Chapter 616: Damian Vs Belial [1]

Elsa rose from her seat and stepped between the two Princes before Belial could do anything further. "You know the rules of the capital. Any Prince who begins a conflict here will be sanctioned and forced to pay a fine. You will not get off easily!"

Belial burst into laughter, the sound carrying across the restaurant. His black, ant-like features twisted into an ugly grin as he looked down at her.

"I will be happy to pay any sanction after I have killed your pathetic husband." He reached out and ran his hand through Elsa’s golden hair, treating her warning as though it were nothing more than an amusing joke. "And then, you will be my bride."

"Swoosh!"

Elsa slapped him across the face.

The sharp sound drew every eye in the restaurant, but the satisfaction she might have felt vanished almost immediately. Her palm had struck the hard surface of Belial’s skin, which was tougher than ordinary armour. Pain shot through her hand, and she instinctively withdrew it with a wince, her palm already turning red.

Belial’s laughter stopped and his face contorted with rage as he raised his fist. "Bitch!"

Bam!

Elsa closed her eyes, bracing herself for the impact. Yet a second passed, and the blow never landed. She slowly opened her eyes and found Damian standing directly in front of her, his enormous frame shielding her from Belial. One hand was wrapped around the ant Prince’s fist, stopping it cold.

Damian’s white eyes burned with an eerie intensity, and the smile on his face carried none of the warmth he had shown Elsa moments earlier.

"Congratulations," Damian said, tightening his grip on Belial’s fist. "You just gave me the excuse I need to justify killing you in the capital."

Belial’s expression hardened, but before he could respond, Damian brought his fingers together against the Prince’s knuckles.

"Crimson Kiss!"

White flames erupted beneath Belial’s black scales. The flesh along his forearm swelled violently in several places as the fire spread through the tissues beneath his hardened skin, burning from within. A soft cry escaped his mouth before he could suppress it, and he immediately swung his other fist at Damian’s chest.

Damian answered with his own punch.

Their fists collided with their chests almost simultaneously, the impact producing a deep boom that rattled the restaurant’s windows. Yet the difference in their results was unmistakable.

Belial was hurled backward, his enormous body flying several metres before smashing through the wall at the far end of the dining hall. Stone cracked around him, and dust poured from the damaged masonry as he disappeared into the debris.

Damian remained where he stood, his feet planted firmly on the floor. The skin across his chest and shoulder had darkened from the impact, but he showed no sign of serious injury.

The restaurant fell into complete silence.

Patrons who had been enjoying their meals moments earlier now stared at the destruction, some frozen in their seats while others scrambled away from the damaged wall. The servants stood helplessly near the entrance, uncertain whether they should summon the guards or flee before the Princes resumed their fight.

In one of the private dining areas, Sol slowly lowered his cup. His golden eyes followed Damian with mild curiosity, and a faint smile appeared on his lips.

"He used the Ashura Body," he murmured. "But that alone should not be enough to withstand the attack of a God. He has something more he is hiding."

Leo, who had been reclining beside the table, nodded with a small frown. "Whatever secret he’s hiding is bigger than we all think."

Meanwhile, the darkened skin across Damian’s chest gradually returned to normal. He rolled his shoulder once, then began walking towards the ruined wall in measured steps.

"Putting aside the greater reserves of demonic force and the additional demonic hearts," Damian said, his voice carrying clearly through the silent restaurant, "the two major differences between a God and a demigod are the ability to wield a territory and the ability to infuse attacks with divinity."

He stepped over a broken piece of furniture without looking down.

"With the city’s defences stripping you of your territory, and the restrictions being even stricter on Gods than on demigods, I can actually kill you here the same way I killed Lazarus."

Sol slowly nodded, his smile deepening as he listened.

Damian was right. The Imperial Capital was one of the few places where a demigod could challenge a God without being immediately overwhelmed by the difference in their status. The defensive arrays set up in the capital were specially maid to suppress the Princes who everyone naturally believe should be at the God realm. The suppression on Demigods was much weaker because the Dukes themselves are mostly Demi-gods. Lazarus would have had a harder time fighting Damian if the battle took place in the Imperial capital.

If Damian truly intended to kill another Prince, the capital might be the ideal place to do it. The only question was whether his skill could overcome whatever advantages his opponent retained.

