That night, Damian slept. For the first time in what felt like an eternity, he did not struggle to close his eyes. He did not lie awake listening for approaching footsteps, nor did he spend the night anticipating the next threat that might emerge from the darkness.
He simply slept.
The room was quiet, illuminated by the faint crimson light filtering through the window. Outside, the city of Roth continued its nocturnal activities, its streets filled with demons and creatures whose appearances would have unsettled any ordinary human.
Damian felt none of that unease.
In fact, he felt something he could scarcely remember experiencing.
Comfort.
Hell felt like home.
He didn't know why. Perhaps it was the absence of ordinary humans, the lack of familiar expectations, or the simple fact that nobody here expected him to pretend to be something he wasn't.
Whatever the reason, Damian wasn't on guard.
He wasn't worried.
That was something he had lost long ago.
And yet, in this strange land beneath the living world, he had found a place where he could close his eyes without feeling the need to watch his back.
For a boy who had spent so much of his existence surviving, the feeling was almost foreign.
Almost.
Several hours later, Damian opened his eyes. He stared at the ceiling. For a while, he didn't move. Then he sat up, ran a hand through his black hair, and rose from the bed.
After washing his face, he left the inn. Morning in Roth was a peculiar sight.
The sky remained dark, its enormous moon hanging above the city while the ring of asteroids surrounding it caught the faint light of distant stars. The streets were already crowded, with merchants arranging their goods and demons gathering outside establishments. The atmosphere was lively. Damian walked through it with his hands in his pockets.
He had no particular reason to hurry.
His destination was the colosseum, where he would collect his reward and claim the Black Pillar. Until then, he intended to spend his time as he pleased.
As he passed a row of street vendors, a familiar voice reached his ears.
"Please! I haven't done anything wrong! Just let me go!" Damian stopped. Several meters ahead, an old woman knelt beside her stall. Her hands trembled as she pleaded with a tall demon standing before her.
It was the same vendor from the previous day. The woman who had sold Damian his apples.
The demon towered over her, his expression twisted with irritation. Several silver coins lay scattered across the ground beside the stall. "Are you deaf, old woman? I told you that your goods belong to me now!" The woman lowered her head. "Please, those are all I have..." Damian watched the exchange for a moment.
Then he approached. "I came to buy an apple." The old woman looked up. Her eyes widened when she recognized him, but fear kept her frozen in place. The demon slowly turned. "Huh? Who are you?" He looked Damian up and down before scoffing. "Can't you see I'm doing business here? Get lost, human." Damian stared at him. There was no irritation in his expression.
No visible anger.
Only the hollow indifference that had become so familiar to those who crossed his path. "I don't care who you are. You could even be Hades." He took a step forward. "Get lost." The demon's face darkened. "You insolent little—" He raised his hand and swung at Damian but before his fist could reach its target, a faint trace of black miasma drifted from Damian's body. It brushed against the demon.
For a fraction of a second, nothing happened. Then…POP. The demon's head burst. His body remained standing for a brief moment before collapsing beside the stall. The surrounding street fell silent. The old woman stared at the scene, unable to comprehend what had just happened. Damian didn't even glance at the body. He turned toward her.."Aren't you going to sell me the apple?" The woman flinched.
Then, with trembling hands, she reached for one of the apples and offered it to him. "T-two silver coins..." Damian placed the coins in her palm and accepted the fruit. The old woman stared at him. After a moment, she gathered enough courage to speak. "Young man... why is he still standing there?" Damian glanced toward the demon's body. The corpse remained upright for a few seconds longer than it should have, its posture frozen in the middle of its attack.
A faint smile crossed Damian's face. "He's just some lowlife drunk on power." He took a bite of the apple. "Don't worry about him." The truth was simple. The demon hadn't actually been standing there. Damian had caught him in his perception manipulation. The dead demon's body had already collapsed, but Damian had distorted the woman's perception, making the corpse appear upright and motionless.
It was a small demonstration of how far his control had developed. Sight, sound, and even the sixth sense could be manipulated through his contract with Sophie. Combined with the influence of the Black Crown, his ability to distort another being's perception had become considerably more dangerous. Damian continued walking.
Behind him, the old woman remained frozen beside her stall, uncertain whether she had just been saved by a kind stranger or encountered something far more frightening. Perhaps both.
Damian had nearly reached the main road leading toward the colosseum when he stopped.
He took another bite of his apple. Then he spoke without turning around.
"Haven't you seen enough already?" For a moment, nothing happened. Then the air beside him rippled. A man appeared out of thin air. He stood approximately six feet tall, with short black hair, black eyes, and two black horns protruding from his head. He wore no armor, yet the oppressive aura surrounding him made it clear that he had no need for it.
His presence was restrained but not enough to escape Damian's perception. Inside Damian's consciousness, Sophie immediately became alert. "Be careful, Damian. He's a Stage Seven Master." Damian continued eating his apple. The man studied him with evident interest. Then he smiled. "My apologies for spying on you." He placed one hand behind his back. "I simply wanted to see the person our little princess has grown so close to. Things like that don't usually happen."
