A strikingly beautiful woman lay sprawled across a grand bed in an absurdly spacious chamber befitting an empress.
The room was a masterpiece of elegance and extravagance—tall, arched windows let the morning sunlight pour in, catching the shimmer of silver drapes.
The high ceiling was painted with otherworldly arts, and golden vine-like carvings adorned the ivory walls. Rich burgundy carpets softened the marble floor, and crystal chandeliers hovered overhead like frozen stars.
Beside the bed, curled up in deep slumber, rested a horse-sized creature—a majestic feline with sleek black fur streaked with gold.
The Empress's bed itself was a small world of comfort: mountainous pillows, velvet covers, and a collection of plush dolls, all styled to resemble a black wolf.
Some were tiny and round-faced, others large and near life-size.
Freya, the empress, hugged the biggest one—a human-sized plush—close to her chest, nuzzling it as soft giggles slipped past her lips.
The sunlight caught her long silver hair, causing it to gleam like liquid starlight, and her pale cheeks were tinted the softest pink.
Then—
Knock! Knock!
"…"
Knock! Knock!
Still no response.
Freya only tightened her hold on the plush, choosing to ignore the interruption entirely.
"Your Majesty, it is high time you rose," came a firm but tender voice from behind the door.
"Didn't you realize I was ignoring you?" Freya groaned, her silver eyes narrowing with irritation as they flicked toward the sound.
The voice offered no reply. Instead, the door opened.
"And who said you could enter, Vanra?" she asked coldly, as a silvery-grey haired maid stepped in with unshaken elegance.
"My apologies for the intrusion," Vanra said, bowing deeply as she approached the bed. "But I bring urgent news, Your Majesty."
Her lifeless black eyes shifted toward the massive sleeping feline beside the bed.
"Also, please stop letting Múra laze around like livestock."
Without waiting, she strode over to the cat—and without hesitation—drove her heel into its behind with brutal precision.
"Hggghn!!"
The beast writhed for a moment, then a warm golden light enveloped its body.
A voice, dry and sharp, rang out as the light faded:
"Could you be any less delicate, sister?"
The feline had vanished, replaced by a young woman kneeling on the floor, massaging her rear.
She bore the same face as Vanra but had braided hair of golden-black that fell to her waist.
"You nearly shattered my hymen. Apologize." Múra demanded, her voice quiet but firm, laced with icy authority.
"I have warned you several times, Vanra, not to interrupt my private time with Woody!" Freya furrowed her brows as she pulled a small black wolf plush from within her nightgown.
She pressed a kiss to its fuzzy snout and placed it gently on the small, refined table beside her bed.
"I only have so much time to enjoy myself. These mornings are sacred to me..."
"My humblest apologies, Your Majesty," Vanra said with a bow, her expression unreadable as Múra casually slipped into Freya's bed, wrapping an arm around her waist and licking her cheek with innocent mischief.
"So…" Freya sighed, leaning into Múra's warmth. "What news could possibly be so important that it couldn't wait?"
"Of course," Vanra replied, approaching them and tugging at Múra's cheek with graceful irritation.
"Leviathan has been confirmed missing."
Freya snapped to attention. Her eyes sharpened.
"What?!" she glared. "What kind of early morning jest is that?"
Still holding onto Múra's hair now, Vanra responded calmly, "I do not jest, Your Majesty. Her magical energy flared violently—as if in combat—but then vanished completely. She either lost… or fled."
Freya turned to the towering windows, her gaze thoughtful, concerned.
"Leviathan wouldn't lose to just anyone," she murmured. "Even I would need to invoke divine powers to surpass her… Just what sort of monster could take her on?"
Meanwhile, Vanra had efficiently wrapped a squirming Múra in a thin, glimmering cord—muzzling her up to the mouth.
"That brings us to the next piece of news..." she continued.
Freya looked back over her shoulder. "There's more? I assume it's not as nerve-wracking as Leviathan's disappearance."
She stretched lazily to retrieve another wolf plush from the floor, a gentle smile forming on her lips.
"Ravenswood is here," Vanra stated simply, eyes closed.
The plush fell from Freya's fingers.
