The Price of a Promise and a Demonic Dilemma

Wawalde ran wildly, carrying the weeping Sovenia.

Sovenia wept, thinking to herself that since no one knew she was the formidable Jimi the Cruel, she might as well cry her heart out.

Exhausted from crying, her eyes were swollen and her throat parched. She could only stare blankly as the scenery behind them blurred into a rapid retreat.

The Demon Queen’s Palace receded further and further. Built into a mountain, its exposed black spires appeared grotesquely twisted beneath the blood-red sky, like a bone spur piercing the heavens.

The air around them reeked of sulfur and char, mingled with a sickly sweet scent of decay.

The outer perimeter of the Demon Queen’s Palace was guarded by demon soldiers.

Wawalde burst through the palace’s outer defensive line.

Sovenia observed the demon soldiers: armored, spear-wielding, mounted on powerful beasts. They should have intercepted any intruders, yet they were now plunged into chaos.

Some were locked in internecine combat, vying for “promotion.” Others abandoned their posts, rushing towards the Demon Queen’s Palace, evidently eager to witness the birth of a new monarch. Still others simply dispersed, vanishing into the twisted woods.

Thus, Wawalde strode brazenly, Sovenia slung over his shoulder, through the outer defenses and into the desolate wilds of the Demon Realm.

Sovenia gazed at the sky.

It was a sky of blood-red, like a massive, sodden curtain of flesh pressing down from above. There was no sun, no clouds, only a viscous, nauseating crimson glow seeping in from all directions.

‘Why did this sky, once so familiar, now fill her with such revulsion?’

Wawalde carried her deeper into the forest.

Within the woods, twisted trees sprang from the ground, their trunks contorted into impossible angles. Their bark was riddled with cracks, oozing a viscous blue sap. The leaves, also blue, rustled with a metallic rasp in the wind.

This was the Demon Realm.

It was the world Sovenia had once ruled—or rather, a portion of it.

Now, Sovenia, who had once ruled a segment of the Demon Realm, was being hauled away by Wawalde like a sack of goods. Her backside was still reddened, bearing the clear marks of slaps, and he continued to strike her as he carried her.

****

Finally, Wawalde came to a halt.

He gently lowered Sovenia from his shoulder, allowing her to lean against a ruined rock. Her hands remained bound, and her ankles were still tightly secured by ropes.

As she sat on the ground, a searing pain emanated from her backside—the very spot where she had been struck. It felt as though something were burning her.

The agony made her gasp, and she collapsed onto her side.

Her long silver hair cascaded disheveled over her shoulders, her fishtail braid long undone, with only the very ends barely secured by the blue hair tie.

The Veil of Desire still obscured her face; the thin white gauze had become semi-transparent from her tears, revealing her flushed golden eyes beneath.

Wawalde crouched, beginning to rummage through his backpack.

Sovenia watched him with a blank stare. She no longer wished to speak or to cry. She simply observed, as if gazing upon a moving corpse.

Wawalde produced a few items.

There was an emblem, carved with the image of a wild boar. Then, a neatly folded letter, its envelope bearing an unfamiliar name.

He placed these objects beside Sovenia’s legs.

“Bart’s relics…” Wawalde’s voice was soft, imbued with a tenderness Sovenia couldn’t comprehend. “And Elly’s letter to her family.”

Sovenia listened, but only numbness resonated within her heart.

She recognized the names—the teammates of Wawalde, the Hero.

‘Their relics… why display them now?’

Wawalde stood, pointing to the west.

“Head three miles west, there’s a ruin,” he said. “In its basement, you’ll find a teleportation array we set up, capable of returning you directly to the Human Realm.”

Sovenia lifted her head, looking at him. Of course, she knew that location; after all, allowing the Hero’s party into the Demon Realm had been her own meticulous plan.

Wawalde pulled something from his pocket.

Sovenia saw the bird’s claw.

It looked as if it had been severed from a rooster, and it quivered slightly in Wawalde’s hand, as if still alive.

Sovenia felt no surprise. She had, after all, heard Wawalde’s inner thoughts before. Yet, seeing the bird’s claw now, a flicker of jealousy stirred within her. The fact that the claw would return, even after Wawalde had severed it, indicated its regard for him.

‘As for her, a loser, a weakling, she must be utterly worthless now.’

“What do you intend to do with that bird’s claw?” Sovenia asked, her voice eerily calm. “Didn’t you say before that you wouldn’t accept its corrupting power?”

Wawalde offered no reply. He merely tightened his grip on the claw, lowering his head to stare intently at the object.

“I have a use for it,” he finally stated.

A twisted sense of gratification surged within Sovenia.

