Her senses fused completely with her master. For a fleeting moment, the princess even glimpsed the invincible power of being a Dark Sorceress.

"Mas… ter…"

Her body had fully merged—only her head remained outside, grotesquely protruding from Morningstar’s chest.

Bliss softened the features of that lone head. Her eyes had lost their light, sinking into endless confusion.

"Good girl~" Morningstar cradled the head gently. The scene was deeply unsettling.

Slowly, she pressed the head into her chest. The princess was fully consumed. Next, her soul would be branded with the Dark Sorceress’s indelible mark.

"Hmm…" Morningstar closed her eyes, savoring the soul’s essence.

No fear had tainted the princess’s passing—her soul carried no trace of terror, only other shadows:

Resentment. Hatred. Regret. These emotions burned fiercely.

Behind closed lids, Morningstar drifted into the princess’s memories.

"Ha ha ha, Sister, wait for me~!"

Two little girls in frilly princess dresses giggled, racing across glittering ice—pure, sunlit joy…

"Oops!"

The younger sister tumbled flat on her butt…

"Are you okay? Let me check!"

The elder sister rushed over, worry etched on her face…

"Waaah…"

"Don’t cry, don’t cry~ There, there~"

Tears streamed as gentle hands soothed her…

Childhood was woven with such warmth.

Then the memory flickered. Years passed. On their eighteenth birthday, the sisters stood on the dueling platform.

They unleashed every ounce of magic—spells blazing, as if bent on mutual destruction.

Both collapsed, bloodied. The elder sister won.

Weak and trembling, the younger sister watched them carry her sister away, sobbing helplessly…

At the palace gates, the elder sister glanced back—offering one last, faintly tender smile.

When they met again, that warmth was gone. Facing her sister felt like staring at a frozen statue.

"Sis… ter?"

Tears welled. Her voice cracked.

"Hmm."

A cold reply. No hand reached out to stroke her cheek. Never again.

The elder sister had become the nation’s heir—her emotions sealed by magic, transformed into an emotionless machine.

The kingdom’s silent core: relentless, tireless, uncomplaining.

Visits required state business. Personal requests? Denied.

From that day on, hatred quietly took root in the younger sister’s heart.

"Sigh…" Morningstar opened her eyes, a flicker of guilt stirring.

*Did I… "NTR" the queen?* Her corruption had twisted the person the princess loved most.

…Though the queen wasn’t truly the "wronged party." She felt nothing for her sister now.

Honestly? She was basically a robot. You can’t "NTR" a machine.

"Don’t worry, Belle. I’ll save your sister. I’ll make sure you two live happily together—forever."

*Belle.* The princess’s name. Guilt nudged Morningstar. To atone, she’d restore the queen’s heart. Reunite the sisters.

Two girls blessed. One treasure claimed. A perfect triple win~

"For now, rest inside me~"

Morningstar patted her chest. Too conspicuous to travel with. No need to hide her in shadows. This was simplest.

Both the princess and Little Dragoness served the darkness—but differed deeply.

Little Dragoness and the others, who served as The Guardians, remained physically intact within Morningstar. Minds clear. Aware of the dark embrace.

Morningstar felt them too—like a mother sensing a child’s kick.

But the princess? Her human form had dissolved. The Dark Essence body Morningstar forged melted back into her.

Only the corrupted soul remained—formless, intangible. Unfelt.

Drifting in blissful half-sleep, consciousness scattered, wrapped in warmth… unable to think.

Unless Morningstar chose to release her, she’d never wake.

"Direct consumption maxes out around her level. Higher-tier beings… how to make them submit?"

This act revealed the limit: level fifty. Beyond that, willpower alone could resist Dark Essence’s dissolution.

Freya fell easily only because she was magic-drained and centuries-corrupted. At her peak? Darkness would’ve shattered on contact.

Per the princess’s memories, her sister had always been stronger. As queen—mind unburdened—her growth accelerated.

Surely past level fifty now. Direct consumption? Useless.

Break her will. But the queen had no emotions. Her resolve: cold iron. No weakness. No leverage.

"This brute-force approach won’t work… Seems I’ll need to… *properly* 'condition' her~"

Morningstar stretched lazily. Consuming the princess made her the queen’s closest student—and the more she learned, the harder the challenge became.

Yet that only ignited her competitive spirit.

Violence? A Dark Sorceress despised it.

What she craved was far sweeter:

Watching all wills bow… to the darkness.