Chapter 621: Totem Master

Damian left his golden palanquin behind and approached the intersection where the paths leading to the council platform converged.

The morning air carried the noise of the Imperial Capital, but the area surrounding the meeting grounds remained unusually orderly. Imperial guards stood at measured intervals, their weapons gleaming beneath the sunlight, while the faint crimson glow of protective arrays pulsed beneath the stone pavement.

Beyond the perimeter, demons from different races gathered in small groups, eager to catch a glimpse of the Princes before the second session began.

The other Princes were already approaching from their respective paths. Unlike the previous day, none had brought a companion.

Damian adjusted the sleeves of his black-and-gold robes as his gaze settled on Belial. The Prince of Envy walked toward the intersection with a murderous expression, his dark eyes fixed on Damian as though he were already imagining the many ways he could tear him apart. The black snake coiled around his neck flicked its forked tongue, its green eyes burning with the same hostility.

Damian winked.

Belial’s face immediately reddened. The veins around his temples bulged, and his jaw tightened so violently that the sound of his grinding teeth carried across the short distance between them. For a moment, it seemed he might abandon all pretence of civility and attack Damian right there.

Damian merely smiled and continued walking.

By the time all six Princes had gathered at the edges of their respective paths, Aien had already found something to entertain himself with. The pale, lanky Prince reclined lazily in his usual manner, his expression carrying the mild amusement of someone who had just heard an interesting piece of gossip. His gaze drifted toward Belial before he spoke.

"I heard someone got arrested yesterday after attacking a Demi-god and failing to deal any considerable damage. That’s a bit shameful."

Brolly burst into laughter.

The enormous Prince of Gluttony clutched his belly with both hands, his shoulders shaking as he threw himself backward. His massive body struck the stone pavement, but that did nothing to stop him.

He rolled from side to side, laughing so loudly that several nearby guards instinctively turned toward him. His gourd of wine nearly slipped from his grasp, and he had to hug it against his chest between fits of laughter.

Damian stared at him.

For a moment, he genuinely wondered whether Brolly was exaggerating his reaction to provoke Belial or whether the enormous demon had actually found Aien’s words that funny.

The joke was amusing enough, but watching a being of Brolly’s size roll around like a child who had just heard his favourite story was an entirely different experience.

Aien seemed pleased with himself. He even tilted his head toward Brolly, as though silently encouraging him to continue.

Belial, on the other hand, looked ready to explode.

"Bastards! If you have something to say to me, say it directly. Stop cutting through corners!"

His voice thundered across the intersection. Several demons in the crowd recoiled, and the black snake around his neck raised its head, exposing its fangs. The Imperial guards did not move, but the hands of a few tightened around their weapons.

They had witnessed enough of the Princes’ tempers to understand that even a casual exchange could turn into a massacre if someone pushed too far.

Damian rolled his eyes. "All bark and no bite. That’s why you couldn’t kill a Demi-god you picked a fight with, even when you had all the chance in the world."

Brolly’s laughter grew louder.

Belial’s gaze snapped toward Damian, and a low hiss escaped his throat. His black skin seemed to darken as the demonic force inside him stirred, causing the air around his body to distort. He took a step forward, his claws scraping against the stone.

Then he stopped.

The memory of the previous day’s humiliation surfaced with unwelcome clarity. He remembered the officers who had surrounded him, and the divine collar like a common criminal and forced him into custody while everyone watched.

Belial’s eyes shifted past Damian toward the perimeter.

The Imperial police were still there, stationed among the guards controlling the crowd. Several officers wore the insignia of the Mink Clan, and their weapons carried the same divine runes that had suppressed his resistance the previous day. He could still feel the unpleasant sensation of that collar invading his body whenever he recalled it.

His fingers curled into fists.

He wanted to attack Damian. He wanted to wipe that smile from his face and show the other Princes that Envy was not someone they could ridicule without consequence. But the thought of being dragged away in chains a second time made his blood boil for an entirely different reason.

Damian noticed where his gaze had gone and smiled more broadly.

Belial turned away with a furious hiss.

Kazier, who had been watching the exchange with a deep frown, finally spoke. His red hair stirred as demonic force radiated from his muscular frame, and the scales covering his arms caught the light. Unlike Belial, he had no intention of allowing Damian’s behaviour to go unanswered.

"You have grown very unruly. Someone will certainly clip your wings soon."

Damian turned toward him and his lips curled into a mocking smile.

"Bitch, weren’t you the person who was poisoned for ten years and badly wounded in a coup carried out by my High Censor? Stop trying to act tough. I know you are still hurting."

