Consciousness crept back into Arlen like a slow, reluctant tide.

  A soft mattress cushioned his body — far too soft, far too luxurious for anything in the mortal world. Warm sheets, silken and smooth, clung to his skin. And yet… every instinct in him screamed danger.

  This wasn’t comfort.

  This was the calm inside a predator’s mouth.

  His eyes snapped open.

  A tall woman stood beside the bed — elegant, sharp, in a tailored black suit that clung to her curves like it belonged to her bones. Her long obsidian hair was tied behind her, and her ruby-red eyes watched him without blinking.

  “You have finally awakened,” she said, voice cool as polished steel. “A whole day, spent unconscious… how quaint, for a human to sleep in the queen’s bed.”

  Arlen jolted upright. “W–Who are you?”

  The woman didn’t answer.

  But a voice behind him did.

  “She is Nyx

  Arlen twisted around.

  Cornea reclined on an obsidian sofa carved from the same darkness that made up the walls. A nightgown of black silk draped over her like liquid shadow. Bare leg crossed over the other, swirling a goblet of dark wine, she radiated danger the way fire radiated heat — effortless, inevitable.

  Her crimson eyes glowed faintly.

  Her smile curled like a blade.

  “It pleases me to see you awake, human boy,” she purred. “While you slept, I took a small liberty… and tasted a drop of your blood.”

  A chill shot down Arlen’s spine.

  Of course she did.

  “D…Did I pass your test?” he whispered.

  Cornea’s smile sharpened. Dangerous. Proud. Almost hungry.

  “Yes,” she said. “You passed… with flying colours. Even among demons, few endure the Hollow Court’s agony.”

  She leaned forward, placing her cheek against her knuckles.

  “As promised, I will teach you how to stand against the gods. Whether you succeed in killing one…”

  Her eyes glimmered with sadistic amusement.

  “…depends entirely on your own worth.”

  Arlen exhaled shakily. Relief mixed with fear.

  “Then—please. Tell me how to defeat gods.”

  Cornea’s expression cooled.

  “Ah, ah,” she chided. “Do not be impatient. I dislike impatient boys.”

  Arlen froze.

  Nyx, still standing beside the bed, smirked faintly. Even her smirk felt like a warning.

  Cornea swirled her wine, tone shifting — playful gone, danger settling like frost.

  “Before you can kill a god,” she said, voice low and resonant, “you must understand what gods truly are.”

  The room darkened.

  Shadows crawled slowly up the walls.

  Her eyes burned brighter.

  “My father, the previous Demon Lord… and all the gods of the heavens — they were born of the Primordial Being, Aethel

  Arlen swallowed hard.

  The air felt heavier.

  “My father, LysanderGod of Freedombinding mortals, demanding worship, caging free will with ‘holy laws’.”

  Her lips curved downward.

  A hint of pain flickered through her gaze.

  “For that defiance, they conspired against him. Cast him from the heavens. Branded him a demon. He forged his throne here, in the Underworld — a sanctuary for every soul the heavens rejected.”

  Cornea leaned back, wine swirling lazily, her expression somewhere between amusement and contempt.

  “Now… let us speak of the gods,” she said. “Take the one you met — Chronos

  Arlen stiffened.

  Cornea’s lips curled.

  “Though he parades as ‘time’ itself, he is nothing close. He is not the creator, nor the ruler of time… merely an exploiter

  You might be reading a stolen copy. Visit Royal Road for the authentic version.

  Her voice deepened, echoing faintly across the obsidian walls.

  “Time, space, love, hate, life, death — every fiber of existence was created by Aethel

  She tapped her nail against the rim of her goblet.

  “So understand this clearly, Arlen: even if Chronos dies… time continues

  Arlen frowned.

  “But he… he teleported me. He dragged all twenty-two of us in front of him instantly. It wasn’t the power of time, right?”

  Cornea’s eyebrow arched.

  “Ah. That was not his divine power.”

  Her tone grew almost bored.

  “That was his Sacred Relic

  Arlen blinked. “Sacred… relic?”

  Cornea lifted her hand, and shadows coiled around her fingers.

  “Any being who carries Aethel’s blood — gods, demon lords… myself — may attempt to wield a sacred relic. They are weapons forged from fragments of Aethel’s soul

  The temperature dropped.

  Even Nyx bowed her head slightly at the mention.

  “However,” Cornea continued, “entering the Sanctuary where they rest requires a trial so brutal that even gods fail it. Only two gods in all the heavens

  She leaned forward.

  “And Chronos is one of them.”

  Her eyes gleamed — hungry, venomous.

  “His relic is called Borrower’s Willborrow — the abilities of other gods for a few short moments.”

  Arlen felt his stomach drop.

  Borrowing power from other gods… that’s cheating.

  He rose instinctively from the bed, rage pumping through him.

  “But then how the hell am I supposed to kill him—”

  A hand slammed onto his shoulder.

  Nyx’s fist drove him back into the mattress in a single cold motion.

