SEASON2, EP5(EP12): Absent Return

Here's the translation into English of the episode:

The door to Daytona's hotel room slammed open as she entered, pushing Martin in right behind her.

— "That wasn't a hallucination." she panted.

— "I know it wasn't." Martin replied, sweating.

They'd fled the ancient temple after the statue cracked and the ground shook. Since then, their silence had grown almost reverent—like survivors who'd glimpsed a god in rage.

Daytona sat at the edge of the bed, eyes fixed on her reflection in the dusty hotel mirror. The aura around her felt heavier, as if something had fused onto her soul.

Belzebub broke the silence inside her mind:

— "You looked into their eyes. The eyes of the Celestials. Next time… they'll want to speak to you face to face."

— "What should I say?" Daytona whispered.

Martin looked at her, confused.

— "You spoke to me?"

— "No." she replied curtly.

Martin didn't press further. He'd learned that when Daytona spoke to herself, it was best to wait.

Then someone knocked on the hotel room door.

Knock. Knock. Knock.

Martin cautiously rose and looked through the peephole. Only then did he relax—just slightly.

— "It's Ghost."

Daytona's eyes went wide.

— "Ghost?"

Martin opened the door.

Ghost stood there, his expression as serene as ever, but his eyes—those eyes—looked weary, almost sunken. He entered without saying anything for a few tense seconds.

— "You've meddled with something you shouldn't have." he finally said.

— "How do you know?" Martin asked.

Ghost glanced briefly at Daytona.

— "Because I've been there. Because I was… part of it."

Daytona rose to her feet.

— "You said you needed to handle personal matters. Was this part of it?"

Ghost nodded.

— "Part of it, yes. But I can't explain it all now. Just know this: there are things on Earth that don't belong to this world. You… Daytona… are caught between two empires that have sought each other's destruction for millennia. And now they're both turning their gaze toward you."

Daytona crossed her arms.

— "Because I carry Belzebub?"

Ghost looked serious.

— "Not just that. You… are different. You connect with Setealem without being annihilated. And today, you touched a place that no human has set foot on for over three thousand years."

— "You knew about the temple?"

— "I've seen it—once. Before I lost… someone."

Daytona stepped closer.

— "Have you ever harbored a demon?"

Ghost remained silent.

Martin tried to break the tension.

— "Ghost, who are they? The celestials? Why did they look at us last night? Was it you who drew them here?"

Ghost shook his head.

— "No. It was her." pointing toward Daytona. "They convene because of you. They're deciding if you are a threat, an aberration, or a new form of existence."

Daytona felt a chill run across her skin.

— "Can they destroy me?"

Belzebub replied in her mind, colder than before:

— "They will try. And that's why you need to be ready."

Ghost continued:

— "Maybe not today. But yes. And when they do, you'll need more than just your inner demon."

He pulled out an old leatherbound book from his coat.

— "This grimoire belonged to a human who once carried one of the Seven."

— "Which one?" Daytona asked.

Ghost hesitated.

— "Leviathan. The God of Envy."

The next hours passed in silence. Ghost slept seated in the armchair, arms crossed. Daytona lay on the bed, flipping through the grimoire slowly—pages filled with arcane symbols, texts in dead languages, grotesque ritual diagrams.

— "These people were insane…" she whispered.

— "No. They were desperate. Desperation pushes the mind toward the impossible." Belzebub replied.

Daytona traced her finger over a circular symbol engraved on a central page—a symbol strikingly like the one inscribed at the place she fell during the accident.

Upon touching it, something glowed briefly.

Martin, lying awake nearby, spoke.

— "Daytona?"

— "I think this symbol… is responding to me."

Suddenly, glass shattered—the window exploded outward. Daytona leapt from the bed and sprinted to look outside.

There was nothing. Only the dark desert.

Ghost stirred, alert.

— "Stay vigilant. If a portal opened, maybe someone is trying to pull you away."

Belzebub's voice sounded solemn:

— "A warning. A tug at the fabric of reality. Not an attack. An invitation."

— "To where?" she asked.

