image [https://i.imgur.com/Ya3vB0P.png]
The chamber lay shrouded in shadows, its ancient stone walls bearing the weight of history. Tapestries of scars—etched by time and conflict—whispered silent tales of forgotten challengers and pacts long since broken, their promises reduced to nothing but ash or dust.
The air was thick with the cloying scent of incense, its sickly-sweet fragrance weaving through the chamber like a haunting whisper. It lingered, oppressive and hostile, a silent warning in the very atmosphere itself—as if the room were bracing for some unspeakable horror to unfold.
In the distance, a shadowed figure melded with the night, waiting to be unveiled. It sat with regal grace upon a throne of polished obsidian and white gold, its surface gleaming faintly in the dim light of flickering flames, casting ripples of crimson across the darkness as if the place itself were alive, watching.
As you draw closer, she reveals herself:
The first thing to notice is the air, searing with intensity—shaped by her will alone, the room radiates heat, as if it were a volcano on the brink of eruption.
Next, her eyes—contrasted sharply against the oppressive heat—were as blue and cold as ice, twin stars rising against the vast expanse of the cosmos.
Her face, a vision of unmatched beauty, bore flawless dark skin and plump pink lips, seductive and deadly, like a predator luring its next prey.
A small nose, flushed in slight red, mirrored the vibrant life in her cheeks.
Midnight-dark hair cascaded over her shoulders like liquid silk, glimmering with an otherworldly sheen. She idly twirled a strand around her finger, the motion slow and deliberate, as if the fate of the world had already been sealed—and she was its rightful owner.
From her head, spiraled two onyx horns, their curves hypnotic, as though they had been forged by some divine darkness. Her left horn cradled a flower—an impossibly blue rose, unlike any seen before. Its petals shimmered with an ethereal glow, the kind that only magic-infused soil could nurture. Its fate was sealed, but perfect: to become the Demon King’s accessory—a symbol of a world already bending to her will.
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The garment, though elegant, was designed to unsettle; it clung to her form with an unsettling allure, its neckline laced with fine embroidery resembling thorns. Around her neck, a choker pulsed with a strange, eerie rhythm, its strands seeming more like veins than threads of yarn.
She waited—effortlessly, with unwavering confidence, and an air of complete control;
Lilith Despera, the Demon King!
Her gaze barely lifted toward the challenger, and why should it? Her power had far surpassed his since her ascension!
A sharp, biting echo shattered the silence.
“Any last words, SSS-rank adventurer, Morning Star-Alexisz?” she asked, her voice sweet yet laced with venom.
Alexisz lay on the ground, drained and breathless, already resigned to his fate. His body trembled with exhaustion, yet he reached into his pocket with a final, shaky resolve.
He withdrew a tiny vial, its contents a deep crimson liquid sealed beneath a golden cap.
The potion was known as 'Last Resort,' a dark brew crafted by most talented alchemists—a final gamble for those with nothing left to lose. It granted the user every ounce of power they could muster in their entire life, but the cost… was their remaining lifespan, traded in a single, desperate gulp!
He downed the liquid in one swift motion, as if it were a shot of alcohol, the effect instant and overwhelming. His body surged to its feet, stiff and unnatural, like an undead risen from the grave—ready to face the Demon King once more.
Her face? Blank. It hadn't changed, a mask of indifference that had remained unbroken since her grand evolution.
Alexisz blitzed at an unnatural speed no human should be capable of, rushing for his enemy with a warrior's cry!
But something was off..
All this time, Alexisz had watched his own body challenge the Demon King from afar, but how?
A few moments ago, it had happened…
The instant he surged toward his enemy, the potion’s power bursting through him, he was already decapitated.
In one fluid motion, Lilith’s fingernail elongated unnaturally, becoming sharper than any blade, and with it, she severed his head clean off.
Never leaving her throne.
Never abandoning elegance.
It all happened faster than the man's unholy speed could ever react.
Alexisz’s awareness dissolved, and an unsettling peace consumed him as he accepted defeat. With his final breath, he uttered a pair of final words as advised earlier:
"Your win... for now."
At last, Lilith properly raised her gaze—not out of respect, but mused curiosity.
Before her, the adventurer began to crumble, his end as unnatural as his last words. No rot, no lingering flesh—but ash, scattering against the wind—a forgotten Ilium caught in the heat of the unforgiving desert sun.
She blinked in genuine confusion. Once, twice, then thrice—before erupting into laughter.
"The fuck’s that supposed to mean?" she exclaimed, her alluring voice lilting with a mischievous charm, each chuckle dripping with amusement.
"Power at what cost?
Souls are but a cheap price for
My youth and beauty!"
image [https://i.imgur.com/ZuMtIVZ.png]