Damn it, I’m surrounded by those who kill their fathers!

Under Peter's watchful gaze, a burly figure pushed open the bar's doors and stepped inside.

The newcomer wore khaki trousers, a North Carolina cap, and had pitch-black pupils that exuded an eerie aura.

"Suit yourself. You're shrouded in mystery, and I'm used to it," Peter muttered.

Officer Chandler, however, didn't notice the peculiar look in Peter's eyes.

Maybe it was the strong drink mixed by the bartender—its potency was making Chandler slightly tipsy.

"I don't care about anything anymore. I just want to save up enough cash before retirement to take a vacation in Hawaii, away from this godforsaken town. Everything here sucks," Chandler slurred as he stared at the decorations on the bar's wall.

"Look at this—pretentious nonsense. Road signs, fake vintage junk, a damn oar. An oar! What could it possibly symbolize? Maybe to scare off annoying customers?" he scoffed.

Thunk!

Peter set his glass down, fixing his gaze on Chandler. "I think you've had too much. You should hit the restroom."

"The restroom? Why?" Chandler asked, his expression a mix of surprise and indignation. "I'm not drunk!"

But soon, he'd understand why Peter insisted.

At the bar's entrance, a group of truck drivers gathered around a table, playing cards.

A large pitcher of frothy beer sat on their table, and the burly men alternated between playing cards and pacing near the pool table.

From the jukebox, the Iron Butterfly's "In-A-Gadda-Da-Vida" blasted through the room, setting a gritty backdrop.

As the black-eyed man with the North Carolina cap approached Peter, he brushed against a truck driver aiming his cue stick.

The driver, focused on his shot, yanked his cue back just as the man passed, causing an accidental collision. The cue slipped, knocking the cue ball straight into the pocket.

"Son of a b****, you made me foul!" the driver barked, glaring at the stranger.

The man ignored him and kept walking.

The driver, enraged, grabbed the man's shirt. "I'm going to knock your teeth out, you piece of—"

Before the truck driver could finish, the black-eyed man grabbed him by the neck and slammed him into the floor like a rag doll.

Crash! The impact shattered the chair beneath the driver's back.

The bar went silent, all eyes now locked on the unexpected scene.

Even the card-playing drivers froze, stunned.

No one had anticipated such ferocity—the burly driver subdued in a flash.

"Damn!"

"Get him!" one of the other drivers yelled as the group charged at the black-eyed man.

The chaos erupted.

A heavyset driver swung his pool cue at the man's head, only for it to splinter into pieces with a sharp crack.

The man, unfazed, turned his black gaze toward the attacker, who froze as if his soul had been sucked out.

Without a word, the black-eyed man moved at lightning speed, grabbing the heavyset driver by the throat.

Snap!

The sound of a neck breaking sent chills through the room.

Another driver, clutching his bruised head, staggered to his feet—only to be knocked out cold when one of his companions' bodies was hurled at him.

Screams erupted from the patrons as they fled the bar in terror, leaving a pile of carnage behind.

Chandler, still in a drunken daze, watched the black-eyed man approach Peter. Despite his fear, he instinctively reached for his gun—only to realize he hadn't brought it.

"Shit!" he cursed under his breath, debating whether to flee or hide under the table.

Meanwhile, the black-eyed man stopped before Peter.

"Peter Podrick?" the man rasped, his voice grating and otherworldly, like steel claws scraping across stone.

"And you are?" Peter asked, his tone sharp and unyielding.

"You know who I am. You've been searching for me—a demon. And now you've found me."

Peter narrowed his eyes. "So you're the demon from the church mirror?"

The demon smirked. "Yes. And I've decided to claim you and your sons. Your souls are... exquisite."

Peter stood, his voice icy. "Try me."

Before the demon could react, Peter struck with a powerful punch, sending the demon hurtling into the wall. The impact cracked the bricks, sending dust and debris cascading to the floor.

"You know what I do to demons who threaten my children?" Peter growled, advancing on the fallen demon.

"I crush them to dust, and if you flee to Hell, I'll drag you back myself."

The demon struggled to his feet, chuckling darkly. "You're stronger than I anticipated, Peter Podrick."

Peter grabbed him by the collar and hurled him through the bar's window, sending him crashing onto the pavement outside.

As the demon retaliated with a lightning-fast blow, Peter countered, unleashing the divine energy within him.

Boom!

The explosive force not only obliterated the demon's host body but also left a massive crater in the street.

Peter stared at the lifeless corpse, knowing the demon had fled. Sirens wailed in the distance, signaling the police's approach.

Returning to the bar, Peter found Chandler still feigning unconsciousness.

Pouring himself a drink, Peter leaned over the counter.

"Officer Chandler," he said with a smirk. "I assume you're fast asleep, aren't you?"

...

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