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“Demons: The Deities from Hell,” he read the title out loud, his voice echoing off the deserted library walls. “Deities? Seriously? No offense, but I have met a demon, and I can guarantee he isnothingclose to the definition of a deity.”

He barely met the definition of a demon, much less something divine.

Scoffing, Evan flipped through the starting few blank papers before landing on a name scribbled at the edge of a page.

“Florence Michalis…” Evan muttered under his breath. Was that the author’s name?

Assuming it would be something like an encyclopedia, Evan flipped to the next page only to come across a neat handwritten note. When he checked through the following pages, Evan realized it wasn’t an encyclopedia at all.

The yellowing handmade pages were crammed with handwritten passages, diagrams, spells, and symbols.

It was a grimoire, dating back to the eighteenth century.

So, Florence Michalis was a witch? How had Rhea gotten her hands on a witch’s grimoire? Some elders of the town still considered such antiques “cursed” or a “source of evil." No wonder that section of Rhea’s shop was forbidden.

Focusing his attention back on the book, Evan started reading.

Florence Michalis was a woman who worked closely with creatures of the dark to gain knowledge about their realm. These creatures mostly included demons of different kinds.

Evan blew out a breath in part amusement and part disbelief. Working with demons?It was a surprise she lived long enough to write everything down.

But that was just the beginning of his shock.

Florence recorded every encounter she had with a demon, all the blood bonds she made, and what she paid in return for the knowledge gained from the demons. Sometimes it was a piece of her flesh, sometimes it was a few years of her life. More than a few times, they just plain fucked her. As long as the demons were talking and she was writing, they were simultaneously…fucking.

The mental image rendered Evan blinking at the library wall for a few minutes before he could refocus. Most of the things mentioned were details about the demon realm Evan was familiar with, except for a few.

Demons—creatures born out of overwhelming resentment or negativity festering in the hearts of the dead—were more common than one might expect. If the resentment exceeded the dead’s wish for peace, with enough malice to back it up, the soulcouldtransform into a demon.

Based on their strength and origin, demons could be classified into three levels.

Low-level demons were often born in places where lives were unjustly lost—wars or accidents caused by human error. In such areas, resentment flowed in abundance, and all that saturated malice could give rise to a demon. Though low-level, these creatures were capable of wreaking havoc well on their own, Florence explained.

The second tier of demons, known asHellguards, made up about a fourth of their entire population. These were low-level demons that earned a special rank in the hierarchy by either massacring hundreds of other low-level demons or vanquishing one deity of equal standing from the Upper Realm—the realm of Gods. Hellguards usually served as subordinates to the third and most formidable tier of demons.

Eternals, also known as the Abyssal Trinity, were the three kings of the Demon Realm.

The reason for their rarity and why they thrived over the rest was because, unlike the other demons, they weren’t born from resentment or malice from the human world. These demons were forged in the Dark Realm—Hell.

Once every thousand or so years, a third of the demonic population willingly cast themselves into Hellfire, their bodies perishing in the ancient flames. One hundred days later, consuming the demonic energy of all those demons, a single being would emerge from the depths of the Hellfire—an Eternal.

The strength of one Eternal surpassed that of ten thousand demons combined, and they possessed the ability to summon Hellfire at will. If an Eternal stepped between the lesser demons, their presence was unmistakable, not only due to the overwhelming demonic energy radiating off their forms but also because of the menacing weapons they carried on their backs.

Immortal wings.

An Eternal’s wings were more than an ornament or a mark of superiority. It was almost impossible to destroy an Eternal as long as he possessed his wings, the powerhouse of their demonic energy. Yet ironically, if the wings were ripped away from an eternal, destroying him would be just as difficult.

If separated from the Eternal’s body, their wings gained a conscience of their own and could find their way back to their masters. And worse still, even if reduced to ash, the wings could resurrect from their ashes, hence the name “immortal.”

Only three Eternals reigned at a time, their rule spanning from a few centuries to over a thousand years. After their reign was over, or if they wished to end it themselves, they would perish into the very Hellfire from which they were born, leaving the throne vacant for the next Eternal. Nothing in existence could destroy an Eternal other than the fire from which they were born.

Okay…so which category does Xen belong to?The thought popped in Evan’s mind, and he snorted.Probably somewhere below a low level.

Xen was basically a peasant in his realm. The thought was ridiculously delightful.

On the next page, Evan discovered a drawing, a meticulously detailed diagram of what looked like a gazebo with a spell carved in red ink on its floor. Below the diagram was another handwritten entry.

“31 October 1723,”the entry read.“Tonight, the Tomb of Ascension ignited with life once again. The redundant array came alive with my blood, and I witnessed the three thrones of the underworld reflecting in the pool of my crimson. It was breathtaking.”