Awkward was the only word that truly captured the atmosphere inside the car as they drove toward Twenty Shot’s place.

Damain sat in the back seat, leaning his head lightly against the window, his expression distant and bored. The city moved past them in blurred reflections, but his attention was elsewhere. He could feel it clearly, the weight of Loth’s gaze fixed on him through the rearview mirror, cautious, curious, and laced with unease.

"Tell me about your previous master. What type of person was he?"

His voice cut through the silence without warning.

Loth flinched, her hands tightening around the wheel as the car swayed slightly to the left before correcting itself. She steadied her breathing and regained control quickly, but the tension in her posture lingered.

Damain did not react to the brief disturbance. He remained calm, his gaze steady, waiting patiently for her response. If he was to keep demonic subordinates at his side, then he would extract everything they knew. Information was never wasted.

"Errm... Prince Lin was... Prince Lin was strange..."

Her answer drew his attention immediately.

"Everyone says he was kind, but I think they all got it wrong," she continued, her voice measured but honest. "Prince Lin was the kind of man who wore a perpetual smile. He treated everyone around him well, yet everyone was terrified of him because they knew what he truly was. He would smile and still stab them in ways no one could ever predict. The Princes of Wrath and Pride are feared because of their strength, but Prince Lin was feared because he was unpredictable and dangerous. No one ever knew what was going on in his mind."

Damain listened carefully, his expression sharpening with interest. For the first time, he heard something that did not sound like blind admiration or worship. It was grounded, balanced, real.

Every other account had painted Lin Qui as a flawless saint, a genius wrapped in loyalty and virtue. This version was different. This version had teeth.

[Fear is a powerful deterrent, but it is also a recipe for revolt. Likewise, excessive love breeds betrayal and disrespect. The balance lies in the middle. Be loved by your people and feared by your enemies.]

Damain’s eyes widened slightly at the system’s words, and he nodded slowly in agreement. It aligned perfectly with what Racheal had told him before. Lin Qui was the least betrayed because he never allowed the conditions for betrayal to grow.

If fear ruled completely, it would push others to seek alliances against him.

If love ruled completely, it would invite disrespect.

’Kindness costs nothing,’ Damain thought quietly.

He could not allow his prejudice against demons to isolate him from his own subordinates. That path would only lead to his downfall.

"How scary was Lin Qui?" Damain asked, genuine curiosity slipping into his tone.

The more he learned about his predecessor, the more his envy transformed into admiration.

Loth hesitated for a brief moment, caught off guard by the softness in his voice, but she quickly composed herself and answered without delay.

"Your wives once ambushed the Prince of Envy because he insulted Lin," she said. "The Prince didn’t even fight back. He ran. He knew that harming even a strand of their hair would mean his death."

Buzz!

Damain was visibly taken aback.

Rin had made it clear that his wives were no match for a Prince, yet they had dared to confront one without hesitation. That level of confidence could only come from absolute trust in Lin Qui’s strength.

"They must have been terrified after Lin Qui died," Damain muttered under his breath. "They must have made countless enemies."

In that moment, something finally clicked.

He understood why they had come to him.

It was never just loyalty.

It was survival.

And for a man to command that level of fear and devotion in the underworld, Lin Qui had truly been extraordinary.

"Did you get to work in close proximity with him?" Damain asked.

Loth nodded without hesitation. "I have served Lady Racheal all my life, and she served Prince Lin closely."

"Good." Damain’s tone carried quiet satisfaction. "Tell me what it means to be a Prince of Hell."

Loth paused, her expression turning thoughtful as she searched for the right words. It took several seconds for her thoughts to settle into something coherent, but when she spoke, her voice was steady.

"As a deity, your primary goal is to spread your influence across the universe. The more mortals who pray to you, the stronger you become. Most of the time, this involves traveling through solar systems and establishing your religion. You move constantly, so there is a certain freedom to it. But when you are not doing that, you are fighting on the frontlines of the endless war against the heavens. With our Demon Lord gone, our forces have been pushed back significantly, so I believe you will be doing more fighting than expanding."

Damain nodded slowly. Her explanation may have been simple, but it painted a clearer picture than anything he had been told before. It was grounded, practical, and far more useful than vague praise or half-truths.

This was information he could work with.

"What about the territories once owned by my predecessors? Why can’t I receive their power of faith?"

Loth answered without hesitation this time. "Right now, your territories are in chaos. They are either under invasion from the heavens or being contested by your brothers. When a god dies, their devotees know. They panic. They scatter. Many go into hiding, while others shift their faith to survive. You can only reclaim them once you reach Godhood. Only then will you be able to reconnect with them and draw from their faith again."

Damain fell silent, his thoughts turning heavy. If what she said was true, then time was not just a factor, it was a threat. Every moment he delayed, he risked losing everything his predecessors had built over millennia.

Sigh!

"I really don’t have time to be playing around," Damain muttered, his voice low.

[It’s good you are beginning to understand.]