The Foolish Dog’s Vow

The foolish dog lost control.

Sovenia immediately reached for Moonlit Blade. But as her fingers touched the hilt, Wawalde’s palm pressed down, clamping her wrist.

“Let go!”

She twisted violently, struggling to break free. Wawalde’s weight pressed against her back, her cheek pressed against the cold flagstone. She could smell the lingering scent of sulfur and ash from the stone.

Her other hand reached for the sword hilt, but Wawalde seized that wrist too. Both of her hands were now pinned.

Sovenia activated her Deck of Shifting Realities.

The sound of shuffling cards echoed deep within her soul, and three cards materialized in her mind: [Attack], [Defense], and [Reckless Charge].

Yet, pinned to the ground as she was, she found herself utterly unable to execute any attack.

“Miss Sovenia, please calm down—”

“Calm down, my ass!”

Sovenia jabbed her elbow into Wawalde’s abdomen, striking his stomach armor. Wawalde remained silent, but Sovenia’s eyes reddened from the sheer pain.

Wawalde didn’t release her. Instead, he flipped her onto her back, leaving her facing upwards. Several strands of Sovenia’s hair clung to her face.

She glared at Wawalde, her golden pupils narrowed to slits, like a dangerous cat. But that was the extent of her threat.

Wawalde seized both her wrists, pinning them above her head. His face was so close she could discern the bloodshot veins in his cerulean eyes, and the mingled scent of sweat, blood, and metal emanating from him.

“I made a vow,” Wawalde said, his voice low. “I will bring you out of the Demon Queen’s Hall.”

“I don’t need that!”

Sovenia lifted her leg, her knee striking Wawalde’s waist. Her thigh muscles tensed, and the hem of her short skirt slid up to her upper thigh, revealing faint red marks where her boots had constricted her skin.

Wawalde did not flinch. A dull thud was the only sound, and Sovenia felt a sharp pain in her knee. Ultimately, her knee could not contend with plate armor.

Wawalde’s elbow pressed against her shoulder. He released one hand to grab a rope, while his remaining hand attempted to secure both her wrists.

Seizing the opportunity, Sovenia wrenched one hand free and punched towards Wawalde’s face.

Wawalde dodged by turning his head, then backhanded her wrist, pressing it back against the flagstone. He then grabbed the rope and rolled, sitting astride Sovenia’s waist. “I’m sorry.”

“What are you apologizing for?!”

Sovenia twisted her waist, trying to dislodge Wawalde. Her waist was slender, cinched by a corset to a delicate grasp, but her strength was utterly insufficient.

Wawalde’s weight pressed down on her, stealing her breath. Her chest rose and fell violently, her breathing growing ragged.

The scent of ice and pine needles emanated from her, mingling with the salty tang of sweat.

Wawalde picked up the rope, attempting to loop it around her wrist. Sovenia twisted sharply, and the rope slipped free. Her fingers clamped onto Wawalde’s gauntlet.

“You don’t understand!” Sovenia’s voice trembled with an urgency she herself didn’t perceive. “I must—”

Wawalde pressed her hand back against the flagstone, looped the rope around her wrist, and tied a knot. Sovenia struggled, but the rope bit into her skin, leaving red marks.

Her calf kicked out at Wawalde’s leg, the toe of her boot striking his greave with a dull thud.

“Miss Sovenia, don’t move—”

“Get lost!”

Sovenia arched her back, attempting to push Wawalde away. Her silver hair brushed against the flagstone, creating a faint rasping sound.

“Then I apologize.”

Wawalde’s palm pressed down on her shoulder, forcing her back to the ground with considerable force. Sovenia felt a sharp pain in her chest. His hand was large, almost entirely covering her shoulder.

Her body was simply too weak.

This damned elven girl’s body, so slender it felt like a twig that could snap.

Sovenia’s face flushed crimson.

She struggled once more. Wawalde’s elbow pressed against her collarbone, while his other hand seized the rope, looping it around her remaining wrist. Sovenia twisted her wrist, striving to break free, but Wawalde’s strength was overwhelming.

The rope tightened, biting into her skin. Her wrists were bound together.

“Let me go!”

Wawalde offered no reply. He picked up another length of rope, stood, and attempted to bind her ankles. Sovenia kicked out fiercely, the heel of her boot striking Wawalde’s arm.

Wawalde took advantage of the motion, grasping her ankle and pressing her leg to the ground.

Sovenia’s calf struggled in his grip, the lines of her leg tensing into an elegant curve. Her short skirt covered half her thigh, while the other half lay exposed, her skin gleaming with a snowy white luster in the dim light.