Kazier’s expression changed instantly.

The insult struck a wound far deeper than Damian’s casual tone suggested. His poisoning and the coup had left marks on his standing, regardless of how much he tried to conceal them. The fact that Damian had brought them up so casually, in front of the other Princes and the gathered demons, made the humiliation worse.

"HUUUUMMMAAAAAAN!"

Kazier’s roar shook the intersection. Red scales spread farther across his neck, and his claws dug into his palms. A murderous pressure rolled from his body, forcing the weaker demons in the crowd to stumble backward. Even the air seemed to grow hotter as the dragon bloodline within him stirred.

Damian did not retreat.

He had already faced Lazarus, a True God whose accumulated wealth had become a weapon capable of threatening entire armies. He had survived battles that would have killed most demigods several times over. Kazier’s anger, however dangerous, was not enough to make him reconsider his words.

Before the Prince of Wrath could advance, a thunderous voice exploded from the platform above them.

"TODAY’S COUNCIL MEETING SHALL COMMENCE NOW!"

Astaroth’s voice rolled across the Imperial Capital, drowning out the commotion. Every conversation stopped, and even Brolly’s laughter gradually faded as the enormous demon pushed himself upright. Above them, the circular platform began to descend from the vast structure suspended over the council grounds. Crimson runes illuminated its underside, while rings of demonic energy rotated around its edges.

Kazier continued glaring at Damian, his chest rising and falling with each angry breath. "This is not over!"

Damian rolled his eyes and turned toward the descending platform. "Of course. It will only end when one of us is dead."

Kazier’s claws flexed, but Astaroth’s announcement had already drawn the attention of the crowd toward the council. With hundreds of witnesses, Imperial guards, and the other Princes present, he had little room to act without creating a political disaster. He swallowed his rage, though the promise in his eyes remained unmistakable.

Damian paid him no further attention.

Two minutes later, the platform reached the ground. The Princes boarded in succession, each taking his designated position while the guards maintained a clear perimeter. As the enormous structure began rising again, the noise of the gathered demons gradually faded beneath them. Damian stood near the edge with his hands tucked into his sleeves, watching the capital recede below.

The platform passed through the open section of the council structure and entered the chamber above. The familiar golden architecture surrounded them once more, its vast pillars and elevated galleries illuminated by arrays embedded in the walls. Within moments, Damian was back in the conference room where the first session had ended the previous day.

He entered the box assigned to him and settled into his seat without a word. Across the chamber, the other Princes did the same. Aien resumed his lazy posture, Brolly brought out his gourd, and Belial sat with a rigidity that suggested he was still struggling to contain his anger. Kazier remained silent, though the occasional movement of his jaw betrayed his lingering frustration.

At the centre of the room stood Duke Astaroth.

The old Duke waited until the last of the attendants had withdrawn and the doors had closed. Only then did he raise his head, his gaze moving across the assembled Princes and the nobles seated behind them.

"Welcome back, everyone. Last time we talked about the threat of the Heavens and touched the surface on the Dark Continent threat. Now we will go into the details of what these Dark Continent threats are and what they are capable of."

The words immediately changed the atmosphere.

Even those who had appeared bored during the previous meeting became more attentive.

Astaroth lifted one hand.

Crimson arrays appeared beneath the central platform, spreading outward in concentric circles. Lines of red light climbed through the air, forming a holographic projection above the Duke’s head.

At first, the image was indistinct, its shape obscured by flickering patterns of energy. Then the projection stabilised, revealing a creature that looked less like a man and more like something carved from a mountain.

The being possessed thick, heavily muscled limbs and a broad torso covered in rough skin. Scales ran across its body, overlapping in places like natural armour, while dense fur surrounded its neck, wrists, and ankles. Its hair was coarse and wild, jutting from its head in uneven clumps, giving it the appearance of a barbarian who had spent its entire existence fighting in the wilderness.

Its build was particularly disturbing. The creature was unusually lean for something so bulky, with long, powerful muscles layered beneath its thick skin. There was no wasted flesh on its body, only the kind of dense strength that came from a creature designed to endure violence and deliver it in return.

But its face was the worst part.

Two enormous, round eyes stared out from beneath thick, bushy brows. They were set wide apart, giving the creature an unsettling expression that was difficult to interpret. Its nose was broad, its jaw heavy, and several curved fangs protruded from its mouth. The teeth bent at unnatural angles, their pale surfaces contrasting sharply with its rough features.

