The gray-robed figure looked at him like he was slow.
"Of course he causes chaos," he said. "That is what he is."
His eyes sharpened.
"But do you really think we would release sothing we cannot control?"
This was sothing Brian had been concerned about before.
Why would the demonic faction let such a monster loose?
He understood part of the reasoning, but it still seed insane. For a mont, he wondered if the rumors outside were true, if this group was nothing more than a nest of sches and internal politics. Yet hearing the gray-robed figure speak now, a thought he had never dared to entertain before crept into his mind.
Brian's eyes narrowed. "You are saying... you can control him?"
The gray-robed figure laughed softly, the sound dry and amused. "In a way," he said. "Yes."
"In a way?" Brian pressed. "An almost Emperor class demon is not sothing you half control."
The man turned his head slightly, glancing back at Brian as if indulging a slow student.
The demonic faction was not reckless.
They were the type of group that always chose the least dangerous path when one existed. If soone else could bleed first, they would gladly let it happen. If a disaster could be guided instead of confronted, they would guide it.
Especially in a place like Hell.
The suppression on the early floors was not simple. Many believed
that a Rank four existence, even when suppressed, would still be untouchable, invisible to anything below.
That belief was wrong.
That was why, instead of using brute force to suppress the Demon Lord after it had served its purpose, it was far better to control it and use it even more effectively.
The gray-robed figure turned fully now, facing Brian at last.
"During the Demon Lord's revival," he said, "we did not simply stand aside and watch."
Brian's heart thudded. "You interfered?"
"We adjusted a few things here and there," the man replied lightly.
Brian swallowed.
"If you are that interested," the man added, turning away again, "you should co with when the ti cos."
He glanced back over his shoulder, eyes cold and sharp.
"You might even get to see it."
Brian stiffened. "See what?"
The smile returned, slow and cruel.
"The mont the Demon Lord's role ends," the gray-robed figure said.
"And the mont the thing that ruined our plans ets its own."
His gaze lingered on Brian for a heartbeat longer.
"Consider it motivation."
anwhile, inside the Federation station on the second floor, the atmosphere tightened.
The report still hung in the air like smoke.
An almost Emperor class demon.
Only the man in the suit and Michael remained calm.
He stood near the window, hands behind his back, gaze lowered in thought.
The Starborn cleared his throat.
Then, with cautious politeness that still carried an edge of urgency,
he spoke.
"Sir," he said, addressing the old man directly, "this should not be an
issue with you here... right?"
The old man turned his head slightly.
"Why would you assu that?" he asked.
The Starborn hesitated, then pushed forward anyway.
"Because it is not truly Rank four yet," he said. "It is only close. And you are a true Rank four."
He took a breath, then added, "Even suppressed, you should still be able to do sothing. Right?"
Silence followed.
Varun's eyes flicked to the man in the suit, waiting.
Michael stayed quiet, but he agreed with the Starborn. After defeating
a suppressed Rank four supernatural, he felt confident. On paper, the difference between the two threats seed clear.
The old man did not answer imdiately.
He watched the Starborn for a long mont, his expression
unreadable.
Then he spoke, his voice steady.
"Let ask you sothing," he said calmly. "If two blades are placed before you, and one is said to be superior while the other is not, does that automatically an the second blade is useless?"
The Starborn frowned slightly. "No, sir."
"Good," the old man said. "Now tell this. If the so-called inferior
blade is forged differently, balanced differently, and used in a situation the superior one was not designed for, which blade becos
better?"
The Starborn hesitated. "The second one... in that situation."
The old man nodded. "Exactly."
He turned his gaze back toward the window.
"People like to categorize strength too cleanly," he continued. "Rank
this. Rank that. Stronger. Weaker. Better. Worse."
His eyes narrowed slightly.
"But reality does not work that way."
He lifted a finger.
"Before ascending to Rank three, a supernatural can already possess a
Law seed. That seed may even be well developed."
He glanced briefly at Michael.
"Does that make them Rank three?"
"No," he answered himself.
"Does it an they are weaker than a Rank three?"
He shook his head. "Not necessarily."
The Starborn listened closely now.
"Rank is a threshold," the old man went on. "A definition. Not an
absolute asure of combat effectiveness in every environnt."
He paused.
"Now let us talk about suppression."
"Most people assu suppression is simple," he said. "That a higher Rank, even when suppressed, will always dominate a lower one."
He looked directly at the Starborn.
"That assumption is wrong."
The room remained silent.
"When Hell suppresses," the old man said, "it does not care how
strong you are in theory. It only cares about what level of power is
permitted to exist on that floor."
He raised another finger.
"So when suppression cos, in combat, it is often the Rank three who suffers more, even if they touch the sa ceiling as a Rank four."
Soone finally voiced the thought hanging in the air.
"So... does that an that in actual reality, in Hell, that demon is probably stronger than you?"
The old man shook his head.
"No," he said simply. "I am still Rank four. Suppressed or not, my foundation is not sothing a half-step can surpass."
Then his gaze sharpened, and a faint edge entered his voice.
"But I do believe it will not be an easy fight."
He then turned to Michael.
"But perhaps with so possible help, this case might actually be very
simple to solve. I wonder what the other races think about this. If I'm
not mistaken, so major races like the elves are on the 15th floor,
right?"
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