Demon Lord: Erotic Adventure in Another World

Her lips parted slightly.

No rage.

No joy.

No grief.

Just... hunger.

The kind that transcended desire. The kind that devoured what it could not have.

Riel hovered, suspended above the battlefield like a new moon—glacial, uncaring, inevitable. The battlefield obeyed her now. Each breath she took caused more of the world to crystallise.

Her fingers shifted gently over the halberd's new shaft—no longer ice, but something older. Something pure. It pulsed like a living bone of the world, wrapped in lightless mana, sharpened to a soul-cutting edge.

Below her, Asmodeus stood motionless.

His axe rested across one shoulder, angled behind his head, the tip drawing a slow red line in the frost behind him. The black flames still hissed around his form, but they pulsed less now—drawn inward. Tight. Controlled.

His gaze never left her.

Not once.

Not even as the frozen palace rose around them.

Not even as the sky began to crackle with falling halos of glacial light, flickering rings spiralling above her like a divine execution.

She floated down.

Not fast.

But with purpose.

Every step she "walked" upon air shifted the world. The mirrored floor beneath Asmodeus' feet warped slightly, bending under pressure that shouldn't exist.

He stepped sideways—barely—his boots grinding softly into the ice, and the world steadied.

She raised the halberd.

It moved with her thoughts.

No resistance.

No effort.

"You could have been mine," she said, voice crystalline."But you were born wrong."

Asmodeus tilted his head. He didn't blink.

"No," he said softly. "You just aren't her."

The first blow came from above—a savage downward strike that blurred through the air, trailing a spiral of runes behind it. A scream of mana cut the atmosphere apart.

Asmodeus blocked with both hands on the axe, the haft shaking violently, frost burning into the flesh of his palms. The impact slammed him backwards two meters, gouging a trench through the crystallised earth.

Before he could recover, the second strike was already on its way—horizontal this time, low and fast, aimed at his knees.

He leapt, flipping through the air, landing hard with a roll as a wall of ice erupted behind him, razor-edged and shimmering.

The palace had started moving.

Riel didn't pursue it immediately.

She extended one hand.

Dozens of ice pillars formed around her—floating, spiralling, each one reflecting a different version of Asmodeus. Some smiling. Some bloody. Some broken. All of them... hers.

"I can make you perfect," she whispered. "I can make you mine."

She lunged again—this time, faster.

He spun the axe, stepping into her charge, blade meeting halberd in a whirlwind of steel and soul-energy.

The world erupted around them.

Snow became mist.

Crystal became dust.

And two sovereigns danced where no gods dared walk.

Her powers a mixture... of all the teeth.

For she was the source.

—

But was that enough...?

The mirrored palace trembled.

Glass towers cracked and reformed.

Snow burst in spirals as two shapes crashed through the frozen sky, slamming into each other with the force of tectonic plates.

Riel spun midair, halberd flashing with frost, carving deep arcs that split the air itself.

Each blow released a ripple of ice magic, slicing the storm apart in crescent bursts.

But Asmodeus was faster.

Sharper.

And Stronger.

No longer defending.

He moved like a ferocious beast.

His axe roared through the air, its red blade carving heat lines in space, clashing against her halberd with brutal, effortless swings.

The moment her guard tilted, he slammed a boot into her gut and launched her downward.

She struck the mirrored floor with enough force to crater it.

Glass exploded outward in a perfect spiral.

He descended in her shadow.

Below them, the four women could only watch.

Levia pressed one hand to the wound on her hip, her breathing ragged. Her shield trembled beside her — scorched, cracked, but upright.

"He's pushing her back…" she whispered.

Her voice was full of awe.

And doubt.

Vinea stood slightly apart, her blade dragged behind her in the snow, its edge dulled by Gorrhan's fists.

She was shaking, not from fear.

From frustration.

She'd fought so hard, bled so much…

And it still wasn't enough to reach his side.

"He shouldn't be alone," she muttered.

Asmodea sat with her legs crossed, arms wrapped around herself, hair matted with dried blood.

She forced a smile.

But her voice trembled when she spoke.

"He's pushing himself... trying to end it too fast..."

Each woman's thoughts and feelings upon seeing the battle were different.

The brutal demon emperor smashed the female around, his brute force shattering and crushing her ethereal grace.

Lumina's spider legs twitched, two of them broken off entirely. Her hands were pressed into the ice, her breathing shallow, her body low.

Her red eyes stared without blinking at the throne that now hovered behind Riel like a frozen altar.

"She's cracking," Lumina said.

"Her body's holding it in, but her mind…"

"It's unravelling."

Up above, Riel twisted, spinning in midair as Asmodeus descended toward her.

She blocked the next blow, but it drove her down again, her heel carving a trench in the ice.