"W… What?" she whispered, slowly turning to face Vanra, her expression unreadable. "What did you just say? You're not—Vanra, you're not trying to make jest of me, are you?"
Vanra exhaled quietly. "It troubles me deeply, Your Majesty, how often you assume I lie to you…"
She locked eyes with the Empress again. "Ravenswood is here. In Pison."
Then paused.
"That explosion we heard near the coast… that was his idea of a dramatic arrival. A declaration that he's come to conque—"
She broke off, catching sight of Freya's face.
"Your Majesty…? Are you even listening?"
Freya's palms were cupped against her cheeks, her silver eyes sparkling with wild delight.
"Woody… is coming for me?"
"I don't think that's the case, Your Majesty," Vanra replied flatly.
"Unbelievable," Freya swooned. "And I told him to stay away from me! Ugh, that mutt just can't survive without me!"
"I appear to be the other way around, Your Majesty," Vanra offered calmly.
Freya leapt off the bed, grabbing a plush mid-spin. "Ah! We have to prepare the castle! He probably thinks I'm in some tragic captivity, and might start a war—he did love fighting, that Fenrir."
"Your Majesty, you have an important council meeting this morning. Let's focus on that." Vanra turned, dragging the thoroughly restrained Múra behind her.
"Ahhh, he'll be so excited to see me! But I'll have to scold him for crossing worlds like that… Ehehehe!"
*
A few weeks after Ruben and his cohorts had had unleashed a mile-wide lake of curses and despair…
A magnificently dressed man, square-shouldered and in his prime, strode through an archaic hallway that seemed carved from time itself.
Every inch of the towering red-toned walls glimmered with ancient murals—celestial figures that shimmered and shifted as if breathing through the stone.
The hall stretched nearly seventy feet tall, cloaked in eerie, sacred grandeur.
Trailing a respectful distance behind him was a grey-haired butler—dignified, broad-shouldered, and untouched by frailty despite his age.
The wealthy man rolled his eyes toward the front, where a pair of red-skinned, horned sentinels stood guard.
His gaze settled on the one to the right.
"It's been a while, Rok," he said coolly.
"Ah, nothing of the sort," the red-skinned soldier in military garb replied, turning slightly as he walked. "A great merchant like yourself must carry countless burdens. You're the kind of hard worker every demon would be proud to emulate."
"Oh my," the wealthy man chuckled, brushing a gloved hand over his chest. "You flatter me too much." He turned to the broader, more muscular Redman beside Rok. "And you, Ragna?"
"I'm doing well, Sir Tega," Ragna replied with a proud smile. "We're honored to have you here at the Demon Capital."
They exchanged a few pleasantries as they continued down the grand corridor, eventually reaching a towering, intricately carved brown door.
Rok opened it and stepped aside, allowing the two visitors to enter.
Tega glanced around, subtly admiring the interior:
The quality of the rugged floor, the detailed artistry on the walls, the gentle, breathable air, and the strange yet lavish furniture all whispered of unearthly luxury.
Every detail spoke of elegance and ancient wealth.
"If it isn't Tega Dante!" a deep, resonant voice called from the far end of the chamber.
A tall, striking man emerged from a smaller doorway—short dark-brown hair, piercing brown eyes, and a casual yet kingly garment that clung with tailored precision to his form.
Tega and his butler both bowed low.
"Demon King Zack," Tega greeted, voice smooth. "It's always a pleasure to visit this magnificent castle."
"No need to be so formal," Zack said with a warm grin, striding toward them, every step echoing power and command. "We're friends, are we not?"
He made a slight gesture toward the red-skinned female servants. They bowed and slipped away, no doubt to prepare something suitable for their guest.
"Please," Zack gestured toward the sofa closest to Tega, "sit. There's something of terrible importance we must discuss."
Tega raised a brow as he settled into the seat. "A new business idea, I presume?"
"That's part of it," Zack said, taking his place across from him. "But before we get to that… I want to show you something. Something that could be either a devastating loss for our people—or the greatest opportunity we've ever known. It could mean a collapse for all of us… or the rise of a shield so powerful, nothing could touch us."