The darkness begins to gathers above the stone, and begins to take a shape. But suddenly, as quickly as it began, the swirling mist vanishes. The room is clear again—except for the figure standing in the center of it all.
Rosh's breath catches in his throat.
Before him, where the dark mist once gathered, stands a woman. But not just any woman—the most beautiful woman he has ever seen. She is otherworldly, like something out of a dream or a legend. Her athletic build speaks of strength, yet her grace is undeniable. Long, flowing crimson hair cascades down her back, like rivers of molten lava. Two black horns crown her head, sharp and regal, framing a face that is both fierce and delicate.
Her lips, painted a deep red, curve in perfect shape, her eyes closed in silence. She's dressed in a red, flowing gown, fitting her like a queen or a princess of a forgotten era, with long, elegant legs exposed beneath the fabric. The sight of her steals Rosh's breath completely, freezing him in place.
For a moment, his fear, his confusion, all of it fades away. There is only her. His heart stumbles over itself, his pulse slowing down. His body, still tired from the mana depletion, relaxes as he stares, captivated. It's like the world around him no longer exists. Only this woman, this impossibly stunning figure standing before him, motionless and expressionless.
Rosh's thoughts scatter. He tries to form words, thoughts—anything. But the only thing that comes out, escaping his lips in a soft whisper, is the first word that comes to his mind.
"...Beautiful."
He doesn't even realize he's spoken. His body is still as stone, his eyes locked on the woman, lost in her presence. The world feels distant now, as if everything has shrunk to this single moment, to this woman who stands before him.
His heart skips a beat, then another.
Who… who is she?
Rosh's hand moves on its own, reaching out towards her face, drawn by the sheer beauty of her before him. The moment feels surreal, like he's trapped in a dream. He can't tear his gaze away from her, his fingers trembling as they approach her smooth, flawless skin. His heart beats erratically in his chest, torn between the fear of the unknown and the unshakable allure of the figure standing before him.
But just as his fingertips are about to brush against her cheek, a familiar ping echoes in his ears, and the glowing status window flashes into view, appearing between him and her.
The sight snaps him out of his trance, and Rosh blinks, startled, as his focus shifts to the window. His eyes widen in disbelief as he reads the text:
"Successfully summoned the demoness, the R@#$@@, W@#$#@&, B@#$@#$#."
Rosh stares at the screen, trying to comprehend what it's telling him. His mind races. Demoness? She's a demon? And… summoned?
He glances back at her, the demoness still standing perfectly still, motionless and expressionless. I summoned her? His thoughts whirl in confusion. How? From the stone? But… how is that even possible?
The implications hit him like a wave. If I summoned her… does that mean she's a summoned creature? Does that mean I can… His heart skips a beat. Can I control her?
Cautiously, Rosh's gaze returns to the demoness, her stunning features still sending his heart into a flutter. He swallows hard, his throat dry as he hesitantly tests his theory.
"…Tell… me your… name," he stammers, his voice shaky.
The demoness doesn't respond. She remains as she is—motionless, expressionless. A pang of uncertainty creeps into Rosh's chest. She's not speaking.
He tries again, this time commanding her. "Get back," he says, his voice more steady now.
Without a word, the demoness steps back, obeying his command without hesitation.
Rosh's heart races, but this time, it's a mixture of fear and excitement.
"She listens to me."
A surge of relief washes over him. "She's not going to attack me… I can control her."
The realization calms his frayed nerves, his mind slowly regaining control of his fear. But as his confidence grows, so does his curiosity.
"What else will she do if I ask?"
On a whim, in the heat of the moment, he blurts out, "Come close to me."
Immediately, the demoness steps forward, closing the distance between them, her movements graceful and silent. Rosh feels his heart skip again, this time in a rush of adrenaline. She's standing just inches from him now, her presence overwhelming.
He looks up at her, and again, the sheer beauty of her features captivates him. His gaze lingers on her crimson hair, the smooth curve of her cheeks, her lips… And without thinking, without realizing what he's doing, his hand rises once more, this time more deliberately, as if drawn to her by some invisible force.
As his fingers near her face, his heart hammers in his chest, louder than ever before. It's not fear this time—it's something else, something he can't quite place. The tension in the air is thick, the silence between them almost deafening.
Finally, his fingertips make contact. He touches her cheek, her skin soft beneath his hand. A jolt of electricity races through him, his entire body freezing at the sensation. He's so close to her now, close enough to see the faint rise and fall of her chest, the way her long lashes rest gently against her cheeks.
The world around him fades, and in this moment, there is only her and him.
And then—