Chapter 4: Chapter 4: No Escape

Chapter 4: No Escape

Lily sat at the table and gulped down the wine. After all this… whatever this was, she needed it. Sevrin had led her up out of their summoning cave into a house, and it definitely didn’t look like his house. The interior was expensive, furnished in that old-fashioned way you only saw when visiting the estates of long-dead important people. A few hundred years out of fashion, but still regal.

Yeah. She got it now. The chances she was in Xantia weren’t just high—after reading that book, they were sky-rocketing. Still, it all felt surreal. Disturbing, too. This was definitely a family’s home. She could see the traces of children—little things left behind—but no signs of the actual inhabitants. Only bloodstains and broken furniture. Did she even want to know what had happened here?

Her hand drifted toward the wine again, tempted by another goblet. But then something inside her cooled her nerves, steadying her breath. Maybe it was the first goblet, maybe something else in this body. Either way, her head cleared.

So. What was the plan?

She glanced at the table. The cult had probably emptied every last scrap of the inhabitants' storeroom onto it. This wasn’t laid out for her. It was obvious. They had already planned to abandon this place, probably tomorrow. The feast wasn’t to welcome their Demon Princess, it was meant to be their own victory celebration. She was just the centerpiece now.

And she thought she understood why. The summoning description had promised the Princess of the Abyss would be grateful for being freed from her eternal prison, and would grant her summoners three wishes.

She rubbed her temple. So why they thought it was a good idea to betray a cataclysm-level being in the first five minutes? Summon her, bind her, and then demand their wishes. She didn’t get it. How could anyone think that was a good plan?

But maybe… maybe their incompetence had saved the world. Maybe their mistakes were the reason she was here instead of whatever terrifying, “intended target” that book had actually been pointing to. A new era of calamity, prevented by sheer idiocy.

Or so she hoped.

She stared into the bottom of her empty goblet. She wouldn’t do those things… right? She wouldn’t bring ruin. She wouldn’t.

Would she?

Lily sighed.

But what now? Maybe she should just get rid of these idiots and make plans on her own. She could just vanish, slip away, and find her bearings, but there was another problem. She was in a human kingdom… and a demon.

In Xantia there had been many countries that were multi-ethnic, and the major powers tolerated or even encouraged diversity. But the small kingdoms? Most were dogshit racist, and if you weren’t the local race, you got problems instantly. As a player, you could influence politics, change outcomes, and also shift allegiances. That was one of the fun parts.

Her home in Pangrea, the Xares Empire, for example. A major force, multi-ethnic by necessity, swallowing smaller states whole until it became a patchwork of races under one banner. Also the demons’ true homeland had always been far to the south of Pangrea, in the Hell-lands, a mountain range with an open portal to hell itself. That was the natural “base” for her people.

But if Sevrin was right, and the Xares Empire had collapsed four hundred years ago, and they weren’t anywhere near the south, then the chances were high: every human she met—except for these cult idiots—would see her as an enemy.

So… she needed more information again.

Her eyes settled on Sevrin.

“Tell me about your kingdom,” she said. Her voice flat and commanding. “The kingdom of… Bum?”

Sevrin looked like a caged deer. “It’s the kingdom of Burm, my lady.”

“Eh.” Lily tilted her head, unimpressed.

He paused, clearly thinking hard about how to phrase his answer. Then he began, voice taking on that pedantic tone of someone reciting a history lecture.

“The kingdom was founded around three hundred years ago, from three great duchies that declared independence from the Northern Confederacy after the Confederacy War—fought against the beastkin and elvin countries.”

He said it like she needed to know the lore. Lily didn’t actually care for the details, but one name jumped out. The Northern Confederacy. She knew that one, or at least she had known it. Probably it was history now, too. But it told her something important: she was far in the north of Pangrea.