— "Setealem. And it's not Leviathan calling. It's someone greater."

Ghost picked the grimoire from the bed.

— "Tomorrow… you must prepare. A war is forming. And at this point…"

He locked eyes with Daytona.

— "You will be the first to bleed."

The morning sun barely brushed the horizon when Ghost awoke before the others. Without a word, he left the hotel room and went to the parking lot. The air was dry, heavy—like the desert itself held its breath.

Daytona woke soon after, restless. She'd dreamt again of the grimoire's symbols—but this time, voices whispered seven names over and over, each weighted with ancient significance. She woke gasping, as if trapped between worlds.

Martin still slept.

She went to the grimoire on the table—it lay open to the page that had glowed the night before. The circular symbol now revealed seven runes—and seven names.

She read softly:

— "Lucifer… Satan… Belzebub… Leviathan… Belphegor… Mammon… and… Asmodeus."

Belzebub spoke in a tone she almost respected:

— "These are the Seven Kings of Setealem. Each rules a realm. Each embodies a sin. Each now has their eyes on you."

— "But why?"

— "Because you're not just my vessel. You are a link between worlds. And now… they sense the scent of fresh blood."

She slammed the book shut.

Martin stirred at the sound.

— "Is it time to go?"

Daytona looked at him, thoughtful.

— "I think so. But first… we need to go someplace."

Ghost led them down an unmarked dirt road flanked by sparse desert shrubs. After nearly an hour, they stopped in front of an old stone temple half-buried by sand.

— "Here…" Ghost said, exiting the car, "is where the grimoire was discovered. Buried with Leviathan's former bearer."

Daytona shivered.

— "You want me to go in?"

Ghost nodded.

— "Alone."

Martin reached toward her.

— "Are you insane? We don't even know what's inside."

Ghost met Martin's gaze coldly.

— "If you go in… she's at risk. You are not."

Daytona inhaled deeply and stepped inside.

The temple's interior was stifling, walls covered with faded symbols. Some candles still smoldered mid-flame, as though the passage of time there operated differently than the world outside.

In the center stood a shattered statue—a blindfolded woman with an exposed heart impaled by a dagger.

Belzebub whispered low:

— "She tried to escape. She betrayed Asmodeus. She paid with her soul."

Daytona moved to the pedestal. Inscriptions in an ancient tongue covered the base. When she touched it, a vision flooded her mind.

— "The Ring of Lust devours its own children. Blood is the key. And the key becomes the weapon."

At that moment, a soft glow emerged at her feet. The ground split open, revealing a blade of flesh embedded in the soil—part of it, living.

She pulled it free.

The blade was organic and pulsing—woven with dense red fibers yet surprisingly light, as if meant to be wielded by Daytona herself.

Belzebub laughed softly, satisfied:

— "First blade of hunger. One of the Seven Crimson Weapons. You are no longer only living flesh… you are living steel."

Daytona gripped the weapon.

— "I don't need a sword… but I'll take it."

Outside, Ghost waited perched on a rock.

— "What did you find?" he asked.

Daytona showed him the blade.

Ghost appeared surprised, but only nodded.

— "This changes things. A lot."

— "Is it dangerous?"

— "It's… recognized. That means now they will either try to take it—or use you."

Martin approached, uneasy.

— "So… are we closer to understanding Setealem?"

Ghost gazed into the horizon.

— "Setealem doesn't understand. Setealem endures. But if you wish to go on, then you'll now need to find your first kindred."

— "What do you mean?" Daytona asked.

Ghost smiled faintly.

— "Seven Kings. Seven Weapons. Seven Signs. And you hold one of them. But be careful… some of them will fight you."

In the car, Martin slept in the back seat. Daytona stared out the window, the blade resting in her lap beneath a cloth.

Belzebub broke the silence in her mind.

— "Do you feel it? Setealem is calling."

— "You want me to go in?"

— "Not yet. But you need to understand… the closer you get to your true form… the more this world will want to cast you out."

She stayed silent for a moment.

— "Then let it try."

Thunder rumbled softly in the sky behind them—even though not a cloud was visible.