"Nose to the ground," the girl ordered, her expression twisting into a deep, commanding scowl.
This bitch.
Who did she think she was?
If anyone's nose was going to be on the ground, it ought to be hers, six feet under, preferably.
Sure, she was beautiful, but Liora wasn't the type to be dazzled by a pretty face.
'Pretty privilege' meant nothing when you were a jerk wrapped in silk.
After all, even the finest face could be rearranged with a single well-placed punch.
"Lilathra, that's enough," Selarin rose from her seat, her voice calm but firm as she turned to face the girl.
Of course. It all clicked now.
Lilathra, this arrogant, sharp-tongued brat, was one of the twins. The ruthless one. The prodigy. The favorite of their demonic emperor of a father.
Talk about being drunk on your own legend.
⬧︎[] SYSTEM NOTIFICATION []
⬧︎[] Race Identified: SOLAREIGN–NYXBORNE HYBRID []
⬧︎[] Classification: Supreme-Tier Demon []
⬧︎[] Lineage: Imperial Bloodline & House Aurexus []
⬧︎[] Traits:
Solarflame Dominion
Nyx Vein
Sovereign's Aura
Primordial Resilience
Dual Aspect Affinity []
⬧︎[] Rarity: Mythic - One of a Kind []
⬧︎[] Notable Lore: The Solareign-Nyxborn hybrid is an unprecedented convergence of opposing primordial forces: the blazing light of the Solareign, and the ancient void of the Nyxborne, a forgotten bloodline tied to the first darkness that predated the Elarion Realm. Legends say the child born of both light and abyss will either unite the empire or unravel it. []
On second thought, perhaps punching her in the face wasn't the most strategic move right now.
"Hmph, whatever," Lilathra scoffed, rolling her eyes. "I've come to receive your blessing, Grandmother."
Selarin's expression faltered, her lips parting. "How… how could I refuse?"
"Don't tell me you plan to give that weakling brother of mine the same blessing. I'm the one who deserves to carry your wisdom, your legacy."
"I'm not choosing one over the other," Selarin said softly. "You are both dear to me."
"Well," Lilathra sneered, "you won't have to worry about choosing at all. We're about to celebrate a very one-sided victory."
Selarin's eyes widened in horror. "L-Lilathra, you can't possibly mean—"
But the girl was already turning away, casually announcing her intent to murder her twin was no more serious than stating a preference for tea.
Liora stared after her, chilled.
She'd seen that look before.
Back in her world, it was the trademark gaze of a nepotism baby, desperate to outshine those they admired, clawing for validation using any means necessary.
Always convinced they'd earned it. Always whining that it was their birthright.
And behind all that entitlement was the same thing.
Hunger.
An hour passed, and the cheers of the demons swelled into a deafening roar.
Up in the highest balcony sat the Emperor, stern and unflinching, while his wife, the Empress, looked more anxious than proud.
It was no secret she despised this barbaric tradition.
They were opposites in every sense: the Emperor, a man who carved power with his own hands; the Empress, born of a bloodline already steeped in it, which, of course, was exactly why he sought her.
The tension was suffocating. Everyone knew Lilathra hadn't been bluffing.
"And now, let us welcome…" the host's voice boomed, pausing for dramatic effect, "The Demonic Twins!"
The eastern gate creaked open first. Metal bars rose with a heavy groan as a guard pulled the lever.
Omnus stepped forward.
Toned and bare-chested, wearing nothing but simple pants, his twin heritage was unmistakable: gray hair, pale skin, and those blood-colored eyes they both shared.
Yet, the crowd offered him no cheers.
Not that anyone expected otherwise.
Still, he kept his chin high.
In their own twisted way, both twins clung to the same thing: self-preservation.
Then the western gate opened.
Lilathra.
Though equally smug and endlessly arrogant, she carried herself with a calm, unnerving poise.
Omnus, however, was visibly tense.
"Tch, look at that punk. Bet he's two seconds away from pissing himself," one spectator snickered loudly.
Omnus definitely heard it.
So, the moment the signal was given, he exploded forward, throwing the first punch.
⬧︎[] System Notification []
⬧︎[] Formancy Detected []
⬧︎[] User: Lilathra Vexaris, Heiress of the Demonic Empire []
⬧︎[] Formancy: Kratogeneia []
⬧︎[] "She who is born to rule shall never kneel. Her voice is law. Her will, a weapon."
⬧︎[] Form of Dominion:
A Conceptual Formancy anchored in the primordial ideal of Sovereignty. []
⬧︎[] - Draws power from hierarchy, obedience, and fear.
- Allows user to exert control over minds, environments, and allegiances.
- Grows stronger in any space she claims as her domain.
- Disobedience weakens others. Doubt weakens her. []
⬧︎[] Signature Ability Acquired: Royal Edict — Absolute Command []
"Kratogeneia?"
Judging by their Formancy, Lilathra was the complete opposite of Liora.
While Liora thrived in obscurity, gaining strength through anonymity, Lilathra fed off dominion, adoration, and worship.
'Best to stay as far from her as possible…'
"RAAGGHH!!!" Omnus roared with each desperate punch, though every strike was pitifully useless.
"All you have is muscle," Lilathra said coolly, sidestepping his clumsy attacks with ease.
The pattern was almost comical.
Omnus would charge and swing, Lilathra would evade and counter, sending him flying, only for him to scramble back to his feet, stubborn as ever.
The crowd was thrilled, their bloodlust only fueling Lilathra's growing confidence.
"Enough of this foolishness, brother," she sneered, catching one of his horns mid-charge. "You're only half of what you were meant to be. A coward."
With deliberate cruelty, she twisted, ignoring Omnus's agonized screams as his horn slowly tore away from his skull.
Marla, Selarin, and Parlon were frozen in their seats, but not horrified.
"Why aren't the three of you shocked?!" Liora whispered, appalled.
"When a demon's horn is severed, it signifies disgrace," Parlon explained, voice steady. "It is a message that the bearer no longer represents the Demonic Empire. This practice is... customary."
A shame ritual, much like how samurai once lost their topknots to mark dishonor.
Liora squeezed her eyes shut, unable to bear the sight. But when she finally dared to peek, the second horn was gone. Blood stained the arena like spilled ink.
Lilathra wasn't finished.
"STOP THIS INSTANT!" Selarin's voice rang out as she stood, her expression shifting between bitter disappointment and heavy anxiety. Without another word, she turned and left.
The others quickly followed.