Wawalde’s fingers clamped onto her ankle, and the rope looped around the shaft of her boot. Sovenia twisted her ankle, her boot heel striking the flagstone with a sharp tap.

“You—”

Wawalde pinned her other foot as well, then looped the rope around both ankles and tied a knot. Sovenia’s legs were bound together, rendering her unable to kick again.

She lay on her side on the flagstone, her wrists and ankles bound. At some point, her blue hair ribbon had fallen off, and her silver hair had come undone during her struggle. Her long, silver strands spread across the ground, shimmering with a cool, near-platinum luster, like moonlight half-melted on the stone.

Her chest rose and fell violently. She glared at Wawalde, her golden pupils burning with fury, humiliation… and bewilderment.

“Why?” she asked.

Wawalde stood up, looking down at her.

“I’m sorry,” he repeated. “I must uphold my vow.”

Sovenia felt a wave of powerlessness wash over her. She simply couldn’t comprehend why the foolish dog adhered so strictly to his vow.

She twisted her body, attempting to break free from the ropes. But the knots were tight; the more she struggled, the tighter they bit. Red marks appeared on her wrists and ankles, her skin chafing painfully against the ropes.

She ceased her struggle.

It wasn’t because she had given up, but because she realized her struggles were futile.

This body was too weak.

It was so weak it shamed her, especially now that she had lost her sole advantage: ‘her appearance could control the foolish dog.’

He could do whatever he pleased with her, and her resistance was as ineffectual as a kitten’s.

Never had she felt so utterly powerless. Even during her time as a mine s*ave, even when she was whipped and tortured, she had never experienced such a profound sense of helplessness.

Sovenia lay on the flagstone, staring at the ceiling. Her breathing gradually steadied, but her heart still pounded rapidly. She could feel her heart thrumming fiercely in her chest, as if it intended to leap out.

She closed her eyes.

The male body’s head was right there.

Right in front of her.

She could feel the connection, like an invisible thread linking her to that head. Just a few hours, a mere few hours, and she could retrieve it, regain her male form, and reclaim her power.

But now, she was bound here.

Time was slipping away.

With every passing second, other demons might find that head.

With every passing second, her hope of regaining her male form diminished.

Sovenia opened her eyes and looked at Wawalde.

Wawalde was securing the ropes, ensuring she couldn’t break free. His movements were clumsy; he clearly lacked experience in binding people. Yet, he was meticulous, tying each knot tightly.

“Wawalde,” Sovenia said, her voice calm. “Release me.”

“I’m sorry, Miss Sovenia, I made a vow.”

‘Don’t mention that vow!’

“I need that head.”

“That is the head of Jimi the Cruel,” Wawalde stated. “It is filled with dark power; you cannot touch it.”

“I need it.”

“Why?”

Sovenia fell silent.

What could she say? Tell him it was her own head? Tell him she was Jimi the Cruel?

She opened her mouth, attempting to fabricate a lie.

“My… my father owes a lot of gambling debts, my mother is sick, and my younger brother still needs to study,” Sovenia said, her voice remaining calm. “That head is very valuable. I can sell it, pay off the debts, cure my mother’s illness, and fund my brother’s education.”

Wawalde stared at her, his work pausing for a moment. “You are an elf. Do elves have gambling customs?”

“My father is human.”

“You said you had amnesia.”

“I remembered,” Sovenia countered. “Also, I’m actually a princess, and you are desecrating the elven royal family.”

“You just said you weren’t a princess.”

“Yes, I am not a princess, but I have family.”

Wawalde shook his head.

Sovenia gritted her teeth. Her lie was too clumsy. ‘Damn it,’ she thought. ‘I should have said I had ten younger brothers who needed to study.’

“Please,” she said.

The words felt forcibly squeezed from her lips. The First Heavenly King, the Butcher of Humans, the Nightmare of Elves, the Demon Blade… Jimi the Cruel never begged, never bowed to anyone.

But now, she had no other choice. She tried to shed tears, yet not a single drop would fall.

“Please, Wawalde,” Sovenia continued, something flickering in her eyes, nothing more. “Release me. I need that head. I truly need it.”

Wawalde gazed at her, his expression complex.

“I made a vow,” he said. “I will bring you out of the Demon Queen’s Hall. I will not allow you to come into contact with any dark power.”

“That’s not dark power—”

“That is the head of Jimi the Cruel,” Wawalde interrupted. “It *is* dark, corrupting power. Miss Sovenia, I understand you may be in distress, but I can help you. We can solve this together. You don’t need to rely on such a thing.”

