For several hours, Meldon continued the process, replacing the old needles with new ones. Floida assisted her by wiping her sweat and bringing the necessary materials, though she had to insist on being included, provided Meldon repeatedly reminded her to keep her hands clean.

Eventually, although the dark magic hadn’t been completely expelled from the body—which was technically impossible since the princess’s body had absorbed it and even seemed to have developed some immunity—she managed to purge the dirty life force that could potentially cause decay.

Now, all that remained was to stitch up the body. Meldon raised her hands again, allowing the pure mana to penetrate. She was meticulous, and she believed it was necessary. Demons weren’t as fragile as other races; they didn’t easily get infected even from severe wounds, let alone small cuts. However, Meldon had been raised nearly seven centuries ago, before the great war, by an elven scholar who had come to the demon island when she was very young. What she learned from him wasn’t just about healing demons but also about understanding the path of body and soul for other races. Among these teachings, Meldon, who had learned to work cleanly and precisely above all else, couldn’t abandon this habit.

“Lady Floida, could you bring the needle set over there?” Meldon asked politely. Floida glanced at the wall in the direction she indicated. Hanging there was a small box with a black frame containing various needles with curved tips.

She carefully retrieved it and took a quick look before placing it on Meldon’s table. Indeed, she had many delicate, small tools. After witnessing her previous work, Floida thought Meldon lived up to her name. It wasn’t as if they didn’t know each other; it was just the first time Floida had seen her in such deep focus. Meldon, the physician and alchemist, was not known to allow anyone other than patients into her room. If it weren’t for the king, she might have even thrown Floida out after taking the princess.

As for the task at hand, Meldon took out the needles from this box and did something the others didn’t expect. She inserted each needle into the pads of all her fingers, threading them through and out from under her nails, pushing them completely through so that her black blood, now in the form of thread, dangled magically in the air, ready to be used. It was as if she was using her ten fingers to handle ten different needles simultaneously. The thread, infused with clean mana and transformed from liquid to solid, was her own blood.

She merely moved her fingers slightly, and the needles began stitching the flesh on their own. It looked as though each needle had a mind of its own, but this was not the case. It was the result of Meldon’s extraordinary ability to focus on multiple things at once, a skill that showcased her intelligence and precision. Without consuming excessive mana, she efficiently sewed the princess’s body. Fortunately, the princess didn’t seem uncomfortable or in pain. She was calm, which worked in Meldon’s favor. However, the intensity of her gaze, as if daring Meldon to break her concentration, was palpable.

When Meldon finally finished the stitching process, she used a light telekinetic spell to place the needles inside a glass case for cleaning later.

She then raised her hand again, cleansing her hands with the purified, refined mana she gathered from the air. Kneeling before the bed, she placed one hand gently on the princess’s chest and the other on her back, channeling her mana while casting spells that caused her hands to glow with deep red and orange hues.

Floida recognized the spell. It was one that harmonized bodily and spiritual qi, aimed at encouraging the regrowth of lost mana channels or meridians within the body—essentially convincing the body to adapt in this way. Although it had never been tried on a living being before, the technique had been tested on dead bodies with severed meridians. It allowed the body's blood vessels to evolve and transform, converting them into mana channels, though it erased the anatomical structure of these vessels entirely. Meldon found no issue with using this method, especially since the princess, lacking a heart and organs, was effectively half-dead. Unused blood vessels could therefore be converted into mana channels without harm. Besides, advanced demons like Aidz didn’t even need such channels in the first place, as they gained their power through a different means than cultivation. Who’s to say the Princess won’t follow the same path?

Floida had once come across this spell, called "Meridian Redistribution," in a thick tome over 4,000 pages long in the palace library. It contained extensive knowledge of ancient theurgy. Even though it was introduced early in the book, it had taken her a long time to grasp its meaning. After all, spells were grounded in mathematical formulas and probability-based calculations. They were inventive in nature, inherently suited for invention.

If 2 + 1 = 3, the effect was determined by considering the element or force that bent nature within the equation, resulting in a spell. In this sense, it was similar to alchemical and chemical formulas. Each element or natural force was broken down into numerical symbols and figures. These symbols and figures were then mixed within formulas to create different spells. The more complex or intricate the formula, the higher the possibility of creating more refined spells. For example, a simple formula could produce an ordinary water spell, while a complex one could create a water barrier, water claws, a whirlpool, or even more detailed creations like an ice sword or even an ice fork and spoon. Meldon’s earlier spell, performed with her own blood, was also the result of a complex formula—more specifically, it was made by blending her blood's unique codes with several other formulas.

