10th Day of the 2nd Earth Cycle[1], 2000, g.c.
The music lowered, but it didn't die. Drums still tapped beneath the tension like the speakers were afraid to stop completely. Castle Midnight's silver-blue lanterns glowed against the walls, sharper now, hotter after Beau opened his mouth. The Grand Hall had gone from celebration to public pressure, and all those expensive fabrics, polished horns, jeweled throats, and half-raised glasses suddenly felt like witnesses waiting for blood.
The party's joy lingered in the room, but every laugh had gone quiet under new heat.
What had been dancing and flirting became vexation and attention beneath the lantern light. You could smell the tension building as I looked between Beau Soleil and Cierra Chandra. Perfume still floated over the crowd. Wine still breathed from half-raised cups. Roasted meat and honeyed bread still drifted from the kitchen like the food refused to respect drama. But beneath all that was something harsher. Pride. Embarrassment. Old betrayal. That metallic little scent people gave off when anger made their mana itch under the skin.
Cierra was on edge.
Still angry, sure, but I could see the realization hit her. She had found the king of the castle. She had gotten my attention. But was this truly the best way to do that? Her shoulders were tight, dark feathered wings shifting behind her like they wanted to open and flee, while her mouth kept choosing problems. Her red eyes stayed sharp behind square glasses, but panic had slipped into the corners.
Beau, on the other hand, was flushed with rage.
Burning pride. Bubbling jealousy.
The leftover effects of [Dominus Luxuriae] had his emotions sitting too close to the surface, hot and ugly beneath his pale skin. His black hair was still arranged perfectly, his clothes still polished and noble, but his face had gone tight in all the wrong places. His jealousy finally had the stage, and he looked like a man who had waited years to spit on the Mikazuki name in public.
The Umdori behind it all watched from the back of the crowd with a sweet smile.
Luvina Puff looked way too pleased with herself. Her glass rested between her fingers, her bioluminescent patterns sliding under her skin in soft, shifting pulses like living moonlight trapped in lust. She wasn't laughing. Wasn't speaking. But that smile told the whole damn story anyway. Before I did anything, I needed to get rid of the active spell manipulating the room.
With one hand raised, I quietly activated [Absolute Spell Removal], targeting Luvina's Sonata Skill.
I didn't shout the Skill. Didn't flare my aura. Didn't give the room a dramatic speech about magical consent, even though I had one loading in the back of my mind. I simply lifted my fingers, let mauve light gather around my palm, and reached into the invisible weave covering the Grand Hall.
The spell felt slippery.
Not like a net. More like perfume in the air. A seductive layer of mana coated the emotions already present, clinging to warmth, lust, envy, confidence, hunger, and all those little sparks people carried under their etiquette. Luvina's [Dominus Luxuriae] had spread through the room like sugar dissolving into hot tea. You couldn't see it unless you knew how to look. But once I touched it, I could feel its shape.
White-indigo sigils flickered around my raised hand.
Then snapped open like a lock breaking.
The pressure change was undeniable as the invisible force over the Grand Hall broke apart. A thin pulse rippled outward from my body, not heavy enough to knock anyone down, but clean enough to cut through the air. The lust-glow dulling the edges of the room scattered in faint pinkish-violet sparks, dissolving into harmless glitter before fading above the marble floor. The atmosphere cooled by a few degrees, like somebody had opened a window in the middle of a crowded club.
Some people blinked like they were waking up from being too lost in the music.
A few guests stepped away from the people they were leaning into. One nobleman looked down and realized his hand had been resting way too comfortably on the waist of a woman whose husband stood four feet away. A noblewoman fixed her dress, pulling down the recent hike that had shown the bottom of her butt cheeks to half the room. She tugged the fabric into place with both hands, face heating like she was trying to recall at what point "dancing" had become "public indecency with excellent posture." A guard realized she was dancing on duty and started looking ashamed of herself as she straightened her posture, one boot sliding back into formation like discipline had finally found her in the crowd.
Luvina got pouty about that. Her lower lip pushed out slightly, and she tilted her head like I had taken away her favorite toy. But she was far from looking sorry.
Looking down at Beau, I noticed his rage didn't vanish.
I had an idea why, but [Moon Sage: Tsukuyomi] wasn't about to let it stay a guess.
"While [Absolute Spell Removal] dispelled the active influence, it didn't remove the emotional momentum already awakened."
"Yeah, that's what I figured. Luvina didn't create this hatred within him, but she popped the damn top that was holding it in."
I turned my head to the Sky Celestial.
Cierra was a cute little chaos package: pale skin, messy brown hair, square glasses over sharp red eyes, and dark feathered wings twitching behind a loose white-and-purple coat. The black bodysuit and thigh-highs gave her a sexy battle-assistant vibe, but I was far from my flirting mood.
"You, woman, I don't remember your name being on the guest list. What are you doing at my event?"
She panicked for half a second.
Her wings twitched. Her eyes widened. Her hand shot up like a student who had broken a window and wanted mercy before the teacher finished turning around.
"Sir! I'm sorry, Demon Lord, sir! My name is Cierra of the Chandra Clan. I-I came as a plus one to Mistress Luvina. She said that it would be okay if Stamps and I joined her tonight."
Stamps, standing behind her, looked like his spirit was already drafting an apology letter in another language. I looked over to Luvina in the back. Those black-lined shiny lips bent into a smile that told me she had planned for something entertaining to happen. Not every detail, maybe. But enough. Luvina had brought a spark into a room full of oil lamps and then acted shocked when folks started smelling smoke.
I couldn't help but sigh. "I need better plus-one policies."
Cierra swallowed hard, but then pushed through whatever fear had started climbing up her throat.
"King Mikazuki, I came here tonight because Clan Chandra needs forgiveness."
"The Chandra? That explains the wings."
She nodded quickly, the movement making her glasses slip a little before she caught them with one finger.
"Clan Soleil made us believe the Mikazuki Crown had abandoned Velonica. Then when their rebellion failed, they abandoned us."
Beau snapped before she could say more, his voice slicing through the circle with polished hatred.
"House Mikazuki no longer deserves respect or ze crown!"
Then Beau lunged at me with a solid haymaker.
The room gasped as he threw the punch, but I didn't move. I was honestly confused.
Far from tense. Far from scared. Just truly confused that Beau really thought swinging at me in my castle, in front of my mothers, my queens, my brothers, and half of Velonica's political world, was a good idea. I mean, I knew pride made people stupid. But this man was competing for a scholarship.
