Reincarnated in a novel: I am the villain!-Chapter 301: Metamorphosis!

[Location: Abyss Layer 6 – The Black Thread Exchange]

The Grand Opening of the Black Thread Exchange was not marked by a ribbon-cutting ceremony, but by a stampede of the Abyssal elite.

Outside the towering, neon-lit complex in the center of the Chrome Core, a red carpet woven from void-silk stretched for miles.

Carriages pulled by skeletal nightmares and heavily armored mechs lined the streets.

The Nobles of Layer 6 had arrived, dressed in their finest liquid-metal suits and gemstone jewelry, their pockets heavy with Abyss Cores.

From the observation deck, Damien watched the chaos below. 𝒇𝒓𝙚𝒆𝔀𝓮𝓫𝒏𝓸𝙫𝓮𝓵.𝓬𝙤𝙢

"They’re practically throwing their money at the doors," Damien noted, leaning against the reinforced glass.

"The vault is already at eighty percent capacity, Boss," Ziriork reported, standing rigidly behind him.

The Ferro-Ogre was sweating slightly, adjusting the collar of his suit.

For him, sharing a drink with Damien back then was the smartest thing he had done in years

Unlike before where he could only drink in a tavern all day and be discriminated as a solid, these days of running an entertainment district where truly peak

Because of that he couldn’t afford to let anything happen

"But there’s a problem."

"A problem?"

"The VIP section," Ziriork gulped.

"A guest just arrived. He didn’t use the front door. He just... bypassed the spatial wards and sat down at the high-roller Blackjack table."

Damien raised an eyebrow. The spatial wards he had set up using his 7th-Order Hollow King mana were incredibly dense.

Bypassing them casually meant only one thing.

"Let me guess," Damien smirked. "The prince?"

"Yes," Ziriork shuddered. "The Platinum Prince. He’s actually here."

Damien turned away from the window.

"I’ll handle him. Keep the floor moving, Ziriork. Don’t let the dealers flinch."

Damien took the private elevator down to the VIP floor. The atmosphere here was completely different from the loud, flashing chaos of the slot machines below.

It was quiet, smelling of expensive cigar smoke and high-grade ozone.

Sitting alone at the center table was the Demigod of Layer 6.

The Platinum Prince ignored the terrified, trembling succubus dealer standing across from him.

He was staring intensely at the two cards face up on the velvet table.

A King of Spades. And a Nine of Hearts.

Nineteen.

"Hit me," the Prince commanded, his voice a low, vibrating hum that made the poker chips rattle.

"Y-Your Highness," the dealer stammered, tears welling in her eyes.

"You have nineteen. The dealer is showing a six. The statistical probability of busting is—"

"I said," the Prince’s pressure spiked for a fraction of a second, freezing the air in the room,

"Hit. Me."

Damien stepped smoothly up to the table.

He waved the terrified dealer away, taking her place behind the shoe of cards.

"You like to live dangerously, Your Highness," Damien said smoothly, sliding a card across the felt.

It was a Two of Diamonds.

Twenty-one.

The Platinum Prince stared at the card. The terrifying pressure vanished instantly.

A massive, genuine smile broke across his flawless, pale face.

"Twenty-one," the Demigod whispered, a pair of pure white eyes went wide with a thrill he hadn’t felt in centuries.

"The risk. The sheer, unpredictable chaos of it. It’s intoxicating."

He pushed a mountain of 8th Order Abyss Cores forward.

"Again."

Damien chuckled, shuffling the deck with a fluid, practiced motion.

"I told you, Prince. The Abyss has strength, but it lacks culture. And there is no culture quite like gambling."

For the next hour, Damien personally dealt cards for the Demigod.

The Prince didn’t care about the money he lost, nor did he care about the fortunes he won.

He was addicted to the , the the dopamine hit of a constructed game of chance.

As the Prince moved on to the roulette tables, Damien’s internal interface suddenly flared to life.

[System Alert: Financial Domination Achieved.]

[Sector: Abyss Layer 6 (Argentum).]

[Status: The Black Thread effectively controls 60% of the local economy.]

[Calculating Plot Change]

[Reward: 50,000 DP.]

[Current DP: 72,000.]

Damien’s eyes narrowed with satisfaction behind his mask. He had successfully replicated his surface-world strategy.

By introducing blue-star capitalism and entertainment, he had turned an entire Abyssal Layer into a passive resource farm.

He didn’t need to hunt for cores or fight Warlords anymore.

The monsters were willingly handing their wealth over in exchange for popcorn and blackjack.

Damien stepped away from the tables, slipping into the shadows of the hallway where Isabelle was waiting.

"The Prince is thoroughly distracted," Damien whispered.

"He’s currently demanding a private screening of the tragedy film in Theater One."

"The income is staggering, Young Master," Isabelle said, clutching her golden ledger.

"But are you sure it is wise to leave Ziriork in charge of all this?"

"Ziriork is okay, after all he knows who truly holds the leash," Damien replied, his tone shifting from the playful casino owner to the cold, calculating King.

"Besides, Layer 6 was just a pitstop. A place to gather funds and heal your soul."

Damien turned toward the hidden stairwell that led deep beneath the casino.

"let’s go to the vault, it’s time for serious matters ."

....

[Location: The Deep Vault]

The vault was a cubic room forged from pure Abyss Iron, designed to suppress mana and prevent spatial tearing.

It was completely soundproof, isolated from the flashing lights and cheering demons miles above.

Damien removed his coat, tossing it onto a chair. He sat cross-legged in the center of the cold metal floor.

"Layer 7 is the Primordial Wilds," Damien said softly, his dual-colored eyes glowing in the dim light.

"The Prince warned us. It’s a warzone of ancient beasts. My current strength won’t be enough to protect us."

He reached into his spatial storage and pulled out a small, shifting orb of liquid metal.

[The Mercury Crucible]

It constantly folded in on itself, perfectly balancing a chaotic storm of miniature lightning and shadow within its core.

"My Dual-Core is not enough," Damien explained, staring at the artifact.

"I force the Golden Dragon Aura and the Hollow King Shadow to exist side-by-side using my Will and my Physique. But they aren’t truly unified"

They haven’t truly reached their peak!"

He looked up at Isabelle.

"To reach the 8th Order, I cannot just have a lot of mana. I have to become the concept. I have to embody the law. I cannot do that if my soul is divided into Light and Dark."

Isabelle stepped back, her expression tightening with worry.

"Will it hurt?"

"Probably," Damien smirked, though the smile didn’t quite reach his eyes.

"But pain is just weakness leaving the body."

Damien closed his eyes. He released the mental barriers holding his Dual-Core in check.

Instantly, the vault shuddered. Blinding golden light erupted from the right side of his body, while suffocating, pitch-black shadow exploded from his left.

The two energies clashed violently in the center of his chest, creating a shockwave that cracked the Abyss Iron walls.

Before the conflicting energies could tear his body apart, Damien slammed the Mercury Crucible directly into the center of his chest.

’VWOMMMM!’

The artifact dissolved, sinking into his flesh.

It acted instantly as a bridge, a perfect, unbreakable catalyst.

The Golden Dragon Aura and the Hollow King Mana were forced to blend, to weave together at the atomic level.

Damien threw his head back and the veins on his neck bulged, turning a terrifying shade of iridescent grey.

The metamorphosis had begun.