"He never releases."
The words hang in the sterile air of the auditorium; they seemed to crystallize, turning the oxygen into something heavy and cold. Hannah McKay stood on the raised dais, her white lab coat a sharp, clinical contrast against the charcoal-gray walls of the headquarters. Her eyes, as dark and unreadable as deep-space telescopic images, swept over the row of women standing before her.
There were twelve of them. They were twelve of the most breathtaking specimens of beauty the world—both human and supernatural—had to offer. They had been curated like fine art, selected for their pheromones, their lethal grace, and their legendary ability to bring the most powerful men to their knees. But today, they stood with their shoulders slumped, their faces clouded with a mixture of exhaustion and a genuine, haunting fear that bordered on soul-deep trauma.
"I am telling you, Dr. McKay," a woman at the far left whispered, her voice trembling. She was a Succubus of the highest order, an entity that usually radiated a heat capable of melting lead, but now she looked physically chilled, her skin pale and waxy. "It isn't just that he is disciplined. It's as if the concept of pleasure doesn't exist within his soul. I used every ancient rite, every physical art passed down through my demonic bloodline. I touched him in ways that would have driven a saint to madness. And he just... watched me. With eyes like a winter grave."
A murmur of distressed agreement rippled through the gallery of scientists. These were the minds behind Project Y, the people tasked with saving a dying humanity by pacifying the demon hordes. They shifted in their ergonomic chairs, the blue glow of their tablets reflecting the growing panic on their faces.
"It's true, then," muttered Dr. Aris, the lead biologist, leaning toward his microphone. "The rumors from the front lines... they weren't exaggerations. The Demon Lord is as cold as the throne he carved from the bones of his enemies. He has no blood in his veins, only ice."
"He has no pulse for desire," another scientist added, his voice cracking with desperation. "We sent the finest sirens, the most elite courtesans of the spirit realms. If he cannot be moved by them, Project Y is a pipe dream. Without his sperms—the serum will never stabilize. We'll be producing nothing but expensive salt water while the world burns."
Hannah didn't look at the scientists. Her gaze was locked on a woman in the center of the line. She was tall, with hair that shimmered like moonlight on a deep ocean and skin that held a faint, iridescent glow despite her human camouflage. She was a princess of the Mermaid Clan, a creature whose very existence was built upon the power of allure and the hypnotic call of the deep.
"You," Hannah said, her voice steady and demanding. "You spent the longest time in the palace. Report."
The Mermaid woman let out a jagged, bitter laugh. Her hands were clenched so tightly her knuckles were white. "Experience? It wasn't an experience, Doctor. It was a humiliation that will stain my bloodline for a thousand years. I approached him during the Feast of Shadows. I sang the Song of the Abyss—a melody that has forced kings to abdicate their thrones just for a kiss. I walked right up to him, shedding my robes until I was as bare as the day I was spawned. I pressed my body against his armor, whispering what I would do to him once he let me into his bed."
The room went silent. Even the hum of the server racks seemed to die down as everyone leaned in, breathless.
"And?" Hannah prompted, her expression impassive.
"And he looked down at me as if I were a smudge of dirt on his boot," the woman spat, tears of rage welling in her eyes. "He didn't even stand up. He reached out, his hand cold as a corpse, and gripped my chin. He told me that my voice gave him a headache. He said that humans and their half-breed pets were pathetic for thinking that a momentary itch in the loins could ever compare to the power of the void. Then, he had his guards throw me into the moat like common trash. He didn't just reject me; he dismissed my entire existence. He doesn't show love. He doesn't show lust. He only shows contempt for anything that breathes."
The Mermaid woman's voice broke into a sob, her pride shattered. "He is a statue. A god of stone."
Hannah stood perfectly still for a long beat. The failure was total. The distraction phase of Project Y had been an absolute disaster. The project was hemorrhaging funds, the Board of Directors was threatening to shut them down, and the demons were encroaching further into the safe zones every day.
"Dismissed," Hannah said suddenly, her voice cutting through the heavy atmosphere like a scalpel. "All of you. Go to the medical wing, collect your compensation, and sign the non-disclosure agreements. Robert, clear the room."
Her personal assistant, a frantic but loyal man in a sharp, slightly wrinkled suit, scrambled to follow her orders. "Yes, Dr. McKay! Everyone, please, follow the light-strips to the exit. Move along, move along! Don't forget your tablets!"
The scientists lingered, whispering urgently among themselves, casting worried, pitying glances at Hannah before the heavy pneumatic doors hissed shut, leaving only Hannah and Robert in the vast, echoing hall.
Hannah walked to the edge of the dais and looked out at the empty chairs. The silence was deafening, a vacuum that seemed to demand an answer she didn't have until this very moment.
"Doctor?" Robert asked tentatively, stepping closer, his shoes squeaking on the polished floor. "What do we tell the Board? We've exhausted the candidate list. We've sent every type of woman known to man or myth. If the Demon Lord truly is... incapable of release... then the Prime Element is unattainable. We have no more candidates left in the database."
Hannah turned to look at him. There was a strange, terrifying light in her eyes—the kind of look a scientist gets when they realize they have to become the experiment.
"We have one candidate remaining, Robert," she said softly.
Robert blinked, confused. He pulled up the digital ledger on his wrist-link, scrolling frantically through a list of names. "No, Ma'am. I've checked the global registries twice. We've gone through the High Succubus list, the Elven Enchantress guild, even the top-tier human influencers. There is no one left who meets the biological compatibility markers. We are at a dead end."
"There is me," Hannah said.
Robert froze. His heart seemed to skip a beat, and his jaw literally dropped, his tablet slipping slightly in his grip. "I... I beg your pardon?"
"I will become the candidate myself," Hannah stated, her voice devoid of doubt. "The sirens failed, and the demons failed. They were all wrong for him. I am going to the Demon palace, Robert. I will get close to Hebner Grand, and I will be the one to trigger that release. I will bring back his sperms to this lab, or I won't come back at all."
"But... but Doctor!" Robert stammered, his face turning a ghostly shade of pale. "You're a scientist! You're the head of this entire operation! You've never even been in the field, let alone the Demon Lord's territory! He hates humans—he despises our very DNA! If those legendary beauties couldn't even get a flicker of interest out of him, how can you? You don't have magic, you don't have sirens' songs..."
He looked at her, his eyes wide with genuine shock and terror for her safety.
"Doctor... how?"