Things had gone fairly well after the appearance of Ajuka Beelzebub albeit extremely normal and boring. Compared to the beginning where Damian was able to 'create' a false connection between his clan and the Astaroth nothing of importance seemed to happen. Of course, the impact he made among those sitting at his table wasn't to be looked down upon.
However, what truly took his attention was the book he still held in his hands. What was its purpose, what kind of trial did Ajuka Beelzebub give them? Normally, he could merely reverse engineer the magic circuits in the book however Ajuka was special in that regard.
Unlike most people who had to take an object and engrave magic circuits upon it or alchemists who could hide the circuits within Ajuka could merely force reality to believe that the object was magical from the very beginning.
Just as a devil or dragon didn't need magic circuits to utilize magic, the objects he created didn't require circuits of any kind. It was a work that even gods of craft may not be able to replicate let alone with the ease that Ajuka had created them with.
"I'm glad to be alive." Damian prayed, half his mind distracted by the book laying on the ground beside him. He understood that logically it would take him years, perhaps even centuries, to figure out the book's use but he still wanted to know what it did now.
It had been an entire week since he had received it and yet it still remained on the forefront of his mind no matter what he did. Luckily, he should have an opportunity to distract himself soon enough.
"Are you finished?" A quiet knock on his door was accompanied by the voice of his father. Quickly turning his head in surprise he saw his father standing in the doorframe, his door wide open, with his ever present serene smile.
"I am. So what did you want Dad?" Damian questioned lightly, rising to his feet and dusting off his pants. He hadn't heard his father coming but that was to be expected. The difference between their levels wasn't as simple as it may sound.
At the young age of eight years old, Damian was a genius only seen once in a century as a mid ranked devil but that didn't mean he was invincible. His father was a standard high class devil as far as the world was concerned but Damian had his doubts.
A devil was a being of sin, they thrived off their sin and some even grew stronger as they basked in them, at the cost of their sanity of course. Yet his father denied that universal truth with his serene attitude and general compassion.
Of course, indulging in one's sins wasn't required for a demon to grow stronger however when limited to a small enough scale it was a powerful tool. Even Sirzechs and the Gremory clan indulged in their sin of greed with their almost excessive protectiveness of their family.
And yet his father did none of that. Devils usually had a sin that resonated with them best, though it could change under certain circumstances. His mother, for example, suffered from the sin of pride while he suffered from greed.
Meanwhile, his father seemed to have no particular affiliation to any of the seven major sins. It was almost as though his father was a blank slate or perhaps even a plant of some kind. Sins were present in every being even if they weren't devils but his father didn't seem to have that.
Of course, it was likely it was a mask. Damian knew with one hundred percent certainty that his father did in fact feel things, it was more like he just knew how to mask them. However, it took him a very long time to figure that out so most of the devils probably wouldn't know.
"I think it's about time to tell you about our family trait." Alastor began, softly taking a seat on the couch that was for Damian's personal use. Originally it was placed there on the off chance one of his friends had come over but it had yet to happen.
To begin with, it was a hopeless endeavor. Even if they were devils, a race filled to the brim with geniuses, nobody wanted to befriend somebody so clearly better than them. The nobility and extra demons would be envious of his talent and the commoners would be envious of his wealth. There was no way for him to win.
"I haven't awakened it though?" Damian questioned, taking a seat beside his father. Clan traits were odd things that didn't exactly have a surefire awakening. The Oriax clan for example awakens a portion of their trait at birth but takes decades for the full thing to come out while the Bael clan members generally awaken around four to six years old.
The Thaumiel clan is an odd one though since it's never been the same. Alastor awakened his at the age of fourteen while his father awakened it at the age of seven. However, its oddities didn't end there.
It wasn't an ability that anybody knew about. People theorized of course but since there were no external traits it stayed at that level. It was rumored that besides their clan only the Progenitor of Devils and their Mother knew the truth of their trait.
However, that was wrong. Perhaps the original Lucifer and Lilith did know of the Thaumiel clan trait however Damian himself was not aware of it. It was always kept secret from him, his parents dancing around the issue each time he asked. At some point, he just stopped asking.
"Well… our trait doesn't require much practice. As long as you know how it works it'll work." Alastor explained briefly, a small frown gracing his face for the first time in Damian's life. It was an almost impossible situation and so he knew that solemnity was key.
He would be lying to say he wasn't interested though. A clan trait with no external clues and that didn't require much practice. How could he not be interested in such an ability? There were plenty of things that could possibly fit the restrictions so his expectations were high.
Although, he wasn't banking all his hope onto it. Many traits of even the pillars were underwhelming at best and the extra demons generally had it worse. Misla Bael's birth clan of Vapula could tame lions, a powerful ability in the right circumstances but it certainly wasn't the most impressive.
Yet, there would be no answer for his excitement if he didn't allow his father to speak.