Lilith slowly took her seat opposite Erhad, her blood-red gown spreading around her legs like the petals of some dark flower. The old man looked deep into her eyes; in his gaze, there wasn't a trace of the lust that usually saturated this castle - only cold, analytical wisdom and a lingering sadness.

  After searching her eyes and seeing the state of her soul, he let out a heavy sigh.

  “So, you failed after all...” he said in an aged, trembling voice that nonetheless possessed a profound depth.

  Lilith’s face hardened. For a moment, a shadow of frustration flickered in her golden eyes as she slowly shook her head.

  Erhad immediately turned grave, setting his book aside.

  “Which part of the ritual failed?” he asked, knitting his bushy brows. “Were my fears regarding the manifestation of the throne justified? The Eighth Throne should, by its very nature, differ from the other seven; its mana structure is far more...”

  Lilith raised a hand, cutting off his specution.

  “The ritual was coordinated perfectly,” she clipped, her voice hard. “Everything proceeded without a hitch. Up to a certain point, the entire process was textbook.”

  Erhad went still, his eyes narrowing in thought. If the ritual itself was fwless, there could only be one answer.

  “External interference?” he whispered, almost to himself.

  Lilith nodded, brushing back a stray lock of red hair.

  At those words, the old man underwent a sudden transformation. His hunched frame straightened, and a violent energy began to swirl around him. A sudden gust of wind whipped through the library, snatching at the strand of hair Lilith had just tucked behind her ear. The atmosphere in the room became heavy and stifling, saturated with a power that would have made any ordinary maid lose consciousness.

  The old man looked at Lilith, his gaze now cold as ice.

  “Which of those little Demon Kings dared to interfere?!” he growled, every sylble vibrating with power. “Tell me, Lilith, and I shall remind them what the title ‘Crownbreaker’ truly means.”

  Had anyone from outside the castle heard those words, they would likely have burst out ughing at the sight of an old man calling the mighty rulers "little."

  But Lilith knew these were no idle boasts. In his prime, this man had stood as an equal to the Demon Kings, and one of the previous generation had fallen directly by his hand.

  “Calm yourself, Erhad,” Lilith said, showing not the slightest fear of his aura. “Anger at your age brings no good. It wasn't one of the Kings who hindered me.”

  The old man froze, and the swirling energy vanished instantly, leaving only the sharp scent of ozone. He looked at her, completely bewildered.

  “Who was it then?” he asked, squinting.

  Lilith sighed heavily, her hand unconsciously tightening on the armrest of her chair. For a moment, she stared at the dust motes dancing in the light of the magic nterns before answering.

  “A simple human, Erhad. He just... happened to be in the Forest of Forgotten Whispers, exactly where I was conducting the ritual. To avoid disrupting the mana flow and prevent fluctuations, I hadn't set up any active protective barriers. It was meant to be a pure process. That miserable mortal, seeing me covered in blood under the influence of the ritual’s power, didn't run. Instead, he rushed over, wanting to ‘help’ me. In doing so, he disrupted the entire structure and destroyed the nearly materialized throne.”

  The old man fell silent for a moment, his beard twitching as he slowly digested her words. Lilith leaned back, her gaze becoming hollow and full of bitterness.

  “Do you understand, Erhad?” she continued, her voice trembling with suppressed fury. “Over fifteen years of painstaking preparation, thousands of analyzed tomes and priceless artifacts... everything lost because of a lowly human who decided to py the knight saving a damsel in distress. I truly cannot imagine worse luck.”

  Erhad sat in silence for several minutes. His fingers drummed rhythmically against the tabletop until he finally looked at Lilith with a gravity that made the blood in her veins slow.

  “This may have nothing to do with luck, Lilith,” he said in his raspy, aged voice.

  Lilith frowned, her eyes fring with golden light.

  “You think someone sent him? That it was sabotage?” she asked, leaning forward. “If so, I’ll tell you right now: I tortured him for dwo weeks. I pulled every memory, every tiny thought out of him, and I found absolutely nothing suspicious. He literally just found himself in the wrong pce at the worst possible time.”