His fist came in fast enough to make nearby nobles flinch. Yellow-green mana sparked around his knuckles in a hard little flare, not a true technique, more like raw emotion trying to dress itself as power. His shoulder turned with his weight committed. His expression twisted with the satisfaction of a man expecting to finally put his hands on someone he hated.
I activated [Karma's Return] and leaned into it.
The Skill shimmered around me in a thin black-violet ripple, almost invisible until Beau's fist crossed the boundary of my karma. The moment his intent touched me, the motion snapped wrong. His arm jerked violently off course as if an invisible hand had seized his wrist and corrected the universe's paperwork. His own momentum betrayed him. The punch curved back toward his face with all the strength he had packed into it.
His fist cracked into his own nose.
The sound echoed across the circle. A wet, sharp, humiliating crack. Drops of blood spilled onto the black marble, bright red against the polished floor. The crowd froze.
I simply blinked.
"My nigga... What the fuck was that? Why would you hit yourself?"
A few people inhaled so sharply it sounded like the room had been stabbed.
Beau stumbled backward, clutching his bloody nose with both hands. Blood leaked between his fingers, running down over his upper lip and staining the pale skin beneath. The feeling of humiliation rushed over him in front of everyone, hotter than any attack I could have thrown. You could see it reach him. First, the pain. Then confusion. Then awareness. Then the worst one: the knowledge that all these nobles, rulers, clan heads, enemies, and former followers had watched him punch himself in the face after lunging at me.
That type of embarrassment could radicalize a man.
Beau's eyes sharpened with fury over his bloodied hand.
"You disgusting, knock-off Ogre! Ever since your birth, House Soleil's plan 'as been collapsing. Even when we sabotaged Talasi's reputation and income, you still found a way to stick your ugly nose in our business, non?"
"So the Soleil was behind the lack of traffic to Talasi? Interesting."
My expression stayed relaxed, but that little piece of information filed itself away in a very dangerous cabinet. A black one.
Beau's voice rose as he pulled his bloody hand from his face, his pride trying to use anger as a bandage.
"Your very existence, it ruined everyt'ing. Zee Crown of zee Demon Lord belongs to stronger leadership. To someone who would bring Velonica out of Vericka's weak era."
"And you're saying that you're that stronger leadership?"
His lips peeled back.
"Eez zat even a question, you ignorant devil cum stain?"
The room shifted at that.
A few people looked toward my mothers. Wrong move.
Mom's face didn't change much, but the temperature around her eyes dropped. Billie's posture sharpened by a fraction. Glynis's mouth curled. She had just decided Beau's future involved pain, invoices, or both. Omnia's aura flickered somewhere behind me, soft and deadly, like the twilight had briefly considered eating the room.
I kept my smile easy.
"I doubt you could lead yourself out of a wet paper bag with a razor blade, my boy."
The insult hit him and the crowd hard.
A couple of nobles chuckled before they could stop themselves. Talasi locals laughed more openly. A few older clan members tried not to laugh and failed through their noses. Even somebody near the drink table made a choking noise that was definitely not from the wine. Beau's face twisted with fury, blood still dripping down one side of his mouth.
"Enough! In front of your court, I challenge you for zee Crown of Demon Lord."
He tipped his head with flair, somehow still trying to make the moment theatrical despite the busted nose.
"I invoke a No-Rules-Rap-Battle for zee throne!"
The word "throne" changed the air.
The Grand Hall's silence deepened until the lowered music felt far away. Mom's expression went cold. Ma Duke's posture sharpened. Sayaka watched with immediate interest, feeling that the gossip had become a sovereign challenge. Gaijin's eyes narrowed. He was watching how I responded to a Velonican tradition, one that both Velonican nations practiced and respected. Sociovores were never beating the "violent bunch" allegations.
A No-Rules-Rap-Battle wasn't a music performance. Not here on Gaia. Not in Velonica. It was a challenge, a duel, pride, dominance, political theater, and old bloodsport all dressed in rhythm. A public claim made in front of witnesses. Refusing it had meaning. Accepting it had risk. Winning it had power.
Vasilisa's face brightened with professional hunger. Her gray eye sharpened, and I could almost hear the RIAA paperwork reproducing in her mind.
"Ahh, zis is the moment I have been hoping for. A proper showcase inside ze Ball, da?"
Auburn Graham watched me from the back of the room, standing next to Beatrix.
He hadn't stepped closer. He didn't need to. Auburn preferred distance when measuring people, like proximity might contaminate the data. His face stayed smooth, but his eyes were alert. Beatrix stood beside him, posture noble, fear tucked tight behind curiosity.
Auburn's voice stayed low.
"The Demon Lord's mana signature is weaker than the Soleil man. I doubt he can win if he's serious about accepting."
Beatrix's blue eyes shifted toward him.
"So you believe he's setting himself up for humiliation?"
"That, or this Midnight King has something under his sleeves."
Beatrix turned her eyes back onto me with curiosity and subtle fear behind noble poise.
Up on the upper level, Frost watched from the shadows. Looking for proof that I was a monster. Or a fraud.
Maybe both.
That man had a gift for making even silence feel judgmental. He stood near the railing, cold presence tucked into the second-floor shadows, watching me like this challenge was a test he had not asked permission to grade. Cecil watched with growing curiosity nearby, golden tail flicking slowly behind him. Lene's eyes narrowed, four black tails stilling behind her. She looked like she was thinking the same thing everyone who was cautious was: could the Demon Lord keep order without crushing everyone watching?
Luvina watched everything like it was better than dessert.
That was when I looked around and realized everybody was watching.
My mothers. My queens. The Wolfpak. The Kurozumi. The Aylin. The Nox. The Velonican leaders. The traitor clans. The outsiders. The spies. The former enemies. The ones who believed in me. The ones praying for my downfall. Every gaze in that room had become a hook, and the whole Grand Hall had turned into a stage, whether I liked it or not.
"All eyes on me, huh? Looks like I can't refuse. I'll look weak. But honestly, if I go all out, I might fuck up the night. This is slick, annoying."
[Midnight Star: Belial] quickly took the microphone to let me know how he felt about it.
"If you refuse him, Boss... So-help-us-both, I will make sure you cannot enjoy the rest of the night."
That lil' asshole pissed me off with that.
