Damon’s eyes flickered when he heard the word brand. He went slightly on guard the mont the branding seal ca into view.
His gaze swept over the gate, the overall number of guards stationed there, then returned to the small seal in their hands.
It was a magical artifact.
He activated Appraisal, and sure enough, the system confird it as an artifact specifically designed for branding.
However, the brand itself was not as insidious as he had initially imagined.
What it did was simple.
The brand placed at the gate was etched into the soul at least partially. Anyone with halfway decent soul protection could resist it.
Damon had a powerful soul.
What the brand primarily recorded was location. In function, it worked much like Ghost’s skill, capable of tracking a target. Of course, with the city’s massive population, finding any single individual was far easier said than done.
Another function quickly caught his attention.
It monitored kill count.
’Hmm... is there a reason they’d want to know our kill count?’
There was.
Kill count was an accurate indicator of combat strength, but more importantly—
Mana cores.
’They want to know how many mana cores we earn.’
There were other auxiliary functions, but Damon’s attention remained fixed on the branding seal.
It could automatically activate punishnts for supposed rule breakers.
Common effects included, Mana bleed when resisting orders. Pain feedback when lying. Paralysis when fleeing designated zones.
Damon saw no reason to refuse the brand.
It was easy to deal with. One or two neutral runes would be enough to suppress it. And if that failed—
There were always more... permanent options.
Cutting off the limb. Removing the branded flesh entirely.
The two guards smiled at Matia with sinister intent.
One of them subtly shifted his grip on his weapon, a crescent-shaped blade. A khopesh, clearly ant as a deterrent if she tried anything.
Matia glanced at Damon, silently waiting for the order to kill them.
Instead, he shook his head once. Calm. And logical.
Not now.
If she wanted to kill them, she could do it later.
Her cold blue eyes returned to the guards.
Damon watched as she lifted her arms and removed her gauntlets, exposing her palms.
’Well... that explains how they knew we were outsiders.’
They didn’t have these brands.
The seal was pressed to Matia’s wrist.
A faint glow pulsed, and a small chain-shaped mark etched itself into her skin.
"Heheh," one guard sneered.
"Try to tamper with your mark and your soul gets destroyed. And if you survive that, we’ll kill you ourselves."
They strode past her, then stopped in front of Lyn and Sithara, eyes narrowing.
"So young, already first class?" the khopesh-wielding guard said mockingly.
"Looks like we’ve got a couple of geniuses in our presence..."
His smile twisted.
"Good. Geniuses die here. You aren’t special."
Sithara trembled slightly at his words. Her fingers clenched, but when she saw Damon and Lazarak standing completely unmoved, her fear steadied and faded.
She extended her palms.
The brand pressed down, glowing as its magic brushed against her soul.
Then Lyn.
He was branded without incident.
Finally, they stopped in front of Lazarak.
The guard looked him up and down with open disgust.
"Hmm... is this a baby or one of those halflings I’ve heard about?"
He snorted.
"This one’s gonna end up eaten in a day."
Lazarak smiled, utterly unbothered.
He had grown slightly since they’d left, but he was still small, too small to be taken seriously.
He raised his hand.
The guard lazily pressed the branding seal against Lazarak’s skin.
Nothing happened.
The guard blinked.
He pressed harder.
Still nothing.
He pulled the seal back, staring at Lazarak’s unmarked skin.
"What’s taking so long?" Lazarak asked, voice light, eyes glinting playfully.
Damon rolled his eyes at the performance.
The khopesh-wielding guard narrowed his eyes.
"What are you doing? Brand him."
"I am," the other guard said, panic creeping into his voice.
"It’s not working."
The khopesh-wielder snatched the seal.
"Give that."
He glared at it, then at Lazarak.
"These brands are made by our great god Seraph Null. They carry his almighty power. How can they not work?"
He pressed the seal against Lazarak’s forehead and held it there for several seconds.
Then lifted it.
Nothing.
Sweat beaded along his brow.
He tried again. And again.
Then he stopped, leaning in close to whisper to his partner.
"This is bad... if it doesn’t work, we might get taken away..."
He swallowed.
"Look... we might have to kill this one."
The mont the words left his mouth, Lazarak lifted his sleeve quickly.
"Sir! I think there’s no need," he said innocently.
"Look, the brand appeared. I’m a slow learner... this happens a lot. No need to resort to violence."
The guards stared.
A faint chain-shaped brand now rested on Lazarak’s skin.
They glanced at each other.
"It looks real enough..."
The first guard slapped the other on the back of the head.
"Of course it looks real enough. It is the real deal."
Damon glanced at Lazarak and rolled his eyes.
It was obvious.
Lazarak had created his own brand.
How could the power of Seraph Null, a re lesser god, affect a minor god?
Without further delay, the guards turned toward Damon.
As they approached, the cold, abyssal look in his dark eyes made them hesitate.
The first guard swallowed hard without realizing it.
He had no idea what was wrong with this one, but he was terrifying.
Damon slowly lifted his hand.
He could bypass the brand later.
Good thing they didn’t seem to care about the demon beast or what it carried. Demons didn’t exist yet, so they likely assud it was just a tad monster.
The brand pressed into Damon’s skin with a sharp sizzle.
The mont it touched him, sothing reached into his soul.
But before it could sink deeper—
His Heart of Shadow released a short, violent pulse.
The crown on his head vibrated.
The mark flickered... then faded slightly.
The guard frowned and pressed the seal down again.
This ti, Damon suppressed his mana and shadow energy.
He let it happen.
The brand finally settled, a faint chain glowing weakly on his skin.
The guards nodded in satisfaction and walked away, pocketing the seal.
The mark on Damon’s hand already looked unstable, slowly fading.
He turned around.
The branding seal rested in his palm.
A thin smile curved his lips.
"Well... good thing I pickpocketed it."
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