A few hours later, the Imperial Capital lay beneath the pale glow of the moon.
The streets were unusually quiet. Military formations occupied every major avenue, and heavily armed soldiers stood guard at intersections, inspecting carriages and questioning anyone who appeared suspicious.
Demonic arrays shimmered above the rooftops, their crimson patterns occasionally illuminating the night sky. Even the wealthiest noble houses had been instructed to cooperate with the ongoing search.
A black palanquin moved slowly through the streets, escorted by a dozen imperial guards.
Inside, Damian sat alone.
He wore an entirely black robe, its loose sleeves concealing his hands. His long hair fell freely over his shoulders, and the lower half of his face was hidden behind the Devil Fox Violet Bloomer. Only his eyes remained visible, their darkness almost indistinguishable from the shadows surrounding him.
He rested one hand against the window frame, watching the soldiers pass.
Strange.