  “Do not approach the Queen without her permission,” she said.

  It wasn’t a threat.

  It was a law.

  Cornea chuckled softly.

  “Calm down, Nyx.”

  She set her wine aside and looked at Arlen with a smile that was equal parts wicked and… curious.

  “You cannot kill Chronos,” she said plainly.

  “Not even with my power.”

  Arlen’s breath hitched.

  A pit opened in his stomach.

  But Cornea wasn’t finished.

  “However…”

  Her lips slowly curled into a conspiratorial grin — the kind that promised danger and opportunity tangled together.

  “…your journey is not hopeless, Arlen.”

  She leaned forward, her eyes glowing a deep, predatory red.

  “Tell me… have you heard of the Lesser Gods

  Arlen swallowed.

  “I… have no idea what a lesser god even is.”

  Cornea’s lips curved into a slow, dangerous smile.

  “Lesser gods,” she said, “are parasites living off the power of greater gods. Their existence depends on their superiors’ dominance. They are divine… but fragile in comparison to monsters like Chronos.”

  She traced a finger along the rim of her wine goblet.

  “You will kill them first. Feed on them. Grow stronger from their corpses. And then… the path to Chronos will open.”

  Arlen frowned.

  “But you just said they’re immortal. Like the true gods.”

  Cornea chuckled.

  “Immortal, yes. Untouchable? No.”

  A thrill crawled down Arlen’s spine.

  “You will kill them,” Cornea continued, “by using a Sacred Relic… Soul Eater

  Arlen blinked.

  “Soul… Eater?”

  “A dagger forged from Aethel’s fragmented will. It devours the very essence of existence. Even gods. Even their heavenly cores.”

  Her voice dropped into a whisper, the kind that felt like a hand sliding across his spine.

  “If you stab a god with Soul Eater… their immortality shatters. They fall from grace. They become nothing but meat and fear. A god with broken core is as fragile as a human.”

  Arlen clenched his fists.

  “Then I’ll use it. Tell me where it is.”

  Cornea laughed lightly, amused by his na?ve confidence.

  “To wield Soul Eater, you must pass the trial set by the Sanctuary Keeper. A trial even gods fear.”

  Arlen’s jaw tightened.

  “But I don’t have Aethel’s blood. Didn’t you say only Aethel’s descendants or creations can use Sacred Relics?”

  Cornea’s eyes glittered.

  “Yes. Which is why—”

  she rose from her seat for the first time, shadows curling around her feet.

  “—you must become one.”

  Arlen froze as the Demon Queen approached the bed.

  In one effortless motion, she climbed onto it and pushed him down — her face inches from his, her hair falling like liquid night around him.

  Nyx stiffened, fury flickering in her eyes, but she did not interrupt.

  Cornea lifted her finger.

  With a single motion, she sliced her fingertip with her nail.

  A drop of black-red blood gathered — thick, shimmering, alive.

  “Then drink,” she whispered.

  “Taste the blood of the Demon Queen of the Hollow Court.”

  Her voice was soft, commanding, predatory.

  “With this, you will gain demon blood… and the faint blessing of Aethel’s lineage. Enough to wield a relic. Enough to kill gods.”

  Arlen trembled.

  One sip, and he would no longer be human.

  One sip, and his revenge would become a path paved with blood.

  He thought of his family praying while he was slaughtered.

  Thought of Darian’s corpse hitting the floor.

  Thought of Chronos laughing.

  His decision came like a blade.

  Even if I become a monster… I will gut every god alive.

  He grabbed her wrist and pulled her finger into his mouth.

  The drop of blood hit his tongue like molten honey — sweet, poisonous, divine and demonic, a sinful nectar pulsing straight into his veins.

  Cornea exhaled slowly, smiling — seductive and deadly.

  Power exploded through Arlen’s body.

  His bones creaked.

  His veins glowed red.

  His right eye burst into a crimson glow — a demon’s eye.

  Then Cornea spoke again, her voice changing in a way Arlen had never heard before.

  A sliver of vulnerability — real vulnerability — cracked through her regal tone.

  “Listen carefully, Arlen.”

  Nyx’s eyes widened.

  She had never heard her queen speak like this.

  “When I drank your blood… and now that you have tasted mine… a pact has formed. A blood bind.”

  Arlen’s breath hitched.

  “For beings touched by Aethel,” Cornea continued softly, “sharing blood is the same as linking hearts.”

  She placed a hand on his cheek, her touch cold and electric.

  “From this moment forward… if your strength grows, so does mine.”

  Her expression darkened.

  “And if either of us dies… the other will die as well.”

  Arlen stared at her, stunned.

  Cornea lowered her voice to a whisper, equal parts command and confession.

  “This is the depth of the trust I place in you.”

  Her thumb brushed the corner of his lips where her blood had stained them.

  “So do not disappoint me, Arlen. You carry my life now…”

  Her eyes glowed like hellfire.

  “…and I intend to see you use it to slaughter gods.”