The atmosphere shifted the instant Damon appeared. Conversations died mid-sentence, the sound of armor and robes brushing against stone halting in unison. The crimson banners above the hall swayed gently as a suffocating silence descended over everyone present.

All the crimson eyes landed on the single vampire who was standing at the center of the hall, still wearing his battleworn gear, gear that was not even worth mentioning in front of what the others in the hall were wearing.

But this only added extra mystery to the new Niera City Blood Hall Lord, who had appeared out of nowhere and achieved so much in such a short period of time. The many elders of the vampire families curiously looked at Damon and the obnoxious title hanging over his head, displayed brightly for everyone to see.

Blood God! What a ridiculous, arrogant title!

Many had, in fact, expected a flamboyant fool when they heard of him, a fool who wanted to be rescued from the big mess he had dug himself into. But when they arrived here, everything was completely unexpected.

The flamboyant fool was not at all a flamboyant fool. Instead, he was a supreme master strategist who had somehow lured all the neighbouring city armies to attack him at the same time, only to turn around and launch a surprise attack on them at the last minute.

While the strategy seemed simple enough, not everyone had the ability to hold down the armies for so long, which was the only way the plan would have panned out. If there had been even a single slip, then everything would have collapsed, and the army would have raided the lone city and obliterated it without sparing any effort. Such a task was almost impossible.

And yet, this young blood expert had done it. He had done it through sheer dominance, through terror, cunning, and blood. The proof of that was written across every scar on his armor, every smear of crimson that hadn't yet dried. The scent of death still clung to him like a mantle.

Many of the elders gave him an approving nod. The fact that this man was here right now and not relaxing and enjoying himself, indulging in debaucherous victory celebrations, was another proof of his mindset and temperament. Unlike the young bloods, he was well seasoned to not lose himself in all the glory and chaos that came with power and victory.

Finally, one of the vampires sitting at the far corner of the throne room leaned forward, revealing himself from the shadows. His crimson eyes gleamed beneath a mane of silver hair, and his dark red robe was drenched in centuries of power. Clearly, he was a high-ranking elder from one of the main families, a proud vampire of the highest noble lineage.

"So," the vampire drawled, "this is the infamous Blood God everyone speaks of. I half expected a pretender, not a man who walks in wearing the scent of war still clinging to him." A few soft chuckles rippled across the room, but they died instantly when Damon's cold gaze turned toward them.

The vampire elder did not seem to care about Damon's attitude, but someone else quickly pointed it out. "Boy, you are addressing the elder of the Karakan family. Don't just stand there like a statue. Kneel down, and pay your respect first."

The command snapped through the hall like a whip, sharp and authoritative, but Damon didn't move. He didn't even blink. Every pair of crimson eyes flicked between the speaker and Damon, as if watching a fuse burn down toward an explosion.

When Damon finally spoke, his voice was calm. He turned his head toward the vampire who had dared to demand it. "I don't kneel." Unexpectedly, he then turned towards the elder and bowed slightly, "This junior greets the Karakan family elder. My Lord, you have my deepest and sincerest gratitude for appearing here when we needed you the most and saving our Blood Hall."

Even though Damon was not completely obedient and subservient, his attitude and gestures were polite enough, and his words gave a lot of face to the main families. Everyone knew that he did not need any help, and for him to speak in this manner showed that he was not a brash, arrogant brat whose head did not become too heavy from a single victory.

The elder from the Karakan family chuckled quietly. "I like you, young vampire. You are not a bad seedling at all. Calm eyes, firm tone, and enough spine not to crumble under pressure. Good. The Crimson Mountains have seen far too many who mistake fear for respect."

He leaned back in his seat, a faint smile tugging at his lips. "But tell me, Blood God… now that you have taken the first step, what do you intend to do next? How do you plan on ruling this small territory within the light faction continent when there will be another war at your doorstep in a heartbeat? Do you have the strength to defend against the entire light faction continent?"

Damon immediately shook his head without any pretense. "I do not possess that kind of strength, my Lord, and it was never my intention to vie for the light faction continent all on my own. I merely wanted to try my best and obtain a small foothold, which I proudly present to the main families of the Crimson Mountains as a tribute."

Damon's words shocked almost everyone in the huge throne room, including the elder, and the vampires immediately began to murmur among themselves. "Did he just say tribute?" one muttered under his breath. "He's giving the city away?" Another scoffed softly.

Nobody could believe that the vampire who calls himself Blood God actually offered everything he had won from the war to the Crimson Mountains!

The Karakan elder, however, remained silent. His sharp gaze never left Damon. His smile then suddenly widened, and the elder chuckled again. "You are a shrewd one, aren't you?"

While everyone else seemed to be discussing the foolish behaviour of simply handing over all the territory without any terms or conditions or even any rewards, the Karakan elder seemed to know what was really going on.

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