Chapter 465: And So It Begins

Damain’s finger moved through the air with deliberate precision, leaving thin crimson runes hanging in the space before him while his other hand held a thick, leather bound red tome against his side.

The study was almost completely silent except for the faint scratching sound produced whenever his finger completed another complicated symbol.

Dozens of books were scattered across his desk and several more had been piled on the floor around him, some opened to pages covered in ancient demonic script while others contained diagrams of formations, seals and spell structures.

He had been sitting in this room for most of the night, and the evidence of his exhaustion was becoming impossible to hide. His normally composed hair was disheveled, dark circles had formed beneath his eyes and his complexion had become noticeably paler.

Even his movements had lost some of their usual ease, yet his concentration remained absolute.

"Seal!" Damain hissed as he suddenly thrust his palm forward.

The crimson runes shot across the room like burning pieces of parchment before striking a massive bookshelf that stretched from the floor all the way to the ceiling. A crimson glow immediately spread across its surface, forming a complicated web of symbols that covered every inch of the wooden structure.

Black chains erupted from the central rune and wrapped themselves around the bookshelf several times, tightening until the entire structure was completely sealed.

The air trembled from the power contained within the formation, and for several seconds Damain simply stared at his work while breathing heavily through his nose.

"Sire, it is time for the execution. You should not exhaust yourself like this before a public event." William’s voice came from behind him, calm but noticeably concerned.

Damain didn’t answer. Instead, he walked toward the bookshelf and raised one hand before driving his palm directly into the crimson barrier.

Buzz!

A shockwave exploded through the study, sending several loose papers flying from the desk. Cracks immediately appeared across the seal beneath Damain’s palm, spreading outward like a spiderweb. The chains trembled violently as the formation struggled to contain the force being applied against it, but within a few seconds the entire barrier shattered with a sharp burst of crimson light.

The bookshelf split down the middle and began collapsing toward Damain along with several dozen books, yet he merely turned his body aside without even looking at the falling structure.

Before anything could hit the floor, the entire bookshelf was caught in midair by a layer of demonic energy. William had already raised his hand, holding the damaged furniture and its scattered contents suspended effortlessly before moving his arm and sending everything toward an empty section of the room. The books landed in a messy pile while the two halves of the bookshelf settled against the wall.

"This cannot hold a God," Damain finally said, staring at the remnants of the formation with clear dissatisfaction. "At best, it will hold a demigod for a while."

He walked back toward his desk, ignoring the books surrounding his feet. William followed his movements carefully, his expression becoming increasingly concerned as he watched his master rub both hands over his face.

"Sire..."

Bam!

Damain slammed the thick tome onto the desk hard enough to make the ink bottles beside it jump. He then lowered his head and rubbed his eyes with both hands, remaining that way for several seconds.

William had served him long enough to recognize the difference between ordinary irritation and genuine anxiety, and this was something else entirely. Since Damian’s awakening, he had seen the prince furious, amused, arrogant, affectionate and even murderous, but he had rarely seen him genuinely restless.

And that was what concerned William most.

Things were finally moving in their favor. The five ministers had been removed from power, the rebellion had been crushed, the Order of Demons had suffered another major defeat and Damian’s supporters were beginning to consolidate around him. Yet instead of relaxing, the prince had spent the entire night studying demonic spells until exhaustion nearly overtook him.

"I exist to share your burdens, Sire." William bowed slightly.

Damain slowly turned toward him. For several seconds he simply stared at his Grand Chamberlain before releasing a tired sigh.

"Believe me when I say this fight is too big for you and all of Velmora." He stepped forward and gave William’s shoulder a light pat before turning toward the doorway.

William immediately followed behind him with hurried steps.

"No matter how small or big, it is my duty to alleviate your burdens, Sire."

Damain rolled his eyes as they entered the corridor. "Then get me more books on demonic spells. Every book you can get your hands on. I also want information on secret artifacts, forbidden techniques and cursed weapons that are still accessible to the royal family."

He took several more steps before suddenly stopping.

William almost walked into him.

"Cursed weapons..." Damain murmured, his eyes narrowing as an idea finally settled into place.

William’s expression changed as he watched the realization spread across the prince’s face.

"Of course."

Damain slowly turned around and William instinctively took a step backward.

"Should I bring you all the cursed weapons in the royal armory?"

Damain shook his head.

"No. Those cursed weapons born from the tragedies of mortals are toys for children." His voice became colder. "What I need is something worthy of being wielded by a prince."

William stared at him in confusion.

"I apologize, Sire, but such a thing does not exist."

"Yet."

The single word made William’s stomach tighten.

He had heard enough rumors about Damian’s behavior on Earth to understand exactly what the prince was suggesting. After kidnapping the princess of the Kasok clan, Damian had demanded a demigod weapon or he would turn her into a curse weapon. At the time, William had considered the demand nothing more than the arrogance of a mortal who did not understand the customs of the Underworld.