He followed with a heavy swing — the red blade cutting a diagonal slash across the palace wall, searing it black with demon fire.

"You're not even using your full power," Riel hissed.

"You think I'm not worth it."

Asmodeus landed in front of her, axe braced behind his shoulders.

"I'm measuring you," he said, voice like thunder behind a closed door."And you're failing."

Her lip curled.

"You think this is all I am?"

He stared, golden eyes unwavering.

"No."

"I think this is all you've become."

The halberd pulsed in her hands, matching her heartbeat that echoed across the palace.

The mirrors around her all shattered at once.

Riel screamed.

"YOU!"

And a second transformation began.

The second transformation didn't explode.

It cracked.

The air around her folded inward. The ice palace bent like warped glass under pressure — not shattering, not resisting. Yielding. Her body didn't swell with muscle. It thinned. Stretched. Perfected.

She rose from the crater like a statue sculpted by madness.

Riel no longer walked — she drifted. Her feet grazed the surface of her dominion but never touched it. The cold around her deepened, no longer a blizzard but a gravity — air grew heavier, breath stung the lungs, light dimmed.

Her eyes were not glowing.

They were blank.

Mirror-white and wide, wide like the eyes of someone in a dream they cannot wake from.

"Asmodeus~"

She called in a hot, sultry voice...

The halberd she carried was no longer just a weapon.

Its twin blades had extended into twin crescent arcs, one frost-white, the other shadow-blue, and from the core between them bloomed a floating orb of memory — flickering glimpses of Asmodeus:

His back while walking into battle.

His hand petting Lumina's hair.

His lips against Sariel's.

His smirk.

His stillness.

His voice.

"Why not me?" she whispered.

It wasn't fury in her voice anymore.

It was grief, obsession, and affection.

Asmodeus narrowed his eyes.

He felt it now — not the surge of magic, not the danger.

The emotion.

Her aura had changed again. No longer just a Demon Queen's wrath. It was familiar, he could feel Riel's influence, the succubus and her feelings being shared, distorted...

A love that had hollowed itself out.

A shrine built for him, with no place left for anyone else to enter.

From her lips:

"Riel… she loved you."

"And I hate her for it."

"Because now I can't stop loving you either."

Her pupils returned — slowly, unnaturally.

Not circular.

Not slitted.

Shaped like hearts.

She lunged.

The palace answered her.

Spikes of ice erupted beneath Asmodeus as she launched herself across the mirrored floor — a silver flash with wings of snow bursting behind her back like a Valkyrie of glass.

Her halberd arced down.

Asmodeus rolled under it, countering with a wide sweep of his axe — red flame scarring the palace wall behind her.

Riel didn't dodge the flame — she moved through it. The heat hissed against her frost-clad skin, steaming from her shoulders, but she didn't flinch.

She wanted to be burned by him.

"Burn me," she breathed.

"Leave a mark."

The obsessive words, a passionate voice like a scorned lover...

Asmodeus frowned.

He struck again, more sharply this time — his axe spun overhead, cleaving the air like thunder.

She caught the haft with her halberd. The collision cracked the air — snow shot upward, the mirrored floor rippling outward in geometric rings.

Her breath struck his chest, visible and trembling.

"If I beat you…"

"You'll love me, won't you?"

"You'll choose me, right?"

Asmodeus stepped back.

His axe hissed as the red edge shimmered, now glowing brighter — not in fire, but in rising fury.

"You're not Riel," he said, voice low.

"You're what's left of her."

The words struck her harder than his axe had.

And for a moment—

The battlefield held its breath, cold, frigid and silent because the Empress didn't scream.

She didn't strike.

She wept.

Riel's tears did not fall.

They froze.

Beads of sorrow crystallised on her cheeks and rolled down like fragments of broken glass, shattering as they touched her collarbone. Each shard hit the mirrored floor with a high, musical chime.

And then—

She screamed.

It wasn't the cry of a woman grieving.

It wasn't the roar of a queen at war.

It was the howl of something trying to carve its love into the bones of the world.

"If I can't have your heart—"

"I'll take your crown!"

"I'll have your body and make you love me!"

The air shattered.

Pillars of ice burst from the palace walls, twisting into spears that shot across the battlefield. Crystal chains erupted from the ground, racing toward Asmodeus's legs like snakes starved for heat.

He didn't run.

Didn't dodge.

He stepped forward once, letting his axe spin with brutal elegance in a wide arc.

The red blade didn't just cut the ice.

It erased it.

Flames roared along the ground in a serpentine coil, devouring every crystal that dared reach him.

Asmodeus appeared beside her face and grabbed it.

His hands hissed with frozen mist from the extreme cold.

"Dream when you are sleeping, Woman."