"If you kill a cockroach, you're a hero, but if you kill a butterfly, you're a monster. Most of human right and wrong is based on appearances. I wonder what I become by killing you." Daemom pondered, watching the imp turn to ashes and disappear.
Daemom's entire shirt was stained with black blood, and a few drops splattered his face, which was particularly cold at that moment. He had just tested his Aspect of Existence against the imp, and now he understood why Amara was so excited about discovering his Aspect. He had witnessed firsthand how authoritative and utterly broken this power was.
Daemom felt like he could change anything, abstract or otherwise. He could even alter what the demon was feeling—thoughts, desires, emotions. Physically, he could transform almost anything he wanted; he could turn trash into gold and become rich instantly, though he chose not to.
If you know the gold market, you know how strict the government is about it. Such a thing could threaten the country's economy and would draw too much attention, even in small amounts. Selling to criminals and that kind of scum wasn't suitable either; they could stab him in the back after the transaction, and the price would be much lower than at official stores.
However, Daemom wasn't interested in these things at the moment, not when something more important was in front of him. He wanted to kill all the demons in this city, not just for revenge but to dilute his guilt a bit.
"Daemom, where are we going now?" Amara, who stood next to him, asked while skillfully spinning her large scythe, a gleeful smile on her face.
"To the city center. We're going to lure out most of the demonic forces hiding in this city," Daemom replied with a cold and deadly look, his voice tinged with an indifference that made Amara gaze at him with a fascinated expression.
Though she liked Daemom's sweet and caring side, she particularly enjoyed his cruel and cold nature. It was when he showed his greatest potential—a prince, especially an infernal prince, should be ruthless and cold to tame the infernal legions.
Kindness and respect wouldn't win over the Seventy-Two Infernal Legions; only the purest and most primal form of violence could make the universe's cruelest beings bow obediently. Anything else would be seen as weakness and fear.
"Isn't it too risky? The chance of you being exposed could increase." Twirling her long red scythe effortlessly between her fingers, Amara asked with a hint of concern. She didn't care if the entire human city was destroyed; her only concern was Daemom.
Daemom thought for a moment, his mind not clouded with fury from his emotions. On the contrary, he was very sober and aware of the risks of his actions.
In the end, aware of the danger he'd face going head-to-head with Belial's Legion, he agreed to a more covert strategy, operating in the shadows. They would separate the demons into groups and eliminate them swiftly, not giving them time to regroup.
After hearing Daemom's plan, Amara smiled mischievously. "We need something that can simulate your aura, place it in different parts of the city, and wait for them to fall into the trap."
"Won't it be too obvious that it's a trap?" Daemom asked with uncertainty, his eyes narrowing thoughtfully.
"It doesn't matter if it's a trap or not; they have orders, and no Infernal Duke is patient. If they don't hurry to complete the task assigned to them, they will be the ones to die." Amara replied with a casual and confident tone. Her mother was Lilith, the ruler of all Hell, and from her, Amara had learned very well how demons think and what their greatest weaknesses are.
"Let's do it."
Seeing his partner's confident look, Daemom chose to trust her unconditionally. This made Amara's lips curve into a sweet smile; Daemom's trust was like quenching a thirst after a long walk in the desert. It was a feeling she'd never had with anyone, not even her mother, who loved her.
Stroking his beardless chin, Daemom murmured to himself, "Apparently, as you said, we need something that can simulate the holy aura of exorcists."
Honestly, he was a strange Nephilim; although he was half-angel, this half didn't possess holy energy but demonic energy, which was somewhat illogical. However, since his father also lacked holy energy according to Amara, Daemom assumed they were both special cases. Unlike other fallen angels, Lucifer didn't choose to become a demon but remained an angel—a fallen angel, but still an angel.
Suddenly, thinking of something, Daemom unfolded his wings in an instant. Looking at his beautiful, pristine white wings, Daemom endured intense pain and plucked a few feathers.
Amara frowned, seeing his expression of pain; she didn't like seeing Daemom hurt, especially when she was with him. Closing his eyes, Daemom was unaware of Amara's thoughts and focused on using his Aspect of Existence. He had to simulate something he had never felt before—holy energy—so he had to improvise.
Holy energy was obviously related to light, so Daemom started there. He transformed the demonic energy into something completely opposite. Amara noticed that Daemom's feather emitted a faint golden glow, but she only felt a slight sense of repulsion.
This feeling was new, but she sensed that something was missing—something very important to make the holy energy Daemom was creating more real, although she couldn't pinpoint what it was.
Daemon continued. The second thing he did was transform the properties of the "holy energy." If demonic energy could bring all kinds of negative effects, he made the "holy energy" capable of purifying demonic energy.
Amara, who was paying close attention to Daemom's every move, felt a strong repulsion emanating from Daemom's four feathers. Although she had never felt holy energy in her life, she could imagine it was something like this.
"What do you think, Amara? Will it work?" Daemom asked, looking at the four feathers floating above his hand.
"Although I've never felt holy energy before, the feeling of repulsion I get from the feathers is strong. Even if it isn't exact, it will be enough to fool imps and lower-ranking demons." Amara replied, looking at the four feathers with a touch of disgust in her eyes. This feeling of repulsion was almost instinctive for the demonic race.
Hearing her words, Daemom nodded, accepting her assessment. Although he didn't share Amara's aversion to holy energy, he actually felt quite comfortable near it.
Daemom nodded and smiled maliciously at the four feathers. He murmured, "Time for the hunt."