The Demon Queen's Royal Consort

As Selene listened intently to the deliberations of her council, the intricate gears of preparation turned ceaselessly. The details of the strategy, once just a rough outline, were now taking sharper form. New contingencies were being considered, alternate routes mapped out, and resources allocated with surgical precision. The atmosphere in the castle, though heavy with solemn seriousness, pulsed with focused, determined energy. Every member of the council, every expert in their respective field, worked tirelessly to ensure success.

Amid the heated discussions, new ideas emerged—some dismissed as impractical, others enthusiastically incorporated into the main plan. Silas's suggestion, initially met with skepticism by Cassian, proved to be a valuable asset. The approach of focusing on the "inspiration" behind the creation of legendary weapons, rather than just a conventional tournament, opened up new strategic possibilities.

Valerius, with his characteristic shrewdness, coordinated the gathering of information on the working methods of various blacksmiths and artisans, searching for patterns or elements that might influence Drakk's judgment.

While some aspects of the operation were already in full swing—such as the Shadow Unit's monitoring of Drakk's movements and the preparation of strategic locations for the meeting—other fronts still demanded attention. Border security and communication with potential allies were just a few of the points being meticulously debated and refined. The shadow of a great event loomed over the demonic realm, and Selene's determination to ensure its success was the driving force behind every action, every decision, every breath during those intense days of preparation.

After twenty-four uninterrupted hours of planning, discussions, and strategizing—not just about the legendary blacksmith but also about the governance of the kingdom—the meeting finally adjourned. Everyone present was extraordinary; a single day of work wouldn't wear them out under normal circumstances. However, they were approaching a limit—not a physical one, but something far more subtle. Traces of a powerful aura began to emanate from the monarch seated on the throne.

Though still harmless, their aged bodies, decades past their prime, couldn't withstand much more of that exposure. The meeting was adjourned, and the council members dispersed to their respective tasks. Only Lyra remained seated.

Silence returned to the meeting room, soon broken by a gradual increase in pressure as Queen Selene released some of the energy she had contained over the past twenty-four hours.

"You shouldn't stay, Lyra," the shadow behind the throne remarked.

A thin layer of darkness enveloped Lyra, whose narrowed eyes revealed genuine concern for the queen.

"Your Majesty, it's getting worse!" Lyra exclaimed.

"It's under control. I've just been having… unusual dreams," Selene replied. Her frequent cosmic dream journeys always brought her a profound sense of freedom but also caused these occasional instabilities.

"Your Majesty," Lyra continued, "as promised, the final batch is ready."

"Are you certain?" Selene asked. "I never wanted this to happen. You, the Shadow Unit, under your command, Lyra, persisted with these futile, hopeless experiments."

"I don't regret it!" Lyra replied firmly. "Long ago, I promised your father I would look after you, and that's exactly what I've done. Your Majesty, this isn't li—"

"Enough!" Selene interrupted.

Lyra rose slowly, walked to the throne, and embraced Selene gently, stroking her long, silky white hair for a moment. Before leaving, she leaned in and kissed the queen's cheek lightly.

"Take care, Your Majesty," Lyra said before withdrawing.

A brief silence lingered, broken by the shadow behind the throne.

"This way, Your Majesty."

Selene rose and walked to a point behind the throne. A pillar, seemingly part of the foundation of the grand hall, slid smoothly to the left, revealing a red door covered in countless engraved runes.

The shadow quickly retrieved a golden key from around its neck, inserted it into the lock, and turned. A peculiar, silent energy emanated from the door, which, surprisingly, didn't open. Instead, a tear began to form, as if scissors were cutting through the structure from top to bottom. Within seconds, a stable spatial rift had formed.

"Let's end this," Selene said, stepping through the rift with firm steps.

**

Seated on the throne, her thoughts were far from the gruesome scene before her. Her indifferent expression betrayed that this batch would be like all the others: useless and cruel. 'At least they're all condemned to die,' she repeated to herself, trying to ease her own dissatisfaction.

That morning, however, the situation surpassed the usual 1%. Half of the individuals were still alive. It was rare. In her memory, this had only happened four times before. This would be the fifth.

"2%."

Unbelievably, three still resisted. Selene's indifferent eyes finally turned to the scene: death, blood, bones, muscles, and semen scattered everywhere. And yet, three men remained alive: two elderly and one young.

'What was his name again? The son of the fallen Carborex family?' she thought, observing the young man struggling to stay on his feet. Analyzing his features, symptoms, and physical condition, Selene concluded that this was the limit. 'Very well. I'll end your suffering.'

Their eyes met. He seemed to understand her thoughts. A small, guttural growl escaped his throat, in sync with his death sentence.

"3%."

An unexpected reaction. Instead of his head exploding or seeing him desperately trying to relieve his sexual urges—on the floor, with his hand, or wherever—the boy began clawing at himself with his own nails. A grotesque wound opened on his chest, blood streaming down his torso and legs, dripping onto the floor.

Eyes bloodshot with madness shone in strange golden irises. His hand gripped his member tightly, as if to tear it off. 'An impressive member,' Selene thought for a moment.

'What?' she thought, snapping back to reality.

Then, the unexpected happened: the unawakened boy, staggering, took large steps toward her, bearing a seemingly impossible burden. His eyes declared his plan: if he was to die, it would be on his own terms.

Deep within her, a far wilder Selene flashed a wide grin.

The boy's plan wouldn't go unnoticed by someone like her. Selene could intervene instantly, but she chose to observe. 'Who knows?'

With precise timing: "4%."

He was still standing and continued walking toward her. His body was self-destructing, every fiber unraveling, bones creaking, but the madness and determination remained in those eyes, now stained by a cascade of blood pouring from their sockets.

Then: "5%."

'It's over.' As much as she hated to admit it, that was perhaps the saddest thought she'd had in the last decade.

'His name was Glenn, I remember,' she thought. But, defying her own logic, the boy climbed the last two steps, driven by instinct, pure savagery, and madness. He stopped before her.

Then it happened: "6%." In a split second, her control wavered. 'No!!!!'

All the symptoms of death appeared, ahead of time, before he deserved it. There were still three seconds left. She had broken an unspoken rule, an implicit agreement.

Time seemed to slow, and Selene saw Lesley rushing to intervene. Looking ahead, she found herself face-to-face with a beautiful, imposing penis ejaculating toward her.

'Did he do it?' Selene thought, stunned, freezing Lesley and allowing the semen to cover her.

'It's fair. Dying on his own terms,' she argued sadly.

'Wait… Did he do it? Without being Awakened? Dying?' A brutal, terrifying Selene emerged from her soul.

It was her, not a secondary personality. It was everything she represented and normally repressed.

'He can't die. No, he won't die!!!'

Her fingers brought the viscous liquid to her mouth. A tremor she hadn't felt in a long time shook her. Rising, all the semen evaporated. How could it be otherwise?

"Aah..."

Approaching the young man, she touched him. Her index finger brushed his chest, and a mark appeared. All his vitality returned. 'I made it in time. He's alive.'

"So the gods have given me one last hope!"

**

"He is mine!"

"I won't repeat myself: HE IS MINE! Get rid of the irritating roaches surrounding us."