I knew he was instigating, but I also knew he wasn't bluffing. Belial didn't care about diplomacy. He cared about dominance, pride, spectacle, and me not letting somebody with a busted nose talk spicy in my own castle. Unfortunately, he had a point. A loud, annoying, demonic point.
I looked toward the Wolfpak. None of them looked worried. Luda had calm certainty. Alex looked amused enough to pray Beau kept talking. Steez wore the lazy grin of a man about to enjoy free violence. Cali watched quietly, glasses low, menace tucked behind patience. Raion studied the tradition without missing the disrespect.
I glanced at Azumi and Victorya. Relaxed and excited.
Azumi looked like she wanted snacks for this. Victorya's black-painted lips curled with cold anticipation, purple eyes bright behind black glasses. My White Empress loved seeing foolish men approach consequences with confidence.
Then I finally looked toward Omnia.
My baby gave me a subtle nod of trust that I couldn't help but understand.
She wasn't worried about Beau. She wasn't worried about the duel. She knew me. She knew if I accepted, I already had a shape in mind. That small nod carried all the confidence I needed. Not something like permission. More like trust.
With a simple sigh, I accepted the duel.
"Fine, I got time today, cuz."
The crowd reacted with whispers and excitement. Glasses clinked as nobles turned toward each other, ice cubes bouncing in liquor beneath the lowered music. Some guests looked disappointed that the party might become a fight. Others looked thrilled in that ugly way people got when entertainment might involve blood and plausible deniability. Bodies shifted for a better view, jewels flashed at throats, fans half-opened, and the Grand Hall went from ballroom to arena without anyone moving the furniture.
Vasilisa's visible eye glowed faintly again as Gem Mana permeated through her body from pure interest.
The light was subtle at first, celadon shining beneath her lashes like a gemstone waking up in candlelight. She stood tall near the edge of the crowd, her attention locked onto me and Beau. She could smell something on the horizon. Not literally in the regular way, though she had already proven her senses were intrusive as hell. She smelled a showcase. A story. A recruitment hook. A moment that could become legendary if handled right.
Across the room, Auburn stepped closer to Beatrix's side to whisper to her.
"If the new Demon Lord is truly worth his title, then this should reveal something useful."
Beatrix kept her face composed, but fear had found a home beneath her ivory skin. The High Elf ruler of Lashun watched me with those blue eyes, her fingers resting tight around her glass.
"Are you not afraid, my love?"
Auburn's mouth curved with that smooth confidence that made men like him dangerous and annoying in equal measure.
"I fear no man who hides behind his woman's strength."
Jojo wasn't too far from them, eavesdropping on the conversation. He said nothing. Simply shook his head.
Even though Beau Soleil stood in front of me, I didn't care to truly take him seriously. I didn't respect him enough.
If we weren't at the Royal Player's Ball when he challenged me, I probably would have killed him instantly and gone on with my night. Nothing dramatic. Nothing stretched out. Just a problem removed before the food got cold. But since he was trying to invoke Velonican tradition in front of an audience, I decided I would give him a lesson instead.
A lesson with witnesses.
Without warning, I activated [Heaven's Kaleidoscope].
The Skill moved through me like a door opening behind my eyes. Not loud. Not explosive. It bloomed. A cold, beautiful pressure slid into my gaze, and the world sharpened at the edges. With my Ultra Skill allowing ocular casting through sight, I knew exactly how to handle the pale-skinned Celestial standing in front of me, bleeding pride from his busted nose.
My eyes shifted as [Kaleidoscope Eyes] bloomed twin gankyils across my gaze. Each one spun like a galaxy trapped in a pupil. Crimson, cerulean, and indigo light rotated in layered rings, folding over one another with impossible symmetry. The colors didn't just glow or some shit. They turned. They watched. They pulled perception into their orbit. For a single instant, the light in the Grand Hall caught my eyes and scattered into tiny fragments across the black marble, like shattered stained glass had fallen into a moonlit river.
The glow immediately placed Beau under [Absolute Hypnosis] before anyone knew it. To the crowd, nothing dramatic seemed to happen. No mana explosion. No visible curse. No roaring monster. No grand spell circle swallowing the room. Beau simply went still for a breath too long.
But Beau definitely saw something else.
In his mind, he saw me still standing before him with a smug look on my face. The Grand Hall remained around us, but the edges of it warped slightly, bending like glass under heat. With the request for a duel accepted, he reached into his pockets and pulled out a handful of cultivation pills. At least seven, by my count. Those iridescent capsules were hard to forget once you knew about them. They shimmered with layered colors, oil-slick rainbows trapped in hard little shells, each one catching the lantern light like a promise someone shouldn't trust. I had seen enough about those pills to know they weren't simple battle boosters. They gave short Trances. Regeneration. Will weakening. Soul Cores ripening. Choir influences slipping through the cracks.
Beau held them up like victory had a dosage.
"I've come prepared for you today, Majinn. I swiped zese from zose stupid witches before zey had a chance to betray me. Once I take zem, I'll have enough power to crush you, overthrow zee false Mikazuki throne, and purge everyone who supported Vericka's failed bloodline!"
Inside the illusion, Beau heard the crowd gasp as he tossed the pills into his mouth.
After a three-part gulp, he started laughing maniacally as he stared me down. His laugh bounced around the warped ballroom, too loud, too proud, too hungry. He spread his arms as if waiting for power to flood into him, waiting for divine reinforcement, waiting for his body to swell with stolen strength and righteous justification.
I said nothing. Simply waited as he and I both anticipated his rush of new magickal power.
Half a minute passed. Nothing happened. That fuckboy's laughter got weaker.
He looked at his hands.
Still nothing.
His fingers flexed. His shoulders twitched. He swallowed again, harder this time, like maybe the pills were stuck in his throat and shame had blocked the buffer. Sweat started to bead along his hairline. The arrogance in his eyes wobbled, just enough for panic to peek through.
I finally spoke.
"I have to ask... What are you even doing, my guy?"
Beau snapped his head toward me, fury rushing in to cover fear.
"Silence, Djinn spawn! You should be afraid of zee buff I'm about to receive at any moment."
"Do you know what's even going on? Who are you even talking to right now?"
His face twisted.
"What zee hell are you talking about?"
I simply pointed behind him. Beau turned slowly.
