Swoosh!

Damian cut through the night sky, his wings beating steadily against the wind as he moved in silence, his sharp gaze sweeping the city below in search of activity.

Rin sat comfortably atop his head, its tails and fur swaying freely with the rushing air.

"Relax, we will find something in Chicago for sure," Rin yawned, its eyes half-lidded as it stared up at the moonlight with a bored expression.

"What makes you so sure?" Damian asked without looking at him.

"Duke Haborym commanded twenty-four legions. When you killed him, what do you think happened to his army?"

Buzz!

Damian blinked, caught off guard. The thought had not crossed his mind once since that battle. After killing Haborym, the existence of his forces had simply slipped away, irrelevant in the face of his victory.

"They went back home?" Damian raised a brow.

Rin facepalmed.

"Why would demons want to return to the underworld?" Rin asked, though he did not wait for an answer. "The underworld may not be as terrifying as people imagine, but it does not change the fact that the mortal realm is the most desirable place for them. Here, they can feed on the souls of weak-minded humans but there they would be struggling for resources. It’s like asking someone to choose work over a paid vacation."

Rin’s voice carried a quiet certainty.

"Without their general, they will remain here and grow stronger by feeding off humans, just as you intend to grow stronger yourself."

Damian frowned at that last statement. Being placed on the same level as demons irritated him, but the logic was undeniable.

Why return to a realm filled with competition and danger when the mortal world offered easy growth?

His eyes narrowed as something finally caught his attention in the distance.

A winged demon clung to the side of a building, its body pressed against the wall as it peered through a window.

It resembled a distorted human. Its limbs were unnaturally long, its fingers extended into sharp claws, its gray skin marred with festering wounds. Thick strands of hair covered most of its face, hanging down like a veil.

Damian frowned.

This was not what he expected.

There was no chaos. No slaughter. Just... observation.

He closed his eyes and extended his perception outward. His senses stretched across the surrounding area, picking up multiple demonic presences scattered throughout the region.

None of them were killing.

None of them were wreaking havoc.

"I do not understand. Why are they not doing anything?" Damian muttered.

Rin glanced at the demon and shook his head.

"If demons could enter the mortal realm and freely slaughter humans for their souls, what would stop them from turning entire planets into farms and humans into livestock?" Rin said with a quiet sigh.

"Demons cannot reach you unless you reach out to them first. What they can do is influence circumstances, push situations to the point where humans seek something beyond themselves. When that happens, they answer. Even then, they cannot directly harm the human. They can only bargain."

Rin’s voice turned colder.

"Unless a human beyond the veil and into the mortal realm. Once that happens, they can kill and claim the soul directly."

Damian absorbed the explanation, nodding slowly.

"I always thought angels were the ones stopping them," he said with a faint, embarrassed chuckle.

Rin snorted.

"If given the chance, angels would be the first to turn humans into livestock, and they would be far more ruthless than demons."

Damian did not argue. If anything, he agreed completely.

Thinking back to his encounters with Gilbert, Corbin’s archangel, and Linda’s angel, there had always been a subtle arrogance in their presence that irritated him.

If forced to choose, he already knew where he stood.

At least with demons, he felt only hostility. With angels, he felt something worse.

Disgust.

Shaking off those thoughts, Damian focused once more on the demon clinging to the building.

Bam!

In a single blur of motion, he vanished.

With speed that defied human comprehension, he appeared beside the creature in an instant, grabbed it by the hair, and flung it violently toward the empty road below.

Bam!

The demon crashed against the ground and rebounded to its feet almost immediately, its head snapping around wildly as it searched for the source of the attack.

One moment it had been observing. The next, it had been dragged down without warning.

There was no presence, no signal and no chance to react.

Its search did not last long. Soon its eyes locked onto Damian.

He descended slowly from the sky, dressed in white, a fox mask covering his face, his burning white eyes visible behind it. His wings moved with controlled grace as he lowered himself, his hands resting calmly behind him, his expression unreadable.

Yet the demon felt nothing.

No aura.

No presence.

If not for the wings, it would not even recognize him as a demon.

"Which Lord do you serve?" the creature hissed in a strange tongue.

Damian understood it perfectly.

His expression twisted in annoyance, his eyes flashing briefly before dimming once more as he forced himself to calm.

’If I already consider it inferior, why allow the words of something beneath me to disturb me?’

His tension faded and posture relaxed.

What king barked at every challenge?

What prince lost composure at the words of a servant?

Instead of reacting, why not become something worthy of unquestioned respect?

"Lord?" Damian echoed softly.

He reached into his pocket and drew out a traditional Chinese hand fan. It was white, adorned with elegant black ink illustrations of foxes dancing, alongside characters he could not read.

It was simple item, yet his favorite purchase so far.

His mask dissolved into the ring on his finger, vanishing instantly, and he raised the fan to cover the lower half of his face.

"Do I look like a mere demon to you?" he asked.

At once, several eye-shaped white flames, each bearing three fox tails, ignited into existence around him, orbiting his body like celestial bodies circling a star.

The demon froze.

"Samara fire! It is you!" it cried in terror before slamming its head against the ground.

"My prince, show mercy! This lowly soldier served your predecessor!"

Damian raised a brow, a faint smile hidden behind the fan.

"What about your Lord who tried to kill me?" he asked calmly, though a quiet threat lingered beneath his tone. "Did you not all choose the prince of greed over this young fox?"

The demon trembled violently.

They had come to kill him, now their duke was dead. Appealing to past loyalty meant nothing.

Death loomed for certain. Or so it thought.

"But you..." Damian continued, his voice softening slightly. "You showed me proper respect. So I will overlook your lord’s failure and give you a chance to correct your mistake."

The demon’s body shook, caught between terror and disbelief.

It had expected death. Instead, it was given a chance to live. But Damian’s gaze remained cold.

This was not mercy, it was opportunity. He had something far greater in mind.