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Just because Momoa sent for him and he was supposedly 'late' to the arrival, two Demons of the same rank as him met their ends.

These were demons that were under Momoa himself, none the less.

Cuban was not a fool. He understood the threat. He also understood that the situation was grave.

 

After all, the governor had not even informed him of anything, and he was already issuing picturistic threats.

These threats were clear.

'If I can do this to my own men, what do you think I will do to you?'

Governor Momoa saw the look in Cuban's eyes. He understood that the aim had been met.

"It would seem that you are not too hungry, Cuban, so I won't force you." Momoa chuckled a little, "However, as a very good FRIEND of mine, I would love to discuss a few things of most importance with you."

"Here it comes!" Cuban said in his head, expecting a request Momoa had just threatened him not to refuse.

"You know, you and I were born on the same boat. You, son of royalty, were abandoned by your family to roam the eighth earth alone and strive for yourself just because you were born broken. You had to build and bend your way to the top through blood and sweat, and I, born a demon with a restricted bloodline, had no choice but to break through the limits of my fate."

Momoa raised his hands into the air, as if to declare to the sky his challenge.

"One day, we both shall mount the shoulders of the world and look down on those that called us Trash, sitting on thrones made of their bones and painted with their blood."

Momoa's eyes cried with the zealous brightness of a dreamer.

If these words had come through the mouth of another, many would have said he was crazy, but Momoa was different.

He was a demon who had truly gone against fate.

Unsurprisingly, so was Cuban.

Both men, in their own ways, had shown the world the capability of their relentless effort to be at the top.

Unfortunately, the world was a very cruel place, and the Demon Society was even worse.

They still have mountains to climb.

Momoa took a deep breath in and out, and then he sat down.

"As one who is cut from the same cloth as me, let me share with you something that will definitely blow your mind.

He dug his hand into the apron, brought out a rough-looking, brown, folded piece of paper, and dropped it on the table.

"Do you know what this is?"

Cuban frowned at the piece of paper, and then he raised a brow at Momoa.

However, the governor smiled, "Go on, you can open it."

Without rushing, Cuban took it and opened it.

The moment he did, he felt a rush of blood from the depths of his heart.

And the paper instantly turned to flames in his hands; he had no choice but to drop it.

However, the flames stopped on their own once he did.

The paper was surprisingly still intact.

Cuban's frown turned to surprise as he looked at Momoa.

"Is that... a page from the Sacred Book?" Even as he asked, his hand was tempted to shut his own mouth.

Momoa chuckled loudly. "Don't worry, there is none here that can threaten me. Besides, I already cleared five blocks all around this park hours ago.

This piece of paper is a page from the Sacred Book of Death. Now, as a former royal, you know what this page alone stands for. I know you also know it's incredible value.

This page is sired to me and me alone. Unless I die, no other person can have it."

As Momoa talked, Cuban's eyes were fixed on that page.

How couldn't it?

The Scared Book of Death was the cosmic bind on the soul of everything. Be it humans or demons, plants or animals, it held their fate within it.

This book was said to have been lost during the Apocalypse of the First Earth.

To have it was to have true dominance over all things.

"Now you know! With just this page, I broke through the restraint on my bloodline and climbed to the peak of this world."

The look on Cuban's face suddenly changed once more. "This is a very big secret. Even the nine royal families would kill for that piece of paper. Why show it to me?"

"Good question. You are a smart boy, so I don't mind telling you. You see, power should be owned, but if not shared rightly, it will consume its user. What happened to the Morningstar is a good example of that."

Momoa waved his hands, and Butler Basket brought out a black suit case.

He opened it, and within was nothing except for black dust.

"What is this?" Cuban asked.

"This here," Momoa's expression changed into a frown, "is the disappointment you presented me at the Arena that day."

"The angel feathers!"

Momoa nodded. "Yes, except that their power was entirely drained before it got to me. Now, I don't believe you have something to do with this. But I'm sure you know who does."

Cuban suddenly remembered the events that happened that day at the end of the tournament.

After a period where they were unable to see the happenings that led to the defeat of the final Devil Boss, Lenny came out victorious and presented the angel feathers to Lady Vinegar.

At the same time, he remembered the white flames that came out of Lenny's body when he fought back against the destruction of the spring town.

He gritted his teeth fiercely. "Lenny Tales..."