The void hadn’t fully closed yet—crimson light from the fading door still pulsed like a dying heartbeat. The Consort’s silhouette shimred at the edge of it, katana half-drawn, eyes still blazing with the kind of fury that could level cities.
"Why?" she snapped, voice sharp enough to cut glass.
"Why what, My Consort?" The red door pulsed once more—dimr now, retreating like a dying heartbeat pulling back from the shore of reality—before the One Above’s voice returned, still warm, still boyish, still carrying that razor-thin edge of delighted, predatory curiosity.
From the shadows beyond the door ca the Consort’s voice—sharp, edged with confusion and the barely restrained irritation of soone who’d served for centuries and still wasn’t used to being left in the dark.
"Master..." Her tone was low, almost accusatory, the kind of question only an immortal lapdog dared voice aloud. "Why the sudden change of heart? You wanted him dead tonight. I felt it. The sword was drawn. The kill intent you gave off was a given. The aura was already tasting his blood. Why pull back now?"
A pause—long enough for the fading void to swallow the echo of her words.
Then another laugh—bright, rolling, genuinely amused, echoing through the dissolving black like sunlight stabbing into a crypt full of rotting secrets.
"Yes... I did want him dead," the One Above admitted cheerfully, voice bright as broken glass. "Very much so. The little Tiamat rat had the audacity took my brides, as if it is not enough... he dared... the bastard dared to walk into my estate, touch what’s mine... my Little Succubus Queen, and still draw breath afterward. I was going to paint the flagstones with his entrails, let the roses drink what was left, and be done with it in one clean stroke."
The laugh softened—turned thoughtful, almost conspiratorial, dripping with the slow, hungry satisfaction of soone who’d just spotted a better move on the board.
"But then I thought better of it. Not because of his threats that he thought worked. I left him for a completely different reason."
The voice dropped lower, the playful boyish tone gaining a darker, calculating undertone—like silk sliding over a blade.
"Phei is going to conquer Paradise. On his own. Without lifting a single finger. He’s already started—three weeks, and he’s got the THREE Paradise princesses... my brides wrapped around his cock, the academy buzzing like flies on carrion, my Succubus Queen and her daughter herself pulling strings just to drag him inside the gates, and I hate to rember how that eting escalated.
"He’ll keep climbing. He’ll keep taking. And when he finally has all of Paradise clenched in his fist—when every legacy family kneels or burns at his feet—he’ll be the perfect weapon."
A pleased, vibrating hum rolled through the dark, thick with anticipation.
"All I have to do is wait. Let him do the hard work. Let him bleed for it. Let him carve his na into this little island of power with his own teeth and claws. And when he’s standing atop the ruins, crowned in ash and screams... I simply take him. Bind him. Break him until every last spark of defiance is mine to command. Then the two of us—together—will march into the World of Powers and burn it down from the inside.
"Take the World of Powers as mine with him by my side... the most powerful Dargon to ever live... as my slave!"
The voice turned almost dreamy, savoring the vision.
"Why waste centuries grinding Paradise into my territory myself; Waste ti trying to have all the Legacy Families as mine to command before they all awaken and ready to be what they’d been before... why waste energy... when I can have a dragon do it for ... and deliver himself to my doorstep gift-wrapped, arrogant, beautiful, and ripe for claiming?"
The Consort was quiet for a long mont—long enough that the silence itself grew teeth.
When she spoke again, her voice had lost so of its bite, replaced by wary calculation.
"...So you’re going to let him live. Let him grow. Let him think he’s winning."
"Precisely. Yes, Consort."
Another pause—then, almost hesitantly, as if testing dangerous waters:
"Mistress... will you then reveal to him that you’re not... a man?"
The One Above’s voice shifted.
Gone was the bright, boyish laugh.
In its place ca sothing sweeter, silkier, dripping with playful venom—like a succubus murmuring filthy promises against the shell of an ear in the dark.
"Wouldn’t that be so cute?" The words purred sarcastically, soft and teasing, laced with dark honey that could rot teeth. "To see his little face when the mask drops—when he realizes the terrifying force that’s been hunting him, choking him, dangling him by the throat in mid-air... is a woman. That the hand around his windpipe belonged to . That every ti he raged and swore he’d ’rail’ my Consort into oblivion, he was cursing a lady who could make him kneel with a smile and a snap of her fingers."
The tone flipped—sudden, sharp, amused contempt replacing the seduction like a blade flicking out of silk.
"No, you idiot," she snapped, voice dropping back to crisp, dangerous silk. "Of course I’m not revealing myself to a pest I’m supposed to use and squash later. Or—better yet—turn into a permanent slave dragon, collared and leashed, wings clipped, fire banked, existing only to serve and beg."
A low, wicked chuckle rolled through the fading dark—rich, filthy, delighted.
"Why spoil the fun? Let him keep thinking he’s dealing with so shadowy ’he.’ Let him swagger and plot and growl his little threats about railing divine pussy. Let him build his empire, fuck his way through Paradise, believe he’s untouchable."
The voice turned molten, possessive, hungry.
"It’ll make breaking him so much sweeter when the mask finally drops and he realizes he’s been snarling against at a woman this entire ti... and that woman owns him now—body, soul, bloodline, everything. He’ll look up from his knees, eyes wide, pretty mouth open in shock, and I’ll smile down at him and whisper: ’Welco ho, little dragon. You’ve been mine since the mont you stepped into Paradise.’"
The red door gave one last slow pulse—like a heartbeat slowing to nothing—then dissolved completely into the dark, leaving only silence.
Phei Ryujin Tiamat was completely unaware that the real ga had only just begun—and that the player who mattered most had decided not to kill him...
...but to collect him.
Body and soul.
Forever.
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