Report
As Damian approached the source of the commotion, he found the palace servants anxiously pacing, unsure of what to do.
"......"
A young boy stood over Anna, still seething with anger, as she slumped on the ground, cradling her swollen cheek.
Damian’s expression darkened at the scene before him.
“How dare you, how dare you! Who granted you the authority to interrupt others?
It was none other than his half-brother, the Fourth Prince, Arkyn von Edenwald.
“Try running your mouth one more time, and I’ll rip your tongue out myself.”
Arkyn was infamous for his unruly behavior, but the palace had been peaceful for the past two years while he was away training magic.
He shared a deep, bitter history with Damian.
Before leaving for his training, Arkyn had insulted Damian’s late mother, leading to a duel between them.
And now he had laid his hands on Anna. Undoubtedly, he did it for some trivial reason.
In the past, Damian would have reacted differently. He might have pretended not to see Arkyn or charged at her without thinking.
But this time was different.
“Felix, take Anna back to her room.”
“Y-yes, young master.”
Felix, momentarily flustered, quickly composed himself and helped Anna inside.
Arkyn didn’t stop them, only watching with a condescending smirk as he turned his gaze to Damian.
“She’s my maid. If you have an issue, take it up with me.”
“Heh. You’ve gotten taller since I last saw you, but your manners seem to have shrunk.”
Damian and Arkyn were born in the same year. Even though Damian was technically a bastard under imperial law, their sibling relationship was still valid.
There was no need for formal language between them. However, Damian had consistently shown respect towards Arkyn by using honorifics.
It was a kind of defense mechanism—a way to lower himself and avoid provoking his brother unnecessarily.
However, he was no longer required to perform that task.
“So tell me, why did you strike my maid? If there’s no beneficial reason, I’ll take it as a personal insult.”
“An insult? Hahaha! A fool, unable to even defend his mother's honor, now seeks to appear strong.
With his teeth clenched, Damian glared at Arkyn.
“I asked the wench, ‘Where’s your worm of a master hiding?’ and she had the nerve to snap at me, so I taught her a lesson in respect.”
Arkyn shrugged, as if what he had done was nothing significant.
The maid's boldness in glaring at Lord Arkyn is truly impressive. “Well, at least she has a big chest. That made it somewhat tolerable. Heh heh heh.” “Silence. This is not your place to speak.”
At Damian’s sharp rebuke, Arkyn’s attendants straightened up immediately. The aura Damian exuded was different from that of the imperial bastard they had seen two years ago.
“Hmph. It seems you haven’t done a decent job training your maid. As compensation for this incident, I’ll be taking her with me.”
Arkyn had been eyeing Anna for a while, intending to make her his plaything. If this continued, he would likely attempt to abduct her, just as he had before the regression.
It was his twisted sense of superiority, believing he could toy with anyone below his status. This was the vile mindset that lay at his core.
This trait was evident even during the civil war. He had committed massacres simply because the regions were associated with the reformists.
Though he eventually met his end at someone else’s hands, Damian would have preferred to deal with him personally if given the chance.
He’s rotten to the core. It’s better to cut him down decisively now.
Moreover, there was an item Arkyn possessed that Damian needed.
"Ignore your foolishness and move on." If you’re so eager to take Anna, why don’t you challenge me to a duel?”
If Damian escalated this to an official matter, the situation would become more complex. But Arkyn was arrogant enough that a direct provocation like this would bait him easily.
"You've really lost your mind in the past two years." I heard you trained under some stable master. Did sniffing horse manure mess up your head?”
Arkyn still saw Damian as he had two years ago—an impotent bastard who couldn’t even lift a finger in his own defense.
“You talk too much. Are we going to fight or not?”
“Fine, fine. If you desire another scolding, I will gladly fulfill your desire. So, what’s at stake?”
“You’ll leave Anna alone. And also...”
“I don’t know who you take after, but you sure have a lot of nerve-making demands.”
The invitation to the Arnesian Nobles' Ball is ready. Hand it over.”
"I'm uncertain about your plans for such an event, but it's okay." It’s not like you stand any chance of winning anyway.”
Tomorrow at noon, the royal training grounds will host the duel.
Damian turned and headed straight for the abandoned tower without looking back at Anna or Felix.
Meeting them now would only lead to an unpleasant conversation.
Anna would insist on going to Arkyn voluntarily, while Felix would argue that he could somehow manage everything.
Given the current circumstances, the result seemed no different from two years ago. In fact, Damian might face an even more crushing defeat this time.
Derek had spent the past two years training Damian in strength and technique, while Arkyn had immersed himself in magic training in a mana-rich region.
As Derek had warned, if one’s opponent possessed a certain level of aura or magic, Damian’s physical strength and skills would be of little use.
However, that only held true until today.
The Book of Hell in the Abandoned Tower... The dark magic he would soon learn from it was far too precious to waste on someone like Arkyn.
“It looks... smaller.”
