The Princess’s Plight and Sovenia’s Dilemma

Sovenia trailed closely behind Wawalde, her footsteps hushed, deliberately maintaining a small distance from his clanking plate armor. This distance was both physical and psychological.

She needed time to think, to grapple with this sudden turn of events. The impatient eagerness of that foolish dog, reminiscent of a fly drawn to a foul scent, filled her with irritation.

‘Should a real Elf Princess appear, would that idiotic dog immediately turn his sword, decapitating her, the imposter?’

As they rounded the corner, the space before them opened dramatically. What should have been a lavish side hall now lay exposed, a fallen stone pillar having smashed through the wall to reveal a distinctly different chamber beyond.

‘What shoddy quality are these pillars?’ Sovenia mused inwardly. ‘To just topple over so easily?’

With a flicker of indignation, she glanced inside.

The pillars had collapsed due to an immense force from the ceiling; a mysterious power had melted through the roof, incidentally incinerating the pillars’ bases.

‘Who could have done this?’

Naturally, it could only be the illustrious Jimi the Cruel, the Demon Queen’s Foremost Heavenly King, Slayer of Humanity, Nightmare of Elves, and Grand Marshal of three hundred thousand troops!

At that moment, the culprit, whose epithets were numerous enough to fill a room, secretly regretted having overexerted herself with “Incinerate.” She wished she had known not to repeatedly double her power with cards, pushing it all the way to the limit of 999 strength points.

She had spent half a day feigning death to accumulate power, building up to an explosive release, achieving maximum environmental destruction effects—yet failed to kill a single person.

As Sovenia silently grumbled.

The clanking Wawalde, meanwhile, strode boldly into the opening.

Sovenia peered into the opening from its edge, a silent dread rising within her: ‘This is bad.’

Inside the opening lay not merely a cage, but a beautifully appointed prison chamber. Soft, thick carpets covered the floor, and in one corner, a bed draped with curtains stood. A faint fragrance lingered in the air, starkly contrasting with the pervasive stench of sulfur and blood that typically permeated the Demon Queen’s palace.

It was clearly a cell reserved for distinguished guests within the Demon Queen’s domain.

Wawalde charged down like a warhorse, his broad back forming a wall that completely obstructed Sovenia’s view. He roared:

“Stop! Release that lady!”

His roar echoed fiercely through the cavernous room.

Tiptoeing, she strained to peer over his shoulder, her gaze darting towards the center of the room. The moment she fully grasped the sight before her, her heart plummeted, and a chill shot from the soles of her feet straight to the crown of her head.

‘This is truly bad.’

In the center of the room, two crude iron chains suspended an Elf maiden by her wrists, leaving her dangling in mid-air. She possessed a cascade of silver hair, longer and more luminous than Sovenia’s own female form, shimmering with a moonlight sheen in the dim light. Her snow-white skin was as delicate as fine porcelain; even dusted with a little grime, its pristine quality remained unblemished. Upon her head rested a small, exquisite crown, its inlaid gems subtly glimmering, a clear testament to her noble lineage.

She wore what had once been a magnificent court gown, now torn to shreds, reduced to mere strips of fabric that barely concealed her vital areas. The tattered remnants of the dress hung haphazardly, paradoxically accentuating the curves of the body they barely covered. Her long, straight legs were exposed, encased in black silk stockings that clung snugly to her rounded thighs and slender calves, the delicate lace trim of the garters peeking tantalizingly from her upper thighs.

Her feet were bare, her small toes slightly curled from the suspended position, making her appear both helpless and pitiable.

A group of Goblins surrounded her, emitting sickening leers. They clutched sharp knives, seemingly debating where to begin their assault.

Even in the gloom, the Elf Princess’s skin seemed to glow, every inch a divine creation. A grimy green Goblin claw hovered just above her smooth, black-stockinged calf, its coarse nails nearly piercing the thin silk.

It bared its mouth, revealing yellowed, blackened teeth, and saliva dripped onto the lavish carpet with a faint ‘sizzle,’ as it mumbled something about “seizing Elf power.”

For a fleeting moment, Sovenia’s mind went utterly blank.

‘Could it be… there’s actually an Elf Princess in the Demon Queen’s palace?’

Instinctively, she tightened her grip on the Moonlit Blade, her knuckles whitening from the effort. She even recognized a few of the Goblins—the most muscular and brazenly laughing ones were precisely those who had been the main participants when the Demon Queen forced her to “observe” in the past.

What constituted “main participants”? They were the ones who, while “connecting” and seizing demonic power, simultaneously flaunted and provoked her. They knew her revulsion, and they knew she was utterly powerless against them, that even as the Foremost Heavenly King, she had to endure it.

A profound hatred and disgust surged within her, yet the very next second, she found herself silently cheering on these “evil Goblins.”

