Chapter 650: Devil Fox Violet Bloomer

Damian returned to his residence in the evening, long after the sun had begun to sink beneath the horizon.

The streets of the Imperial Capital remained tense. Soldiers patrolled the avenues in greater numbers than usual, while demonic officials hurried between government buildings, carrying orders stamped with the imperial seal.

The destruction of the Northern Palace had changed the atmosphere of the entire city. Even the demons who had not witnessed Sol’s rampage understood that something terrible had happened. Nobody knew where the Tyrant Prince had gone, and that uncertainty frightened them more than the destruction itself.

Damian had hoped to return to his chambers, enjoy a quiet evening with his wife. Instead, the moment he stepped through the gates of his residence, a servant hurried forward and informed him that Duke Astaroth and Duke Paimon were waiting inside.

Damian stopped and his violet eyes narrowed slightly.

"How long have they been waiting?" he asked.

"Since the afternoon, Your Highness."

Damian’s expression darkened. "Then I suppose they must have something important to discuss."

He adjusted his robes and continued into the residence.

___ Grand Hall ___

The grand hall was illuminated by rows of floating lanterns, their pale golden light reflecting off polished pillars and the intricate carvings that adorned the walls.

At its far end stood Damian’s throne of power, an imposing seat decorated with black jade and violet patterns. Its high back resembled the spread jaws of a monstrous fox.

Damian sat upon it with one leg crossed over the other, his expression carrying the unmistakable displeasure of a man whose evening had been interrupted.

Astaroth stood before the throne, dressed in his usual formal attire. His expression was composed, but the exhaustion around his eyes betrayed the strain of the day’s events. Beside him stood Paimon whose normally relaxed demeanor had given way to unusual seriousness.

Between them rested a black wooden box.

Damian glanced at it, then at the two Dukes.

"Well?" he asked. "I assume you haven’t come all this way merely to admire my residence."

Astaroth inclined his head.

"Naturally, Your Highness. We have come to discuss the matter of Prince of Aurelios."

"Then speak."

Astaroth reached for the box and lifted its lid.

Inside lay a hand fan.

At first glance, it resembled an ancient artifact crafted by an artisan from the distant eastern kingdoms. Its black surface was polished to a lustrous sheen, and intricate purple illustrations of nine-tailed foxes decorated its broad face. The foxes appeared to dance among twisting clouds, their tails overlapping in elaborate patterns that seemed to shift whenever the light struck them from a different angle.

The ribs were fashioned from an unknown dark metal, each one engraved with tiny demonic inscriptions. Along the fan’s outer edge ran a thin, purple metallic blade, sharp enough to catch the lantern light with a cold, violet gleam.

However, the appearance was one thing, the presence surrounding the item was as powerful as Lazarus’s golden dragon glaive. It was clearly not ordinary.

Damian’s eyes lingered on the object.

Even without touching it, he could sense the extraordinary power contained within its delicate frame. The weapon concealed its presence remarkably well, but the faint fluctuations in the surrounding air betrayed the immense force sleeping inside it.

His expression changed. Not with excitement, but suspicion.

"This is the Devil Fox Violet Bloomer," Astaroth explained. "A God-tier weapon once belonging to a Prince of Lust who served as a demon lord once. It was preserved in the Demon Lord’s Armory for countless years."

Damian leaned forward slightly.

’The Devil Fox Violet Bloomer.’

Damian looked from the fan to Astaroth.

"Why are you giving me something so precious?"

Neither Duke answered immediately. The silence lasted only a moment, but it was enough to confirm Damian’s suspicions.

He leaned back against his throne.

"Ah. I see. This is a bribe." His lips curved into a humorless smile.

"Yes," Astaroth replied.

Paimon nodded. "A rather expensive one, admittedly."

Damian stared at them. He had expected some attempt at justification. Perhaps a speech about the preservation of the Underworld, the duty of the Princes, or the importance of unity in a time of crisis.

Instead, they agreed without the slightest embarrassment.

"You’re not even going to pretend otherwise?"

"What would be the point?" Paimon asked. "You would see through it regardless."

"At least you understand your limitations."

Astaroth closed the box halfway, then rested one hand upon its lid.

"Every Prince is receiving something of comparable value. The elders of the demons have begun mobilizing their forces throughout the Underworld. Noble clans, military formations, intelligence networks, and the remaining loyalists of the imperial court are being ordered to assist in locating Sol."

His expression grew heavier.

"We cannot afford to let him escape."

