It’s time

One month into the acceleration, Vivian’s pregnancy had progressed to roughly five months.

Her swollen belly was now strikingly prominent against her slender frame.

Every time she sat or stood, a laborious effort accompanied the movement.

The most tangible burden, however, was her energy.

Her stamina drained at a visible rate.

Eight hours of sleep each night became the bare minimum, and midday naps were non-negotiable.

Even so, after long hours of reviewing documents or listening to reports, overwhelming fatigue would crash over her like a tidal wave, darkening her vision and dulling her thoughts.

She began relying on revitalizing potions crafted by her subordinates—mild alchemical concoctions with limited effects, used to forcibly banish drowsiness and maintain a facade of alertness in critical moments.

Her mana consumption was staggering.

The fetus in her womb was like a bottomless void, greedily siphoning her magical reserves.

She could vividly feel her once-vast mana pool depleting at an alarming rate, like a reservoir during a flood.

At the same time, the fetal movements grew frequent and forceful.

No longer mere faint flutters or slight spasms, they were now distinct “punches and kicks.”

Sometimes, she could even see small bulges rise on her abdominal wall through her clothing.

The rhythm of nurturing a new life brought Vivian, as a mother, a sense of joy.

Yet, under the heavy toll of accelerated pregnancy, it mostly brought discomfort.

The intense fetal movements caused by the acceleration would interrupt her thoughts, forcing her to pause her work until the discomfort passed.

At times, they triggered sharp muscle spasms, leaving her drenched in sweat from the pain.

Her sleep was frequently disrupted; a sudden, forceful kick could jolt her awake from a shallow slumber.

“…You’re quite the troublemaker, aren’t you?”

After another bout of intense nausea, Vivian exhaled heavily, muttering half-exasperatedly, feeling half-dead.

The accelerated pregnancy’s effects were far more intense than she’d anticipated.

After all, this acceleration came at the cost of her own strength and physical condition, resulting in extraordinarily severe bodily reactions.

“Lord Demon Lord, are you… alright?”

During a council meeting, Aria, noticing Vivian’s sudden pallor, couldn’t help but whisper with concern.

Even without explicit words, Aria could sense something was deeply amiss with her lord in recent days.

Vivian clutched her abdomen, where the troublemaker had just delivered a particularly sharp kick.

Taking a deep breath, she suppressed the surging discomfort and waved a hand.

“I’m fine. Continue.”

A Demon Lord must always embody strength and control; she could not afford to show weakness.

The fewer who knew about her pregnancy and its acceleration, the better.

Aside from Lucia, Vivian had no intention of revealing this to anyone—not even the fiercely loyal Aria.

As time marched on relentlessly, by the end of the second month of acceleration—equivalent to eight months in a normal pregnancy—the burden reached a new peak.

Vivian’s belly had grown enormous, forming a stark, almost jarring contrast with her slender frame.

The weight made prolonged sitting difficult, and the strain of pregnancy caused persistent back and waist pain, like a gnawing affliction.

Her legs began to swell slightly, and breathing became labored.

The fetus’s position pressed against her diaphragm, leaving her frequently short of breath, especially during demanding administrative tasks.

Her energy depletion reached an extreme.

Even with ample sleep and naps, the bone-deep exhaustion clung to her.

The revitalizing potions’ effects waned further.

Her complexion took on a sickly pallor, yet the fetus’s demands showed no sign of slowing—rather, they doubled as it grew.

Vivian could barely eat, relying entirely on Evernight Crystals for energy supplementation.

The absorbed energy was like water poured onto parched earth—briefly sustaining her before being devoured by the “black hole” in her womb.

“…This preliminary trade draft with other territories—I’ve marked the core terms. For specifics, like the safety assessment of transport routes or the deployment of escort teams, discuss with Lucia and the

other captains. Remember the bottom line: the price of crystals must not fall below this…”

“Yes, my lord! I understand!”

Aria listened intently to Vivian’s orders, her expression grave, ensuring she memorized every key instruction.

Over the past two months, Lucia’s presence in the tent had quietly increased.

The Frost Banshee from the Winter Territory keenly sensed the subtle shift of power toward Aria and Vivian’s rapidly deteriorating condition.

In meetings with Lucia, Vivian forced herself to stay sharp.

She acknowledged Lucia’s competence and efficiency while subtly keeping her in check.

Finally, the acceleration entered its third month, equivalent to nine months in a normal pregnancy.

Vivian was on the verge of delivery.

Her burden had reached its zenith.

Her massive abdomen made even pacing within the tent difficult.

She spent most of her time leaning against chair backs, with back pain becoming a constant companion, only slightly alleviated by magic.

The swelling from pregnancy spread to her calves, forcing her to wear loose, soft slippers for ease of movement.

Her breathing grew even shorter; speaking for too long left her gasping.

Fetal movements became extraordinarily frequent and intense.

The little one seemed to sense its impending birth, each stretch bringing Vivian sharp, sometimes painful sensations.

When she felt herself enveloped by unrelenting, inescapable exhaustion—when her waking hours dwindled and she slipped uncontrollably into brief naps even while working—she knew it was time to set

aside all duties and focus on the impending delivery.

She could feel the fetus in her womb had fully matured.

A nascent, uniquely hybrid life force surged within, as if ready to burst forth at any moment.

“It’s time…”

With a sigh, Vivian mustered her strength to sign the final critical documents—mostly regarding crystal allocations and external defenses for the next month.

Each stroke of the pen was laborious, beads of sweat forming on her forehead.

After completing this, she seemed to exhaust her last reserves of energy.

Leaning back in her chair, pale and panting heavily, she could barely move.

“Lord Demon Lord.”

Luna appeared deftly before her.

“Everything you instructed has been prepared, and no one knows.”

“Good.”

Vivian nodded.

With Luna’s support, she rose and vanished into her private tent.

She didn’t go far.

Accompanied by Luna, she arrived at a secret underground warehouse beneath the former Evernight City—a “delivery room” Luna had prepared over the past two months.

This was Vivian’s arrangement.

She couldn’t travel far, and several buried warehouses had been cleared out.

She had chosen one as her delivery room.

Inside was a prepared birthing bed and a small mountain of Evernight Crystals to sustain her energy.

“I will stand guard outside until you complete the delivery, Lord Demon Lord.”

The young succubus Luna spoke with loyalty, then respectfully withdrew, closing the warehouse door.

Vivian sat alone in the vast, silent “delivery room.”

The only sounds were her heavy breathing and the powerful heartbeat of the fetus within her, almost deafeningly clear.

She looked down at her mountain-like abdomen.

“Alright, child… come on.”

“I’m ready.”

Vivian took a deep breath, closing her eyes.

She began drawing energy from the nearby Evernight Crystals as her “sustenance,” waiting for the moment of delivery.

After an unknown time, a sudden, wave-like contraction hit without warning.

The pain was so intense that Vivian, half-asleep, arched her body, her nails digging into her palms.

“Ugh…”

She let out a stifled cry of pain and a groan.

She knew the final moment—the delivery, fraught with immense pain and the promise of new life—had arrived.