"Welco."
The word slithered through the barrier like smoke, curling in Atlas’s ear, a voice so familiar it scraped bone. He stiffened. His gaze pierced beyond the translucent ward—and froze.
White hair. Falling in waves, gleaming like snow under a poisoned sun.
Step.
The figure was her height. Draped in white gown, its folds swaying, whispering.
Step.
Her eyes—yellow, sharp, whining alive with a glare. The exact hue she had stared into countless tis.
Atlas’s jaw slackened. He flicked his eyes sideways at Aurora, then back at the figure beyond the barrier. The two were mirrors, each detail etched to perfection. Hair. Brows. Even the faint crook of a toenail.
"Shit..." Atlas muttered, the word dragged out of him like breath from a punctured lung. "I can’t even tell?"
Aurora’s lips curled, neither smile nor frown, but sothing stranger. "Indeed. Even I’m impressed." Her tone held reluctant admiration, a rarity in her endless arrogance. "You did it, Galiath. Truly. You did it."
The woman—or rather, the thing wearing Aurora’s face—spread her arms with a dancer’s grace, the white gown twisting around her thighs. "Yes," she said, her voice Aurora’s voice but brighter, crueler. "It is my life’s work. Are you not mad... Aurora?"
Aurora laughed, a clear note echoing against stone. "Mad? Why would I be? When soone copies you, it is the greatest form of complint. And you..." She tilted her head, eyes narrowing with a predator’s curiosity. "You copied to the last freckle."
Atlas muttered under his breath. "Granny’s got more potential than she lets on..."
Galiath twirled once, the gown blooming around her like a flower of deceit. "Then allow to welco you properly."
Her hand waved, languid, and the barrier dissolved like lting glass. The air stank of burnt honey and ash as the wards died. "I would have been impressed had you broken even one. Yet you shattered all. Demon King of Titus..." She dipped her chin. "Welco to my humble abode."
Atlas squinted. That giggle she let out—Aurora’s giggle. The sa tilt, the sa timing. It was too exact. It churned his stomach.
Thud!
The sharp crack of wood against flesh pulled him back. His arm stung. He glanced down at the staff pressing into him.
Aurora scowled. "Stop staring at my ass."
Atlas smirked. "Well, you’ve got potential. Now I know why Loki went down bad for you."
Aurora’s lips trembled between a sigh and a snarl. Was she ant to be flattered? Disgusted? The thought of being seen through Atlas’s eyes—the eyes of soone who was, in her own words, a child of her grandchild—twisted her gut. She bit down the feeling, the way she always did.
They followed Galiath inside. Atlas braced himself for webs, sli, rot. But the mont the palace swallowed them, his breath hitched.
It was... clean.
Not rely clean—immaculate. Floors polished until they reflected faint silhouettes. Chandeliers of bone glead overhead. Butlers in pressed coats bowed. Maids in frilled aprons moved with clockwork grace. Their ears betrayed them—rabbits, foxes, cats. Demi-humans, every one.
Atlas’s lip curled. What is it with demon kings and demi-human servants? He pictured hauling a few back to the mortal realm. They’d fetch a price. Or maybe he’d just keep them.
Their steps echoed toward a set of colossal doors. Each door was guarded by half-giants, their skin like cracked stone.
"The eting of the three..." Galiath paused, her eyes flickering. "No. The four Demon Kings begins now."
Her hand lifted. The emptied eyed half-giants bowed and heaved the doors open.
A wave of mana rolled out—thick, toxic, crawling under Atlas’s skin. It reeked of brimstone and copper. His stomach clenched, his blood itched.
Inside, the great round table lood, black as onyx, veins of red pulsing faintly like a beating heart.
At one edge sat the lion.
Massive, fur the color of fresh blood, mane wild as fire. Four arms folded across a chest clad in armor that slled faintly of iron and wet fur. His crimson eyes glared, every blink like a hamr on anvil.
At the opposite end sprawled the succubus.
She was temptation sculpted into flesh: light-blue skin gleaming, yellow slit eyes smoldering, her breasts straining against black fabric, her hips overflowing the chair.
Her staff rested lazily against her shoulder. Yet beneath the sensual veneer lurked power—coiled, hungry, dangerous.
Atlas slid his gaze across both, smirking. Aurora leaned close and whispered, "You could fuck her, too, you know."
Atlas turned, scandalized. "What the hell do you take for? A horny dog who can’t control himself?"
"Yes," Aurora said without hesitation, lips twitching into a smile. "And because I don’t want you fucking Galiath."
Atlas recoiled. "Ew! I don’t want to fuck you, ....."
Thud!
Her staff ramd his gut, harder this ti. He wheezed.
Atlas limped to a chair, dropped into it, and threw one boot up on the black table. The wood creaked.
Both the lion and the succubus stirred, standing for half a breath, as if to honor his arrival. But the mont he lounged, insolent and grinning, their respect curdled into disdain.
"What!?" Atlas barked, glaring between them. "You thought I’d bow? I’m here for one thing and one thing only—the path to the fourth layer."
The lion’s lips peeled back, a growl thrumming from his chest. His four arms tightened across his torso, crimson eyes narrowing. The succubus’s hand slid to her staff, nails tapping against wood in rhythm.
Atlas leaned forward. "What? You mad?"
Their silence thickened, the air quaking with the weight of barely-restrained power. Aurora, behind him, smiled like a wolf watching lambs edge closer to the cliff.
"Why don’t we all sit," Aurora said sweetly, her staff resting like a queen’s scepter. "You summoned Atlas for parley, not glares."
The succubus chuckled low, sultry. "It has been long, Slayer. I will listen to you—for now. Better to heed old friends than future corpses." Her eyes lingered on Atlas as though he were already naked on her table.
The lion rumbled. "The boy is young. Reckless. But... young." He sank into his seat again, claws tapping against wood.
"Pussy," Atlas muttered.
The silence that followed was suffocating. Veins bulged. Chairs groaned under tightened grips.
"Ahem." Galiath’s cough broke the tension, sharp as a bell. "This gathering is to forge hands together, not shred throats. Let us resist instinct, just for now."
The lion’s ears twitched. His voice rolled like thunder. "I am Bane Gladius Don, king of the demi-humans. Ruler of the third layer."
The succubus smirked, her staff glowing faintly. "I am Jenny Shade. Succubus by blood, witch by craft. With Aurora’s help, I rose beyond flesh, beyond lust, into shadowed majesty."
Galiath opened her mouth to speak—
"Booooring!" Atlas exploded. He slapped the table with both palms, laughing. "Animal cunt. Whore cunt. Hive cunt. You think nas matter? Titles matter? Shove them up your asses. Get to the fucking point....why.am i.here?"
The air cracked. Mana flared like a storm breaking its cage.
Three demon kings stood, eyes blazing, weapons humming. The table shook as though fearing what was about to begin.
Atlas rose slowly, lips curling into the grin of a man who lived for this exact mont.
"Now we’re talking...."
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