Sevrin droned on. “The three duchies are still ruled by their founding families. They intermarry to preserve bloodlines and provide each generation’s king. Their capital lies at the meeting point of their lands. It is called Burma—the largest city, and seat of power. Also there we should strike! The king sits in his palace even now. If you burn it all in one glorious inferno, you could—”

“Stop.” Lily cut him off, rolling her eyes. “I have no intention of burning kings or palaces.”

He closed his mouth quickly.

“Last time I wandered these lands,” Lily continued, leaning back, “the Confederacy was multi-ethnic. Are other races present here?”

That stopped him cold. He hesitated, then shook his head. “Sorry, my lady. As far as I know, even three hundred years ago the Confederacy was only human kingdoms… But there are a few elves and dwarves here and there. At least, in the Academy.”

Lily perked up. “The Academy? Also demons?”

He let out a cracked laugh. “Of course not! Demon summoning is forbidden as one of the dark arts.”

Her frown deepened. There it was. Her answer. She wouldn’t be welcomed anywhere.

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

“But why summon?” she pressed. “Demons are born and live on Pangrea too—in the south, in the Hell-lands.”

Sevrin blinked, confused. “The… Hell-lands? Never heard of this, my lady. The southern reaches are far away. If such a place exists, no one travels there and returns to tell the tale.”

Lily’s fingers tightened on her goblet.

She’d heard enough. Sure, she could probably throw an illusion spell on herself, to pass as human—but for how long? And what if someone saw through it? Did she even want to disguise herself? Something deep inside, something that wasn’t entirely hers, whispered no. She shouldn’t hide for anyone. It was a strange, almost arrogant feeling… but not a pressing matter for now.

Her gaze swept the dining hall again. The six cultists stood awkwardly against the walls, their hoods now pulled back. She studied their faces—every single one of them was young. Late teens, maybe. Younger than her.

And what was she supposed to do with them? They weren’t good people. Even if killing her on Earth hadn’t been intentional, the house they stood in now was proof enough. Bloodstains on the floor. A family gone. They’d killed them.

But… did she really mind? It was real, yes, but at the same time it still felt like a dream. Or maybe it was her avatar—the Demon Princess—bleeding into her judgment, pulling her closer to that role she’d always played online.

Whatever the reason, right now she only cared about herself. And since it was these idiots’ fault she was here, they could at least make themselves useful. Yes. That was the right course of action.

She leaned back, setting the goblet down with a faint clink.

“Nevermind,” she said, voice cutting through the silence. “Let’s start from here. What do you have planned… after my so-called feast?” Her eyes flicked over the table, unimpressed. “Also, I find it kinda lacking...”

The plates were piled with meat, fruit, and cheese—but all of it was old. The fruit was soft and souring, the meat dry, the cheese hard and cracked. Sure, they’d lived here for a while, too focused on preparing her summoning to restock supplies. Where would fresh food even come from? But still… they actually intended to eat this?

She sighed. “You can eat it. It’s not to my taste.”

Sevrin and the others looked instantly relieved, as if her first words had been a death sentence they’d only narrowly escaped. Their shoulders eased, a few let out shaky breaths.

But Lily knew better. The slap she’d given Sevrin wouldn’t keep him cowed forever. With the level of idiocy these cultists had already shown her in just an hour, they would definitely try again to test her. And definitely betray her.

So, it was time to set things clear.

They called her Princess, but she hadn’t even introduced herself properly.

Lily rose from her chair, crimson eyes sweeping over them like they were insects. Then, with one smooth motion, she hopped onto the table. Plates clattered, food rolled onto the floor. She stood above them, glaring down.

“Since you dragged me out of my eternal beauty sleep, you maggots—let me introduce myself,” she said, voice sharp as a blade. “I am Princess Lilithia Nocturne. Princess of the Abyss. Ruler over the damned. Blood of the high demons.”

She let the words hang, then tilted her chin lower, her gaze like ice.

“And for the sin of waking me, I’ll take your souls—as you already offered. From this moment, you are my eternal servants!”

She didn’t even have to think about it. A passive skill flicked on in the back of her mind, automatic as breathing.