  The old man slowly shook his head, his smile turning strangely sad.

  “Precisely because it seems like such an improbable accident... it might not be an accident at all,” Erhad replied.

  Lilith went quiet, trying to follow her mentor’s train of thought. Every anomaly fshed through her mind as she tried to piece together what Erhad meant. After a moment, she looked at him, her voice dropping to a barely audible whisper.

  “Fate...”

  Erhad nodded slowly.

  In this fantastic world, Fate is not merely an abstract concept from human poetry. It is a powerful, invisible force striving to maintain the bance of the universe. Every great shift in the structure of power meets a reaction - the stronger the impulse, the more violent the response from destiny. Powerful beings like the Demon Kings perceive Fate as a river: one can try to build dams or change its course, but the water will always find a way to strike at the weakest point of the construction.

  “In the end, creating an Eighth Throne goes against the fundamental rules of this world,” the old man said, his voice deep and cautionary. “The System accepts seven Kings as the pilrs of order. Attempting to add an eighth is an attempt to rewrite the code of reality. To defend itself, the world reacted, setting Fate in motion to disrupt your ritual at the least expected moment.”

  He sighed heavily, and the aura of ancient magic swirled in the air again.

  “I thought we had secured ourselves properly. That we had hidden our motives from the eyes of Fate. But clearly, we overestimated our strength. Fate found a crack where no one was looking - in the heart of a random passerby.”

  Lilith nodded slightly, her brow furrowed. She analyzed every word, fitting them into what had happened in the Forest of Forgotten Whispers. The old man’s theory possessed a painful, logical sense.

  “It’s a pity you’ve likely already killed the man,” Erhad added suddenly, a hint of regret in his voice. “It was he who was chosen to hinder you. You must be connected by the threads of fate in some way. Perhaps with his help, we could have finished what you started...”

  Lilith suddenly sat bolt upright, her golden eyes fshing.

  “The man is still alive,” she clipped.

  The old man froze. His eyebrows shot so high they disappeared under his silver hair, and he looked at her with genuine astonishment.

  “Alive?” he repeated, narrowing his eyes. “You’ve changed a bit, Lilith. You’ve truly grown up. A few years ago, you would have tortured him to death and used his remains as fertilizer for your gardens. And now... you’re keeping him alive?”

  Lilith suddenly felt strangely uncomfortable. She lightly scratched her cheek, looking away from Erhad’s searching gaze.

  “Well... technically I did do that,” she muttered. “I tortured him for two weeks, and then I used him as a guinea pig for my experiments with transformation magic.”

  The old man let out a short ugh, but quickly turned serious.

  “Then how is he still breathing? No one survives your experiments with soul transformation.”

  A triumphant, predatory smile suddenly appeared on Lilith’s face.

  “Because on him, I managed to use the Halo of Ethereal Transfiguration with positive results for the first time.”

  Erhad violently shoved aside his staff, which hit the floor with a dull thud. His face turned deathly pale.

  “Lilith... do not jest with me,” he whispered. “That spell... it’s impossible.”

  “I’m not jesting,” she replied, her red hair dancing in the ntern light as she shook her head. “I really did it. He’s alive, though he looks more like a... sweet kitten than a man now.”

  The old man suddenly stood up, despite his hunch, and approached her, grabbing her shoulders.

  “Listen to me carefully, Lilith: keep him alive at all costs!” he cried with a passion that hadn't been in his voice for years. “Halo of Ethereal Transfiguration is literally a spell that defies all rules of the world. I never thought you’d manage to activate it even once without tearing the target’s soul to shreds.”

  He looked deep into her eyes, his hands trembling slightly.

  “Do you really think it’s a coincidence? That it was on this very man - the one Fate used to stop your ritual for the Eighth Throne - that you managed to activate that cursed spell? In this world, there are no such coincidences!”

  Lilith turned grave as the weight of his words sank in.

  “You think there’s a deeper connection between the spell, the ritual, and this man?” she asked quietly.

  Erhad nodded vigorously.

