportunity to invoke his illusions or summon a defensive technique.

"Wha—?!"

He pulled against them and the chains tightened.

A wave of demonic energy erupted from his body, shaking the corridor and sending cracks racing across the floor. Ordinarily, such an outburst would have been enough to tear apart ordinary restraints. Instead, the black chains drank in the energy as soon as it touched them, absorbing every trace before it could spread.

Zepar’s strength began to drain.

His eyes widened as he realized what was happening. The chains were not simply binding him. They were devouring his power, stripping away the very energy he needed to resist them.

And Majin’s Shadow was doing nothing to help him.

The towering figure lowered itself onto one knee. Its immense frame bowed before Damian, the crimson eye on its abdomen dimming as the darkness around it gathered in submission.

"As you wish," it said.

Zepar stared at the kneeling entity.

"Impossible!" His voice cracked. "How can you possess that inheritance?!"

He instinctively stepped backwards, but the chains yanked him to a halt. The more he struggled, the tighter they became, digging into his armour and draining the strength from his limbs. His scythe had already disappeared, its manifestation disrupted by the loss of energy.

Damian did not answer.

The crimson third eye watched as Majin’s Shadow rose from its knee. The entity’s body began to unravel, its enormous frame dissolving into streams of black mist that flowed towards the Prince of Lust. The darkness poured into Damian’s outstretched hand before spreading across his arm and disappearing beneath his skin.

Zepar could only watch.

The remnant of a former Demon Lord, an artifact that should have been capable of turning the tide of any battle, was being absorbed as though it were nothing more than food.

Black veins bulged beneath Damian’s skin.

They spread from his hand across his forearm, climbing towards his shoulders and crawling along his neck. For an instant, his entire body appeared to be filled with writhing darkness. The crimson eye on his forehead blazed, and the two eyes beneath it shone with the same violent light.

The corridor trembled as the last of Majin’s Shadow poured into him. Then everything went quiet.

The black veins receded beneath his skin. His third eye slowly closed, leaving no trace of its existence, and the oppressive darkness that had flooded the corridor began to disappear. The isolation barrier remained in place, but the pressure that had accompanied the sealed artifact was gone.

Damian exhaled. A thick stream of black fog escaped his mouth, curling through the air before dissolving into nothingness.

A faint panel appeared before his eyes.

[400 Abyssal Points Earned.]

Damian’s lips curved into a small smile.

For an artifact containing a fragment of a former Demon Lord’s consciousness, it was a respectable reward. Before he could examine the implications, a small black dragon materialized beside him.

Abel settled across Damian’s shoulder, his crimson eyes fixed on the fading traces of darkness. The little dragon tilted his head, studying his master with unusual interest.

"Four hundred points that can be spent solely on your Abyssal inheritance is a big deal," Abel remarked. "I believe this should prove very useful to you."

Damian nodded. "It certainly will."

His attention returned to Zepar.

The Duke was jerking violently against the chains, his body twisting as he desperately attempted to break free. His cloak had fallen from one shoulder, and the armour covering his torso was beginning to crack beneath the pressure. Every burst of demonic energy he summoned was swallowed by the restraints, leaving him weaker than before.

"Bastard!" Zepar roared. "How did you get your hands on this inheritance? Who else knows about it?"

His voice had become hoarse.

"A dying man has no use for this information," Damian replied.

He approached without haste, his night robes swaying around his legs. There was no need to hurry. Zepar had already exhausted much of his energy to his devil chains.

Damian stopped before him.

"I can only thank you for bringing the remnant of Majin’s power to me," he continued with a sinister smile. "It was truly helpful."

Zepar’s face twisted with rage.

"You think you can humiliate me and get away with it?!"

He gathered what little energy remained within his body and attempted to force it through his limbs. The chains immediately tightened, absorbing the energy before it could reach his muscles. His shoulders jerked, and a strained gasp escaped him.

The more he struggled, the more helpless he became.

For the first time in centuries, Zepar found himself completely at the mercy of another demon. His illusions were useless against the chains. His scythe was gone. His trump card had been consumed, and the isolation barrier prevented anyone outside from interfering.

He had entered the mansion expecting to claim the life of a Prince. Now he was struggling to preserve his own.

"Wait!" Zepar shouted.

Damian continued watching him.

"Wait... I can serve you." The Duke swallowed, forcing the words past his dry throat. "I can be useful to you. I’m a Duke! I command legions, possess centuries of experience, and know the inner workings of the Order of Demons. You don’t have to kill me."

His desperation was almost palpable.

Damian shook his head.

"Don’t bother. The Underworld I plan to build will be ruled by Dukes of my choosing. Those who will be loyal to me and my generation to come." Damian’s smile widened slightly, revealing the cold ambition beneath his otherwise composed expression. "Your existence is irrelevant in the grand scheme of things."

The words struck harder than any physical blow.