The echo of armored boots rang through the dimly lit corridor as Vukan approached the grand double doors. Ornately decorated with embedded gems, the doors shimmered under the flickering light of torches lining the stone walls. Two guards clad in black armor stood rigid, the image of a snarling wolf carved into their breastplates. Their eyes, sharp and unyielding, fixated on Vukan as he halted before them.
"I, Vukan, bring urgent and important news for the Lord." His voice was steady, though the weight of failure pressed heavily upon him.
One of the guards nodded without a word and turned, knocking firmly on the massive doors. A heartbeat later, they creaked open on their own.
A woman's soft, breathy moans spilled into the hallway.
Vukan kept his gaze low, stepping forward as the doors closed silently behind him. The heavy scent of incense mixed with something more primal hung in the air. He knew better than to look, keeping his head bowed as he made his way to the side of the room, where he stood before the lord's table.
"Did you capture the princess?" The voice was deep, edged with impatience.
Vukan clenched his jaw before answering, "The mission failed, Lord."
The air shifted violently.
Before he could react, a crushing force struck his chest, sending him hurtling backward. His body crashed into the stone wall with a sickening thud, a sharp gash splitting across his torso. Pain flared through him as he gasped for breath, looking up at the figure that now stood where he once had.
A massive wolf, its black fur seeming to devour the light, stared down at him. Then, with a grotesque cracking of bones and tearing of flesh, the beast twisted and shifted, its form elongating, reshaping.
In its place now stood the Lord—clad in black armor, his golden eyes burning with fury.
Behind him, seated leisurely in a chair by the table, was another figure—his master. Disheveled hair, a partially loosened dress, and an air of satisfaction made it clear that the pleasure-filled sounds from earlier had belonged to her. She barely acknowledged Vukan's battered form, her attention focused on a goblet of wine in her delicate fingers.
Vukan gritted his teeth and forced himself to his knees. His failure had earned him punishment, but he knew the true suffering had only just begun.
The tension in the room thickened as Ernoux's fists clenched, his golden eyes burning with barely restrained fury. His body tensed, muscles coiling, ready to strike Vukan again—but before he could move, a delicate hand reached out and settled on his arm.
"Enough."
The voice was soft, yet carried undeniable authority. The woman seated leisurely in the chair had finally spoken. Her crimson lips curved into a small, knowing smile as she traced a finger along the rim of her goblet. "Vukan, give me a good reason why I shouldn't have Ernoux hang you from the fort's banners as a warning to incompetents."
Vukan, still kneeling, coughed, blood dripping onto the floor. He swallowed hard, forcing his voice steady. "The attack failed… because of a desire demon."
The room fell silent.
She tilted her head, her golden eyes narrowing. "A desire demon?" Her voice was laced with curiosity, but there was an underlying sharpness to it. "Are you certain?"
Vukan nodded. "Yes. He is in the source realm and calls himself the Lord of Plague."
Qingying's expression shifted, but only slightly. Her aura, usually veiled in an intoxicating charm, remained calm, though the hidden bloodthirst beneath it stirred ever so slightly. "His aura… was it similar to mine?" she asked, her fingers tightening around the goblet.
Vukan hesitated before shaking his head. "No. Not the same. I did not sense any bloodthirst from him. But…" He exhaled sharply, remembering the suffocating presence. "His aura was… different. It was an aura that looked down upon the world itself and completely merged with the world."
For the first time, Qingying's expression turned serious. Her lips barely moved as she whispered a single phrase—yet, in a room filled with extraordinary beings, every ear caught it.
"Innate Demon."
A heavy silence followed. The words alone carried weight, enough to freeze even Ernoux's arrogance for a brief moment.
Ernoux scoffed, waving a dismissive hand. "Qingying, do not worry. A mere source realm demon cannot stop our plans. If he gets in our way, we will kill him."
Qingying's golden eyes gleamed as she turned to him. "Ernoux… you cannot kill an innate demon."
His expression darkened. "And why is that? I am in the True Source realm, while he is merely in the Source realm. Why can I not kill him? Or is it because you two share the same race?" His voice carried a hint of irritation as if the idea of being restrained by something so trivial angered him.
Qingying smirked, but there was no amusement in her eyes. "Neither. You cannot kill an innate protoss in the source realm because… they cannot die."
Ernoux narrowed his eyes. "What?"
Qingying leaned forward, her voice like a whispering flame. "An innate protoss in the source realm cannot be killed. Only one in the Source Venerable realm or higher can kill them. You can wound him, suppress him, perhaps even delay his growth… but no matter what you do, he will not die by your hands."
Ernoux stared at her, his pride battling against the truth in her words. Finally, he exhaled sharply, his expression unreadable. "Really…"
Before he could say more, Qingying stood. Without another word, her body dissolved into a swirling cloud of purple demon energy. The energy flickered like a storm before shooting out of the room, escaping through the window, and vanishing into the night sky.
Ernoux and Vukan rushed toward the window, looking up at the heavens. A massive purple energy cloud was already streaking toward the Fox Race's territory.
Ernoux's jaw tightened. His pride demanded that he ignore her warning, that he prove her wrong.
----
In the grand throne room, the air carried a quiet yet undeniable pressure. The chamber, built from smooth dark stone, gleamed under the glow of floating spirit lanterns. A long, deep crimson carpet stretched from the ornate doors to the elevated throne, five steps above the polished floor.