It was hideous.

More than that, it looked dangerous in a way that made the word seem inadequate. There was no elegance in its appearance, no divine majesty or carefully cultivated aura. It resembled a barbarian built for a single purpose: to tear apart whatever stood before it, regardless of whether that opponent was human, demon, angel, or God.

Damian let out a sharp gasp.

Around the chamber, several other Princes leaned forward. Aien’s lazy expression disappeared as he sat upright, while Brolly lowered his gourd without taking a drink. Belial’s eyes narrowed, and even Kazier, whose dragon bloodline gave him a physique and presence that intimidated most beings, wore an ugly expression.

No one spoke for several seconds.

They were Gods. Each Prince had survived countless battles and ruled over a vast territory. Some had lived for tens of thousands of years, and all of them possessed powers that could devastate entire armies. Yet the image hanging above the platform provoked a reaction that few enemies had ever managed to draw from them.

It was not merely the creature’s size or its grotesque features. It was the impression that the thing had been built to kill beings like them.

Astaroth allowed the silence to linger before continuing.

"This is a Totem Master. A creature known to control the beasts that ravage our warriors, which we know as Totems. The Ibraka only caught sight of the Totem Masters in his final moments. For that reason, we know nothing of their capabilities. All we know is that Totems answer to people like them."

Damian’s expression hardened.

The explanation confirmed part of what Lazarus had told him, but the image added a troubling dimension to it. If this was the kind of being commanding the Totems, then the monsters they had encountered might only represent a fraction of the danger lurking beyond the frontier. Their masters could possess entirely different abilities, and without a living witness capable of describing them, the Underworld had little information to guide its preparations.

Aien sucked in a cold breath.

"We don’t even need to know what they are capable of. These things look like they can beat us to death with their bare fists."

His tone was light, almost conversational, but nobody laughed.

The remark carried an uncomfortable truth. The Totem Master displayed in the hologram looked as though it could crush a fortress gate with its bare hands. Its broad shoulders and thick limbs suggested immense physical strength, while its dense scales and rough hide appeared capable of withstanding attacks that would tear ordinary demons apart. Even without knowing whether it possessed divine abilities, the creature looked like a nightmare given flesh.

Kazier stared at the projection, his expression growing darker. His dragon bloodline was a source of pride, and his physical strength had allowed him to dominate countless enemies throughout his existence. Yet the being before him possessed a different kind of menace. There was nothing regal about it, nothing that suggested the careful refinement of a powerful bloodline. It looked like a creature that had survived through violence alone, becoming stronger by killing anything foolish enough to challenge it.

For once, Kazier had no insult to offer.

Belial leaned back slowly, his eyes still fixed on the hologram. The previous day’s humiliation had not erased his pride, but the image forced him to consider a threat that could not be dismissed by copying another Prince’s abilities. If the Totem Masters possessed unknown powers, his Envy inheritance might offer little advantage until he understood how those powers worked.

Damian rested his chin against one hand, his purple eyes following the details of the creature’s body. The curved fangs, the thick scales, the unnatural musculature. He tried to imagine what sort of strength would be required to kill a demigod with a single blow, and whether the Totem Masters relied on brute force or possessed something far more troublesome.

He remembered Lazarus’s warning that Totems possessed divinity, making the injuries they inflicted difficult to heal. He also remembered that Totem Masters could make their beasts three times stronger, and that killing a master without killing its Totem was apparently impossible.

The implications were unpleasant.

If the creatures in the Dark Continent could grow stronger through their connection to these beings, then every battle might become more dangerous the longer it continued. And if the Totem Masters were physically capable of matching Gods, the Underworld could not afford to underestimate them simply because their appearance lacked the grandeur associated with divine beings.

Astaroth lowered his hand, and the crimson projection remained suspended above the platform.

"This is only the beginning," he said. "What you see before you is the only confirmed image we possess. We do not know how many Totem Masters exist, how they command their Totems, or whether there are creatures even more dangerous than the one shown here."

His gaze travelled across the seven boxes.

"That is why I asked you to consider a truce with Heaven. Whatever our differences, we cannot afford to enter a war against one another while an unknown enemy grows stronger beyond our borders."

This time, no Prince interrupted him.

The hologram continued to glow above them, its enormous eyes staring down at the council. Damian remained silent, but his thoughts had already moved beyond the question of whether Heaven should be their enemy. If the Dark Continent truly contained creatures capable of killing Gods, then it might hold the resources he needed to repair his soul and reach the God realm but it could also become the place where his ambitions ended.