FIRST MISSION

Damien wandered through the halls of the house, his footsteps slow and deliberate. The walls, once familiar, now felt foreign, as if the place had rejected his very existence. A suffocating silence loomed over him, broken only by the occasional creak of the floorboards beneath his feet. His mind drifted to the emptiness in his heart, a void that no amount of revenge could seem to fill.

The only people he had ever called family regarded him with suspicion, their eyes filled with doubt and wariness. No matter how much he did, no matter how many obstacles he overcame, the mistrust remained. It was suffocating. But dwelling on it was pointless. He shook the thought away and forced himself to focus.

His next target: Melaine von Jasil.

The eighth wife.

Of all the people on his list, she was the least despicable—but that didn't make her innocent. Compared to the others, her sins were minimal, but sometimes, it was the smallest actions that caused the greatest consequences. She hadn't orchestrated the suffering of his sisters, but her role had been the catalyst that set everything into motion.

And for that, she had to be eliminated.

As he contemplated the best approach to deal with her, a sharp chime rang in his ears.

DING!

A familiar blue screen materialized before his eyes.

HOST HAS RECEIVED HIS VERY FIRST MISSION

MISSION: JUDGEMENT DAY

MISSION DESCRIPTION: Host intends to kill his enemies, but the system demands that they receive a befitting judgment.

MISSION REWARD: Cosmic Sword

BONUS: ???

HIDDEN REWARD: ???

PUNISHMENT: A week in the Gods' Plane.

Damien's expression twisted in irritation.

"What the fuck?"

It wasn't that he hadn't expected a mission. In fact, he had been waiting for the system to assign him one. But this? This was absurd.

"Judge my enemies?" he muttered under his breath. How the fuck am I supposed to do that?

The system was vague at the best of times, but this felt particularly cryptic. What did it mean by judgment? Was he supposed to hold some kind of mock trial? Weigh their sins and deliver a verdict before cutting them down?

A humorless chuckle escaped his lips. Ridiculous.

Still, what caught his attention the most was the punishment.

"A week in the Gods' Plane?"

A strange chill crawled up his spine at the thought. The system never imposed light punishments, and if it had deemed an entire week there as a consequence, then it was bound to be something truly unpleasant.

A ridiculous thought crossed his mind.

"Wait… is the Gods' Plane heaven?"

He turned his attention to the system, half-expecting silence. But to his surprise, the system responded instantly.

NO.

Short. Blunt. As expected.

Damien clicked his tongue in annoyance.

"Of course, you won't explain," he muttered.

Though tempted to press further, he knew it was futile. The system would only reveal what it wanted to, and nothing more.

With a deep breath, he pushed the matter aside. He would deal with the punishment if it came to that.

For now, there was something far more pressing at hand.

Tonight, he would begin his hunt.

He had been waiting—patiently, methodically—for weeks. Watching, planning, preparing. Ensuring that everything was in place for his revenge. And now, finally, the moment had arrived.

A slow smile spread across his lips, cold and devoid of warmth.

It was time to rid the world of the monsters that had shaped his past.

Melaine von Jasil.

She was different from the others. Not in morality—none of them were free of guilt—but in the way she conducted herself. Unlike the more brutal members of the family, she had always kept a certain level of detachment. She never got her hands dirty. Never delivered a direct blow.

But that was what made her dangerous.

She was the type to influence from the shadows, planting seeds of discord and letting others do the dirty work. It was subtle, almost unnoticeable—yet the effects of her actions were undeniable. If the other wives were raging flames that burned everything in sight, then Melaine was the silent poison that corroded from within.

And Damien despised her for it.

He had no interest in long-winded conversations or drawn-out conflicts. He wouldn't give her a chance to manipulate or scheme. When the time came, he would strike with precision—quick, clean, and absolute.

But even as he solidified his resolve, the mission's condition gnawed at the back of his mind.

Judgment.

He didn't want to think about it, but the system rarely gave meaningless tasks. If it was asking for judgment, then perhaps there was something more to uncover—some hidden layer to his vengeance that he had yet to realize.

For now, though, he pushed the thought aside.

First, he had to set the stage.

His eyes flickered toward the window, where the sky had begun its descent into twilight. Shadows stretched across the landscape, a silent prelude to the night ahead.

The hunt was about to begin.