Fire and swords were the last thoughts he had of the Inferno. Damian was in charged with overseeing the designs of the new weapons for the demonic army of the Inferno Covenant. It was difficult work however, as his underlings lacked the discipline to even hammer metal into shape. Many demons relied on their own natural weapons, the claws and blades that grew from their bodies, instead of making weapons of their own. A few demons used weapons, but they were made by mortals. For all the demon's talk about how weak they are, mortals are the ones who empower demons. Damian knew this well; were it not for them, he'd just be a mindless battle thrall, thrown into fights without choice or decisions. Not that trying to teach a bunch of demons metalworking made things any more enjoyable. He knew a few things from watching the Riovas's family smith, but he himself was no armorer. But he was the only one who bothered to remember such details like how to make alloys and sharpen metals into an edge, and their reliance on him was the only thing keeping them from turning those weapons on him.<br/><br/>After a day's work was over (Not that the Inferno had ways to measure time, what with it always being lit bright by the flames of their realm), Damian retired to his cave. Even though the Inferno Covenant was powerful, it still lacked the luxury of furniture. Some would call Damian small for wanting to rest upon a seat of soft cushions, but even the hardiest of demons do not enjoy laying upon rocks to rest. But that's all that was given, so he sat on a smooth stone, catching his breath.<span style="font-style: italic">"How long has it been since I've last seen my masters? Days? Years? Melania? Could they still use the ritual to summon me?"</span>Damian had lost count of how long it's been since he's lost the ability to go to the mortal realm. His leave was as abrupt as his arrivals, and he had not even been given the chance to bid goodbye to his former masters. When no one watched, he would sometimes shed a tear over them. But he had to remain strong. Weakness was poison in this world. And for that reason, he desperately wishes to leave it again.<br/><br/>As the Archdemons called for him once more, Damian felt a chill in the air, an abnormally given the intense heat that is constant in the Inferno. But he knew this chill well; he was being summoned. Magically that is, not by other demons. Perhaps it was his masters?<span style="font-weight: bold">"Finally."</span>Two demons entered his room to retrieve Damian. He turned and gave them a stern look.<span style="font-weight: bold">"Tell the Archdemon that I have pressing matters to attend to in the mortal realm. Kufufufu..."</span>The demons, unsure of what he meant, moved towards him to forcefully take him to the Archdemon. But before they could, he was engulfed in flames. This was new.<br/><br/><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-style: italic"><span style="font-weight: bold">IN THE RIFT...</span></span></div><br/><br/>Damian began to flail his arms around to beat down the fire. The flames burned him, strange as he was a demon, who could withstand flames that would have turned even the more legendary of metals into smoldering ash. This was no normal flame. By the time the flames had died though, his vision had gone dark, and he was on the cold hard ground. It was hard, like stone, but he could hear the wind blowing through. The air was cold.<span style="font-style: italic">"I'm not in the Inferno any longer..."</span>The first thing that hit his senses was the smell of death. Demons don't really die in the Inferno; mortal wound left them incapacitated, suffering, until they can reach a state where they will heal and return to the fight to suffer more. Even such things as decapitation or total annihilation was merely a minor inconvenience to demons in the Inferno. Death was a mortal thing. So Damian knew he was in the mortal world now.<br/><br/>But something else was off. This world... It was not the one he knew. This was not the world where his masters lived. Perhaps it was another world? A new master? He had heard theories of such things from his former masters, though he never knew any world aside from the Inferno and their mortal realm. He suppose that the fact that the two do exist separated from each other would mean other worlds like it could exist. None the less, Damian now needed to regain his baring on this realm.<br/><br/>Looking around, he seemed to be in some sort of dilapidated building. It was falling apart and smelled of death, so perhaps it was a fortress of some sort? Did he show up shortly after a battle? Corpses laid strewn about, many reduced to bones, but some bodies were fresh. Some were even still alive. Looking up, he could see that it was night. Another mortal concept; time. In the Inferno it was a perpetual light brought about from the flames in the skies and on the ground. Only in the mortal world would light and darkness trade places. With that in mind, Damian stepped into the moonlight. No doubt who ever summoned him knew that he would be coming. No point in hiding himself, less he scare them into attacking.<br/><br/>Walking out of the darken halls, he arrived at the top of the building. There were signs that a ritual had taken place, with faded runes circling the center. However, he did not know these runes, at the very least he knew that none by these appearances were involved in summoning him specifically. There were more corpses and bodies strewn about, but one that caught his eye was possibly still alive. She looked like a human, but wore a absurdly large backpack for a human her size. He did not go near her out of caution, as she may be hostile. He simply stood openly at the highest point of the building, watching all that he could observed.