The ballroom lights dimmed in his vision as he looked over his shoulder. Behind him, sitting where empty space had been a second ago, was me. I was seated on a conjured throne of Wind Mana, high-backed and translucent, its edges curling like invisible glass carved from a storm's breath. The throne shimmered pale green and silver, rippling with streams of air that flowed upward like banners no one could touch. My body sat relaxed upon it, one leg crossed, elbow resting on the armrest, while my [Kaleidoscope Eyes] pierced the shadows cast over my featureless face.
In the palm of my left hand, I held the cultivation pills Beau had recently shown me.
All seven.
Beau turned back around. The previous me no longer existed before him. His breath caught. He quickly spun back to face the sitting me, coat flaring around him, blood still smeared under his nose.
"If it's taking too long to kick in, it's probably a placebo."
"What zee..."
"Or maybe, you just didn't take anything."
His voice cracked around disbelief.
"How can zis be?"
"It's all been a lie. Just an illusion you were placed under. The real you was paralyzed in place right before you could take these pills."
The laughter of the crowd suddenly grew louder.
At first, it sounded normal. Then it started to layer. More voices joined. Higher voices. Lower voices. Chirps. Snickers. Snorts. A thousand little blades wrapped in amusement. It didn't take long for the laughter to twist and become mockery, then whispers, then something uglier, crawling around the edges of Beau's mind with wet little feet.
The ballroom changed around him. Faces stretched.
Noble smiles pulled too wide, splitting across cheeks until teeth glinted like grave markers. Beautiful women who had been seductive a moment ago became deformed creatures in silk and jewels, their gowns hanging from crooked bones, their pearl necklaces pressed into bruised, swollen throats. Their eyes sank deep into their skulls, glowing with sickly candlelight. Fans opened to reveal finger bones stitched into lace. Painted lips peeled back from black gums. A woman in rose-pink silk giggled as her jaw unhinged and clicked sideways like broken porcelain.
The furniture took the appearance of mangled corpses and lifeless husks of meat.
Chairs became rib cages dressed in velvet. Tables sagged into wet slabs of flesh, legs twitching like dead things still remembering movement. The polished banquet stands rotted into spines and blackened bones, crowned by silver trays full of organs that steamed in the lantern light. The floor beneath Beau's feet looked like black marble no more. It breathed. Slowly. A glossy dark surface stretched over something soft and alive, each step threatening to sink through into warmth.
The lights above shifted into blinking eyes. Hundreds of them. Some human. Some animal. Some with crescent-shaped pupils. Some swollen shut and leaking silver tears. The obsidian chandeliers became hanging clusters of sockets, each eye turning in different directions before snapping back to Beau. The food on the table rotted into blackened, sour meat and crawling fruit. Melon-like sweets shriveled into gray tongues. Star-shaped berries split open, leaking maggots made of pale mana. Nectar bowls curdled into pus-yellow liquid that bubbled with trapped whispers. A roast split down the middle as something inside it tried to crawl out and then died halfway through the attempt.
The music warped into a drunken carnival version of jazz. Horn notes were bent wrong. Drums stumbled like they had too many legs. The bass line hiccuped, laughed, and dragged itself through the room with a limp. Every note sounded like it had been played by clowns hiding under floorboards.
Beau lost his cool.
He started panicking and flailing as he swung at the air.
"Undead monsters from zee grave, be gone! Get away, I said! Someone, help me!"
Outside of the illusion, the real guests watched as Beau flailed at nothing.
His arms whipped through empty air. He stumbled backward, eyes wide and unfocused, mouth open in terror. His expensive clothes twisted around his body as he swatted at invisible attackers, nearly falling over his own feet. Some nobles laughed harder, thinking the humiliation had become a performance. Then a few stopped laughing because the display was becoming uncomfortable to watch.
There was a line between mockery and madness. And I was dragging his ass right across it with a smile.
Queen Sayaka kept her eyes on me. Watching me closely.
The Night Orchid of East Velonica did not look away from Beau's humiliation, but her attention kept returning to my face, my posture, my eyes. She understood something about the choice I made. This wasn't brute force. Wasn't a public beating. Wasn't me crushing Beau under raw power just because I could. This was tactical. Subtle. Brutality measured by the spoon instead of being poured by the bucket.
Her thoughts settled behind her composed expression.
"To think he would use mind games. Such restraint and control. Only matched by the cruelty of it all. I think I'm utterly fascinated with you, King Mikazuki."
Her brother was not feeling that shit.
The look of displeasure on Gaijin's face was hard to ignore. His jaw tightened. His arms folded across his chest. His violet eyes narrowed at Beau's panic with open distaste, but that distaste also turned toward me.
"What is this foolish mockery? I see no honorable combat. Nothing worthy of a True M-Cee."
Gaijin wanted a clean challenge. Measured skill. A test of strength that people could respect. What he got was Beau screaming at phantoms while I sat on invisible control and let the room watch his dignity rot from the inside.
In the back of the crowd, Auburn's smugness weakened slightly. He leaned forward a fraction, eyes sharpening as if trying to see the spellwork he had missed.
"Did I miss something? Is the Celestial under a psionic attack?"
Beatrix's ivory skin got paler as she watched Beau lose his mind.
Her fear of me was growing by the second. You could almost see it stacking behind her eyes. First, I had seemed weak. Then strange. Then dangerous. Now, I was something worse to her: unpredictable. A ruler who could smile in public and make a man drown in his own mind without raising his voice.
On the second floor, behind the mask, Frost looked disturbed.
His arms stayed crossed, but his fingers gripped himself tighter through the sleeves. The shadows up there made him look colder than usual, carved out of old grief and fresh judgment. His thoughts whispered through his face even before his mouth moved.
"I knew he would show his true colors sooner or later."
That bothered me more than I wanted to admit.
Even from the floor, even with my attention split between Beau and the room, I felt that judgment touch the back of my neck. Frost didn't see restraint. He didn't see mercy. He didn't see me sparing a man who had tried to take the throne, insulted my family, and swung on me in my castle. He saw a monster playing with prey.
Maybe he wasn't fully wrong. And that was the irritating part about the shit.
Back down on the ground floor, Cecil DàShèng noticed the technique rather than the monstrosity. He held a mischievous smirk when he noticed my eyes. The Simian's golden tail curled behind him, his attention sharper than his drunken posture suggested. Cecil knew a trick when he saw one. Knew control. Knew how much easier it would have been for me to rip Beau apart and how much more insulting this method was instead.