After formulating the spell, the application came next, which was just as challenging—if not even more difficult—than forming the equation itself. Theoretical calculations often required numerous trial and error attempts during the practical execution to reach the correct form. Depending on the power of the spell, these errors could lead to injuries or even death. Of course, naming the spell was also important. It made it easier to locate when documented and allowed the caster, if they had mentally mastered the formula beforehand, to perform the spell simply by recalling its name.

In short, theurgy required intelligence. Although Floida was clever and by no means unintelligent, she didn’t believe she had the capacity to understand the theurgy, nor did she have the desire to put in that much effort. For this reason, many people and soldiers from various backgrounds chose to develop their somatic qi in the path of physical strength rather than pursue the path of theurgy. While demons were naturally inclined toward both paths more than most other races, even they struggled to find skilled mages.

Because of their rarity, those who could perform magic held high positions or were considered part of the elite, no matter where they were in the world. Even though Meldon was one of these individuals, her lack of arrogance often gave the impression that she wasn’t particularly talented. However, Floida had learned today that this impression was far from accurate.

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...

Meanwhile, the princess watched the events unfold with sleepy eyes. She looked as if she were saying, "Just finish it already so I can nap."

As Meldon worked to create new meridians—or rather, as she attempted to—the princess, unaware of her world, glanced up at the ceiling, then at the alchemist, then to the muscular woman who offered her a warm smile, and finally to the elderly man sitting on the couch, watching her with a neutral expression. The princess tilted her head as she continued to stare at him. She didn't like him? Or was it just her curiosity?

Well, it's not like one could know it for sure.

After all, who could have known that the elderly man, dressed entirely in black, harbored multiple cries and pleas within.

"Help me! Someone! Save me! I’m in pain! Please, save me! This place is so painful!"

"Liwa, Herda! My daughters, where are they? I... I left them behind... Who... Who will care for them?"

"Get me out of here! Get me out of this hell! I don’t want to die! Let me live!"

Interesting.

At a time when it was unusual for the princess to even be self-aware, this was what she thought.

Interesting.

She felt no fear, disturbance or anything else. She simply found it interesting.

The elderly man, shrouded in a dark aura, seemed to be nourished by an uncountable number of souls he had consumed. And the screams reached only the princess's ears within the room.

The princess pointed her finger at the king, muttering something. However, the words from her mouth held no meaning. Floida and Meldon, slightly surprised by the princess’s gesture, turned to the king. The king frowned slightly, as if the mighty demon king was somehow unsettled by the gaze and actions of this small child. Slowly, he stood up.

"Is it done?" he asked Meldon, without taking his eyes off the princess, who stared back at him with the same expressionless look.

Meldon and Floida exchanged glances, sharing their confusion. Meldon stood up and bowed her head slightly. "Yes, Your Majesty. I hope the princess’s condition will improve."

The king nodded slightly, turning to Floida. "Take the princess to the room prepared for her. She is your responsibility from now on." His eyes narrowed as he continued, his voice dropping to a tone almost inaudible but caught by Floida. "I can trust you with this, am I right, Lady Floida?"

Floida immediately bowed her head. "Yes, Your Majesty. Rest assured, you can trust me with the princess." Her tone remained calm and steady, yet it contrasted with her inner turmoil. After all, fearing for one's life wasn’t unreasonable when serving a king who had killed his own wife, the queen, without hesitation.

With that, Floida took the princess into her arms and was dismissed by the king, leaving Meldon alone with him.

An extended silence filled the room. Neither Meldon, who stared tensely at her nails, nor the king, who scrutinized her with his gaze, broke it. Finally, the king took a step closer, his tone commanding as he said, "Now, tell me what you saw, what you understood. Any anomaly in that child—I want to hear it."

Why didn't she die or how had she survived in the first place? Why had her once vivid and innocent looks now become so emotionless and knowing? The king wanted to know everything.

Meldon took a tense breath and raised her gaze, delivering the words that would left the king speechless. "Your Majesty, the princess is actually..."

