"…And just like that, I made the deal with the Five Elders," Damrada reported calmly to the young man sitting lazily on an ornate chair, a glass of crimson wine swirling in his hand.
"Is that so?" the young man replied with a faint smirk, his eyes glimmering with quiet amusement. "Then it seems our ties with the Rosso are finally secured—just as you expected. That will ensure a steady channel of communication for us in the future."
Though Damrada had carried himself with arrogance and confidence before the Rosso, here he was markedly humble. It wasn't out of fear but respect—because the man before him was his superior. The Commander-in-Chief of Cerberus. The one who ruled from the shadows, unseen and unheard by most.
The young man nodded slowly, his tone casual but sharp.
"I see. Still, those old fools were reckless. They forced the request to hunt that kind of monster on me without even providing proper intel…"
Damrada chuckled lightly, spreading his hands in mock defeat. "Ahaha, I suppose our luck ran out this time. Though, I'd say it was the best outcome in this miserable ordeal that I managed to retreat in time."
"Heh, lucky indeed," the young man said with a dry laugh. "That demon—what was his name again? Diablo, right? That one could rival the Primordial White, Blanc, who rampages in the Empire. To think such a creature would appear at the side of Demon Lord Atem…"
Damrada's face darkened slightly. "He was terrifying. His presence alone felt like death was whispering in my ear. I couldn't even move when he looked at me. That kind of being… shouldn't exist. It seems Demon Lord Atem is far more dangerous than we imagined."
The young man leaned back in his chair, expression thoughtful. "Yes. The rate at which Demon Lord Atem accumulates strength far exceeds even our reorganization speed. It's as if fate itself bends in his favor."
"Indeed," Damrada agreed grimly. "That demon lord… he's absurdly lucky. Not only has he gathered a legion of powerful majin under his banner, he even tamed that being known as the Storm Dragon. Who in their right mind would stand against such a force?"
The young man scoffed. "Anyone who tries would be a fool. Facing Atem head-on is suicide. There's no chance of winning, not even for us. Cerberus would be annihilated before the first hour passed."
Damrada nodded silently, both men understanding the grim truth. Atem wasn't just another demon lord—he was something else entirely. A being whose very existence distorted the balance of power in the world.
"Regardless," the young man continued, his voice calm but carrying weight, "there's no need to rush. The chaos that has spread across the nations will last a while. If we move carelessly now, we'll only bleed resources for nothing."
"That's true," Damrada agreed. "This instability can work in our favor if we're patient. I already tried to intimidate them through Hinata… but that plan failed miserably."
The young man's expression shifted into a dry smirk. "Ah yes, Hinata the Saint. So much effort wasted on that girl. Well, no point brooding over it now. Let's stay silent for a while before we dig our own graves."
Both men shared a low chuckle, though it was hollow. Damrada then clicked his tongue in irritation, as if suddenly remembering something unpleasant.
"Speaking of failures," he said bitterly, "those pompous Five Elders really know how to brag. They swore to eliminate Hinata the Saint—and look how that turned out. Both Hinata and Demon Lord Atem survived, and now they've made peace with each other! To top it off, their misunderstanding is gone, and the Western Holy Church and Eterna are practically united."
The young man gave a small sigh, shaking his head with a knowing smirk. "That's about what I expected. I figured Atem wouldn't actually kill her. His sense of control… it's far from naive. If things had gone as the Five Elders hoped, his mercy would've been his downfall. But now…"
He swirled the wine in his glass, the red liquid catching the candlelight. "Now, he's becoming something terrifying. Something untouchable."
"The Five Elders mentioned wanting to suppress the Storm Dragon," Damrada added carefully.
"They even claimed they would collaborate with Demon Lord Atem. But that seems laughable now."
"Of course," the young man muttered darkly. "Those fools thought they could manipulate a being like Atem. We wouldn't be in this position had they succeeded. I anticipated their failure long ago and ordered surveillance just in case."
"I see," Damrada said, bowing his head slightly. "Then it was thanks to your foresight that I was able to retreat safely. Had you not warned me in time, I would have run into Hinata herself before she went to confront Demon Lord Atem. That would have been a disaster."
The young man gave a low chuckle, his eyes glinting. "You should be more careful when lying to saints, Damrada. Especially when those saints now owe their lives to a demon who commands gods."
Damrada smiled thinly but said nothing, only bowing his head once more.
But such matters were trivial to Damrada. As commander‑in‑chief of Cerberus, the young man's orders outweighed everything else. After all, the young man who founded Cerberus aimed for domination. He wanted to conquer the world. Damrada resonated with that ambition and admired him fiercely. Normally he might have laughed at such grand talk, but something in Damrada told him the young man could make it real. So he never doubted an order from him.
The young man met Damrada's report frankly. "My plans would have been wasted had I lost you as well."
"Well, I'll at least try to figure out a way to escape if I ever meet true death," Damrada answered with a proud smile, warmed by the young man's concern.
"One doesn't become Cerberus' leader with money alone," the young man said, tone flat but earnest. "You must have tenacity—strength enough to back your words and convince the powerful men of the underworld to follow."
Damrada nodded. The young man's next words came with a mocking grin. "Still—don't go all out yet. That should be a last resort. For now, let us watch this struggle from the sidelines rather than charging in."
Going all out would mean calling the other two Cerberus leaders. If that happened, it wouldn't be quiet manipulation anymore; it would likely spark a great war that dragged in the Western Nations. As commander‑in‑chief, the young man didn't want that. Damrada understood, and so he answered without hesitation.