Omnia remained calm. She knew better than anyone that I was being merciful by my standards. Her cyan eyes watched me with quiet devotion, no panic, no surprise. Just understanding. My Twilight Goddess knew the difference between me enjoying fear and me ending a life. Beau was still breathing. That alone meant I was being generous in a language most of the room couldn't translate yet. Frost saw prey-play. Omnia saw restraint. Both were looking at me. Neither was fully blind.
Suddenly, the illusion sharpened.
Beau turned to Cierra, only to see a horrific version of her standing amongst the ghouls.
Her dark wings hung broken and wet, feathers clumped with grave mud. Her glasses were cracked, one lens missing, the other smeared with something black and oily. She laughed at him with a broken-jawed smile, the lower half of her face hanging wrong, teeth jutting at uneven angles as if somebody had rearranged her mouth with a hammer. Her red eyes were full of rot, clouded and leaking, yet still focused on him with cruel delight.
The ghoul-Cierra pointed at him and laughed.
The real Cierra, outside the illusion, watched Beau recoil from nothing and took one careful step back.
Inside the hallucination, I changed too.
Back on the throne, a twisted, abstract version of me smiled at him with too many teeth. Too tall. Too thin.
My limbs stretched beyond proportion, folded in elegant wrongness over the Wind Mana throne. My horns curved into long black crescents, cracked at the tips, and leaked ultramarine smoke. My face remained shadowed except for those spinning kaleidoscope eyes and a grin that kept widening until it nearly split my head. A crescent moon split open on my forehead like a third eye, the broken lunar wound blinking slowly as dark light poured from it.
My laugh was muted. But beneath it came a sub-frequency of hellish giggles that irritated and terrified every nerve in Beau.
The sound slid under his skin. Not into his ears. Under. Like tiny fingers scratching the inside of his bones. Every giggle had a different pitch. Childlike. Elderly. Feminine. Beastly. Some sounded like me. Some sounded like him. Some sounded like the crowd. All of them crawled through his nervous system until his body didn't know whether to run, vomit, scream, or pray.
The fear became so much that I noticed he wet himself a bit. A dark stain spread down the front of his expensive trousers. The Grand Hall saw that part too. There was a collective inhale. Then silence sharpened. Humiliation had teeth now.
With that, Beau snapped and grabbed the dagger from his belt.
The real Beau's hand jerked down, fingers closing around the hilt with desperate violence. Inside his illusion, he probably thought he was charging a nightmare king before the ghouls ate him alive. Outside it, everyone saw a bloodied, terrified nobleman pull steel in the middle of my Ball.
He began to run toward me with the weapon drawn. He wouldn't get three full steps into it.
With one finger, I fired a projectile orb of compressed Lunar Mana. The orb formed at my fingertip in less than a blink, a tiny silver-white sphere ringed in indigo, condensed so tightly it looked like a star being strangled. It shot forward at light speed, too fast for normal eyes. Most of the crowd only saw the aftermath: a thin moonlit line cutting through the air and a flash against Beau's shoulder.
It pierced him like a laser.
The compressed, charged photons punched through his shoulder and released an electromagnetic pulse through his body. The sound was sharp and clean, a sizzling crack that made every metal ornament nearby hum for half a second. Beau's body seized mid-step. His dagger hand locked open, the blade clattering to the black marble. His legs froze beneath him, knees trembling, eyes wide with pain and terror.
Blood began to spill from the wound.
Dark red drips fell from his shoulder, sliding down his shirt faster than the fabric could soak them up. Each drop hit the floor with soft little taps that felt too loud in the silence.
"I thought I told you, no blood on my dance floor," I said to him.
While Beau struggled to regain control of his body, I created a hyperspace portal beneath him.
The spell opened smoothly. No messy flare. No dramatic explosion. Just a perfect circle of black-violet space unfolding under his shoes, its rim glowing with thin Spatial Mana glyphs that rotated like clockwork around a hole in reality. The inside didn't show the floor below. It showed dark water under moonlight.
Cold. Open. Waiting.
Marie Pond was vast, but if Beau was truly S-Class, he would be able to swim across it.
The ethereal doorway dropped Beau through it. His paralyzed body fell straight down, eyes still wide, mouth frozen around a scream he couldn't finish. The portal swallowed him from feet to head, closing right behind him with a soft snap that made the nearby air ripple.
The dagger remained on my floor.
Beau did not.
With that, I stood on my feet, releasing the mana-constructed throne. The Wind Mana unraveled behind me in long translucent ribbons, dissolving into soft currents that brushed across my coat and faded into the Grand Hall's tense air. I stepped forward slowly, letting the silence hold for one more breath. The crowd watched me like they weren't sure whether to clap, bow, laugh, or pretend they never saw a grown man lose a duel to his own mind.
Then I addressed them.
"It appears he wasn't fit for battle or party. So, if he can make his way back to land from the middle of Marie Pond, he can consider that mercy for fuckin' up the vibes."
While I found my ending and exit for my least favorite Soleil funny, the audience wasn't so amused. Most of the crowd was left confused. And I mean real confused. They didn't see the Lunar Mana orb. They didn't even notice or understand the hypnosis. They only knew that Beau challenged me, lost his pills, panicked in front of everybody, started bleeding, and disappeared through a portal like the night had swallowed his dumb ass whole.
A few guests laughed.
Many were disappointed. Some were terrified.
The laughter came from the folks who understood enough to recognize humiliation when it wore formal clothing. Talasi locals chuckled into their drinks, whispering to each other like they had just watched a noble get scolded by a god. A couple of Nox women hid their smiles behind fans, but those eyes were sparkling with enough gossip to power a small city. The disappointed ones looked like they had expected a real fight. They wanted flashing Mana Arts, broken marble, dramatic shouting, maybe a little blood. And the terrified ones stared at the empty spot where Beau had vanished, realizing that a man could be removed from my castle before they even understood how I touched him.
Only a handful saw enough to understand what took place.
Cecil saw it. Kairos saw it. Frost saw it. Vasilisa saw it. Most of the Wolfpak saw it. Auburn didn't fully see it, and that started to bother him more than he wanted to admit. His face stayed smooth in that polished Human noble way, but the corners of his eyes tightened. That was the expression of a man who had missed a knife moving past his throat and only realized the wind had shifted afterward.
Jojo noticed Auburn's expression and smiled faintly.
Not wide. Not cruel. Just enough.
