The air inside the Demon Lord's Palace was vastly different from the chaotic streets of Voidmore City. Here, the atmosphere was pressurized and ancient, smelling of cold stone, expensive incense, and the terrifying, static hum of absolute power. As Thorn Theodore strode through the arched corridors, his heavy boots echoing against the floor, he didn't slow down for Hannah. She was forced to hurry behind him, her breath hitching in her chest—partly from the sickly act, and partly from the sheer, suffocating grandeur of the place.
The hallway was lined with tall, slender demonic attendants dressed in robes of liquid silk. Thorn stopped abruptly in front of a senior attendant whose skin was the color of moonlight.
"Where is he?" Thorn demanded, his voice echoing off the high ceilings. "When does the Lord conclude his meditation?"
The attendant bowed so low his forehead nearly touched the floor. "Commander, the Sovereign concluded his silence an hour ago. He is currently in the Great Throne Room. He has been... expecting your report. His mood is as dark as the eclipse."
Thorn grunted, a flicker of genuine caution crossing his handsome face before he masked it with his usual swagger. "Right. Follow me, girl. And keep your eyes on the floor unless you're told otherwise."
They approached the massive, twin doors of the throne room. They were made of a metal that seemed to absorb the light, and as they groaned open, Hannah felt a wave of cold air wash over her.
As they walked down the long, red carpet toward the dais, Hannah broke Thorn's rule. She looked up.
Sitting upon a throne of jagged black glass was a man who didn't look like a monster. He looked like an apex predator carved from marble and shadow. His hair was blacker than the void, and his features were so perfectly, devastatingly symmetrical that Hannah felt a momentary jolt in her heart. He wasn't just handsome; he was ethereal. Is this a demon? she wondered, her scientific mind momentarily failing her. Or is this what a god looks like when he decides to hate the world?
Hebner Grand leaned his head on a propped hand, his eyes—cold, piercing, and devoid of any human warmth—locking onto the intruders. Before Thorn could even open his mouth to greet him, Hebner's voice cut through the silence like a guillotine.
"Thorn," Hebner said, his voice a low, vibrating growl that seemed to come from the floor itself. "Explain why you have brought human filth into my presence. The stench of mortality is clogging my lungs."
Thorn bowed, though he kept a smirk on his face. "My Lord, forgive the intrusion. This is my new personal servant. I found her at the gates. I thought she would be... useful."
Hebner's gaze shifted to Hannah. It unadulterated revulsion. It was the way a king might look at a cockroach crawling across his dinner plate. "I am tired of seeing human faces, Thorn. I spent a lifetime surrounded by their mediocrity and their cruelty. I built these walls specifically so I would never have to look at their weak, watery eyes again. Drive her from the palace. Now."
"But my Lord," Thorn pushed, his voice smooth. "She is harmless. Sickly, even. A bit of entertainment for the quarters—"
"Today is the Great Ascendance," Hebner interrupted, his power suddenly flaring. The shadows in the corners of the room began to writhe and crawl toward them. "My decree was absolute: no humans in Voidmore. You have brought a violation into the heart of my domain. Get her out of my sight before I decide to see how red her blood looks against this carpet."
Thorn's smirk vanished. He knew when the Sovereign was truly nearing the edge. He turned to Hannah, his expression tightening. "Go. Wait in the outer courtyard. I will deal with you later."
Hannah didn't wait for a second command. She bowed her head, her body trembling in a way that wasn't entirely fake, and hurried out of the throne room. She moved with the submissive grace of a broken thing, her heart hammering against her ribs.
The heavy doors hissed shut behind her, but she didn't walk away. She stopped just past the threshold, pressing her back against the cold stone of a pillar, her ears strained toward the slight gap in the seal of the doors.
Inside, the tone had shifted. The carnal tension was gone, replaced by the cold, hard business of war.
"Report," Hebner's voice commanded.
"My Lord," Thorn's voice was now professional, devoid of his usual lust. "The scouts have returned from the East Border. It seems the human resistance is growing bold. They are no longer just hiding; they are hunting. They've managed to take down three of our scouting parties near the spiritual veins. They are using specialized iron-tipped bolts. They are calling for a 'cleansing' of the demon plague."
There was a long, terrifying silence. Hannah held her breath, her fingers digging into the stone.
"A cleansing?" Hebner's laugh was a hollow, terrifying sound. "They still think they are the masters of this world. They still think their 'mercy' is something I crave."
"What are your orders, Sovereign?"
"Take the Third and Fourth Armies," Hebner said, his voice devoid of any emotion. It was a cold, mathematical decree. "Go to the East Border. Do not take prisoners. Do not negotiate. I want every single human being in that sector extinguished. Burn their villages, salt their earth, and leave their bodies for the crows. Let the world remember why they used to fear the dark."
Hannah's blood turned to ice. She wasn't just hearing a military command; she was hearing the death sentence of thousands of her kind. Her heart raced, the pulse thundering in her ears so loudly The man she was supposed to seduce, the man whose sperms she needed to save the world, had just ordered a massacre without blinking an eye.
The weight of her mission suddenly felt like a mountain. She wasn't just trying to seduce a king; she was trying to charm a hurricane of pure, frozen hatred. And she was currently standing in the center of its eye.