The demon's eyes snapped open, glowing faintly with a reddish hue before dimming to a more natural, human-like gaze. It blinked slowly, taking in its surroundings. Then, in a calm, even voice, it asked, "Where am I?"
The hunters exchanged uneasy glances. They were clearly not expecting the creature to be this... articulate.
"You're not supposed to talk," one of the men muttered under his breath.
The demon cocked its head, its form rippling as if its body were made of liquid shadows. Slowly, the grotesque features began to recede, replaced by smooth skin and a human shape. Within moments, what sat before them was no longer a monstrous beast but a man who appeared to be in his mid-thirties, with sharp cheekbones, dark hair, and piercing gray eyes.
The transformation left everyone momentarily stunned. Damien's dad was the first to speak. "Well, this is unexpected."
Damien raised an eyebrow, crossing his arms. "You're telling me it can do that and no one thought to mention it in the briefing?"
The demon's lips curved into a smirk. "He," it corrected. "Not 'it.' I'm a 'he.' Do try to keep up."
"Noted," Damien said dryly. "So, what do we call you, Mr. 'Not-It'?"
The demon leaned back in his chair as much as the chains allowed. "Name's Dorian. Now, what exactly do you want with me? Tying me up seems a bit rude."
Damien's dad stepped forward, his expression hard. "We need the coordinates to your realm—the demon's domain. There's someone of ours that was taken there. We need her back."
Dorian's eyebrows lifted slightly. "My realm?" He chuckled, the sound low and mocking. "You make it sound like we demons live in a cozy little neighborhood. Hate to break it to you, but demons aren't exactly one big, happy family."
Damien leaned against the wall, arms still crossed. "So you don't know where your friends hang out?"
Dorian snorted. "Friends? Do you think we all exchange Christmas cards? The demon realm is vast—almost as big as Earth, if not bigger. You could end up wandering for centuries and still not find who you're looking for."
Damien's dad's jaw tightened. "We're looking for someone specific. A demon named Mr. Brown."
At that name, Dorian froze. His relaxed demeanor evaporated, replaced by a tension that even he couldn't hide. His gray eyes darkened, and his voice dropped. "Brown?"
Damien didn't miss the way Dorian's hands gripped the edges of the chair. "Judging by that reaction, you know who we're talking about."
Dorian let out a low whistle, shaking his head. "If you're planning to go after Brown, you might as well start digging your graves now. Getting to the demon realm is one thing. Going against him? That's suicide. You won't come back alive."
"That's not your concern," Damien's dad said coldly. "Just give us the coordinates."
Dorian gestured at his shackled wrists. "Do I look like I can do anything tied up like this? You want help? Then you'll have to let me loose."
The room tensed immediately. The hunters exchanged wary glances, hands tightening on their weapons.
"Let him go?" one of the men muttered. "That's madness."
"You help us with the coordinates to get to our friend and we'll let you go in one piece." Dorian nodded to portray his understanding. Damien's dad raised a hand, silencing the murmurs. "Prepare yourselves," he ordered.
The men moved quickly, arming themselves with silver-tipped spears, axes, and guns loaded with silver bullets. Dorian watched with mild amusement, his expression almost bored as one of the men unlocked the shackles.
The moment he was free, Dorian rolled his shoulders and stretched his arms above his head. The hunters instantly moved into defensive stances, their weapons at the ready.
"Relax," Dorian said, raising his hands in mock surrender. "I'm just stretching. Try being strapped to a chair for hours, and you'll understand."
Damien's dad didn't lower his weapon. "The coordinates. Now."
"Impatient, aren't we?" Dorian muttered, striding over to one of the computer terminals. His fingers flew over the keyboard with surprising familiarity, and after a few tense moments, he stepped back. "There. Mr. Brown's lair. Coordinates to the underworld are all yours."
He turned back to face them, dusting off his hands. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I'd like to be on my way."
The hunters exchanged a look. Without a word, one of them hurled an axe.
The blade gleamed in the fluorescent light as it arced through the air. Dorian's eyes widened in brief shock before the axe struck, slicing cleanly through his neck. His head hit the floor with a sickening thud, his body collapsing a moment later.
Damien stood frozen, staring at the lifeless form of the once-mocking demon. "What the hell was that for?" he demanded, his voice sharp.
His father stepped forward, calm and unbothered. "There was no way we were leaving a demon roaming freely in our world."
Damien clenched his jaw, displeasure clear in his expression. But he said nothing, biting back whatever argument was on the tip of his tongue.
His father turned to the group, his voice firm. "We strategize first and then we go to the underworld. We're going to take out all the demons in one strike."
"And they won't even see it coming."