Demons, devils—things like that had harmed his mother.
Doom would never forget what he saw when he was on the brink of death: his mother had become the plaything of a terrifying devil in Hell.
So when he heard Harry's voice, he immediately focused with a thousand percent of his attention.
Frowning, he said inwardly, "Osborn... do you want to use my masterpiece to deceive and obstruct me, so you can trick me out of my soul?"
It had to be said, Doom had thought far ahead. In a sense, he had even come close to the truth.
[That really hurts. I'm an honest merchant who never cheats anyone. That reminder was merely a small gift for our first meeting.]
"Merchant... that means I have something you want. In other words, you will deceive me."
Doom sneered inwardly. He would not, and could not, believe these people.
Yet when he looked at the equipment again, there was a little more hesitation in his eyes.
The more a person possessed, the more lost they became. They would be changed by what they already had, perhaps even unable to preserve their original aspirations.
Doom was no exception now—his comfortable life, the respect and worship of ordinary people, and the power brought by cooperating with the military...
But he quickly came to his senses: those things were all fake.
With a single word from the military, he would lose all of it. Those high-ranking officials only appeared friendly; in truth, they were no different from that cowardly, detestable Baron.
Doom shook his head. Since he had doubts, he would inspect it again. If everything checked out, then he would begin the experiment.
He no longer paid attention to Harry's voice. Harry could not help but admire Doom's decisiveness and unwavering will.