I spent about half an hour bathing. The nightmare had drenched me in sweat, and I needed to calm my nerves while figuring out how to deal with these Undercity overlords.

After my bath, a black gothic lolita dress lay waiting for me.

I hesitated. To my eyes, it was far too cute.

"Must I wear this?" I asked.

"Of course," Bessdaitiel replied from beyond the folding screen. "A princess’s attire follows strict protocols. Trust our maids’ professionalism!"

"Hmph… Fine," I sighed weakly.

Normally, princesses would stand naked while maids dressed them. But I couldn’t possibly bare myself before this stunning, mature succubus maid. After insisting fiercely, I’d at least reclaimed the right to dress privately.

The dress proved tricky. After struggling into it, I called her for help.

Finally done. Girls really are troublesome. A black gothic pinafore dress with lace trim, fine-checked fishnet stockings, a red rose pinned to my chest, white ruffled underskirt peeking out, and black high heels.

Walking down the towering, narrow corridor, magical crystals pulsed like breaths along the walls—dimming, brightening. My memories surfaced slowly in this cold, shadowed passage.

I was the master of this Undercity. I began sensing it like a slumbering beast beneath the earth, thrumming with its own pulse.

I remembered—I didn’t need to walk.

I raised my hand. There it was: the ring glowing with deep violet-rose light, unnoticed until now on my finger.

Through this ring, I could teleport anywhere in the Undercity.

I focused. An ancient spatial ripple swallowed me whole—a disorienting void where time and space twisted. Unpleasant, but brief. I reappeared instantly in the shadowy, majestic arena.

A wave of powerful auras hit me, instinctively setting my guard on edge.

I forced calm, scanning these ancient beings before me. Unconsciously, my fingers twisted the hem of my skirt.

Facing me in the arena stood Seth, the Skeleton King Liox, and a hulking pig-faced brute over two and a half meters tall. He gripped a massive, crude cleaver. Tusks jutted crookedly from his snout—one broken. His arm was bandaged. I recalled him: Buqu, guardian of the First Floor. The only elder here whose presence didn’t crush me with pressure. His wounds weren’t fatal, but his spirit seemed broken.

Behind them loomed a mountainous shadow. Sickly green runes flickered across its form. Swarms of buzzing insects circled it.

I made out a colossal beetle, ten meters long. Its six tiny green eyes glowed with undead malice.

Oladjuwan Chisahket, the Crypt Lord. Guardian of the Third Floor.

I remembered his legend: a giant beetle from a strange isle in life, now a rare undead insect, bound by some lingering obsession.

His thick carapace could shield me well. But unless absolutely necessary, I’d avoid getting too close.

My sudden appearance didn’t surprise these Undercity tyrants. Yet even they bowed their heads in respect.

"Princess," Seth spoke. "The other floor guardians are on their way."

"Your Highness," the Skeleton King’s voice rattled with ancient grudges, "why summon us all? With me guarding the Second Floor, those deceitful Temple Knights will never reach the Third!"

"I know your strength, Liox," I said. "But for those humans who dared injure my key lieutenant? I won’t merely stop them. Not this time."

"Princess…" Buqu’s snout dripped snot and tears. "I failed the First Floor! I’m ugly, fat… Yet you’d still fight for me? Waaah! I’ll grind those humans to mincemeat!"

*Just a dim-witted brute with big muscles. His gratitude makes me sick.* But my voice came out sweet and approving: "Buqu! You’ve done enough. Heal first. I’ll give you a chance to reclaim your honor."

"Princess…!!"

The arena shook again. A sharp, oppressive force descended.

Crimson magical ripples coalesced into a blood-red portal. Petals of solidified blood drifted down like falling roses.

A tall woman stepped through. Crimson nobleman’s coat, white tight trousers. She stood over 180 centimeters. Wild golden hair spilled over her shoulders. Beneath her unbuttoned coat, a black lace shirt strained against a chest so ample the third button seemed ready to pop.

Her waist was narrow yet strong, hips wide, legs long and powerful—a build made for childbearing, by human standards.

Her sharp red eyes locked onto mine. A shiver ran through me. *This woman… I can’t handle her.*

Sulia Medici. Vampire Countess. Guardian of Floors Four through Six. Possessor of terrifying power. My strongest warrior in single combat.

Now, my top general ignored royal protocol entirely. She strode close—so close my gaze nearly brushed her chest.

*Annoying! Why does an undead smell so good? And that body… radiating heat!* My own form felt icy and soft by comparison. Though I’d become a girl, standing before her made me realize how little I truly knew about being one.

*Why… am I so different from her?*

"Little Princess Kuroti," Sulia drawled, her voice lazy yet impossible to ignore. "Long time no see. That outfit suits you. Adorably."

"Eh? Really?" I spread my arms, rising on tiptoes to look up at her. Heat flooded my cheeks before I knew it.

*Stupid! Why am I blushing?! Hmph. Must be the princess’s body reacting. Nothing to do with me!*

Sulia’s breath hitched. Her cheeks flushed. Her fingers—soft, yet firm against my skin—pinched my cheek.

"Mmm—hnng! S-so satisfying!" She writhed, her body radiating heat.

*What’s wrong with Sulia? Pinching a little girl’s cheek like she’s in heat!*

"Kuroti, you’re still so cute," she murmured. "Tiny face. Tiny hands. Slender legs. And…" Her hand drifted toward my chest. "Your… *delicate* little bosom…"

I leapt back as if shocked, clutching my chest. "Sulia! If you’re praising me, skip the chest comments! Go stand with the others. Now."

"Mmm…" Sulia’s face glowed crimson, her breath warm against my skin. "You’re… *ordering* me, Little Princess? I find myself… very eager to obey."

She swayed her hips obediently, joining the other guardians.

I sighed inwardly. *I really can’t handle women like her.*

The ground trembled once more. A massive black minotaur appeared, hefting a giant axe. His dark face held a pair of perpetually upturned eyes—almost comical.

Laughing Axe. Minotaur King. Guardian of the Eighth Floor.

I knew little about this bull brother. Just that he was mysterious and immensely powerful.

The guardian of the Seventh Floor was missing. I deliberately ignored it. My memories held no details—asking might raise suspicion.

I scanned my powerful guardians. Seeing one woman among them eased my nerves slightly. I took a deep breath.

"Then let’s begin the war council."