The chained district was the next part of the city, but living here was expensive. You had to pay just to exist. That was, of course, if you were not a native.

Reaching it was the easy part. Damon merely paid a sum of five rank three mana cores at the gate. This section of the city was cleaner, more organized, and far more densely populated.

Tall houses rose on both sides of the streets, their large windows polished and intact. Chained Knights patrolled in full armor, their steps measured and synchronized. Civilians in armor moved between stalls and workshops, and the labor market here was bustling with activity. Beneath it all, Damon caught the faint but unmistakable scent of blood lingering in the air.

He let his shadow perception spread wider. Thin streams of people flowed in a single direction, their movements purposeful, converging toward what looked like a gladiatorial arena.

Taking a step forward, Damon dissolved into shadow and reappeared beneath a lamppost near the crowd. His form emerged quietly, clinging to the darkness at its base.

Standing behind the gathered people, he crossed his arms and observed.

He knew the city had a gladiatorial culture. There were places to train gladiators even in the Grinding Gate far out in the outer city.

Damon had acquired a map of Yari, and he understood just how massive the city truly was. Even now, he had yet to personally encounter anyone from his original group. Still, he knew he was not the only survivor. Reports had surfaced of demon-like figures appearing within the city. That alone was a good sign. Demonkin did not exist in this era.

He followed the flow of people, paying his way inside with mana cores. Everything here required payment. No wonder most people preferred to remain in the Grinding Gate.

The interior of the coliseum was massive. Segregated seating rose in tiers, reinforced by enormous pillars at each corner holding the structure aloft.

At the center was an open area surrounded by chained Knights wielding gleaming weapons. Damon's gaze lingered there. The presence was heavy.

That area was restricted.

"What the hell are they protecting," he muttered.

"Not what. Who."

Damon turned his head.

Beside him stood a man with fairy wings. A fairy. A brand was burned into the side of his neck. He had a round pot belly, a thin mustache, and a bow slung over his shoulder with a quiver of arrows resting at his hip.

A fairy archer.

The man inclined his head slightly in greeting.

"You seem new here. Just arrived from outside the district, aye."

Damon did not want to show weakness, but he nodded anyway. He crossed his arms tighter across his chest and leaned back slightly.

"Yeah. I came from far, far away."

The man smiled softly, then laughed under his breath.

"I see. Welcome to hell. It's not so bad if you know how to walk through it, or if you have the power that even hell doesn't bother you."

Damon exhaled slowly.

"Even heaven is hell if you are weak. And hell can be heaven if you have power."

"Hahaha. Well said, friend. Well said." The fairy gestured toward the guarded area Damon had been watching. "They have power. That's why they live in heaven even while standing in hell. Those are nobles from the more exclusive part of the city. As you can see, they're protected."

He paused, wings twitching.

"Extra protection today because of the Evangel."

"The what," Damon asked, lifting his head.

The fairy's wings flickered faintly.

"A radiant defender called the Evangel. Like a ray of sunlight, she descends, kills the evils, and vanishes."

Damon narrowed his eyes.

This was the first he had heard of it. And he had spies in this district.

His surprise did not go unnoticed.

"Well, no surprise you haven't heard of her," the fairy continued casually. "She's nothing but a myth. The people here probably made her up. It's not rare for superstition to fill the hearts of the hopeless. Can you believe that, Poppycarp."

He leaned forward slightly, a wistful smile tugging at his lips.

"A savior who brings light, heals the injured, and fights for justice. Justice is for the strong. It's not something given to the weak."

Damon's eyes hardened.

In his mind, he could almost picture a certain golden-haired girl arguing with him about justice, only for him to dismantle her ideals piece by piece.

"Eva," he muttered under his breath.

Surely she would not be that stupid. Did she not understand that if she became too much of a nuisance, she would be hunted down and crushed by Seraph Null himself.

She would not stand a chance against someone at the seventh class advancement.

Damon knew she understood that. Evangeline had been born into nobility, the princess of one of the most powerful houses in the world. Their grandfather was an old monster at the seventh class. In a world where he did not exist to protect them, was she seriously trying to challenge something of that level.

'Where did she learn to be so defiant,' he thought bitterly. The kettle calling the pot black.

He turned back to the fairy, a frown forming, unease creeping into his chest. It had to be her. She had to be alive.

"Where do I find this Evangel?"

The fairy chuckled.

"You want to find the light, Evangel. Hah hah hah. Why do you think so many people came here."

Damon frowned, confusion flashing across his face.

"She's a myth," the fairy continued, "but word is she swore to kill the VIPs here today. And as a keeper of her word, she's supposed to appear."

He glanced around the packed coliseum.

"Everyone wants to see her in person. To know if the rumors are true or just another hopeless hoax."

Damon slowly raised his gaze toward the arena. His senses brushed against hidden arrays, suppression magic, and layered killing formations woven into the structure.

"It's a trap," he muttered.

The fairy nodded, his smile thinning.

"Of course it is. If she comes, she proves herself a hero, a keeper of promises. If she doesn't, the chained Knights continue claiming she was never real. Just a legend. And the people who believed in her begin to doubt."

There was sadness in his voice when he finished speaking.

Damon asked one final question.

"Are you a believer?"

The fairy smiled gently.

"Even hell needs a little light. Even the broken want to be healed."

At that moment, a brilliant ray of light erupted into the coliseum.

The entire arena was illuminated, washed in gold.

An aura Damon recognized instantly surged outward. In the center of the arena stood a woman clad in gleaming armor traced with golden highlights. Its surface reflected light like polished glass.

The ascendant armor known as Duskglass.

And the golden ascendant who wore it.

"Eva."

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