Beatrix's ivory face had gone pale enough to make the blue of her eyes look brighter. She stared at the empty space where the portal had closed, then toward the faint Spatial Mana residue fading from the black marble like a violet bruise on reality.
"He created another portal, yet his mana signature didn't flux. Wouldn't a Spatial spell need more mana to cast than his signature suggests?"
Auburn's jaw moved slightly before his answer came low.
"Meaning crodie's mana signature is a false reading. He's been playing us the entire evening."
That realization slid through Auburn with less comfort than he wanted. He had been measuring me like a gambler counting cards at a table he thought he understood. Now the dealer smiled back, and the rules of the game had changed.
Back in the center of it all, I turned my attention back to Cierra Chandra. The room got immediately quiet enough to hear my shoes touch the floor.
One step.
Then another.
The black marble gave a soft click beneath each movement, and every sound felt louder than the music that had once filled the hall. The magitech speakers had dropped to a low instrumental hum, a distant rhythm under the tension, like Castle Midnight was waiting to see whether it needed to become a ballroom again or a courtroom.
Cierra stiffened as my gaze settled on her.
Her wings pulled tighter against her back, dark feathers brushing the coat that hung over her bodysuit. The red in her eyes looked sharper, but her confidence was bleeding out fast. Beau getting turned into a pond delivery had done wonders for her survival instincts.
"Now, explain to me again why you crashed my party?"
The panic in Cierra's face returned as she looked up to make eye contact.
Another wrong move.
The moment her eyes found mine and saw my [Kaleidoscope Eyes] still turning twin gankyils through crimson, cerulean, and indigo light, her whole body locked. I didn't even hit her with anything. Didn't need to. Those eyes had just reduced Beau Soleil to a screaming mess in front of half of Velonica, and Cierra had enough brain cells left to understand what kneeling could do for her life expectancy.
She immediately dropped to her knees.
The impact of her knees against the floor made a clean little thud. Her wings dipped, glasses sliding down her nose as she lowered herself with frantic speed. Then she placed her forehead on the ground, hands flat against the marble, body bowing so deeply that her coat spilled around her like a white-and-purple prayer mat.
The crowd quickly began to murmur in the background as she started to beg me in public.
"Demon Lord Mikazuki, I am here to beg forgiveness for my clan, in hopes you would allow them to return to Talasi."
Her voice shook.
Not the performative kind either. This wasn't noble theater. This was a woman realizing she had dragged her family's name into the center of a room where pride, politics, and punishment were all standing close enough to touch.
"The Chandra followed the wrong light and suffered greatly for it. The Soleil promised economic revival and creative growth, yet they only gave my people exile. Our children grow up hearing their elders called traitors before they ever learn why."
Ceyda and Niomi looked at Cierra, then back at me with strong curiosity.
That caught my attention.
The Aylin sisters were loyalists, but they weren't foolish. Ceyda's face held sympathy she didn't fully trust yet, her lips pressed together as if she wanted to ask what happened to the Chandra but knew the ballroom was not the place. Niomi's expression was sharper. More political. She watched Cierra the way a mason watched a cracked bridge. Maybe it could be repaired. Maybe it collapsed because the wood was rotten.
Cierra kept going, forehead still pressed to the floor.
"If you need us to prove our value, m'lord, we will. We have sky scouts, knowledge of jetstream routes, and magick-touch men who can learn to use mana. We still know how to serve Talasi and the greater Velonica if given a path back."
I didn't answer her immediately. I studied her longer than the silence would allow.
That silence stretched. A little too long.
The Grand Hall seemed to lean into it. You could hear the faint shifting of expensive shoes, the rustle of silk, the soft clink of someone setting down a glass too carefully. Cierra didn't move. Stamps, standing behind her, looked like he wanted to kneel too, but couldn't decide whether that would help or make him look guilty for crimes he hadn't learned about yet.
The Chandra Clan.
Sky scouts. Jetstream routes. Knowledge of the skies.
Useful. But usefulness wasn't forgiveness.
That was the thing people often got twisted. A valuable traitor was still a traitor until they proved the value outweighed the betrayal. And even then, you didn't forget the knife. You just decided whether to let them hold a fork again. Especially when some of the fuck niggas didn't even deserve a spoon.
"Cierra, was it? There's one thing I want you to know: I don't forgive easily. But since it was my mothers that you all abandoned, then I will leave your return up to them. Gain their forgiveness first, and you just might get your spot back."
A ripple moved through the room.
Not loud. More like the crowd breathing differently.
Mom's eyes shifted toward me. Ma Duke's expression remained calm, but I knew she heard the weight in that. Aunt Glynis's lips tightened into something thoughtful. I could feel the political machinery turning around them. By placing the choice with my mothers, I did two things at once. I didn't dismiss Cierra's plea, and I didn't cheapen the wound the Chandra caused.
I let my voice stay even.
"The Chandra will have to prove it through their actions, but know this is a rare opportunity. You won't get this chance twice."
With her forehead still touching the ground, Cierra's voice came muffled but clear.
She said she understood.
"Also, thank you so much for your kindness, King Mikazuki."
"Don't thank me yet."
Kindness.
That word almost made me laugh.
Not because it was funny. Because it was complicated. I had just humiliated and shot a man before dumping him in an ocean-sized pond, and now some winged girl was calling me kind because I didn't crush her family's future under my shoe. Leadership was a weird-ass job.
But before I could say anything else to her, another voice interrupted from the crowd.
"That is it! I've seen enough of this farce. I will not stand by for more of it."
Gaijin Kurozumi stepped forward.
Of course he did.
The room had barely recovered from Beau's public self-destruction, and here came East Velonica's overprotective mountain with horns, walking into the center like the night had insulted his ancestors personally. Queen Sayaka's eyes shifted toward him with immediate warning.
"Do not be so reckless, Gaijin-chan."
Her voice was soft, controlled, and full of a ruler's restraint. But Gaijin ignored her warning and stepped out of the crowd anyway.
The air shifted again as the Oni in the Japanese-coded business suit adjusted his blazer. The motion was sharp. Deliberate. He smoothed one side of the jacket with his palm, then let his hand fall to his side like he was preparing to speak on behalf of every offended ghost in East Velonica.
He was a striking man, I'd give him that. Black and white horns polished clean, formal business suit cut with East Velonican precision, posture broad and disciplined. He didn't move like Beau. Beau had moved with entitlement. Gaijin moved with conviction. That made him more respectable.
