Watching Sulia and Senior Sister Feyn lock horns, I felt not panic but secret delight. *Senior Sister, I did warn you—my underlings aren’t exactly pushovers.*

This was my moment to shine as the Dungeon Princess!

I slammed my palm on the throne. "Enough! I command you both—in the name of your princess!"

Seth, Skeleton King Leonx, Butcher Buqu, and Bessdaitiel instantly shifted stances, their auras flaring.

Outwardly, they still obeyed the princess. If these two persisted, they’d face the combined might of every powerhouse here.

Feyn and Sulia paused their standoff, stepping back.

"You’re the Undercity’s strongest swordswoman," I declared, "and you’re a top-ranked imperial knight. If you fight here, we won’t need human armies to destroy us—this dungeon will fall *today*!"

"Hmm?" Both women blinked at me, seemingly conceding the point.

Seizing the lull, I pressed on: "Demons, humans—why must we always clash? Our true enemies are the greedy fools hunting the Undercity’s treasures! Not any single race! And I, the Dark Princess, won’t stay buried in these shadows forever!" My voice rose. "For my ambition, I’ve already won over Senior Sisters Feyn and Loyning. Now I’ll recruit *more* powerful allies to swell my army!"

I stood, swept up in my own fervor—and the hall seemed to pulse with it.

Sulia and Feyn exchanged amused glances.

"And?" Sulia prompted.

"Unite under me!" I thrust my arm toward the vaulted ceiling. "Fight together! Birth, race, past—none matter if we share a goal! Today, I declare my ambition to you all: **To conquer the world!**"

"……"

Silence swallowed the hall.

"Tch." Sulia turned away, unimpressed.

Senior Sister Feyn gazed at me with pity. "*This child…*"

"Eh?" My heroic pose froze mid-air as a draft from the Undercity’s depths chilled my spine. "*You two…*"

"Sister Feyn, was it?" Sulia asked coolly.

"Hmph."

"Perhaps I went too far," Sulia admitted. "I never expected things to spiral like this."

"My apologies too," Feyn replied smoothly. "Had I known our squabble would drive our poor princess to such… *delusions*, I’d have yielded."

*You two!* I seethed inwardly. *You’re ignoring me! Where’s my respect?!*

"*Ahahaha!*" A silvery laugh shattered the tension. Bessdaitiel stepped forward, her voice dripping honey. "Ladies, if you *must* settle this… there’s no need to brawl here."

"Oh?" Sulia arched a brow.

"Hmph. I have no such intention," Feyn sniffed.

"Now, now," Bessdaitiel purred, "hear me out. In a few weeks, our princess turns sixteen."

All eyes snapped to me.

"Eh?" I froze—*Wait, when’s the Dark Princess’s birthday?*—then fragments of memory surged. I forced a laugh. "Ahahaha! Of course! I planned to declare my ambition upon coming of age!"

Bessdaitiel’s smile deepened. "Per Aryan Demon royal custom, when a princess turns sixteen, she receives… *special guidance*. For three days and nights, in a hidden garden, a chosen mentor teaches her the ways of adulthood. Alone." She shot me a flushed glance.

"*EHHH?!*"

*Three days?! Alone?! What kind of barbaric custom is this?!*

"And the mentor," Bessdaitiel added sweetly, "need not be female."

"*NANI?!?*" I nearly toppled off my throne.

Chaos erupted.

"Only *I* can properly guide the princess!" bellowed a jowly, tusked fiend.

"With this face? *I’m* the obvious choice!" squeaked a ratman, preening at a mirror.

"Out of my way! Only a *gentle* fiend like me deserves this honor!" gurgled a giant slime oozing from the shadows.

My face turned ashen. *What… what is happening?!*

Bessdaitiel raised a hand for silence. "Naturally, many will vie for this honor. But only *one* may win it. So tradition demands a tournament! All may compete—rank, race, gender irrelevant. The victor earns the right…" She paused dramatically. "*To educate the princess alone for three days and nights. Thoroughly.*"

*Stop itching to compete!* I wanted to scream. *That slime has ZERO chance! What IS this custom—waaaaah!*

Sulia smirked at me. "Ah, yes. How could I forget this delightful tradition? I’ll play the prince rescuing the little princess from monstrous claws. You wouldn’t want *that* slime teaching you adult matters, would you, Kuroti?"

"Eh? I—" *I don’t want ANYONE teaching me!* How could I say that? *This cursed custom!*

"Hold!" Bessdaitiel glided before Sulia. "Swordswoman, do you claim the championship is already yours?"

"Who else?" Sulia planted her hands on her hips, chest thrust forward in her crimson leather armor. She surveyed the fiends like a queen—silencing even the slime.

"Hmph." Feyn’s icy snort cut through the quiet.

"Oh?" Bessdaitiel fanned the flames. "Does the Dark Knight object? Will *you* enter the tournament?"

"Such petty contests bore me," Feyn said, eyes closed. "But I won’t let certain… *influences* corrupt our innocent princess."

"*Who* are you calling corrupt?!"

"Enough!" Bessdaitiel stepped between them. "Save your words for the arena. Let victory decide!"

"Tch." Sulia turned away again.

Feyn ignored her utterly.

And me?

***DID ANYONE ASK HOW *I* FEEL ABOUT THIS?!***