After two years, Damian stood before the stone gate once again. Though the gate itself hadn’t changed, it felt different—perhaps due to Damian’s own growth.
He made a rumbling sound and pushed against it, just as he had done with the boulder previously. The stone door parted open with ease.
Surprisingly, it left little impact on him. It was simply a step in the process, nothing more.
He moved through the dark corridor, guided only by the light of his lantern. Soon, the ceiling rose higher, and he entered a wide, open chamber.
In the center of the room, a small pedestal stood holding the Book of Hell.
Damian set the lantern on the floor and gently brushed the dust off the book.
‘Book of Hell: מ (Mem).’ At first glance, it appeared to be a typical ancient tome.
However, the characters on the cover and within the pages were unpronounceable in any modern language.
Damian’s talent for dark magic wasn’t particularly extraordinary. He simply possessed the ability to read these bizarre symbols.
“□□□□□ □□□□.”
As soon as Damian uttered the title on the cover, the book lifted into the air, its pages rapidly flipping on their own.
Instead of reading with his eyes, it felt as though the book's contents were piercing directly into his brain. It wasn’t reading—it was more like consuming or absorbing the text. Although he had read the book before, the sensation still left him uneasy.
“□□□. □□. □□□□. □□. □□□□□. □□. □….”
Damian started uttering the words etched in his memory.
To forge a contract with a demon, one must first attract the demon’s attention.
Hidden in the shadows of the Empire, demon worshippers would place the hearts of sacrificial victims or costly gold and jewels before the Book of Hell, bowing their heads in supplication. But these offerings held little interest among demons.
What truly captivated them was the use of the demonic language itself.
If an ant started speaking in a human tongue, wouldn’t it naturally draw attention?
As Damian finished reciting the text on the final page, the book slowly descended back down.
Whoosh. Green flames appeared in a circle around Damian.
This Book of Hell bears the name Infernal for the demon it describes.
Infernals were demons embodying the very essence of hellfire. By forming a contract with them, one could gain the ability to wield this hellfire.
Before his regression, Damian had forged contracts with a total of 20 Infernals. Many prominent figures had perished in the hellfire he unleashed.
The summoning ritual was complete, and the terms of the contract were straightforward. The Infernal only required him to pass a simple test.
Even in his previous frail state, Damian had succeeded in these trials. In his current condition, it should be effortless.
‘It’s taking a bit longer this time.’
The Infernal had yet to reveal itself. Only the green flames continued to burn, forming a ring around him.
‘No, wait… The shape is different!’
As Damian looked closer, he realized that the ring of flames wasn’t a single circle—it was actually a double spiral, with two lines of fire twisting around each other. This was completely different from the time he had summoned an Infernal before his regression.
However, the Book of Hell—Mem should only be capable of summoning an Infernal, not any other type of demon.
‘If that’s the case, no way!’
Whoosh! Green flames suddenly surged from the book.
Hellfire erupted, rushing toward Damian as if to consume him. He instinctively stepped back.
The hellfire filled the entire space, causing sweat to pour down his body and his throat to burn.
[Heh heh heh.]
A strange, eerie voice echoed from beyond the blazing inferno.
It vaguely resembled a human figure, but upon closer inspection, Damian realized it was a skeleton.
However, this wasn’t a typical skeleton—the body was made of human bones, but the head was that of a bull.
In place of the pedestal where the Book of Hell had rested, there was now a stone throne.
The skeletal figure, hunched over in the chair, slowly raised its head and gazed at Damian.
Despite being unable to read its expression, Damian felt a clear sense of curiosity emanating from the burning skull.
You, the one who summoned e... You possess quite the unusual talent.
The skull’s jaw clacked as a low, gravelly voice pierced through the flames.
Damian’s hands trembled. It wasn’t just the overwhelming pressure—he knew exactly who this entity was.
Moloch. The King of All Infernals. He led 24 legions from Hell's western regions.
A lord of Hell had descended upon the mortal realm.
‘Why now?’
Before his regression, Damian had previously contracted with another lord of Hell, even though he hadn't summoned Moloch.
However, speaking the demonic language did not summon the lords of Hell.
Only when they had established enough contracts with the demons under their control and reached a certain threshold did they respond.
Damian had once desired a contract with Moloch, but even after forging deals with numerous Infernals, Moloch had never answered his call.
Yet here he was now—the embodiment of hellfire—standing before Damian.
This occurred prior to Damian even having a single Infernal contract.
My children prompted me to come. I never expected to witness such an amusing sight after so long.
Blood trickled from Damian’s lips. Even though this was just a brief appearance for the contract, the pressure was indescribable.
‘Is this because of my regression?’
Or perhaps it was some trickery by Ishtar.
But now wasn’t the time to dwell on the reasons. Someone had summoned a demon, and it was time to make a contract.
All Infernals came from Moloch, so the contract should be the same.
“King of all Infernals, Moloch, I seek a contract with you.”
Damian spoke as steadily as he could, suppressing his tremors. Moloch’s jaw clattered again.