Also, more annoying.
"Your Freestyle Rap Battle was a disgrace to the Creator and all of Oni-kind. What do you gain by making a mockery of tradition?"
When I heard his voice, I genuinely turned to him, confused by his audacity.
"Does East Velonica have a habit of interrupting hosts, or are you freelancing for the night?"
Some of the Talasi locals snorted. A few nobles looked down. Queen Sayaka's mouth twitched like she wanted to smile but had too much royal discipline to let her brother see it.
Gaijin did not appreciate the joke.
"You claim to be a Demon Lord, yet I cannot accept you as legitimate. Not until you have proven to hold the power of a True Demon Lord."
I stared at him.
"..."
Sometimes, silence was the only response that could hold the correct amount of disappointment.
Gaijin stepped farther into the open space, and the crowd widened around him without needing to be told. He had that kind of presence. Not overwhelming, but clean. Focused. A warrior's pressure sitting beneath his suit like armor under silk rags.
"I challenge you to a one-versus-one—a real Freestyle Battle. If you win, then as Prince of East Velonica, I promise an alliance from my nation."
Queen Sayaka stiffened slightly.
"Gaijin," Sayaka said, colder now. "You speak beyond your station."
That was the first real crack in her composed posture.
Her little brother had just put political weight on the floor without permission. Not a small promise. Not a playful challenge. An alliance from East Velonica. In front of everyone. Spoken by a prince with enough authority that people would remember the words, whether she liked them or not.
Gaijin wasn't done.
"...But if you lose, you must renounce your claim as king."
The entire ballroom erupted into whispers.
This time, the sound came faster. Louder. More anxious. People turned to each other in sharp little bursts. Some covered their mouths. Others didn't bother. The Kurozumi guards stiffened near their queen, unsure whether they were watching a diplomatic crisis, a family argument, or both wearing formalwear. The Aylin stood straighter. The Nox women went quiet in that curious way women did when they smelled testosterone fighting for control. Everyone was chatty and anxious about the next few seconds to follow.
My annoyance had reached fever pitch.
I had already spared Beau. Already kept his bullshit from turning the room into a bloody mess. Already gave Cierra a path that didn't end with her family name buried deeper than it already was. And now Gaijin wanted to check me because he didn't approve of my method? Because I didn't follow whatever honor code made him comfortable? I swear, royal parties needed a disclaimer at the door.
Queen Sayaka was shocked, angry, and secretly excited.
I caught all three.
The shock sat in her widened eyes. The anger tightened her jaw. The excitement hid lower, beneath the composure, flickering in the way her mana responded to her brother's challenge. She trusted Gaijin's gut when it came to finding someone strong. And the fact that he wanted to fight me was enough proof that she knew he had sensed something. Gaijin wouldn't show that much interest in a useless weakling.
Vasilisa nearly forgot how to act professionally. Her visible eye lit with Gem Mana again, brighter this time, celadon glow catching against her platinum bob. I could see the Grand Registrar's soul trying to kick its feet. A second public challenge meant the Ball would become an event that artists talked about for years. A throne challenge. A public humiliation. Then a royal duel between the Oni nations? That was history with ticket prices.
Auburn watched with new interest while Beatrix decided to walk toward the table of drinks.
I couldn't blame her. Some people handled political danger with strategy. Some handled it with distance. Beatrix apparently chose liquor.
Frost watched it with grim attention from the upper level, waiting and hoping to see whether my public mask would finally crack. The man stood there in the shadow of the railing like judgment had grown a body and refused refreshments. His gaze didn't move from me. Not once. I could feel him waiting for the monster. Waiting for the fraud. Waiting for proof that whatever he had already decided about me would become undeniable.
The Simian, Cecil, grinned because he was ready to see a clearer measure of my battle sense.
His golden tail curled with excitement, and that mischievous smirk of his deepened. Cecil had seen enough tricks to know Beau's little nightmare wasn't a full report. He wanted to see motion. Timing. Instinct. The part of a fighter you couldn't fake by scaring a nobleman into pissing himself.
Luda remained calm, but his eyes sharpened. That was my bro's version of getting serious. His body stayed relaxed. Drink still in hand. Shoulders smooth. But his eyes had shifted into something brighter, more focused, a golden edge beneath the surface. Luda wasn't worried. He was interested in what I would choose to reveal.
Lynnette folded her arms, studying how quickly Velonica's rulers tested each other. The Human Sword Singer's teal eyes moved from Gaijin to me, then to Sayaka, then back again. She looked like she was writing an entire essay in her head titled Demihuman Diplomacy: Why Does Everyone Challenge the Host?
Zawa had murder in her eyes as the Gem Witch stared at Gaijin from the back of the room.
That one made sense. Zawa didn't like people challenging me. She barely liked people standing near me without permission. Her hands stayed at her sides, but the glitter of Gem Mana around her fingers told a different story. The witch looked ready to turn a Kurozumi prince into jewelry if I blinked twice.
Sumo was still laughing under his breath, telling someone nearby that "Royalty never learned to let the music play."
I liked Sumo.
That man understood the assignment. Drink. Eat. Dance. Gossip. Avoid unnecessary duels unless they come with appetizers.
Luvina sat with her legs crossed at the knee, smiling like the night simply improved for her.
The Umdori had settled near the edge of a low seating arrangement, glass in hand, glowing patterns sliding under her skin like she was being lit from inside by sinful moonlight. Her black-lined lips curved slowly as she watched the room turn again. First Beau. Now Gaijin. She had wanted heightened emotion, and now the whole castle was giving her a damn buffet.
Cierra was still on her knees, realizing that she accidentally opened the door to something much larger. Her face looked sick with it.
She came here for forgiveness. Instead, her plea had escalated into the Prince of East Velonica challenging me for kingly legitimacy. That was impressive in the worst possible way. Stamps looked like he wanted to drag her out by the collar and go back to robbing roads. Honestly, that nigga Stamps might have had the healthiest plan.
Still, before I could give a controlled answer, I heard the voice of Swamp Braye yelling from the background.
"Kick his ass, Xiro!"
Half the room turned toward him and the other Wolfpak members.
Swamp stood near the dance floor with his drink raised high, grin wide, not a single trace of royal etiquette within shouting distance. That boy had the same energy as somebody watching their cousin fight outside a cookout.
Steez instantly joined in.
"Don't spare that nigga! Show him how we really get down."