She recalled the time in her bedchamber when she had recounted her own story to Wawalde—the tale of Jimi the Cruel.

In that narrative, Jimi, then a mining s*ave, had acquired the bird’s claw. He wished for power, ascended to become a demon, and his human girlfriend, Haelana, witnessed his “energy reclamation”—the act of devouring a demon overseer’s corpse—and branded him a monster.

‘What had Wawalde said after hearing that story?’

“Jimi the Cruel deserved his fate…”

“He had become a monster…”

“Haelana’s reaction was perfectly normal. Any sane person witnessing such a sight would…”

Yes, that was precisely what he had said.

That self-righteous demeanor, that expression of disdain, that posture of “I would never be like him”—

And now?

‘Now you’re going to use the bird’s claw too, you foolish dog.’

Sovenia’s lips curved upward into a cold smile.

‘How delightful.’

‘So, for all your eloquent words, you’re no different deep down.’

She yearned for Wawalde’s corruption.

She hoped he would descend into the most grotesque, most twisted demon, reviled by his own teammates, hunted by the Human Realm, and cursed as a monster by all. Only then would she witness the arrogant knight weeping on his knees.

The thought alone brought her immense satisfaction.

She would certainly scream at the corrupted Wawalde, “Monster!”

She would curse this audacious man, who dared to strike her backside and speak so casually, until he withered away.

Wawalde resumed speaking.

“Oh, and your father gambled, your mother is ill, and your brother needs money for his studies…” He produced a small token from his coat—a silver ring bearing a family crest. “Take this token of mine and seek out Friar Malcolm of the Duchy of Lorraine’s Knight Order. He will assist you in inheriting an estate.”

Sovenia’s ears perked up. “An estate?”

Wawalde did not respond.

He tucked the ring beside Sovenia’s knee-high boots, then stood and brushed the dirt from his hands.

“I wish…” Wawalde murmured to the bird’s claw. “In ten minutes, her ropes will automatically loosen.”

The bird’s claw quivered faintly, as if in response.

Wawalde lifted his head, meeting Sovenia’s gaze.

Her moist, golden eyes were reflected in his vivid azure ones.

“I apologize, Miss Sovenia,” he said. “But I must return and complete what I set out to do.”

“What?”

Wawalde turned and began to run back towards the Demon Queen’s Palace.

Sovenia watched his retreating figure.

The figure, clad in tattered plate armor and shouldering a greatsword scavenged from a demon’s corpse, ran with astonishing speed, quickly vanishing into the twisted blue forest.

Sovenia remained seated on the ground, staring blankly in the direction he had disappeared.

She didn’t understand.

Not at all.

‘What in the damn hell are you doing?’

Sovenia’s demonic mind began to race, desperately attempting to comprehend Wawalde’s actions.

‘Go back? To the Demon Queen’s Palace?’

‘Why?’

‘To kill Skullcrusher? Or to kill the Demon Queen?’

‘No, that’s wrong. In your current state, you couldn’t kill a fly. You only have five Holy Slashes left. And only one clone, right? What could you possibly do by going back? Court death?’

The more Sovenia pondered, the more bewildered she became.

She tried to find some logic in Wawalde’s actions, some profit motive, some incentive that aligned with a demonic mindset—

But she found nothing.

Absolutely nothing.

‘Could it be… could it be for revenge?’

‘Yes, it must be for revenge. His fallen comrades—Bart, Elly, and the others—Wawalde must intend to avenge them, which is why he’s risking his life to return.’

‘But that doesn’t make sense either.’

‘What’s the point of revenge?’

‘The dead won’t be resurrected.’

‘If you go back to die, will Bart and Elly come back to life?’

‘No.’

‘So what are you after?’

Sovenia simply couldn’t fathom it.

She sat on the ground, staring at the direction Wawalde had vanished, her mind a chaotic jumble.

The demonic mindset was simple: power, profit, survival. All actions should revolve around these three tenets. If an endeavor brought no power, yielded no profit, and threatened one’s existence, it was not to be undertaken.

This was an ironclad rule.

Sovenia herself had relied on this very logic to climb from a mining s*ave to a Heavenly King.

Yet, Wawalde’s actions completely defied this logic.

He would gain no power by returning.

He would acquire no profit.

He would only die.

‘So why was he going back?’

Sovenia couldn’t comprehend it.

Suddenly, she recalled Wawalde’s words from her bedchamber—

“I swore an oath to protect you, to lead you out of the Demon Queen’s Palace.”

At the time, Sovenia had found those words utterly foolish and laughable.

Even now, she still considered them foolish and laughable.