But now he understood the difference.

A cursed weapon created from a demon was not merely an artifact. It was the sacrifice of living demons into an object.

Among demons, such an act was considered abhorrent. It was closer to cannibalism than craftsmanship, something so unnatural that even the most ruthless demons avoided speaking about it openly.

"You don’t mean..."

Damain turned away before William could finish.

"Bring me a dagger from the royal armory. One of exquisite design. We will be needing it for today’s execution."

William remained rooted to the spot.

"Sire!"

Damain continued walking.

"Sire!"

His voice echoed through the corridor, but Damian never turned around. The prince’s dark robes disappeared around the distant corner, leaving William alone with the realization that the man he had served was preparing to cross a line that even most demons would never consider approaching.

When Damain rounded the next corner, he found Rah and Mary standing near the staircase. Both women were clearly waiting for him, and judging from their troubled expressions, they had heard enough of the conversation to understand where his thoughts were heading.

Rah immediately lowered her gaze.

The thought of Damian turning her into a cursed weapon had haunted her since he first mentioned the possibility on Earth. She knew he had never actually carried out such a thing, but knowing he was now seriously considering creating one was enough to make her stomach tighten.

Mary was different. She was frightened too, but curiosity overpowered that fear.

"Are you actually going to go through with it?" she asked.

Her voice carried no accusation. She genuinely wanted to understand why he was willing to do something so extreme.

Damain studied her for several seconds before answering with a question of his own.

"If I told you my life was in danger and I absolutely needed this to survive, would you be okay with it?"

"Absolutely."

Both women answered without hesitation.

Damain’s expression softened.

He stepped toward them and raised both arms, silently inviting them to hold onto him. Rah and Mary immediately slipped their arms through his, and the three began walking up the staircase together.

"I’ll explain this in vague terms, and I’ll give you as little information as possible because what I’m planning is something that needs to remain secret until it is complete." Damain said quietly.

Both women exchanged confused glances before returning their attention to him.

Damain took a slow breath.

"I plan to kill the most powerful man in the Underworld."

Rah’s steps nearly faltered and Mary’s expression froze.

"And to do that, I’ll need to make him trust me. I’ll need to make him lower his guard and believe that I have no intention of becoming his enemy. The cursed weapon itself isn’t what matters most. It is the message creating such a weapon from demon demigods would send to that person."

Both women’s eyes widened.

Rah opened her mouth.

"Do you mean..."

Mary immediately raised a hand and stopped her.

They both understood why Damian had chosen to keep the details vague. If he was willing to keep something this important from even them, there had to be a reason.

Mary swallowed before asking the only question she felt safe asking.

"Can I ask one vague question?"

Damain glanced at her.

"Go ahead."

Mary’s fingers tightened around his arm.

"Was the letter from last night the reason you decided to take this drastic action?"

Damain nodded.

"That, and the conversation I finally had with my predecessor. I realized just how much of a threat that man poses to you girls, your families and every demon in the universe." His expression hardened. "I cannot allow someone like that to keep existing. So I’ll put myself on the line."

Mary stopped walking. She turned toward him and wrapped both arms around his waist, burying her face against his chest.

Damain looked down at her in surprise while Rah remained beside him, visibly shaken.

Never in the history she had studied had she heard of a Prince deliberately placing himself on a path toward confrontation with Sol. Yet Damian was preparing to walk directly into his path.

A short distance behind them, William had stopped as well.

The Grand Chamberlain stared at Damian with widened eyes as the pieces finally connected. The sleepless night, the sudden obsession with demonic spells, the questions about forbidden artifacts and now the cursed weapon.

The answer was horrifyingly simple.

Damian was preparing for Sol.

"It’s dangerous..." Mary whispered against Damian’s chest.

Damain gently pulled her away and looked into her eyes with a confident smile.

"Believe me when I say this. I’m the most dangerous being in the Underworld right now. The person who should be worried is him, not me."

Mary’s cheeks immediately flushed.

Damain released her and turned his attention toward William, who was still standing at the foot of the staircase.

"You said the Council’s envoys will be here in three days?"

"Yes, Sire." William immediately straightened.

"Send them a message. Tell them I’ll ride out to meet them on the second night, under the cover of darkness. There is much we need to discuss."

William’s brows furrowed.

Leaving the capital was dangerous. The Order of Demons had openly declared its intention to kill Damian before his coronation, and there was no guarantee that the Council’s envoys were entirely trustworthy. Yet William knew better than to question a decision like this without understanding its purpose.

"I’ll relay your message, Sire." William bowed deeply.

Damian nodded before continuing up the stairs with Mary and Rah beside him, his expression once again calm and composed.