My baby brother looked way too excited. He leaned forward with both hands near his mouth, cheering like this was a street fight and not a diplomatic incident. The fact that he had a plate in one hand made it worse. That nigga was snacking and instigating.
Alex joined right after.
"Run that nigga's fade, Xi. He's playing with yo' name!"
That got more gasps from the noble side and louder laughs from the locals. The Wolfpak did not understand how to make a serious situation less embarrassing. Or maybe they did and simply refused.
Even Cali raised his drink and voice. A calm little toast from a dangerous man.
Raion smirked next to Akai, golden eyes bright with curiosity.
"I wouldn't mind seeing a real Lord Xiro fight while not being in the battle."
Akai's arms folded as she tilted her head, studying me like I was a spellbook that might explode.
"I wonder if he'll use the same techniques or show new ones?"
Luda didn't say anything at first. He just looked at me and nodded like I knew what to do.
That nod hit a bit differently from the others. Swamp, Steez, and Alex were hyping me up. Cali was amused. Raion and Akai were curious. But Luda's nod carried faith. That "You're him. Stop thinking so much" faith.
Then came my goddess. Omnia smiled all divine and regal. Her cerulean dress shimmered softly beneath the lantern light, the high slits showing enough leg to make the air feel unfair. She sat like a queen who knew the room belonged to her man and simply waited for everyone else to catch up. Her cyan cat-slit eyes held mine with calm devotion, and when she spoke, her voice glided across the tension like velvet over a blade.
"Master, be sure not to disappoint our guests. Allow them the blessing of truly seeing your brilliance."
I don't know if it was just her voice or the fact that Azumi and Jennifer sat next to her, both licking their lips as if hungry for the altercation, but I was immediately with the shits again.
Azumi looked like she had found the best show in Talasi. Jennifer's pinkish-red eyes were half-lidded with wicked anticipation, fan resting against her lips while she watched me like the fight itself was foreplay. Omnia's smile stayed serene, but I knew her. My goddess loved seeing me adored, feared, desired, and tested. Especially when she already knew the test was about to fail beautifully.
The sinisterly wicked grin that graced my face changed the entire atmosphere again as the room shifted.
But not with [Dominus Luxuriae]. Not with an illusion. Oh nah. This time, it shifted with the slow release of my true signature.
At first, it was just a chill under the skin.
Then the silver-blue lantern flames leaned toward me.
The black marble beneath my feet reflected a deeper darkness than the room had been holding before. Shadows around the Grand Hall stretched an inch longer, not enough to scare the ignorant, but enough to make the observant stop breathing right. The false, restrained signature I had worn all evening started peeling back like a curtain made of night. Behind it, something deeper opened.
My mana seeped. Slow. Purposeful.
Endless.
A midnight pressure rolled across the floor in invisible waves, touching ankles, climbing spines, settling behind eyes. The room didn't shake. That would have been too crude. Instead, everyone felt the horrible elegance of depth. Like standing at the edge of a black ocean and realizing the water had noticed you. The scent of cold moonlight, old blood, and empty space brushed the air. Glasses trembled in hands. Jewelry softly chimed. A few weaker guests swallowed hard and stepped backward without knowing they had done it.
When my true signature seeped out, Frost's shoulders stiffened. For one breath, even his hatred had to make room for recognition.
My [Kaleidoscope Eyes] still slowly turned the gankyils.
Round and round.
I looked at Gaijin.
"Beau was taught a lesson with mercy because he was a loud problem at my party. But since East Velonica wants a true battle, East Velonica will get a true battle."
I glanced over to Sayaka as I ended that sentence. I couldn't tell if it was fear or arousal that stared back at me.
Maybe both. Probably both.
Queen Sayaka's composed mask held, but her eyes had gone bright, red warmth flickering beneath the surface. Her fingers pressed lightly into her sleeve. Her breath came just a touch slower. The Night Orchid of East Velonica was watching a dangerous man accept her brother's challenge after letting the room finally smell the abyss beneath his skin. And judging by the way her lips parted by a fraction, she was having a complicated evening.
The sounds of the crowd erupted around us in new excitement for the duel.
The room changed again. Fear became thrill. Anxiety became hunger. The Grand Hall had just watched Beau get thrown away like bad mail, but now they were being offered a clean match. A real Freestyle Battle. East Velonica versus Velonica. Kurozumi honor against Mikazuki pride. The kind of thing people would recount badly in taverns by morning and exaggerate by dinner.
With a raise of my hand, [Moon Sage: Tsukuyomi] took control of the Grand Hall's spatial coordinates and readjusted the room.
The floor responded first.
Silver lines crawled across the black marble in smooth geometric patterns, sliding beneath the crowd's feet without touching them. People gasped and stepped back as the dance floor gently separated from the surrounding hall. Not by moving the stone physically, but by folding the space around it with perfect care. A dimensional barrier rose in a transparent curve, faint as glass and edged in violet light, allowing two-way vision between the arena and the audience.
The air inside the barrier shimmered. Sound passed through cleanly. Sight remained unobstructed. But the pressure difference was obvious. The dance floor had become its own pocket of controlled space. A dueling stage carved out of my party without damaging a single plate, dress, or drunk noble.
The floor markings shifted into a circular arena pattern of silver moons and violet light lines. Crescent shapes bloomed around the outer ring. Full moons marked the center points. Thin violet lines connected them like constellations drawn by a god with a geometry obsession. The whole arena pulsed once with Spatial Mana, then settled into a steady glow, bright enough to reflect on Gaijin's polished shoes and the silver trim of my coat.
I stepped into our makeshift dojo floor. The barrier gave a soft hum as I crossed it, brushing over my shoulders like cool silk. On the other side, the air felt cleaner. Quieter. The crowd was still visible around us, every face watching, every eye waiting, but the arena gave the moment shape. No random interference. No loose fools trying to be brave. Just me and the Kurozumi prince.
Gaijin stepped across from me.
His face was stern. Focused. No fear in the posture. His black and white horns caught the violet arena light, and his suit shifted as he squared his shoulders. I could respect that much. He had challenged me in public, put his nation's promise on the line, and stepped into the circle without backing down.
Stupid? Possibly.
Brave? Definitely.
The Royal Player's Ball had become a fighting stage throughout all the partying and bullshit. And with my eyes, I saw no reason not to give them a night worth remembering.
[End of Chapter]
[1] May on Earth.