...

Floida, with the weightless princess in her arms, who calmly observed her surroundings throughout the walk, passed through the door guarded by a tall demon sentinel, accompanied by the servants trailing behind her.

Here's the Newborn's chamber.

The room was draped in shades of gray. Near the window, there was a desk and chair, while along the wall stood a few comfortable couches in deep red and black tones. Nearby was a large crib, and in the far center of the room, a big bed surrounded by sheer curtains. This bed, of course, wouldn’t be used until the princess no longer needed the crib.

Floida started by assigning tasks to the servants. One was to clean the room, another to prepare the bathtub for the princess’s bath, and set out her clothes for when she was done.

Another servant began arranging the dishes prepared by the head chef, just in case the princess might be hungry.

Despite the common belief, demons, unlike their ancient ancestors—those monstrous creatures who tore each other apart to grow stronger—were beings who lived like other races and could eat regular food. Instead of fighting one another to determine the strongest leader, they had a proper system of governance and law led by the king and important legislators, living lives not too different from humans. They desired cleanliness, wanted to enjoy and appreciate the taste of food. They sought to adorn themselves with clothing and jewelry, or to admire something beautiful.

In short, they were no different from other races.

However, as an ordinary human, if you ever encountered a demon, you would either soil yourself in fear or run as fast as you could. It wasn’t just their towering figures, often reaching two meters or more regardless of gender, nor was it the cursed horns; it was the ominous aura that suffocated other beings and their unsettling stares. There were aspects of them that would always appear frightening, things that couldn’t be changed, no matter what they did.

Though demons had been fierce and feared creatures since ancient times, they were, in truth, intelligent and cunning. When they lost the great war centuries ago, they realized something had to change, or they would face extinction. Inviting scholars and scientists from various races to their islands was the most significant step they took to address their societal deformations.

As they learned to be a more cultured race, seeing the world from multiple perspectives rather than a single lens, they began to develop further. They started imitating humans and other races, learning to express emotions through facial expressions. They paved the way to becoming a society with governance and thus laid the foundation for a kingdom, adopting legal and diplomatic systems.

Later, a council was established in the continent of Lewes—a city-state that emerged as a neutral zone and acted as a bridge between the powerful kingdoms of Lewes and the demon kingdom, playing a major role in bridging relations.

Over time, it became normal for demons to enter the nations of other races—provided they had the required documents and maintained discretion—and even for demon nobles to be invited to royal balls.

Of course, all of this would be overturned once Prince Aidz Hū Baūl ascended the throne. The prince, who took the throne three centuries ago, had secretly, since his princely days, harbored a desire to revive the war, reclaim the lands and fearsome reputation the demons once held, and restore the honor of his ancestors. At least, that’s what everyone believed. Whether that was the truth or not, and if not, what his real intentions were, would only be known by the king himself.

What was known for sure was that he had wiped out a human kingdom within eight years, enslaving its people after taking its valuable resources.

But returning to the present, Floida watched the princess sleep soundly in her crib, breathing softly, feeling an inexplicable mix of emotions she couldn’t understand. Her small red lips parted adorably, the short black horn on the left side of her head pressing against the pillow, and the white hair she inherited from her mother was just starting to grow. She looked so pure and untouched, as if the events she had gone through were all a lie. She finally looked like a baby, just as she should.

If only the Queen could witness this moment...

Floida couldn’t help but feel a twinge of guilt. She didn’t know why she felt guilty; after all, she had done nothing more than watch over the queen. It was the king who had killed the queen and put her own daughter in this situation.

Still, she wished the queen could be here with her daughter now. The expressions on her face when her baby was first born—the joy and maternal warmth—tightened Floida’s heart. She had been so happy, so hopeful...

Why, then, had the king killed her without hesitation? Was the king a fool? He had a long life, and in his case, he could even be immortal. Couldn’t he have waited another century to have a new child? Or was he, from the beginning, looking for an excuse to get rid of the queen?

Floida felt a headache coming on. There was so much to think about, and she already knew she wasn’t the best person for this.

No matter what they thought, it was the duty of the king's subjects to obey his commands. Therefore, they had no right to question him. Floida knew this all too well, albeit bitterly.

So the only thing she could hope for was that the princess would not share the same fate as the queen.

*

Her humble hope...