Seated upon the throne was a striking woman, her golden amber eyes shimmering with intelligence and power. Her long, flowing purple hair cascaded over her shoulders, the same deep hue gracing the luxurious fox tail behind her. Each movement she made exuded grace, yet an unseen authority weighed heavily upon the room.
Before her, standing on the carpet, was another woman—one with golden-purple eyes and a golden tail, each carrying faint, almost imperceptible streaks of purple. She stood with measured poise, yet there was a restrained tension in her stance as if she were holding back the weight of something far greater than what could be seen.
To the left and right of the carpet stood two figures. One was a man with piercing blue eyes, his blue fox tail flicking lightly behind him, his arms crossed as he observed the scene with an unreadable expression. The other was a woman, her silver eyes calm and calculating, her silver fox tail resting motionlessly.
Silence ruled the chamber for a moment longer before the woman on the throne finally spoke. Her voice, smooth as flowing silk yet sharp as a blade, echoed through the grand hall.
"Tell me, daughter—why have you placed a man in the royal guest chamber?"
The woman standing on the carpet lowered her head slightly. "Mother, he is a member of the Desire Protoss Race and has reached the Source Realm."
A scoff broke the air as the blue-tailed male beside the carpet crossed his arms. "Princess Reiko, a mere Source Realm Desire Protoss does not deserve royal treatment," he said bluntly. "Have you forgotten? Our Moon Fox Race may not be as powerful as the super-race Desire Protoss, but we are still a top race. A source realm being is hardly worth such honor."
The silver-tailed woman, standing calmly beside him, tilted her head slightly. "Princess Reiko must have a reason majesty," she addressed looking toward the woman sitting on the throne, before shifting her sharp gaze toward the man. "Takio, your thinking remains unchanged. And then can you tell me why the Werewolf Race, a mere medium race, dares to challenge us?"
Takio's expression darkened, but before he could speak, the woman on the throne raised a hand, silencing the exchange. Her golden-amber eyes focused on her daughter. "Enough. Reiko, give me your reason."
Reiko inhaled before speaking with measured confidence. "Mother, when we were returning with the man and some humans, we were ambushed by a Werewolf raiding party. The man protected us, shielding us from their arrows." She paused, letting the weight of her next words settle. "When the Werewolf raiders came into view, their leader bowed to him in respect. And then…" Her voice dropped slightly. "The man simply told the leader—'Tell your master the reason for your mission's failure is me, the Lord of Plague.'"
A heavy silence followed her words, but this time, the weight in the air was different. The title alone sent a ripple of unease through the room.
The woman on the throne leaned back slightly, her fingers tapping rhythmically against the armrest as she processed the information. Her golden amber eyes darkened in thought.
The silver-tailed woman was the first to break the silence. "Reiko, did you listen carefully? He said 'master,' not 'lord.'"
Reiko nodded without hesitation. "Aunt Miyu, I heard him. He used the word 'master.'"
The woman on the throne exhaled slowly, her gaze sharpening. "A Desire Protoss does not make careless mistakes. He must know that the leader of the Werewolf Race is called the Wolf Lord."
Miyu's expression was unreadable as she turned to the throne. "Majesty, you tasked Takio with investigating the strange werewolves—the ones who fall into madness mid-battle, shrouded in dark energy, and fight beyond their realm. Their sudden rise in power has forced us into a passive position."
The woman on the throne shifted her gaze to Takio. Feeling the weight of their eyes on him, he finally spoke. "Our spies uncovered little. However, they did confirm that a mysterious woman has been living in the Werewolves' royal fort." He hesitated before continuing. "According to the reports, she arrived in their city a few months before the Wolf Lord advanced to the True Source Realm."
The woman's expression darkened. "Takio, why was this never brought to my attention? If this woman is involved, she may be the reason the Wolf Lord was able to break through even while spiritual energy remains sealed."
Miyu's silver eyes flickered with realization. "If she has such means, she may be from one of the Six Protoss Races. They have the resources to help others break through to higher realms, even in times of spiritual energy deprivation."
Takio inclined his head. "Majesty, that was a possibility I considered, which is why I chose to investigate further. Only the super-races have the ability to aid such breakthroughs. But as of now, only two Protoss Races remain connected to the mortal realm—The Desire Protoss of the Demon Realm and the Faith Protoss of the Divine Realm."
Before anyone else could speak, Reiko suddenly interjected. "Mother, among the humans we escorted, I sensed three humans whose auras are somewhat similar to the Faith Protoss."
A heavy silence fell over the room. Outside the chamber, the distant hoot of an owl echoed through the night.
The woman on the throne finally spoke, her tone decisive. "Miyu, tomorrow at breakfast, invite the Desire Protoss and the three humans whose auras resemble the Faith Protoss. I want to uncover the true reason behind their visit. I do not believe they traveled all this way simply for a Bitter White Lotus."
Miyu bowed her head. "Yes, Majesty."
The woman on the throne let her gaze sweep over the room once more before dismissing them. "You are all dismissed."
Takio and Miyu bowed deeply before turning to leave. Reiko lingered for a moment, offering a respectful nod. "Goodnight, Mother." With that, she turned and stepped out of the chamber, the heavy doors closing behind her.
Left alone, the woman on the throne exhaled slowly and leaned back, her posture finally relaxing. Her golden amber eyes drifted upward, settling on the grand chandelier hanging from the ceiling. Its soft glow flickered, casting shifting shadows across the chamber.
Lost in thought, she traced patterns along the throne's armrest, her mind circling the growing storm of unanswered questions.