Their residual essence surged toward the mansion the moment they died—desperate, hungry, and already claimed.
Consort did not move:
Her expression stayed calm, almost serene, as if the end of the world had been nothing more than a mild inconvenience. The short kimono still barely covered her, the wind continuing to toy with the hem across the bare curve of her ass and the heavy, shameless sway of her breasts, every inch of her looking like sin that had decided to wear violence as perfume.
The Djinns had been pure Void Essence.
Food and resources for her mistress.
After the power required to summon and command those swords, her mistress would need every drop of it given her condition and since she had to make sure she served her connection to the world... lest she angered the little gods and laws of the Earth Realm.
A golden key floated in the air beside her where the last Void Djinn had died, turning slowly in the fading wounded light.
