Later that evening, Damian and Marduk found themselves in a small, dimly lit room behind the hall of worship. The air was thick with tension, both men burdened by the weight of the impossible task ahead. Damian stood leaning against the wall, arms crossed, his face contorted with frustration. Marduk, seated in an old chair, seemed more calm, though the grimness of their situation was evident in his expression. The silence between them was suffocating until Damian finally broke it.
"Why did you name only the old kings of Asmodeous?" Damian asked abruptly, his voice sharp with accusation.
Marduk looked up, confusion flickering in his eyes. "What?"
