At the same moment, on the other side of the city, Staan was strolling on the pier. During the five years spent exploring the world, few places were as striking as the coastline of the city of Marseille: the sea spray mixed with the typical southern scents, the waterfront transformed into a gigantic panorama, the gentle rhythm of its way of life... Everything came together to make the place unique. He loved walking there, even in the middle of winter when heavy white clouds hid the sun, and the Mediterranean was turbulent. Unfortunately, today he didn't have the heart to enjoy it.

According to his estimates, the mysterious murderer would strike in this district during the day. At least, if the demon followed his own pattern, which was unfortunately uncertain with such a being. Despite their inconsistency, there was one thing common to all demons: their conceit, especially for violence. It was this flaw that had betrayed the infernal nature of the author of these murders: the alleys were devastated; the ground, shattered; the walls, ravaged by blows; all of this just to kill a single human. Generally, he didn't like getting involved in human affairs, but if the being responsible for this carnage turned out to come from the same place as him, he couldn't decently remain silent. Staan was, therefore, eagerly awaiting the arrival of the malevolent creature. After all, perhaps his departure from Hell was the cause of this being's arrival here?

He pushed this thought out of his head; he already had enough to do without having to question all his choices over the past ten years. Suddenly, he sensed a powerful surge of energy in the vicinity. Concealing the garnet glow of his eyes behind the tinted lenses of sunglasses, he inspected everything visible within a kilometer, down to the smallest detail, searching for the source of this power. Unfortunately, no trace remained, as if the being at its origin had simply disappeared from the place. Staan returned his eyes to a human color as he walked away, perplexed; such intensity meant two things: first, that the strength of the being was much greater than he could have imagined, allowing it to blend in with humans; second, that the hunt was going to be more challenging than he had estimated. This last point appealed to his bellicose side and brought a discreet smile to his lips as he continued to explore the docks.

Unfortunately, the moon witnessed his failure, observing his slow ascent in the night sky until he finally resigned and left the neighborhood. However, an old man suddenly bumped into him and lost his balance. Helping him to his feet, Staan noticed the frightened look on the man's face. It wasn't an ordinary fear that could be read on his wrinkled face, framed by strands of white hair made wild by his frantic run; it was genuine terror.

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— Sir! Sir! Calm down, everything is fine. I mean you no harm!" he tried to reason with him. "What's happening to you?"

— The Devil!"

— What?" he exclaimed in a startle, uncertain of what he had just heard. "What did you say?"

— I saw the Devil! The Devil, I tell you! Don't go near Pineade Quay! He's lurking among the new warehouses!"

— You're far enough now! Rest before going to the police," he reassured him, glancing toward said quay. "Forgive my rudeness, but I have to leave you here: I'm expected."

The fresh trail, it should not be lost. Staan then sprinted at full speed, disregarding the fact that his speed far exceeded human standards, ignoring the fascinated looks of children in cars he passed.

When he finally reached the quay, he sniffed the air filled with sea spray and perceived among them the sulfuric odor that demons signified their presence with. The night had fallen for a few hours, and the few workers still present were busy either around the exit gantry or around the unloading docks. He put on his glasses to attenuate the scarlet glow of his eyes in the darkness and then tracked the demon, helped by his ability to see smells.

After a few minutes of tracking, Staan darted into an alley, certain to find his prey there. It seemed almost to be waiting for him, in the form of a man, standing still under the dim light of a decrepit street lamp. From behind, he looked immense, and his too-small clothes only reinforced the impression of oppression he exuded. His bowler hat, his long trench coat as brown as it was shabby, and his patched pants were borrowed from the English industrial revolution, but above all, his dystrophic appearance and uneven musculature made him look like Dr. Jekyll in the midst of a Mr. Hyde crisis. To complete this sinister picture, he held in one hand a large, dented metal pipe covered in dried blood. A guttural laugh emanated from the being as he turned around. In his gaze, Staan read that the demon was the author of the murders, but, even more disturbingly, that he knew his true identity.

He didn't check the surroundings before transforming; he didn't have time because he had to dodge his opponent's projectile. The weapon had such power that, by sticking into a container on the other side of the bay, it tore it from the ground, crushed the safety railing, and tipped the large metal box into the sea, lifting a spray of water as it hit the surface. When Staan turned away from the spectacle, he found that the demon had changed his appearance and now looked like a skinless, muscular gorilla. After beating his chest with his fists, the great ape leaped toward him with its teeth bared. Despite the vision of horror, which would have terrified any human, Staan remained calm. It was even with measured slowness that he stepped aside from the creature's charge, which infuriated it and prompted it to attack again, without worrying about the black spark that had erupted from his opponent's hand. Fire emerged from the embers and suddenly condensed into a long, sturdy rod that was enough for Staan to trip the creature, sending it rolling against a brick wall.