Just then, the masked woman looked at Hars as she recalled.
"Actually," she said as she waited for Hars to open his eyes and pay heed to her words.
A few seconds passed, and after that, Hars opened his eyes and nodded at the masked woman.
"There is one Midnighter within her group of friends."
"Who is it?" Zelron questioned with a raised eyebrow.
"Hanna Morgan... But she beca a Midnighter about a month ago." The masked woman turned towards him as she spoke.
"Hmm... Maybe that accident pushed her to awaken?" Zelron concluded.
"It can be." Hars agreed with his conclusion with a nod.
"We should keep an eye on her," Zelron suggested.
"I don’t think there’s any need for that," the masked woman said with a dismissive tone.
"Hmm? Why’s that?" Hars asked with interest gleaming in his eyes.
"She still hasn’t solidified her foundation," the masked woman said in a mocking tone, her eyes dripping with disgust.
A midnighter must control the flow of their star essence each ti they break through a major rank, including their awakening. This process is known as solidifying the foundation.
The den of demons—The Crimson moon— reveres strength above all, and failing to solidify one’s foundation even after a month was nothing different than being a lowborn in their eyes.
"Oh?" Zelron, however, wanted to know more about it; after all, what was better than mocking others’ misery?
The masked woman looked at him and shook her head, and spoke.
"I believe she had a traumatic event right after the awakening, which caused her emotions to go haywire."
"I see..." Zelron finally lost his interest and fell back on his chair as he looked at Hars.
Hars, who had already closed his eyes, finally opened them again and said with an authoritative tone.
"We will proceed as planned."
Hars stood up from his chair, his eyes started to glow with a red glint as he spoke.
"For the demon lord."
"For the demon lord." Zelron and the masked woman stood up as well and repeated after him, their eyes glowing with a red glint at the sa ti.
Damien was in his office as he stood with a smile while gazing through the huge glass windows, which showed the glory of Necron City during the early hours.
Suddenly, the smile faded as his lips were pressed into a thin line.
"Lord Regent." A masculine, mischievous voice ca from behind.
Damien didn’t turn around and continued to look out of the glass windows without saying anything.
Seconds passed and turned into minutes, and like that, fifteen minutes passed in silence.
"Lord Regent." The man called once again, his voice no longer mischievous and full of sincerity.
"That’s better," Damien spoke with a serious tone as he turned around and looked at the man who was standing behind him.
He had his face painted like a jester, his overall body was like that of a perforr ready to entertain his audience, and his sabre glead in the sunlight like a blade made of light.
"What are you doing here, Eliot?" Damien questioned as he narrowed his eyes and looked at Eliot, who was standing before him with a small grin on his face.
"It’s a pleasure to be in the presence of the esteed Purple Regent after so long," Eliot said, his grin widening with each mont as he bowed dramatically.
Damien, however, didn’t react to his acts and just stood there staring at him with indifferent eyes.
"Agh... why are you acting like this?" Eliot said as he stopped bowing and moved towards Damien’s office chair and sat on it. Damien still didn’t give him any reaction, but this ti he spoke.
"You already know why I hate your company," Damien said as he turned towards Eliot.
Eliot’s smile faded, and a solemn look took its place as he spoke in a voice full of sorrow.
"I didn’t an to do that," Eliot said as he slowly lowered his head.
"It doesn’t matter, Eliot." Damien pursued
"You don’t know anything!" Eliot stood up and yelled at Damien.
Damien continued without caring about Eliot’s ntal state.
"You still can’t control your rage without killing others, can you?"
As soon as Eliot heard that, he stopped talking, his head dropped low.
"I-I.." He tried to defend himself, but there was nothing he could say to do that.
"You don’t have to try and defend yourself. I know you never wanted a broken trait." Damien said, his voice full of pity.
Eliot, however, didn’t take those words kindly as he stared at Damien with rage and yelled in fury.
"I AM NOT BROKEN!!!"
"Huff... Huff..."
Eliot’s body started to tremble. His eyes widened as they turned red. Red and blue veins started to sprout all over his body and started to wiggle like bugs; his breathing turned heavier with each passing mont. His once-gracious figure now looked hideous.
Eliot slowly moved his head and looked at Damien, his eyes full of rage. He roared—a voice was close to the howl of a beast— he moved towards Damien with heavy steps.
"UUUUGGGGHHHHHHHH!!"
Damien looked at Eliot, who was walking towards him in rage, and waved his hand. Purple flas erupted from his hand and covered Eliot as he fell on his knees. He cried in agony.
"AAAAUUUGGGHHH!!"
A few seconds passed, and his cries beca softer and softer.
A few monts later, his cries turned humane.
As soon as that happened, Damien once again waved his hand, taking out the flas.
Eliot was now back to how he was before. He lay in his tears and snot with a look of displeasure on his face.
Eliot stood up and placed his left hand in his pocket and took out a handkerchief, and started to wipe his face with it. After doing so, he once again looked at Damien with a grin and bowed down as he spoke.
"I apologise for my behaviour, Lord Regent."
Damien just stared at him. He frowned as he thought to himself.
’I would’ve liked it if this weren’t an act.’
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