"Then I'll return to my homeland for now."
"Good. Even if you weren't exposed, Hinata is the sort who will keep an eye out. It will be harder for you to operate openly—find a replacement. And one more thing—"
Damrada already knew what the young man would say next. It concerned one of the other two Cerberus leaders, someone with status equal to Damrada.
"Don't bring Vega in."
Damrada understood why the order came. Vega's involvement would escalate matters too quickly.
"Understood. I'll have Misha replace me."
"Good. Go and do that."
The bosses were nicknamed the Gold, the Lover, and the Power—the three symbols of a man's greed. Each of them carried a reputation that could unsettle even the most hardened underworld figures. Misha, the Lover, was someone you could never afford to underestimate; her cunning mind and sharp instincts made her unpredictable, yet she could be reasoned with if approached carefully. Vega, the Power, was an entirely different threat. Raw, unrelenting, and violent, he embodied chaos itself. Damrada knew better than to try influencing him; Vega only obeyed direct orders from the young commander of Cerberus, and any misstep would be fatal.
Damrada straightened his posture, keeping his voice measured but firm. "Then I shall proceed as you wish. By the way… regarding the slave trade business I've been promoting in the West, what resolution do you see fit?"
The young man leaned back in his chair, a faint smirk playing on his lips as he considered the matter. "…I almost forgot about that. Too troublesome to manage personally. Let the 'Slave Trade Union Orthrus' collapse on its own. I've never had any patience for slavery." His tone was casual, almost detached, but each word carried the weight of command.
Damrada hesitated briefly before raising another point. "I see. But some rare monsters were scheduled for transfer to Misha's 'House of Whores (Echidna). Should we release them as well? And…" His voice trailed slightly, sensing the young man's calculating stare.
"No." The young man's response was crisp, decisive. "Business as usual for confidential merchandise. We've gone to great lengths to maintain our channels of communication with the Rosso family. Wasting such resources now would be… foolish."
Damrada nodded, absorbing the instruction. There was no room for argument. "Understood. I'll ensure everything proceeds as you command. Leave the rest to me."
A subtle silence fell between them for a moment—a quiet understanding of power, loyalty, and the delicate balance of control. Damrada's respect for the young man was evident, but it was mingled with a hint of awe. Few could command Cerberus and keep its inner chaos contained. Few could make the Gold, the Lover, and the Power move in concert without fear of rebellion.
With a final bow, Damrada turned and left the room. Every step echoed with purpose, carrying the weight of his master's expectations. Outside, the corridors of Cerberus felt unusually calm, but that calm was deceptive. The storm of manipulation, greed, and ambition was merely being held back—like a river behind a dam, ready to burst at the perfect moment.
The young man watched Damrada go, his expression unreadable, yet his mind was already racing ahead, plotting the next series of moves in a game only he could see. Every pawn, every king, every symbol of greed had its place in his design. And in the grand game, he alone held the vision to turn chaos into domination.
It was quiet. It was tense. And it was far from over.
With that being said, Damrada left the location.
The young man remained seated, eyes closed, delighting in a silent game of chess playing out entirely within his mind. Each move, each counter, each potential outcome unfolded like a story only he could see. His fingers tapped lightly on the armrest as he pondered his next move.
Sharp footsteps approached, cutting through the quiet with precision. A smile crept across his face as he turned to speak to the approaching figure—a woman with a sharp gaze, poised and efficient.
"Did you catch all that, Kazalim?" he asked, a casual tone belying the intensity of his thoughts.
"Loud and clear, boss," she replied, her voice steady. "But… why dismantle the 'Slave Trade Union'?"
Kazalim—his trusted companion, consultant, and a strategist of no small skill—had always been the one who could see through his intentions, yet never questioned them too boldly.
"Very simple," the young man said, leaning back slightly. "I wish to sell 'Him' a favor this time."
Kazalim raised an eyebrow. "Is that the only reason?"
"Isn't it obvious?" he said with a smirk. "The whole of the Jura Great Forest is now under Atem's rule. If we continue to hunt monsters there, he will inevitably ruin our business. Closing shop early and focusing on what's important is simply… prudent."
Kazalim nodded slowly, a knowing look in his
eyes. "I see. That does make sense. Like lizards cutting off their own tails—we preserve what matters and let the rest go."
"Exactly," he replied. "Can I entrust this task to you?"
Kazalim's lips curled into a faint smile. "Selling 'Him' a favor… Oh, so you're talking about that guy. Interesting idea, boss. I understand perfectly. Leave it to me."
"Hmm, I'll be counting on you, Kazalim," the young man said, his eyes gleaming with quiet anticipation.
"No problem," Kazalim said, a subtle confidence in the voice. "By the way, I hope you can call me 'Kagali' from now on."
The young man's eyes widened slightly at the words. "Oh… have you finally made up your mind?"
"Yes," Kagali replied firmly. "I only solidified my resolve after Clayman died. Before I can take my revenge against Leon, the 'Name'—Demon Lord Kazalim—needs to be sealed and preserved."
The young man regarded her with a calm, calculating gaze. "I see. Then, Kagali, this is a sudden request, but nonetheless… I'll be entrusting you with this matter."
"I've got it covered, boss," she said with unwavering certainty.
The two shared a look, a brief crack of a smile passing between them. It was a silent acknowledgment of trust, ambition, and a plan set into motion.
Outside, the world remained oblivious, but the chessboard of power had shifted. Every piece, every alliance, every decision was now moving under the hand of the young commander. And soon, a new wave of unrest—subtle, cunning, and unstoppable—was about to unfold.