You even know my ame... Heh heh heh. It seems I chose wisely to take my time.
With each word from Moloch, the pressure intensified. Had this been Damian prior to his regression, he would have either escaped or lost consciousness immediately.
[Very well, very well. You want a contract, so it's only fair that I listen. “What are the terms?” [They are simple, young humans.]
Moloch snapped his bony fingers, and a small spark of flame flew from his fingertip.
[Endure this.]
Tap. The spark touched Damian’s body.
Immediately, hellfire consumed one of Damian’s arms.
Hellfire was unlike any ordinary flame spell. It wasn’t just the color that set them apart.
Hellfire demanded the caster’s mana, stamina, and pain. To wield it, the caster had to sacrifice a part of their own body.
While it didn’t actually burn the flesh, the pain felt as if it did.
In some ways, it was even worse than real flames.
Moloch’s hellfire was no exception. Though it left no physical burns, the searing agony made it almost impossible for Damian to maintain his composure.
Swish. He drew his sword and lightly pricked his thigh. The small pain provided a strange sense of relief, helping him regain focus.
[Oh? You’re holding on longer than I expected.
Moloch spoke with a hint of curiosity. Reclining on his rough stone throne, he watched Damian as if he were a fascinating spectacle.
He probably found it amusing. It was akin to witnessing an ant, aflame, attempt to communicate in a human language.
Damian had thought he was accustomed to the pain of hellfire. He had even sacrificed his entire body to unleash it before.
Before his regression, Damian had made contracts with 20 Infernals in total. But the pain Moloch was inflicting now was unlike anything he had ever experienced before.
“Hah… hah…”
Suddenly, Damian burst out laughing.
Moloch reached up and stroked one of his ears, puzzled by Damian’s laughter.
If you wish to give up, just say so. This has been an entertaining show, after all. “Give up? Why would I? Even if it kills me, I’m making this contract with you.”
The intensity of hellfire’s pain directly correlates with its power. Given such intense pain, what level of power could the flames possess? He deserved the title of Lord of Hell.
Even as he groaned in agony, the thought of this only made Damian laugh harder.
By forging a contract with Moloch, Damian no longer needed to negotiate separate deals with the Infernals who served under him.
Naturally, this meant he could use the other Books of Hell for different purposes.
One book could be consumed to temporarily amplify the power of dark magic. Using multiple books could even summon parts of a demon into this world.
However, summoning a demon carried significant risks. Before his regression, Damian had only performed such a summoning three times.
The shortage of the Books of Hell was a problem, but the biggest issue was having to eliminate any witnesses.
Regardless of their ignorance about dark magic, people could always sense the presence of a demon on a soul-deep level.
Still, the results were undeniable. Before his regression, Damian had summoned a single Infernal and turned twenty elite knights of the orthodox faction into ashes.
That was the power of just one Infernal. If he could summon even a fragment of Moloch, it would pose a formidable challenge to both Mihail and Rubia.
That’s why Damian had to seize this opportunity. His mind was consumed with nothing else.
He stabbed himself lightly each time he felt on the verge of losing consciousness.
The blood that trickled from his wounds quickly formed small pools, only to boil and evaporate from the intense heat radiating from Moloch.
Pain has a threshold. When the agony peaks, the brain instinctively shuts it down. Damian was all too familiar with this phenomenon.
The only issue was that his sense of time was starting to blur. He couldn’t tell if a day had passed or not.
The night has already ended. A new day is about to reach its zenith.
As if reading Damian’s thoughts, Moloch approached him and spoke. The demon descended from his stone throne and leaned in close to look at Damian.
“Gah…”
A sharp burning sensation surged up his throat, and he spat out blood. The scorching pain combined with real heat made even breathing a torment.
[Little one, are you truly human?]
Moloch’s demeanour had shifted drastically.
Gone was the haughty, mocking tone. Instead, his voice was filled with genuine curiosity.
“Just tell me the result.”
The duel with Arkyn was only moments away. If Damian didn’t make it to the training grounds on time, things would get complicated.
[You pass. I, Moloch, King of all Infernals, hereby form a contract with the human, Damian Renekt.
With those words, the hellfire that had been searing his entire body vanished without a trace.
It doesn’t seem long since I last made a contract with a human, yet here I am, forging a new one so soon.
A demon’s sense of time was different from that of a human. It had been over a thousand years since the last dark magician was executed, but to Moloch, it felt like it had only happened recently.
“Grrrgh!”
The contract engraved itself onto Damian’s soul. Whether it was because he hadn’t made a contract in so long, a groan of discomfort slipped out.
[Child who has received my spark]
Moloch’s obsidian-like finger bone gently tapped Damian’s head.
The flames surrounding Moloch gradually began to fade. Now that the contract was complete, the Lord of Hell had to return to his domain.
[Burn this world to its very end].
With those parting words, Moloch’s body crumbled away, disappearing without a trace. Only the scorched marks left in the chamber bore witness to what had transpired here.
