No one said a word. There were two groups of demons seated on opposite sides of the table.
They stared each other down, and Damian could see the fury in their eyes. These two factions clearly hated one another.
"No one will talk? Fine, then I'll start. Why the hell are you here, making me waste my precious time?" Damian said, locking eyes with each demon at the table.
He wanted to provoke them—stir something, anything, to get them talking.
"Wasting your precious time?" one demon scoffed. "I'm wasting mine too. There's no way we can befriend this damn group of demons from the west."
A good start. At least they were talking.
"And why not?" Damian asked, pushing further. "What did that group do to yours?"
The demon sneered. "What didn't they do? We were here first. Then they came into our territory, stole our prey, and brought hunters to our doorstep."
The demon, disguised as a human man, leaned forward and glared at Damian.
"Tell me, mediator—would you let someone walk into your home, take your food, and invite trouble to your door?"
It was a loaded question. Damian took a moment to think. All eyes were on him.
"You say they stole your territory," he replied, resting both elbows on the table. "But was it ever truly yours to begin with?"
The demon frowned. "What the hell do you mean?"
Damian kept his voice steady.
"Watch your tongue," he said. "I'm not one of your lackeys."
The demon gritted his teeth but kept quiet.
"What I meant was—wasn't someone here before your group even arrived? Speaking for myself, I've been in this world for a long time, and in this city even longer. Doesn't that mean you invaded my territory?"
The demon didn't have a response.
"You did," Damian continued. "But did I whine like a child the way you're doing now? No, I didn't. So tell me—do you really think it's smart to fight among yourselves when there are enemies out there who want to kill you both?"
Both factions turned to look at each other. Damian had struck a nerve. They were squabbling over territory while the hunters were out there killing demons without mercy.
To the hunters, it didn't matter if a demon was from the west or the east. They were all monsters to be eliminated.
"But what about the trouble they've caused us?" the first demon pressed. "A few of my demons died recently because those bastards drew hunters into our territory."
"How many of them died?" Damian asked.
"Around six demons. They were good soldiers," the demon replied.
Damian already had the answer ready.
"Back in my day, something like this called for compensation. Let's settle it, then. You kill six demons from their side, and we work together to set boundaries in your territory. This pointless fight ends. The hunters are your real enemy—not your fellow demons."
The other group didn't like the idea of losing six of their own. But it was the only path to a truce.
Damian turned to the other side, waiting. The one in charge was the woman who had spoken first.
"Are you sure we need to sacrifice six of my demons? Like you said, we're at war—we need every soldier we can get."
Damian laughed. "Really? Did that thought cross your mind when his demons died?"
She clenched her fists but gave in.
"Fine. I'll gather six demons for you to eliminate. Is that acceptable to you?" she asked, turning to the opposing demon.
Before he could speak, Damian cut in.
"You don't have to choose. He will. He'll pick six demons of comparable strength to yours so the blow is equal. This place demands fairness."
She didn't like how things had played out. But the other demon? He appreciated Damian's approach—no favoritism, just balance.
That was the point of the neutral ground.
"Fine," she said.
Just like that, the meeting ended. The woman's group glared at Damian with pure hatred—but none dared speak or make a move against him.
The demon from the other group approached Damian afterward. There was something unsettling about him. He felt... ghostly. No aura. No pressure.
"Is he so powerful that I can't even sense him?" the demon wondered, eyeing Damian with unease.
He extended a hand and asked, "Are we invading your territory?"
They weren't, of course. But the irony was that Damian had plans to move. He wanted a new place—one Troy couldn't trace. And the territory these demons now ruled? That was exactly where he intended to go.
"Actually, I'll be the one invading your territory," Damian said, flashing a crooked smile. "Mind if I set up camp there soon?"
The demon chuckled and clapped him on the shoulder. "Haha, you're not invading anything. You're more than welcome. I'll even help you find a spot—no rent, no strings. Whatever you need."
The benefit of neutral ground? Respect... and free housing, apparently.
Damian left the café after the meeting was done. He called Leo to deliver the good news.
"Both groups are now at peace, apparently. You'll need to check in the next few days to see if that's true," Damian said.
Leo was visibly surprised by how things had turned out.
"Being honest with you, I didn't think you'd get them on the same page—but you did. Nice work, my friend."
"And when's the next meeting?" Damian asked.
"I don't know yet, but I'll let you know."
The call ended. Damian left the café with a bag packed full of demon parts that Leo had given him.
He wanted to absorb them before heading home—it would be safer that way—so he searched for a building to use.
Then he saw it. The black car—the one that had followed him in recent days and vanished—was back.
That was a problem. With that car tailing him again, how would he find a quiet spot to absorb the demon parts?
With no better option, he returned to his apartment.