The charred remains of the demonic wolves still smoldered, their existence reduced to nothing but ash. Yet, amidst the stillness of the forest, a newfound tension crackled in the air—one not born of fear, but of something deeper.
Lycius turned his gaze toward the girl, his golden eyes meeting hers. Despite the terror she had displayed while fleeing from the demonic wolves, she now stood before him without a trace of fear.
Her violet eyes held his in an unwavering stare, neither flinching nor retreating, as if she were peering into the depths of his very soul. Lycius found himself doing the same.
For a moment, the world around them faded.
No monstrous creatures.
No suffocating forest.
Just them.
Time felt irrelevant, and for the first time in his short existence, Lycius found himself at a loss for words.
When he finally spoke, his lips awkwardly parted—and what came out next startled even himself.
"H-Hello!"
The unintentional stammer made his expression falter. Had he just stuttered?
This was new. Unfamiliar. Unacceptable.
Clearing his throat, he forced himself to recover. His mind realigned, instinctively falling into the lessons drilled into him by his mother and aunt.
His next words carried an undeniable authority, his tone firm and demanding.
"Who are you?"
Yet the moment the question left his lips, a strange, displeasing sensation stirred within him.
He hated it.
Hated using this commanding tone toward her.
A flicker of emotion crossed the girl's eyes. It was brief—like lightning striking the night sky—but Lycius's advanced perception caught it instantly.
Sadness.
It was gone in a blink, yet it left an impression on him, gnawing at the edges of his thoughts.
But he did not take back his tone. His mother and aunt had told him before—this was the way of royalty. A tone to establish boundaries.
The girl, however, did not cower or waver.
Instead, she lifted her chin, pride brimming in her words as she introduced herself.
"I am Vynessa Nightbringer, Daughter of Xylara Lightbringer and Michael Lightbringer, Second Princess of the Desire Kingdom—Land of the Succubi."
Her voice was strong, unwavering in its conviction. There was no arrogance—only a profound sense of self-worth, as though the very weight of her lineage was something she carried with honor.
But there was something else.
Something undetectable to most… but Lycius felt it.
She had said those words with pride, but beneath the surface, there was something hollow in her declaration.
A hidden weight. A silent burden.
If only she knew who was standing before her.
If only she knew how truly clueless he was.
"Desire Kingdom?" Lycius inwardly repeated.
His mother and aunt had never spoken of such a place.
They had told him of only one kingdom—the Demon Kingdom.
Had they forgotten to tell him of others? Or… had they chosen not to?
Regardless, they had taught him manners, and if there was one thing he understood, it was that proper etiquette was required when addressing royalty.
Straightening his posture, he performed a slight bow—more of a nod, yet still a display of respect.
"I am His Royal Highness, Prince Lycius Abyssi, of the Demon Kingdom, Son of Lana Abyssi. It is an honor to make your acquaintance."
The moment those words left his mouth, the air shifted.
Vynessa's expression twisted in an instantaneous reaction, her brows furrowing, her eyes igniting with fury.
"Son of Lana Abyssi?" she repeated, her voice trembling—not in fear, but in rage.
Her hands balled into tight fists, her aura flaring wildly as she took a step forward.
"Are you perhaps trying to sully Her True Majesty's name? How dare—"
She stopped.
Or rather, she was stopped.
The air around them, already tense, became suffocating.
A wave of pure, unfiltered murderous intent erupted from behind Lycius, crashing down upon the forest like an unstoppable force of nature.
The trees creaked, their trunks nearly splitting under the pressure. The very ground trembled as if the world itself had been struck by an unseen calamity.
It did not come from Lycius.
It came from behind him.
From her.
From Lana.
The once dense, shadowed forest parted as an overwhelming crimson aura descended upon the clearing.
The temperature dropped—not into coldness, but into something worse.
An unnatural stillness.
A silence before the storm.
Then—a voice.
"Sully my name?"
It was low. Smooth. Yet it carried an unfathomable weight.
Lycius did not turn around. He didn't need to.
He could feel her presence behind him—his mother.
Vynessa, however, was not prepared.
Her entire body froze, her pupils shrinking, her breath catching in her throat.
Her instincts—the same instincts that had been screaming for her to flee from the demonic wolves—were now silent.
Not because they no longer feared for her life.
But because they knew it was already over.
Her knees buckled, but she willed herself to stand firm, though her trembling fingers betrayed her.
Lana stepped forward, her crimson eyes glowing with an eerie luminescence, her midnight-black hair cascading like rivers of ink.
The air became heavier. The space around them seemed to distort as reality itself recoiled at her presence.
"I wonder…" Lana continued, her voice dripping with an almost dangerous amusement. "Would you care to repeat those words… little princess?"
Vynessa's breathing was shallow, her throat dry.
She was a princess, a daughter of one of the most powerful rulers in the Desire Kingdom. She had been raised with the belief that she was above most beings.
But this…
This was a nightmare given form.
Her mind screamed at her to speak, to apologize, to correct her words—but her mouth refused to move.
Before her, stood the Demon Queen.
The being who reigned above all demons.
And she had insulted her son.
Vynessa had thought she understood power.
But now, standing in the presence of Lana Abyssi, she realized—
She had never even glimpsed it.
The air twisted, warping under the sheer force of Lana's presence. The weight of her fury pressed down on reality itself, an unseen force that made the very planet tremble.
Then, she spoke—a voice like poisoned silk, dripping with venomous scorn.
"You have the nerve to say my own son would sully my name—when your kind has already disgracefully sullied it?"
Her words were not mere sound.
They were a decree. A judgment. A sentence.
The moment they left her lips, the world responded in kind.
The ground fractured, massive fault lines splitting across the land. Mountains groaned as if bowing before her rage, and distant seas raged as tsunamis began to form. The skies, once dark with the eternal shade of the demonic forest, cracked with scarlet lightning.
Lana Abyssi's wrath was not merely felt—it was experienced by the world itself.
But before the calamity could fully manifest—Lycius vanished.
With an effortless display of Void Manipulation, he flickered out of existence, only to reappear beside his mother in a single breath.
Softly, gently, he reached for her hand.
His fingers curled around hers—not in restraint, but in comfort.
Then, he spoke.
A voice soothing as a lullaby, steady as the tide—a voice he reserved only for his mother and aunt.
"Mother, calm down."
His words were neither a command nor a plea.
They were absolute.
Vynessa, still frozen in place, felt something twist deep inside her.
Jealousy.
A deep, unexplainable yearning bloomed within her, one she had never felt before.
She wanted that.
She wanted him to use that same voice with her.
For that brief, fleeting moment, she forgot her fear of the Demon Queen.
And in the very next breath—
Silence.
Like the closing of a forbidden book, Lana's rage vanished.
The murderous intent that had once suffocated the air evaporated.
The earthquakes that had threatened to reshape the planet ceased.
The skies, once tearing apart under the weight of her fury, settled.
Everything… returned to peace.
Vynessa's heart pounded in her chest, her breaths uneven as she stared at Lycius in utter disbelief.
This boy—claiming to be the Prince of the Demon Kingdom—had just calmed the infamous Malevolent Demon Queen.
A being known across all continents as The Massacre Lover.
And he had done it with nothing but a single touch. A single whisper.
Who… who was he?
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