The arena trembled beneath the weight of countless eyes.
Millions of spectators watched from the towering stands of the Underworld Colosseum. Demons, abyssal entities, ancient horrors, demon lords, and creatures whose very existence could shatter mortal sanity leaned forward with growing anticipation.
The smell of blood hung heavily in the air. At the center of the arena, Damian stood silently.
Across from him, the Hell Minotaur slowly tightened its grip around the enormous battle axe.
The severed head Damian had brought from the waiting room was crushed with the bloodstain still on the stone floor.
Silence lingered for a single moment.
Then the Minotaur vanished.
BOOM!
The ground exploded where it had stood.
The gigantic creature appeared directly behind Damian with terrifying speed. Its massive muscles bulged as it raised the axe high overhead and brought it crashing downward with enough force to split a mountain.
The spectators grinned. The strike landed or at least… It should have. Damian never turned around. His right hand shot upward.
CRACK!
His palm caught the descending blade.
The impact was so violent that the arena floor shattered beneath his feet.
Stone fragmented. Dust exploded outward. His boots sank several inches into the ground.
Blood dripped from his palm where the edge bit into flesh.
Yet he remained standing Motionless and Expressionless.
The Minotaur's eyes widened.
Slowly, Damian lowered his arm.
The gigantic axe followed. Forced downward by nothing but raw strength.
Then Damian bent his knees And jumped.
BOOM!
The air exploded beneath him. He appeared in front of the Minotaur. His fist collided with its face.
CRACK!
The sound echoed throughout the entire colosseum.
The Minotaur's head snapped sideways. Its right arm twisted unnaturally. Bone shattered.
The massive creature staggered backward several steps.
High above the arena, a demon spectator whistled.
"For a human, he's strong."
A demon lord seated several rows above him narrowed his eyes.
"He's not human."
The demons nearby turned toward him. The demon lord continued staring at Damian.
"Look closer."
The spectators obeyed.
Only then did they truly see it.
Damian floated several feet above the arena floor.
His right hand was broken.
The bones protruded through flesh.
Blood dripped steadily onto the ground.
Yet his face remained completely calm.
No pain. No reaction. Nothing. The Minotaur roared furiously. Its balance returned.
Without hesitation, it grabbed the giant axe and hurled it forward.
The weapon tore through the air like a meteor.
The pressure alone split the arena floor.
Damian tilted his head.
The axe missed his face by mere inches.
The instant it passed The Minotaur appeared.
It had already crossed the distance.
Its gigantic hand closed around Damian's legs.
The world blurred.
BOOM!
Damian slammed into the ground.
BOOM!
Then again.
BOOM!
And again.
The Minotaur swung him left and right like a rag doll. Stone shattered.
Cracks spread throughout the arena. Blood sprayed from Damian's mouth. The spectators roared in excitement.
"KILL HIM!"
"KILL HIM!"
"RIP HIM APART!"
The Minotaur grinned savagely.
Until something felt wrong. Its smile slowly faded. A strange sensation spread through its arm.
It's spiritual essence. Its vitality. Its strength.
Something was consuming it.
Devour..The gift of Sophie. The curse that transformed everything Damian touched into fuel.
The Minotaur immediately released him and leaped backward. Yet the sensation remained. Its energy continued draining.
The infection had already taken hold. Without hesitation, the creature raised its axe.
SLASH!
Its own right arm fell to the ground. Dark blood erupted from the wound.
Moments later, new flesh began growing. Regeneration.
The severed limb twitched across the arena floor. Damian slowly rose from the crater. His hollow eyes looked downward. At the arm Then he crouched, Placed a hand on it. Devour activated.
Black mist spread across the severed limb.
The flesh shriveled. The blood dried. The bones cracked. Within seconds, the entire arm became a brittle husk.
Then it crumbled into dust. The spectators fell silent.
The same demon from before swallowed hard.
"Forget what I said."
"He's definitely not human."
The demon lord nodded slowly.
"He's a spiritual contractor."
His voice stopped. His eyes narrowed.
Something ancient stirred within his thoughts. The demon lord stared at Damian's shoulder.
At the faint outline hidden beneath his clothing.
His expression changed.
"…Never mind."
The demons looked confused. But the demon lord remained silent. In his mind, only one thought existed.
I can sense it…The power of the Black Crown.
Meanwhile… Deep within Damian's subconscious. Far beyond the realm of the living and the Underworld.
Inside the endless sea of darkness known as the Abyss.
A pair of crimson eyes opened. Achlys awoke. The Primordial Mist shifted beneath an eternal black sky. The moment his eyes opened The demon lord's entire body froze. Every hair on his body stood upright. An instinct older than reason screamed within his soul. Danger.
Back in the arena… Damian slowly stood upright.
His broken hand healed completely. Bone reformed.
Flesh regenerated. Blood vanished. The crowd watched in silence. Then Damian raised a hand. His fingers moved through his black hair.
Brushing it backward. His hollow eyes stared toward the open sky above the colosseum. For several seconds he simply looked upward. The moon,Stars and the darkness.
Then…Without moving his head… His gaze shifted toward the Minotaur.
A smile slowly appeared. It wasn't human. It wasn't sane. It was the smile of something that had forgotten fear long ago.
The Minotaur instinctively took a step backward.
For the first time since entering the arena… It felt uneasy. Damian's voice echoed softly.
"Don't you feel excited to see blood… demon?"
A strange chill crawled up its spine. Then Damian's smile widened.
"I'm going to rip you apart limb from limb."
The arena became quiet. Even the spectators felt it. That wrongness. That unnatural feeling.
The sensation that something was wearing the shape of a human. The narrator might have called it familiar.
After all…This was not the first time. The Spirit of Resentment had felt it. The Spirit of Regret had felt it. Both had sensed the same thing before their deaths. That inexplicable wrongness.That silent terror.That feeling of standing before something that should never have existed. Unfortunately for the Hell Minotaur…It had become the next victim. The next prey. The next name to be added beneath the feet of the Child of the Fallen. The bearer of the Black Crown.The master of death.