Many dream of making history, yet only their deaths earn them a place in its pages.

Beatrice walked ahead, casting an icy glance over her shoulder. Her tone held no trace of mockery.

"Coming from you, Frost Witch, those words carry unexpected weight."

Silva’s smile dripped with undisguised hostility, her voice laced with sarcasm.

"......"

Beatrice seemed utterly bored. She ignored Silva again—not even sparing her a dismissive look—and continued leading the way with steady steps.

Watching Beatrice’s infuriatingly calm, unresponsive back, a flicker of irritation rose in Silva’s chest.

It vanished from her face in an instant, expertly buried. She hadn’t brought her army to the Demon King’s Castle for petty squabbles.

Amidst the soldiers’ hostile, wary stares, they soon reached the central palace of the Demon King’s Castle.

Ledyah lounged on the throne, eyes lazily closed. Her posture radiated silent, crushing authority.

Beside her stood only two figures: Abraham, expressionless and holding a white-bound book; and Noah, tail swaying gently, hands folded primly before him, his innocent smile belying an unexpectedly elegant grace.

Below the dais waited the entire staff of maids from the Demon King’s Castle, Executioner Avel gripping her command saber, and a handful of elite guards rigidly maintaining order.

The sheer, suffocating pressure would have made an ordinary person collapse on the spot, organs rupturing from terror, any thought of resistance erased.

Yet this tidal wave of dominance crashed against Silva like a mountain. A vicious grin curled her lips as she advanced step by step into the hall.

Her burning gaze locked instantly onto the pure white dragon maiden beside the throne—the very object of her deepest craving.

She froze for a split second at the sight of that impossibly generous bosom. Then understanding dawned: this buxom girl was the dream she’d pursued for so long. Her ravenous tongue darted out to moisten parched lips.

"Demon King," the Tower Knight bowed slightly, his report delivered with flawless deference. "As commanded, I have brought them."

"Hmm. You may withdraw."

Ledyah gave a slight nod. Her closed eyes didn’t stir until Beatrice bowed once more, her stunning figure melting back among the elite guards. Only then did Ledyah slowly open her eyes.

Crimson irises held peerless nobility and arrogance. The weight of her "I alone reign supreme" aura crushed Silva’s two attendants, stealing their breath.

"So, Silva," Ledyah rested a jade hand against her cheek, the fingers of her other hand tapping *tap-tap* twice on the armrest. A flicker of displeasure crossed her languid, beautiful face. "What urgent matter brings you to disturb this King?"

Those soft knocks echoed sharply in every heart present.

A warning. A chilling promise: *Fail to justify your intrusion, and you won’t leave this hall alive.*

Her words held no overt malice or killing intent—making them all the more terrifying. Like addressing insignificant ants, life and death hung on her whim.

"Respected Demon King," Silva forced herself to bow properly despite her inner contempt. Neither the royal court nor fellow Demon Lords tolerated a madwoman’s whims. She had to appear calculating. Her tone, however, still carried a subtle edge of mockery. "I have come to request an item from Your Majesty."

"...Interesting."

Ledyah’s gaze sharpened. Those two simple words cut like ice.

"Those who dare ask this King for things are always ministers claiming grand ambitions. Silva, tell this King—what grand deed do you plan?"

"With this item granted by Your Majesty, you shall gain the sharpest and most loyal blade in all the land."

"You will become the sole sovereign of the entire empire—nay, the continent—compelling every race to kneel before your radiance."

"I trust this holds sufficient appeal for you?"

Silva lifted her head. Her blazing eyes didn’t seek Ledyah on the throne. They remained fixed on the pure white dragon maiden beside her.

That feverish hunger, that near-bestial fixation—it resembled less a connoisseur eyeing a rare delicacy, and more a beast unable to distinguish lust from hunger.

Silva devoured the dragon maiden’s breathtaking form with her eyes, seeing only that noble bloodline and the soft, swaying mounds dominating her vision.

Two kinds of madness surged within her, ignited by that spotless white dragon. Her dragon blood boiled like magma in her veins.

Only the icy pressure from the throne held her rationality together. Otherwise, the beast within would have broken free.

Silva stared raptly at that lush body, aching to drag that pristine beauty into her arms and defile it.

She knew the Healing Saintess’s face, yet connecting the two now felt impossible.

"Oh? Then speak. What do you want?"

Ledyah neither refused nor agreed. Her tone remained flat, effortlessly steering the conversation forward.

"I humbly request the loan of the dragon maiden beside you."

Finally, the core demand. Excitement flared in Silva’s chest. She glared hungrily at the succulent dragon girl, already savoring the feast to come.

"With her, I shall ascend to true dragonhood! I will surpass all limits! Become a supreme lifeform! Then I shall look down upon this entire continent and its insignificant specks!"

Silva declared her obsession like a mad scientist utterly convinced of her own truth. Her eyes bulged, threaded with blood; veins stood out on her arms as dragon blood surged.

"I see."

Yet faced with this desperate, yearning plea, Ledyah simply closed her eyes as if losing interest.

She sighed softly, as though regretting a minor inconvenience.

"It seems further discussion is pointless. Beatrice, see our guest out."

"Yes."

The Tower Knight—still in her slender, doll-like form—stepped forward from the shadows.

She knew what came next. The Demon King intended to arrange a small... *accident* for this Demon Lord.