Chapter 183: Racheal’s Request
Damian’s eyes snapped open in the dead of night, turning cold instantly. Racheal lay peacefully against his body, her breathing soft and steady, her arms wrapped tightly around him while her lips remained pressed to his neck, unwilling to leave even the smallest space between them.
Damian did not mind.
That was not what woke him.
He could sense it.
He could smell it.
A number of unique individuals had surrounded the hotel.
"Cursed weapons..." His frown deepened.
After being in close proximity to them for over a day, there was no way he would fail to recognize their presence. Multiple signatures pressed against his senses, each one distinct, each one carrying the same unnatural weight.
"They also brought numbers to compensate. About a dozen cursed weapon wielders and fifty armed men..." Racheal’s voice sounded calmly beside him, and Damian was not surprised.
If he could sense them, then of course she could. She was a demigod.
"They are probably searching for Arabs. They will break into rooms, and once they see we are Americans, they will leave. It is nothing to worry about," she added with a soft yawn.
Damian chuckled lightly at her explanation because it was mostly accurate. Since they were hunting for a specific appearance, they would sweep through room after room without subtlety. The real victims tonight would be those who fit the profile.
Even if something went wrong, he felt no concern.
Those days were behind him.
With that, Damian closed his eyes and pulled her closer. They lay in silence, listening as the disturbance spread through the hotel. Doors were kicked open, voices rose in shock, footsteps thundered through corridors.
Yet there were no gunshots.
No chaos beyond fear.
Only intrusion.
The sounds crept closer with each passing minute, the disturbance moving floor by floor until, barely thirty minutes after Damian first sensed them, it reached their door.
Bam!
The door burst open.
Footsteps rushed through the living room, heavy and urgent.
Bam!
The bedroom door followed.
Damian and Racheal jolted upright as blinding flashes filled the room, forcing them to shield their eyes.
"What the hell?" he snapped, irritation breaking through.
There was no response.
Only hushed whispers in a language he did not understand.
"Americanos..."
The lights vanished as quickly as they came, plunging the room back into darkness. The footsteps retreated, the presence pulling away just as abruptly as it had arrived.
Silence returned.
As if nothing had happened the two sank back into the bed almost in unison, their bodies relaxing once more as though the interruption had been nothing more than a passing inconvenience. Damian let out a quiet yawn and pulled her close again.
"Do you think they tracked us here?" he asked.
Racheal shook her head without hesitation.
"They are divided into multiple teams. They are searching everywhere in Mexico City," she replied with certainty.
"A demigod’s senses can cover an entire capital?" he asked, genuine surprise slipping into his voice.
Racheal opened her eyes and studied him for a brief moment before answering.
"An entire country," she corrected calmly. "But we do not perceive everything at once. We can focus on anything we choose within that range. All it takes is intent."
Damian blinked slowly.
That was impressive.
If he possessed that level of perception, he would not need Twenty or his network to track Adrian. No one would be able to hide from him.
"What about gods?" he asked.
Racheal exhaled softly.
"For gods, it becomes excessive. As long as they are present within a solar system, they can perceive everything within it. Not just sense. They can see, observe, focus on anything with a single thought. And like I told you earlier, once their name is spoken anywhere, their consciousness reaches that point instantly. In a sense, their range is the universe."
This time, Damian was left speechless.
He nodded slowly, trying to process it. Rin had warned him about the gap between a demigod and a god, but hearing it laid out like this made it real in a way he had not anticipated.
Covering an entire solar system...
It meant that if he ever reached that level, nothing within this system would escape his awareness. Not even the farthest planets drifting in silence.
It was overwhelming.
His gaze shifted to the ring on his finger. Only then did he fully understand its importance.
Without it, without the concealment it offered, his existence would already be exposed. His brothers would know exactly where to look, and once they did, there would be no escape.
Only now did the full weight of his situation settle in.
"Does all of this scare you?"
This time, the question came from Racheal.
Damian shook his head casually without giving it much thought. Perhaps in the early days, when he had just awakened this inheritance, fear had brushed against him. But now, that feeling had long since faded, replaced by something far stronger.
Curiosity.
He was no longer concerned with what could threaten him. Instead, his thoughts revolved around what he could become, what he could achieve with the power he now possessed. Deep down, Damian believed he had already crossed the threshold where fear held meaning.
He could recognize danger.
He could acknowledge strength.
But fear?
That was gone.
Just like when he stood before Duke Haborym.
"Not really," he said plainly. "To be honest, I can already see myself as the next demon lord. The picture is clear in my head."
Racheal smiled, and there was not a trace of doubt in her expression. Despite her lineage, she understood enough to grasp the magnitude of what he wielded. She had never personally experienced the power of the abyss, nor did she fully understand its mechanics, yet she had seen the results.
Bathin.
Duke Haborym.
Both had fallen to that power.
With the fusion of those two inheritances, she truly believed he had the potential to ascend. All he needed was time.
Time to grow.
In a swift motion, Racheal shifted her position and climbed onto him, pressing her palms against his chest as she pinned him down, faint streaks of pink trailing from her touch.
"I believe you have the strength to sit upon the abyssal throne," she said, her voice steady. "But you should know that the throne does not belong to the strong."
Damian’s eyes flickered slightly. Hazel had mentioned this before.
The council.
The ones who decided who would rule, backed by the full might of the demonic army.
"What are you trying to say?" Damian asked directly.
"Lin Qui was not considered the most likely successor because he was the strongest," Racheal continued. "Wrath and Pride surpassed him in raw power. Yet under his rule, Velmora prospered, and until his death, he was the prince betrayed the least by his subordinates."
Damian’s eyes narrowed gradually as understanding dawned on him, but Racheal did not stop. He needed to hear this.
"I know you believe demons cannot be trusted," she said, her tone softening slightly, "but that truth applies to every race. Demons, angels, even humans. So please... treat your subordinates better."
The tension in Damian’s face slowly eased, and he let out a quiet sigh.
"Get off me first."
Racheal shook her head immediately.
"No. Promise me you will treat your subordinates better and learn what it truly means to be a ruler in your spare time. Then I will get off."
Damian sighed again, longer this time, before finally nodding.
"As long as it does not interfere with my plans to create cursed tools, I will give it a try," he said. "But if any of your subordinates betray me, I will add them to my collection. Deal?"
Racheal’s face lit up instantly, her smile bright and unrestrained as she nodded without hesitation.
"I will personally deliver them to you!" she exclaimed before collapsing onto him, wrapping her arms around him tightly in a firm embrace.