Chapter 7: The Belly of the Beast and Black Steel
The adrenaline from the transformation finally began to subside, replaced by sharpened sensory perception and a hunger that seemed to claw from the depths of each of my seven hearts. I needed to wash the blood off my hands and the scent of death off my skin before making my next move.
I walked through the familiar streets of District 9, which now felt strangely smaller under my new senses. I reached my home—a small stone and zinc shack squeezed between alleys, my only sovereign territory. I entered and locked the iron-reinforced oak door.
In the bathroom, I let the cold water run. I stripped off the rags I called clothes and stepped under the stream. The black blood of the wolves spiraled down the drain, revealing a body I barely recognized. The muscles were dense and defined, and my skin possessed a superhuman resilience. The scars of years of misery had been erased by the System's reconstruction.
I dressed in sturdy black trousers and a dark tunic. Beneath a loose floorboard near the fireplace, I retrieved what I needed: my Low-Class Demon Identity and my Underworld Credit Card. I ate a piece of dried meat; my new metabolism processed it in seconds, sending waves of energy through my limbs. I was ready to settle my accounts with the past.
The Confrontation at the Gates
I headed toward the Upper Commercial Sector. The towers of Lilith City shimmered with an opulence that insulted those from below. The Central Bank of the Underworld rose like a fortress of black marble and gold. On the staircase, two elite guards—middle-class demons—crossed their halberds before my chest.
"Where do you think you're going, rat?" the guard on the left growled. "The charity ward is in the back."
I stopped. My red eyes glowed under the magical lights, fixed on his helmet.
"I am a customer," I replied, my voice cold and calm, yet vibrating with the power of the seven hearts in my chest. "Open up."
The guard on the right stepped forward but froze. I let the Demonic Hierarchy leak out. It wasn't an explosion, but a constant pressure, heavy as liquid lead. Their instincts recognized that the "boy" standing before them was an apex predator. Their hands trembled, and the sound of metal clattering against the floor echoed as they retreated, clearing the way in silence.
The Total Withdrawal
I entered the luxurious lobby, ignoring the sneers of the nobles circulating there. I walked straight to the counter. The teller, a demon of the Mammon lineage with greedy eyes, looked at me with disdain.
"Yes?" he asked, his voice nasal.
I placed my ID and card on the counter. "I want to withdraw the entire balance of my account. Now."
He turned pale as he read the runic monitor. "The balance is 10,000 Lucif... Sir, the tax cycle for Low Classes closes in two days. If you withdraw now, you'll avoid the custody fee, but you'll lose the deposit insurance."
"I know exactly what day it is," I retorted. "I'm not giving another cent to this bank to fund the easy lives of those who look down on me. Withdraw every single coin."
The teller began transferring the value into an enchanted transport bag. "Here it is. 10,150 Lucif, including the bonus from your recent mission. Your account is cleared."
The moment I turned to leave, the doors swung open. A group of young nobles entered, laughing. In the center, a youth with black hair and icy blue eyes wore the crest of House Bael. He stopped, catching the scent of blood and the heavy energy I left in the air.
"Well, well... it seems a rat managed to scrape together some crumbs," the Bael youth said with pure scorn. "What is it, boy? Planning to buy a better grave in District 9 with that change?"
The silence that followed was thick. I didn't change my expression. I adjusted the bag on my shoulder and began to walk in a straight line, directly toward the center of their group.
"Hey! I'm talking to you, scum!" Bael's voice rose a pitch.
I ignored him. As the distance closed, the Demonic Hierarchy rose like a black tide. The nobles surrounding Bael felt it first. Instinct screamed: Retreat or die. Involuntarily, they stepped back, opening a corridor.
I passed the Bael leader just inches away. The aura of Meliodas hit him like a punch to the gut. He smelled something far older and more dangerous than his own house's lineage. I walked past him without so much as a glance. To me, he was invisible.
[System — Notification] Action Performed: Sovereign Indifference. Effect: You suppressed the will of a superior-lineage demon without lifting a hand. Warning: You have just painted a target on your back for House Bael.
The opulent glow of the Central Bank was left behind, quickly replaced by the acid mist of the industrial slums. I ducked into an alley slick with black oil and knocked three times on a vibrating steam pipe. A mechanical eye analyzed my aura, and the heavy iron door slid open, revealing the path to the Shadow Market: "The Belly of the Beast."
I stopped before a tent exhaling infernal heat. Silas, the gear demon, watched me.
"You reek of blood and something I haven't felt in millennia," Silas said without looking up.
I slammed the bag of gold onto the counter. "I want Essentia. And I want gear that actually matters."
"In the Black Market, gold is worth more," Silas hissed. "I'll give you 50 units of Essentia for 5,000 Lucif. A 100-to-1 rate. It's the best you'll find."
He tried to offer me pre-made items, but I pushed them back.
"I don't want something you already have ready, Silas. I want something that is mine. I have raw Demonic Iron and I have my blood. Use the gold to bind the two."
Silas gave a macabre grin. "A binding weapon... The iron will try to devour your arm every time you wield it. It is a constant struggle for dominance."
The Forging Ritual
Silas accepted the payment. He brought out a giant's bone anvil and a chunk of Pure Demonic Iron that pulsed like a diseased heart. The heat rose to unbearable levels.
"Now!" Silas shouted.
I extended my arm and used my old dagger to slice a deep cut across my palm. My blood fell onto the incandescent iron. The sound wasn't a hiss, but a roar. The flames turned black. I felt a lancinating pain, as if the metal were pulling my soul into the anvil.
[System — Critical Alert] Forced synchronization detected. The Demonic Iron is attempting to corrupt the host. Corruption Resistance (Passive): ACTIVATED.
I clenched my fist, ignoring the agony. My dark energy enveloped the metal, forcing it to take shape. Silas hammered to the rhythm of my seven hearts. After hours, he plunged the blade into a barrel of abyssal beast blood. Black vapor filled the tent.
The Awakening of the Steel
Silas held out the weapon with all four hands, trembling. It wasn't a shiny sword. It was a short, heavy blade of a black so deep it seemed to absorb the surrounding light. The edge had reddish veins that pulsed like capillaries.
"It is ready," Silas whispered. "But beware. It has a will of its own. If you falter for a second, the demonic iron will turn your hand to stone."
As I touched the hilt, an electric shock surged up my spine. The sword weighed spiritual tons—a true anchor of power.
[New Item Identified] Name: Lostvayne Fragment (Blood Link) Type: Demonic Iron Relic / Darkness Catalyst System Note: This weapon will evolve as your integration increases.
I left Silas's tent with the sword strapped to my back, wrapped in rags. I still had 5,150 Lucif and 50 units of Essentia in my pocket. I felt the blade vibrating against my skin, "biting" through my tunic. It was hungry, and so was I.
The balance of power in Lilith City had just suffered a silent crack. I had the blood. I had the steel. Now, I just needed a reason to draw.
End of Chapter 6.