Chapter 24: Frustration

Chapter 24: Frustration Damian was surprised by his own skill. Climbing the building hadn’t been difficult at all—and he was sure no one had seen him. Vince’s body was gone, of course, but blood still soaked the apartment. The crime scene hadn’t been cleaned, just abandoned. "I need to be careful not to leave any traces here," Damian thought. He activated his Demon Eye. Everything shifted. His vision pierced into places hidden from the naked eye—details that even skilled hunters would miss. And then... he saw it. A trace. But it wasn’t demon mana. That’s what bothered him. With his Demon Eye, Damian could detect even the faintest traces of mana—left behind by demons, hunters, anything that used it. That was standard knowledge. Yet, the mana in Vince’s apartment was unmistakably human. A hunter. Someone with awakened mana. "What the fuck..." Agatha had assumed Vince was killed by a high-ranking demon trying to disguise it as a mundane murder—a human crime with no magical trail. But that wasn’t what happened. This wasn’t a demon masking its kill. A human—with mana—had murdered Vince. Damian’s mind spun. Why would a hunter do that? Was a human working with demons? It wasn’t that absurd. After all, he was working with a high-ranking demon himself. Maybe others were too. But his arrangement was different—he was trying to build neutral ground, a bridge, not a warpath. This? This was slaughter. Mass murder of elite hunters. So why would a hunter side with demons to do something like that? That new information changed everything. But what could Damian do with it? He couldn’t share it with anyone. They couldn’t know about his ability—that was problematic. He noticed that the mana trace led through the balcony, the same one he had used to enter. The trace continued into some alleys near the building. "Should I follow it?" Damian wondered. It was the only thing he could do at that moment. Damian left the apartment, his focus trained on the black car that had been tailing him. It wasn’t following him anymore—for some reason. Or perhaps it was, just more discreetly so he couldn’t see it. The thought lingered in the back of his mind, stirring up anxiety. He slipped through the alleys, following the faint trail of mana. A black eye-patch concealed his demon eye. He had bought it to avoid drawing attention, and it worked well while navigating the city—no one knew him. But wearing it around people like Agatha and the other hunters wasn’t a good idea. Eventually, the mana trace faded into the night. It was thin—barely perceptible—because the person who left the apartment wasn’t actively using mana. The trail came from residual energy leaking out of the hunter’s body. Most people wouldn’t be able to see it at all. Realizing he wouldn’t be able to find the culprit, Damian kicked a nearby trash can in frustration. "Damn it," he cursed. The feeling of powerlessness, not knowing who committed the murder, made Damian feel like shit. He returned to his apartment. The black car was gone. Whether that was good or bad, he couldn’t tell—only time would reveal the answer. Once inside, Damian tried to sleep. But his mind was flooded with thoughts, racing too fast for rest to take hold. Morning brought an unexpected surprise: the demon—high-ranking, the one he was doing business with—called him. Obviously, Damian couldn’t take the call in his apartment. He stepped outside, then called the demon back. "How the hell do I even call you? I don’t know your name," Damian said first. "You can call me Leo." "Leo? That’s not a demon name." "Of course not," the demon replied. "I’m disguised, remember? Anyway, come to the café tonight. I’ll message you the address. Be there by 6 p.m., latest." After the call ended, Damian checked the address. It was in a part of town he rarely visited—far from the hunter building, far from his apartment, far from familiarity. Getting there by six might be a stretch. He wasn’t even sure he wanted to be on time. Leo was the one desperate for a mediator, after all. If anyone could afford to wait, it was the demons. "Let them wait," Damian thought grimly. He moved through his morning routine with mechanical precision, then headed to the hunter building. Today’s job was back to familiar territory. Agatha was waiting, ready to drive him to a new crime scene—a demon-related killing. Inside the car, Damian broke the silence. "So we’re back to the usual? No more chasing ghosts from the massacre?" "We’re not. The other hunters are on that," she replied. "Last night gave us nothing. No new leads. No progress. We’re just... stuck." Damian decided to prod her gently. "Are we sure Vince was killed by a demon? I mean, what if it wasn’t?" Agatha turned slightly toward him. "Like what?" "I don’t know... maybe a human. A hunter." "A hunter?" Agatha laughed, genuinely amused. "Now that’s wild. Why would a hunter kill Vince? That doesn’t make any sense." The conversation dropped there. Damian stared out the window, uneasy. He wished he could tell her more—share the nagging thoughts, the buried suspicions—but he couldn’t. Not yet. Apparently, he was the only one convinced that a hunter might be helping the demons. They arrived at the crime scene—this time, a school. The air felt heavy. Damian could sense it in every breath. Fear lingered in the halls like smoke after a fire. The students had all been sent home, evacuated swiftly. Only the teachers and staff remained, each one wearing grief like armor. The victim was a student. A teenager. Found dead inside the locker room. The teachers were inconsolable. The loss had shattered them. Even the hardened hunters assigned to investigate stood with quiet, shaken resolve. Schools were supposed to be safe zones—fortified and protected with hunter patrols to keep demons at bay. Yet somehow, one had gotten through. Agatha was fuming. "I want to speak with them. Now," she barked at the school’s principal, eyes burning. The principal nodded, clearly rattled. "Of course. Wait here."