Damian sat in the middle of the abandoned room with Loth beside him, the silence of the underground chamber only occasionally broken by the faint crackle of demonic energy still lingering in the air. Rin was comfortably nestled in Loth's arms, his seven tails occasionally twitching against her body, while Abel remained draped around Damian's neck in his usual scarf like form.
The little black dragon had barely reacted to the deaths of the Ifrits, as though watching dozens of people perish beneath abyssal flames was no more significant than watching rain fall outside a window. Damian, meanwhile, had been examining the strange beetle shaped trinket he had taken from Loyd. He held it up by its thin rope between two fingers, and the tiny beetle carved into the pendant moved its legs slowly as though it were alive.