Yet, the searing pain in her backside served as a stark reminder. She, Sovenia, had been defeated, humiliated, and soundly spanked by Wawalde, her sworn enemy, all for such a foolish reason.

Wawalde was the victor, and she the vanquished. A loser was simply a loser.

As an ancient demon, Sovenia could only swallow this bitter pill and strive to reflect on her failure.

Vaguely, she seemed to grasp something.

Wawalde wasn’t returning for power.

Nor for profit.

‘He was returning for… honor?’

‘No, that wasn’t right either.’

‘For… responsibility?’

‘Still not quite right.’

Sovenia bit her lip, deep in thought.

If Wawalde had carried her to a safe place to enjoy her elven female body, she might have been able to accept and understand that.

Her demonic mind simply could not grasp such an act. In the Demon Realm, no one would willingly go to their death for so-called “honor” or “responsibility.”

Such concepts were hollow, mere excuses used by the weak to console themselves. There were many such weaklings in the Human Realm, failures who required no understanding from the strong.

The strong needed only power.

Only to survive.

Only to climb higher.

Nothing else mattered.

But Wawalde… this foolish dog… he actually…

A wave of irritation suddenly washed over Sovenia.

She didn’t want to think about it anymore.

‘Anyway, die or live, what do I care?’

She lowered her head, looking at her bound hands. The ropes were tied tightly, already chafing her wrists raw. Her ankles were in the same state, the edge of her boots pressing into the ropes, causing agonizing pain. And her backside was aching terribly too.

Ten minutes.

In ten minutes, the ropes would automatically loosen.

Then what?

What then?

Sovenia thought of the relics—Bart’s emblem, Elly’s letter, and the ring.

Wawalde had left these items for her, intending for her to go to the Human Realm and use them to gain shelter and resources.

‘How kind.’

‘How thoughtful.’

He had even planned out her future.

Sovenia suddenly found it laughable.

She, Jimi the Cruel, the First Heavenly King of the Demon Queen’s Palace, a butcher who had slaughtered countless lives, would now have to rely on the relics of her sworn enemy to survive.

It was truly ironic.

Sovenia lifted her head, gazing at the blood-red sky.

She contemplated her future.

Without her head, she had no power.

Without power, she could not restore her male body.

Unable to regain her male form, she would be forever trapped in this frail elven maiden’s body, scorned by her enemy, bullied by her enemy, carried around like mere cargo by her enemy…

And she would be spanked.

‘Why was she thinking about being spanked again?’

‘It was just a spanking, why couldn’t she just let it go? Impossible.’

Sovenia tried not to think about the spanking, but the pain in her backside only grew more pronounced.

Her cheeks felt faintly flushed.

Her backside still ached.

That numb, burning sensation, like fire, spread from her buttocks all the way to her waist, constantly reawakening her previous memories—how she had been carried over his shoulder, how she had been spanked.

Each time she recalled Wawalde’s slaps, she felt utterly humiliated.

But…

But actually…

‘It wasn’t that big of a deal, was it?’

Sovenia told herself inwardly.

‘It was just a few slaps on the backside, it’s not like she lost a piece of flesh.’

‘Moreover, Wawalde hadn’t meant it maliciously. He only wanted her to shut up, to prevent her from attracting demon soldiers. From a tactical standpoint, it was reasonable.’

‘Yes, very reasonable.’

‘Extremely reasonable.’

‘So I don’t care at all.’

‘I don’t care about being spanked at all.’

‘Not in the slightest.’

Sovenia desperately tried to convince herself.

But her face remained hot.

Her backside still throbbed.

And each time she recalled those slaps, she involuntarily thought of Wawalde’s hand—that rough, powerful, calloused hand, the electric, burning pain, and…

*Smack, smack, smack—*

Sovenia vigorously shook her head, trying to dislodge these images from her mind.

‘No more thinking.’

‘No more of this nonsense.’

She took a deep breath, attempting to calm herself.

Then she thought of something else—

‘Or, once the ropes are undone, I’ll just end everything here.’

Suicide.

‘There’s nothing left to live for anyway.’

No power, no head, no future—only a frail body and a heap of humiliating memories.

Rather than live like this, it would be better to die.

Sovenia closed her eyes, seriously considering this option.

She could use the Blade of Moonlight to slit her own throat.

Or burn herself to death with a Blazing Strike.

Or simply find a demon and let them tear her to shreds.

‘It would all be the same.’

‘Anyway, it’s death.’

Sovenia tried to sit up, but a fiery sting shot through her backside, making her wince. She flopped back onto her side.

She could only lie there, waiting for the moment the ropes would loosen, to finally put an end to it all.