Damian’s fingers tapped slowly against the armrest. If Sol escaped the Imperial Capital, finding him again would be far more difficult.

"The elders are mobilizing every demon they can command," Paimon continued. "The capital is under lockdown. Every noble house has been ordered to cooperate. Even the clans that have remained neutral for centuries are being pressured to contribute."

"And what makes you think all of that will be enough?" Damian asked.

"It may not be," Astaroth admitted. "But this is our best chance. Perhaps our only one."

The words settled over the hall.

Damian’s expression remained unreadable, though his thoughts were moving quickly.

He had already agreed to help the Abyss kill Sol. Now the Dukes were offering him a legendary weapon to secure his cooperation. The timing was almost amusing.

How convenient.

"Fine," he said at last. "Explain what you’ve done so far."

Paimon took a step forward.

"The gates of the Imperial Capital have been sealed. No one is permitted to leave without authorization, and every major route is under surveillance. The airspace has also been covered by the Devil Canopy Array. It should prevent Sol from escaping through the skies without alerting us."

"Should?" Damian repeated.

Paimon gave him a tired look.

"Would you prefer that I lie to you?"

"No. I prefer that you understand the difference between a plan and a wish."

"Then we agree."

Astaroth intervened before the exchange could deteriorate further.

"We have also stationed one hundred thousand troops at each of the northern, southern, eastern, and western gates. Their purpose is not to defeat Sol directly. They are there to slow him down, restrict his possible routes of escape, and alert the nearest forces if he attempts to break through."

Damian considered the arrangement.

Four hundred thousand soldiers.

A formidable number by ordinary standards. Against Sol, however, they were little more than obstacles intended to buy time. If the Tyrant Prince decided to force his way through a gate, the troops stationed there might suffer the same fate as the soldiers at the Northern Palace.

Still, the measures were not entirely pointless. Sol could not be everywhere at once, and even a powerful God might need time to break through an extensive formation.

The question was whether the Princes could exploit that brief window.

Damian looked at the two Dukes.

"And what, precisely, do you want from me?"

Astaroth straightened.

"We need you and the other Princes to search for Sol."

Damian’s brow furrowed.

"Search for him?"

"Yes. The army can seal roads, monitor the skies, and guard the gates, but it cannot reliably track or stop a Prince who knows how to conceal his presence. We need people capable of stopping the prince of Aurelios."

"And you believe I can do that?"

"I believe you have a better chance than any ordinary demon," Astaroth replied. "The same applies to the other Princes. Only a Prince can reliably locate a fellow Prince when that Prince is actively concealing himself. More importantly, only a Prince has a reasonable chance of holding Sol off long enough for reinforcements to arrive."

Damian laughed softly. There was no genuine amusement in the sound.

"So your plan is to scatter the Princes throughout the capital, hoping one of us finds Sol before he escapes."

"That is a crude description of it," Paimon said.

"Is it inaccurate?"

"Not entirely."

Damian pressed two fingers against his temple and he exhaled slowly.

"Very well. I’ll participate."

Relief crossed Paimon’s face, though Astaroth merely inclined his head as if he had expected the answer all along.

"Your cooperation is greatly appreciated, Your Highness," Astaroth said. "The Underworld will remember this."

Damian extended his hand toward the box. Astaroth opened it fully and presented the Devil Fox Violet Bloomer.

Damian lifted the fan from its resting place. It was lighter than it appeared, yet the moment his fingers closed around its handle, he felt a faint pulse of demonic energy respond to his presence. The purple illustrations seemed to deepen, the nine-tailed foxes appearing almost alive beneath the polished surface.

He turned the fan once, examining the sharp metallic edge.

A God-tier weapon was no small addition to his arsenal. Depending on its abilities, it might prove useful not only against Sol but also during his journey to the Dark Continent.

At the very least, the Dukes had chosen a suitable bribe.

"I’ll accept this," Damian said, folding the fan and placing it back inside the box. "But understand something. I am agreeing to help locate Sol. I am not promising to throw my life away in a futile attempt to defeat him."

"Of course," Astaroth replied.

"We would never ask you to do anything so unreasonable," Paimon added.

Damian gave him a flat look. "Your presence here suggests otherwise."

Paimon smiled awkwardly.

Astaroth bowed. "We shall inform the other Princes of your cooperation. Once the search begins, we will coordinate our movements and establish a means of communicating any discoveries."

"Do that."

The two Dukes offered their final thanks before withdrawing from the grand hall. Their footsteps faded beyond the doors, leaving Damian alone beneath the golden lanterns.