Sovenia closed her eyes.

Wawalde continued, “I have an inheritance I can designate for you, to pay off your father’s gambling debts.”

She wanted to laugh.

She wanted to roar with laughter.

He actually believed her clumsy lie.

Wawalde wanted to help her solve her problems? But how could he help? By restoring her male form? By allowing her to become Jimi the Cruel once more?

“You don’t understand,” Sovenia said, her voice very quiet. “You understand nothing at all.”

“Then tell me,” Wawalde urged. “Tell me your difficulties, and I will help you.”

Sovenia did not reply.

She lay on the flagstone, her silver hair disheveled, red marks chafing her wrists and ankles. Her chest rose and fell, her breathing echoing in the silent corridor.

Footsteps echoed from afar.

Many footsteps.

Neither Sovenia nor Wawalde noticed them. They were too engrossed in each other—one attempting deception, the other refusing to be fooled.

The footsteps drew closer.

A squad of demon guards turned the corner and spotted them.

Hope ignited within Sovenia. She wished the demon guards would rush forward, for such a chaotic battle might grant her an opportunity to fish in troubled waters.

“Hey! You all!” she shouted.

The guards halted.

The leading demon narrowed their eyes, assessing the scene before them: a man with half his face burned, pinning down a silver-haired elven girl. The girl’s hands and feet were bound, her clothes disheveled, and her face contorted with anger and humiliation.

“Well, well,” the leading demon grinned. “One of our own, eh?”

The other demons also began to laugh.

“Look at that face, definitely burned by Lord Jimi’s Conflagration,” one demon remarked. “Definitely one of us.”

“Tsk, tsk, tsk, look at that elf, such long legs,” another demon whistled. “Her skin’s pale enough too. Tsk, those thighs, those calves, absolutely divine.”

Wawalde looked over.

Sovenia seized the chance to try and wriggle away, but Wawalde pressed her down again. Sovenia struggled violently.

“She’s struggling pretty hard, isn’t she?”

“Of course. Who wouldn’t struggle when they’re bound?”

“Our brother here must be a virgin, eh? Look at his technique, utterly clumsy.”

“Hahahaha—”

The demons burst into laughter. They stood at a distance, not approaching, merely observing with keen interest.

Sovenia grew desperate, shouting, “You bunch of cowar—”

Wawalde promptly covered her mouth.

Suddenly, a furious roar echoed.

“Wait,” a demon said.

The demons fell silent.

A roar came from the distance.

It was the Demon Queen’s roar, filled with anger and sorrow, shaking the entire Demon Queen’s Hall. It was a roar of challenge.

“Who’s challenging the Demon Queen?” a demon asked.

“I heard it’s Skullcrusher,” the leading demon replied. “They got Heavenly King Jimi’s head and supposedly gained power from it.”

“Lord Jimi’s head?”

“Yes, that one. They’re challenging the Demon Queen to claim the throne.”

“Should we go see?”

“Let’s go, let’s go! We might even get to follow a new Demon King!”

The demons turned and left, their footsteps gradually fading into the distance.

Sovenia lay on the flagstone, her eyes wide.

She heard it.

She heard the demons’ conversation.

Skullcrusher had her head.

Skullcrusher was challenging the Demon Queen.

Her head, her only hope of regaining her male form, was about to be taken by someone else.

‘Absorbing power isn’t that fast. If I can make it in time, I can not only inherit my original strength but also absorb that foolish wretch who dared to covet my power.’

Sovenia tried to stand, but her hands and feet were bound.

“No…”

Sovenia’s voice was barely a whisper, almost inaudible.

“No…”

Her body began to tremble.

Not from fear, but from despair.

She was about to lose her head.

She was about to lose her chance to regain her male form.

She would forever be trapped in this frail elven girl’s body.

Forever.

Tears dripped onto the floor.

Wawalde released his hand from Sovenia’s mouth and looked at her.

Sovenia no longer struggled. She lay there, her silver hair scattered across the flagstone, her eyes fixed on the ceiling. Tears streamed from the corners of her eyes, tracing paths down her cheeks to her ears, and dripping onto the ground.

Her lips moved, but no sound emerged.

“I’m sorry,” Wawalde repeated, then wrapped his arms around Sovenia’s waist and lifted her onto his shoulder. She was as light as a feather.

Sovenia’s tears flowed even more profusely. ‘If you’re sorry, then help me get the male body’s head! Don’t carry me away!’