Damain’s attention returned to Jota, and the demon shivered involuntarily beneath his gaze.

To witness a human and his spirit beast casually discussing the extermination of an entire race to forge cursed weapons was enough to shatter the soul. Whatever fear Jota had felt before paled in comparison to what gripped him now.

It was no different from the logic of mortals. Humans hunted animals they deemed lesser and consumed them without thought, yet the moment one human killed and devoured another, he was branded a monster beyond redemption.

That was the line.

And what Damian had spoken of crossed it without hesitation.

Demons had never seen fault in crafting cursed weapons from the souls of mortals, but to do the same to demons or angels was no different from cannibalism. It was an act that defied every unspoken law of their kind.

It was unheard of.

Even if such weapons were forged, who would wield them? What demon would take up the remains of its own kin as a tool of war?

The very thought was revolting.

"Your brothers... where are they?" Damain asked, his voice calm, his eyes carrying an unsettling weight.

"I... I do not know, my Lord..." Jota stammered, his body trembling. "After Duke Haborym’s defeat, the army fractured into separate factions. Those fortunate enough to be taken in by other demon elites fled this world entirely. They feared the wrath of your wives. The rest of us... the weaker ones... were abandoned. We scattered across the world, hiding wherever we could."

His voice faltered as he spoke, dread tightening around him.

Now that Damian knew the twenty-four legions had already been dismantled, Jota could not help but fear that his usefulness had ended.

And that meant death.

Silence settled over the rooftop.

Damian stood still, his eyes narrowed as he stared at the demon for a long moment, weighing his thoughts. Rin remained perched atop his head, silent, watching, waiting to see what decision would be made.

"In that case, you have a lot of work to do," Damian said at last, breaking the stillness.

Jota’s head snapped up, shock flooding his many eyes.

"What?" he muttered, disbelief thick in his voice.

"You will find your brothers across this planet and bring them to me," Damian replied evenly, his gaze unwavering.

Jota blinked.

He was not being killed?

"You... are... serious?" he stuttered, struggling to comprehend.

In that moment, he seemed almost human to Damian.

"It is natural for him to be shocked," Rin said calmly. "Taking over the twenty-four legions and claiming Haborym’s seat is one thing. But siding with outcasts... that is another matter entirely. It is taboo."

Damian’s brow lifted slightly.

"Will that be a problem?"

"A significant one," Rin admitted. "But in the end, you are a prince of hell. They cannot act against you directly. Besides, you already intend to oppose them. Conflict is inevitable. Does it truly matter?"

Damain chuckled softly.

"True."

Every path he had considered placed him at odds with the underworld from the very beginning. His plans had never aligned with submission. Whether it was consuming his brothers, forging cursed weapons from armies, or now claiming abandoned legions as his own, every step led toward confrontation.

There was no reason to hesitate now.

"Yes... I am serious about taking you all under my protection," Damian said, nodding toward Jota. "If you are willing to follow this prince."

Jota trembled.

As an outcast, survival itself was a struggle. They were hunted, discarded, treated as less than nothing. Even other demons could kill them without consequence, and often, they were encouraged to do so.

For Damian to offer them protection...

It was madness.

’This human... is insane...’ Jota thought, his form trembling. ’He carries a heart as vast as Lin Qui, yet burns with the fire of Prince Sol.’

"So this is the one who defeated my Lord..." Jota murmured. "Then Lord Haborym has no reason to feel shame in his defeat."

With that, Jota lowered himself into a deep bow. And despite his identity as a demon, Damian felt touched by the display.

Ding!

[Congratulations on gaining your first loyal devotee.]

[New Title Unlocked: God Aspirant]

[Level up 161 ---> 200]

[+100 Talent points]

Ding!

[New God Perk Unlocks]

[Devotee: Gods feed on the fear and reverence of their subordinates to sustain themselves. You will continuously gain strength through them. The more devotees you have, the faster you grow.]

[Prayer: You can hear the prayers of your devotees as whispers and respond to them.]

As the notifications echoed, Damian noticed a faint purple flame ignite upon Jota’s forehead. It took the shape of a fox for a brief moment before vanishing without a trace.

"I will carry out this mission," Jota declared, his voice now steady, filled with renewed purpose. "I will find my brothers and tell them that there is still hope for us. They will rally to your side willingly."

Damian, still processing the sudden surge of power and meaning, gave a slight, almost awkward nod in response.

Puff!

Rin reappeared atop Damian’s head in a burst of purple flames and immediately struck him with a small paw.

"Don’t be foolish, say something!" Rin scolded.

The impact carried no real force, no more than a child’s tap, yet Damian understood the meaning behind it. This was no longer a game. He was no longer just an observer or a player moving pieces in the dark.

He was becoming a leader and a leader could not afford silence.

"If you ever encounter any problem, pray to me, and I will come," Damian said, his voice calm, carrying quiet authority.

Jota nodded quickly, almost too quickly, but then his movements halted. His many eyes unfocused for a brief moment, as if something unseen had brushed against his thoughts, before sharpening again as they locked onto Damian.

"The priests..." Jota said, his tone dropping, heavy with urgency. "They have been killing my brothers. They are everywhere in the city. They hunt us without rest, day and night."

The weight of those words made it clear this was not a distant concern. It was an immediate and pressing one.

"To think the priest you spared would become a thorn in your flesh," Rin muttered, rolling his eyes. His voice carried a thin edge of sarcasm. "Who could have possibly foreseen this?"