‘Kill her,’ she silently prayed, not to the High Heavens, nor to the Four Gods, but to the very Goblins before her, whom she wished to carve into a thousand pieces. ‘Do it, you fools! One swift cut, sever that beautiful neck, and let it all end. Though it would be a shame to lose such a captivating beauty, it’s far better than losing my own head.’

Her silent plea went unanswered. Wawalde, like a raging lion, had already charged.

The Goblins, however, had not yet reacted.

The demonic greatsword in Wawalde’s hand roared like wind and thunder, transforming into a dark whirlwind. The Goblins didn’t even have time to scream before they were torn to shreds by the flashing blade. In quick succession, the battle was over, green blood splattering across the floor.

Sovenia couldn’t help but slap her forehead. ‘Goblins truly are weak in combat, even the specially enhanced ones. We practically walked right in, yet not a single Goblin managed to react.’

“Are you alright, miss?” Wawalde sheathed his sword, looking up at the suspended Elf maiden, his voice filled with concern and tenderness.

Sovenia stood on the steps a dozen paces away, observing with a detached gaze. In her mind, she continued to chant, ‘It’s a mimic, it must be a mimic. Any moment now, it will open its gaping maw and swallow that foolish dog whole.’

However, the Elf maiden merely shook her head weakly, her golden eyes brimming with tears that trickled down her face and dropped onto the floor. Through her tear-filled gaze, she looked at Wawalde, appearing as fragile as a snowflake.

Wawalde no longer hesitated, swinging his sword to sever the chains suspending the maiden.

With a ‘clatter,’ the unchained Elf maiden’s body went limp, and with a gasp, she tumbled onto the carpet. Her ragged skirt, dislodged by the movement, splayed open completely, revealing her black-stockinged thighs unreservedly, and offering an unobstructed view beneath her dress.

Wawalde immediately averted his gaze, a flicker of embarrassment crossing his face. Yet, he quickly recovered, dropping to one knee to remove his tattered cloak and gently drape it over the maiden.

Extending a hand, he took the maiden’s wrist in a gesture almost reverent, helping her rise from the floor.

“Thank you, brave knight.” Once steady, the Elf maiden curtsied gracefully to Wawalde, her voice flowing like a clear spring over stones, utterly melodious.

Sovenia watched the scene unfold, witnessing the tender expression on Wawalde’s face, a look that suggested he would gladly bare his very heart. An inexplicable irritation welled within her, akin to seeing a hunting dog she had painstakingly trained suddenly wagging its tail at a stranger. This feeling left her deeply displeased, intensely so.

‘I was the one who tamed him first, after all.’

“My name is Linalia,” the Elf maiden introduced herself, her voice imbued with an innate nobility. “I am the Princess of Silvermoon Forest. My nation, my people, will forever remember your kindness.”

‘Silvermoon Forest… Princess Linalia…’

Sovenia’s heart sank completely. She had heard of this kingdom. It was a considerably powerful realm among the Elf tribes, and she had once led thirty thousand demonic warriors to engage in “military exchanges” with this very Elf nation. The entire process had been exceedingly enthusiastic, lasting for half a year, and twenty-five thousand demonic warriors, due to the Elves’ excessive fervor, had remained in Silvermoon Forest forever.

Wawalde asked, “Are you… are you also an Elf Princess?”

Linalia responded with a string of fluent Elvish.

Sovenia didn’t understand, but based on her experience fighting Elves, she knew it was indeed Elvish.

‘It’s over. This one is the real deal.’

Instinctively, she turned to glance at the passage behind her, her mind racing. ‘Escape? Is it still possible to flee now?’

‘But my card build relies on having that foolish dog around. Can I really secure his head on my own?’

‘Stay?’

‘Who would Wawalde believe? An unknown “Sovenia” who can’t speak Elvish, or a princess who can declare her lineage?’

‘Worst case, I won’t claim the male body’s head; let some other fool have it cheap. With this body’s combat power, I still have a chance to escape from the Demon Queen’s palace. If I just get away, far away, then even if the Demon Queen has planted two rules of enslavement in my soul…’

‘She doesn’t even know about my transformation.’

‘I still have a chance to carve out a path of “ascension” in the demon realm, to become a chosen one again, and challenge the Demon Queen.’

‘But… to simply be trapped forever in this frail Elf female body, abandoning the male body of Jimi that I ascended to after a century of arduous struggle?’

Sovenia turned her head to look behind her, intending to leave, but then, with a resolute clench of her jaw, she twisted her head back around.

‘I can still hear Wawalde’s thoughts.’

‘Whatever he thinks, I’ll fabricate a response. Even if he wants to share a bed with me today, I’ll generously utter the words, “I love you!”‘

‘Anyway, he only has a day and a half left to live. At worst, I’ll just stab him ten more times—no, a hundred times—when I betray him.’