Damian finally turned toward him. For a brief moment, his expression remained unchanged. Then he laughed. "So it's Beatrix's family?" The man nodded. "Something like that." Damian took another bite of his apple. "I'll look past it." His eyes met the man's. "But don't try to hide the fact that you're here on Lord Mephisto's orders."
The man's smile widened. "I won't deny that."
"Interesting." Ezikel studied Damian more carefully.
"He's only a Stage Four Contractor, yet he noticed me watching him. And he's not even intimidated by my Stage Seven aura." That alone was unusual.
Most contractors several stages below him would have struggled to remain composed in his presence. Even those who managed to resist the pressure would usually become more cautious.
Damian, however, seemed almost bored. Ezikel couldn't help wondering whether that indifference was genuine or simply another layer of the young contractor's unsettling nature.
Damian finished his apple. "Give my regards to the little one." He turned away. "I'll be going." Ezikel watched him walk toward the colosseum. He didn't follow. Instead, he remained where he was, his expression thoughtful. The young man was becoming more interesting by the minute. And Lord Mephisto would undoubtedly want to hear about this encounter.
The colosseum stood at the center of its district, its enormous structure visible from nearly every major road in Roth. Damian entered through the main gates and proceeded directly toward the reward section. The announcer had instructed him to arrive there that morning. After passing through several corridors, he reached a large door guarded by two demons.
They stepped aside as he approached. Beyond the door was a dark room. A single vault stood at its center. The walls were lined with black stone, and faint spiritual inscriptions covered the floor. The atmosphere was heavy, as though the room had been designed to contain objects that ordinary beings were never meant to touch. A familiar voice greeted him from within.
"Welcome, Devourer." The announcer stood beside the vault. He wore a dark ceremonial coat, and his expression carried the same enthusiasm Damian had seen during the tournament.
"Or should I call you the Child of the Fallen?" Damian walked farther into the room. "Either is fine. After all, it is me." The announcer laughed. "Very well." He turned toward the vault. "Before we proceed, allow me to introduce myself properly." He placed a hand against his chest. "Vizral. The Treasurer of Hell." Damian gave him a brief glance.
Vizral didn't seem bothered by the lack of a more enthusiastic response. Instead, he approached the vault and opened a compartment concealed within its side. From inside, he retrieved a small black box. It was plain in appearance, with no visible markings or decorations. Yet the moment Vizral lifted it, Damian felt a faint pressure emanating from within.
Vizral held the box out to him. "This is your reward." Damian accepted it. "The Black Pillar."
Vizral's expression became more serious. "Though I should clarify something. No one knows its true name. Only the destined individual or its rightful master can reveal its true appearance." Damian examined the box.
Then he placed it on the ground. He knelt and opened it. Inside rested a white pillar. It was small enough to fit within the box, yet its surface seemed to contain an immeasurable depth. Pale light flowed across it, and an oppressive aura filled the room. For an ordinary mortal, the temptation to touch it would have been overwhelming.
The moment their fingers made contact, they would have been drawn into its influence, losing themselves to the power it contained. Damian merely stared at it. Inside his consciousness, Achlys opened his eyes. A faint smile appeared on his face. "Go ahead, Damian. We are the rightful owners."
Damian reached forward. His fingers touched the white surface and the world disappeared.
Black light erupted from the pillar. It swallowed the room, the vault, and everything surrounding Damian. There was no sound, sensation or light. Damian found himself standing in a place where nothing existed. It wasn't darkness. Darkness implied the absence of light, but there was still something within it. This place was different.
It was pure absence. There was no ground beneath his feet, yet he stood. There was no sky above him, yet he could look upward. There was no horizon, no wind, no distant sound.
Nothing and yet, Damian felt himself being drawn toward the center of this endless void.
He didn't resist. He moved forward.
The pull grew stronger until a shape gradually emerged from the absence. A black pillar. It stood alone at the center of the void. Unlike the white object he had touched moments earlier, this pillar radiated a profound darkness. Its surface seemed to absorb everything around it, while faint currents of black light moved across its length. Damian stopped before it.
For a moment, he simply looked at it. Then he reached out, his hand closed around the pillar. The instant he touched it, the Book of Secrets and Knowledge manifested beside him. Its pages fluttered rapidly. The ten black stars upon its cover shone with a faint radiance. Then the book opened. Words appeared across its pages. Damian watched as the information revealed itself to him.
The name of the artifact….Its true identity and Its authority. Everything concealed within the white pillar was being unveiled. He looked at the black pillar before him. Then he spoke its name. "Starlight." The void trembled. The moment the name left his lips, the entire absence began collapsing inward. The black space folded upon itself, drawing everything toward the pillar.
The Book of Secrets and Knowledge vanished. The black pillar dissolved into a stream of darkness and Damian returned to reality. The room reappeared around him. The vault, The walls even Vizral. Everything was exactly as it had been. Except for the object in Damian's possession. The white pillar was gone, In its place rested the true Black Pillar….Starlight.