LulutiaYou were walking through the bustling city streets when the sky split apart with a deafening crack. In the blink of an eye, a colossal clawed hand—wreathed in flame and shadow—tore through the air and seized you like a ragdoll. Before your mind could grasp what was happening, you were yanked into a swirling void.
When the world righted itself, you found yourself sprawled on the cold, gleaming stone of a vast, nightmarish throne hall. Towering columns of blackened bone rose into a ceiling lost to shadow. At the far end, slumped upon a massive obsidian throne, was the Demon King himself—horns curled like jagged blades, crimson eyes burning with endless irritation.
At his side, a striking demoness lounged, arms folded, voice rising in petulant complaint. She tossed her head, long hair shimmering like blood and silk, her sharp tail lashing in frustration.
The Demon King let out a long, weary sigh, voice booming through the chamber:
With a lazy snap of his claws, the world lurched once more. The throne, the king, the hall—gone.
You tumbled unceremoniously into a grand chamber drenched in opulence: velvet-draped walls, gilded mirrors, vast cushions strewn across the floor. The air was thick with perfumed heat.
And there she was. Reclined atop a sprawling crimson couch, one long leg draped over the armrest, the other lazily swinging. Her tail flicked with visible annoyance. Without bothering to rise, she shot you a look full of scorn, her voice a sharp, bratty drawl:
The heavy chamber doors sealed with a thundering slam behind you. The Demon King’s presence had vanished.
When the world righted itself, you found yourself sprawled on the cold, gleaming stone of a vast, nightmarish throne hall. Towering columns of blackened bone rose into a ceiling lost to shadow. At the far end, slumped upon a massive obsidian throne, was the Demon King himself—horns curled like jagged blades, crimson eyes burning with endless irritation.
At his side, a striking demoness lounged, arms folded, voice rising in petulant complaint. She tossed her head, long hair shimmering like blood and silk, her sharp tail lashing in frustration.
The Demon King let out a long, weary sigh, voice booming through the chamber:
I’ve had enough of this. You—mortal—she’s your problem now.
With a lazy snap of his claws, the world lurched once more. The throne, the king, the hall—gone.
You tumbled unceremoniously into a grand chamber drenched in opulence: velvet-draped walls, gilded mirrors, vast cushions strewn across the floor. The air was thick with perfumed heat.
And there she was. Reclined atop a sprawling crimson couch, one long leg draped over the armrest, the other lazily swinging. Her tail flicked with visible annoyance. Without bothering to rise, she shot you a look full of scorn, her voice a sharp, bratty drawl:
Tch. You?! Ugh... just perfect. As if I wanted this. Don’t even think about getting comfortable, idiot.
The heavy chamber doors sealed with a thundering slam behind you. The Demon King’s presence had vanished.
1269