Belial’s hand emerged from the rubble.

He gripped the edge of the broken wall and pulled himself free, dislodging chunks of stone that crashed to the floor around his feet. His body was battered, but the wounds across his arms were already closing. Beneath his dark scales, a threatening green light flickered through the cracks in his skin, illuminating the contours of his ant-like face.

He looked at Damian with naked hatred.

The white flames in Damian’s hands had barely faded when similar flames erupted from Belial’s palms. Their appearance was almost identical, bright and fierce, yet something about the energy surrounding them felt different. It carried the same oppressive quality as Damian’s fire, but its rhythm was slightly irregular, like an imitation struggling to maintain the perfection of its source.

Belial raised both hands and whispered, "Covetous Touch!"

Without hesitation, he unleashed a torrent of white fire.

The flames surged across the dining hall, swallowing the space between the two Princes in an instant. Damian’s eyebrows rose slightly at the sight. For the first time since the confrontation began, Belial had managed to surprise him.

Nevertheless, Damian immediately thrust his hand forward and released his own wave of white flames.

The two torrents collided.

"BOOM!"

A violent shockwave tore through the restaurant, overturning tables and sending chairs crashing across the floor. Plates shattered against the walls, food scattered over the polished tiles, and several patrons were thrown from their seats. Servants hurried to drag the injured away from the battlefield as the competing flames continued to surge against each other, neither side gaining ground.

Damian remained steady, his arm extended as he poured more energy into his attack. Across from him, Belial laughed through clenched teeth, his expression bright with the satisfaction of someone who had finally found an opponent worth fighting.

"Surprising, right?" Belial shouted over the roar of the flames. "You have spent so much time fighting weaklings that it must be stunning to see power that can rival yours and even surpass it!"

Damian showed no sign of being impressed. He continued releasing white flames, matching Belial’s output without allowing the opposing torrent to advance.

"An inheritance that mimics the power of others will always be inferior to the powers it mimics," he replied. "You will never be the original."

"You are full of trash!" Belial snarled.

His body began to distort.

The black scales covering his shoulders shifted and rippled as though something beneath them were trying to escape. His frame twisted unnaturally, and the green light inside him intensified until it spilled through the gaps in his armour-like skin. Then another figure emerged from behind him, its body taking shape from the same distorted mass of energy.

The figure was Damian.

It possessed his face, his black hair streaked with gold and purple, and even the same crimson undertones that occasionally appeared in his eyes. The resemblance was precise enough to fool anyone who had not witnessed its creation.

"Envy Inheritance: Unrivalled Dominion!"

Damian’s eyes widened slightly as he examined the imitation. Belial’s grin grew broader, and he seemed delighted by the reaction.

"Did you think my inheritance was limited to copying your techniques?" he asked. "My Unrivalled Dominion temporarily manifests an imitation of another being’s complete combat identity."

He spread his arms, presenting the copy as though it were a masterpiece.

"Your abilities, your fighting style, your physical attributes. Everything that makes you dangerous can become mine, even if only for a short time. What do you think now, Damian? Can you still claim that I am inferior?"

Damian’s expression barely changed.

"I guess there are some things that cannot be copied."

Belial’s smile faltered. He turned towards the imitation, intending to demonstrate the full extent of his inheritance, but his eyes widened as he finally noticed the difference.

The figure standing behind him was only twelve feet tall. Its physique was lean, but it lacked the extraordinary muscular definition of Damian’s current body. The real Damian stood fifteen feet tall, his proportions resembling those of a sculpted Greek god, with every movement revealing a density of muscle that seemed almost unnatural. His black robes clung to his frame, and the golden embroidery across them only emphasised his imposing stature.

The imitation possessed Damian’s appearance from before his Abyssal inheritance had transformed him.

It was the man he might have remained had he never received the power that now defined his existence.

’Of course. An inferior inheritance cannot copy what I have granted you.’ Abyss’s voice echoed inside Damian’s mind, cold and faintly amused.

Damian’s lips curled into a sinister smile.

Belial had created an imitation of him, believing he had reproduced the complete identity of the Prince of Lust. Yet the figure standing behind him was already proof of the inheritance’s limitation.