He gestured to his left, where Morgana stood with her usual composed serenity. The ancient vampire's ageless features showed concern in those red eyes as they met Satou's gaze.

"Lady Morgana," Satou greeted with a respectful bow. "Thank you for saving my life. Without your intervention, I would have died in that nightmare."

Morgana inclined her head gracefully. "You're welcome, Lord Satou. How are you feeling? The last time I saw you, you were barely conscious, your mind still trapped in nightmare residue."

"I'm managing," Satou replied honestly. "The memories are still there. The rage is still there. But I'm functional. And I'm ready to hear what you've learned."

But Satou's attention had already shifted to the figure standing at Loki's right side. A strange presence—someone whose entire form was concealed beneath dark, flowing robes and a deep hood that cast their face in impenetrable shadow. Even their hands were hidden within the sleeves. There was something deliberately mysterious about this figure, as if they were going out of their way to hide every identifying feature.

"Who is that?" Satou asked, his tone neutral but his guard immediately up. Unknown variables were dangerous, especially when dealing with something as important as hunting down Merc Assault.

Loki followed Satou's gaze and nodded. "This is someone necessary for the mission. Let me explain the full situation." He gestured toward the seating area in the administrative building's main hall. "Sit down, Satou. This is going to take a few minutes, and you'll want to hear all of it."

Satou moved to sit, with Lyra taking position beside him. Gob, Kelvin, and Urgot stood respectfully behind them, clearly understanding this was a discussion above their current level but grateful to be included.

Loki settled into the seat across from Satou, Morgana taking position beside him. "The demon lord who hired Merc Assault to kill you..." Loki's expression darkened significantly, his pleasant demeanor evaporating into something cold and genuinely dangerous. His hands clenched into fists on the armrests, and magical energy crackled around him briefly before he controlled it. "...is that bastard Chronus."

The moment the name left Loki's lips, the temperature in the room plummeted.

Satou's entire body went rigid. His eyes widened in shock, then narrowed into slits of absolute fury. His hands clenched so tight his knuckles turned white and his claws drew blood from his own palms. "Chronus," he repeated, the name tasting like poison and ash on his tongue.

The rage that had been simmering since he woke from the nightmare torture suddenly blazed into an inferno. Chronus—the Demon Lord of Time Manipulation. Tenth Seat. The arrogant temporal bastard who'd tried to interfere during his fight with Richard Clay in the Arena of Fallen Stars. The coward who'd attempted to finish Satou personally when Richard fell, only to be stopped by the other demon lords.

The same demon lord Satou had humiliated afterward. The one he'd cornered, forced to his knees in front of witnesses, and marked with Void Fang's Existence Erasure across his back—a permanent scar that even time manipulation couldn't heal.

And Satou remembered with vivid clarity—he'd punched Chronus. Hard. Right in that smug, ancient face. The satisfying crunch of impact, the temporal lord's shock at being struck by a "mere provisional demon lord," the way Chronus had stumbled backward with blood running from his nose.

"Of course it's him!" Satou snarled, standing abruptly. The chair behind him toppled over from the force. He began pacing like a caged predator, that cold fury radiating from him in waves that made the younger warriors unconsciously step back. "Of course that temporal coward would hire an assassin! He couldn't kill me himself in the Arena, so he sent Merc Assault to do it in my sleep! He couldn't face me directly after I marked him, after I made him kneel, after I punched his face in front of everyone, so he hired someone else to finish what he was too weak to do himself!"

Loki stood as well, and for the first time since Satou had known him, the demon lord's pleasant mask was completely gone. What remained was centuries of hatred, barely controlled rage, and a desire for vengeance that matched Satou's own.

He slammed his fist on the table with such force it cracked the wood, magical energy exploding outward. "But this... hiring Merc Assault to kill you? Someone under my protection? My sponsored candidate? Someone I've personally invested time and resources into helping? This crosses every line!"

Loki's eyes were blazing with barely controlled fury. "Chronus knows that attacking you is attacking me. He did this deliberately, knowing full well it would escalate our conflict to open warfare. He wants war, Satou. He's been maneuvering toward it for years, and this is his opening move. He thinks killing you will weaken my political position, eliminate a potential rival before you can grow stronger, and prove that his reach extends even into my protected territories."

Loki smile was absolutely savage. "But that arrogant temporal fool made one critical mistake and now both you and I have very personal reasons to destroy everything he's built."

Urgot, Kelvin, and Gob all shifted uncomfortably, clearly understanding they were witnessing something significant. This wasn't just demon lord politics—this was personal hatred that had festered for centuries, now given new fuel by Chronus's latest scheme.

Morgana spoke up, her ancient voice carrying grim understanding. "This also explains why Merc Assault was so thoroughly briefed on your abilities, Lord Satou. Chronus has temporal manipulation—he could observe multiple possible futures, see various outcomes of the assassination attempt. He specifically chose Merc Assault because nightmare demons are uniquely suited to bypassing physical defenses and attacking through dreams. He researched, planned, and executed this assassination with meticulous care."

"And it still failed," Satou said coldly, his rage crystallizing into icy determination.

"Exactly," Loki confirmed, his own fury banking back to controlled purpose. "After you damaged Merc Assault so severely, My information network told me that Merc Assault had returned to Chronus expecting payment for attempting the job and support for recovery. Instead—and this is where it gets delicious—Chronus called him a failed tool. A disposable asset that had outlived its usefulness. He refused to pay, refused to help, and essentially told Merc Assault to die in a ditch somewhere."

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