  “I’m not certain of the nature of the bond, but looking at everything... I can say with high probability that this man, is the key. He didn't just disrupt the ritual; he survived the influence of the Halo of Ethereal Transfiguration. If you use him properly, he might be the only way for you to finally create a new Throne and increase the number of Demon Kings.”

  Erhad suddenly went quiet, the aura of power that had just possessed him vanishing as quickly as it had appeared. The old man cleared his throat, slightly embarrassed, smoothing his long silver beard. Clearly, he had remembered his age and that violent outbursts of emotion were unseemly for one of his status.

  “Well then...” he muttered, slowly sinking back into his carved chair, which creaked under his weight. “Forgive the outburst, Lilith. Old age has its rights, but a researcher’s heart still beats too fast at the news of such anomalies. For now, we cannot be absolutely certain about the boy's role, but...” he looked at her seriously, “it would be best if you kept him alive. He is too precious a piece of the puzzle to lose now.”

  Lilith nodded, her gaze resting on the shelves filled with ancient knowledge.

  “I intended to do so anyway, Erhad,” she replied calmly. “My little sweetling has something about him that makes me want to observe him a while longer.”

  After a moment, however, her expression changed, becoming more businesslike. She leaned back, her golden eyes fshing with a mischievous smile.

  “I didn't come here just to share news of my new acquisition and the failure of the ritual, though,” she stated, shifting the subject.

  Erhad raised an eyebrow, a small smile pying under his mustache. He knew that look on his former student well.

  “What can this old servant do for you then?” he asked, amusement cing his voice.

  “I need a certain Css Scroll,” Lilith said, her tone brook no argument.

  The old man nodded, unsurprised. The library hid artifacts that other Demon Kings could only dream of.

  “What rank are we talking about?” he asked pragmatically.

  “Epic,” came the short reply.

  Erhad held his breath for a moment. He looked at Lilith searchingly but didn't comment on her choice. He knew a scroll of that css was worth a fortune and could completely alter the destiny of the being who used it. After a moment, he cleared his throat.

  “Even though you are the Mistress of this castle and technically everything here belongs to you, rules are rules,” he reminded her with a slight smile. “Even you must spend Contribution Points to receive an item of that css from the The Great Archive.”

  Lilith merely huffed, as if she had expected this. She reached to her waist and pulled out a magical, purple-glowing contribution badge, which she immediately tossed to the old man.

  “I am well aware, Erhad. I established those rules myself to maintain order among my subordinates,” she stated with a hint of pride.

  The old man deftly caught the badge, then pulled out his own brass seal. When he brought the two items together, the air around them shivered with magic. The numbers etched into Lilith’s badge began to change rapidly, spinning until they finally settled on a significantly lower value. He returned the item to her with a slight bow.

  “The fee has been collected. You may take one of the Epic css scrolls.”

  The Demon Queen rose, her red gown rustling against the floor as she moved deeper into the gloom of the library without a word.

  Passing rows of books and sealed dispy cases, she knew exactly what she was looking for.

  ***

  POV: Neko

  The cck-cck of my heels against the marble floor echoed off the walls as I followed Elene, struggling to keep my bance in these cursed, high shoes. With every step, the bell on my tail let out a clear, sharp chime that sounded like a death sentence in my ears. I felt absurd in this incredibly frilly maid outfit; the petticoat was so short that even the slightest movement threatened to expose my pink ce panties.

  Elene stopped before a pair of tall doors and pushed them open with a decisive motion. When we crossed the threshold, I was nearly blinded by the intensity of the colors. The room we entered was entirely pink - from the plush walls to the heavy-knit rugs and the carved ceiling. The room was practically overflowing with toys: from gargantuan plush beasts to complicated accessories whose purpose I preferred not to guess.

  Elene turned on her heel, her heart-spade tail whipping the air just inches from my face. She looked at me, and in her eyes fshed that same sinister satisfaction I’d seen when she was fitting my bow-adorned bra on the first day.

  “Right then, kitten,” she said in a stern voice that made the hair on the back of my neck stand up. “Since you’d rather lounge about in a bathrobe, it means you must have plenty of energy. Today, you’ll be handling this room.”