[Slight-Aura-of-Despair]

The effect was immediate.

The six cultists collapsed as one. Screaming. Wailing. Begging forgiveness. Some clutched their heads, others clawed the floor, their faces twisted in terror.

Lily froze, staring down at them.

“…Okay. Maybe I overdid it a little.”

Awkward silence stretched between her words and their sobs. She shifted her weight on the table, suddenly very aware of how ridiculous this looked.

☽⛧☾

Everything went wrong after the summoning.

At first, the plan had sounded good—too good. Sevrin had stood there, so sure of himself, preaching about power and vengeance, about tearing down the kingdom that spat them out. And she had believed him. Or maybe not believed, but wanted to. A better life. An escape from the filth she’d been scraping in. When he said he had a way, she followed. What else was she supposed to do? Starve on the streets? Rot in a gutter?

But the moment the demoness stepped out of the circle, Marie knew. They were screwed. Completely, utterly screwed.

Why did she even follow this idiot?

It had been hope. That’s what it was. Hope had made her stupid. She had thought—no, she had prayed—that Sevrin was right, that this would be the way out. A demon’s power to build a new future for them.

But demons weren’t supposed to be like that.

When the bindings failed, when the chains fizzled like damp string, when Sevrin got backhanded through the cave like a rag doll—Marie’s stomach dropped. Just like that. A slap. He could have died. And she knew then that they had never stood a chance.

And yet, even through the terror, her eyes kept going back to the creature in the circle. The Demon Princess.

She was beautiful. Too beautiful. Almost unreal. Smooth pale skin, those crimson eyes that seemed to cut right through you, hair as dark as night. Her body—perfect. Her face—perfect. Everything about her screamed perfection. Marie hated it. She wanted it. She was jealous down to her bones.

Why can’t I be like that? Why was I born me? A dirty starving nobody...

But jealousy didn’t matter. What mattered was that they’d summoned something they couldn’t control. And it was only a matter of time before she lost her life—her soul—to it.

When the Princess had demanded “accommodations,” Marie’s instincts had kicked in. Think fast, act fast. That was how she’d survived since she was twelve. Always say the thing that keeps you breathing one more day. Always have a plan. That was why she was alive and the others from the streets weren’t.

She remembered hunger gnawing so bad she stole scraps from market stalls, how she got caught once and nearly had her fingers cut off. Theft wasn’t even the worst thing she’d done. She didn’t let herself think too hard about those nights. Survival didn’t leave room for pride.

And then she met Sevrin. He had looked like someone who knew. Someone who had a way out. She thought she could leave the dirt behind, and be someone.

Now she knew better.

In the dining hall, the demoness had asked questions. Marie wasn’t stupid. She knew the demoness probed, and pressed for details. She had talked about “wandering the mortal realm before.” She knew things. Too many things about the mortal realm.

Sevrin had told them they were summoning the Princess of the Abyss, but Marie hadn’t really believed it. That kind of power? At their level? A joke. She thought maybe they’d pull up a small demon, one that could at least scare the guards, let them build something. But a high demon? Royal blood? That was delusional.

And yet… here she was.

Marie’s blood ran cold when the demoness sprang onto the table. The way she looked down on them, red eyes gleaming, like they were vermin scurrying in the dirt. Her voice was sharp enough to gut them.

“[...] as you already offered me, so you will be my eternal servants!”

Marie’s throat closed. She gulped hard, but nothing eased it. I don’t want to be a servant. I don’t want to lose my soul.

Her eyes darted to Sevrin. Damn you. Damn you for dragging me into this.

And then—terror hit.

It wasn’t normal fear. It wasn’t even the kind of horror she felt when she was cornered in an alley, knife against her skin. No, this was worse. Something inside her cracked. Her knees gave out and she hit the ground. Her whole body shook.

The aura pressed down on her chest like a mountain. She couldn’t breathe. She couldn’t even think. Tears poured down her face, hot and blinding, and she hated herself for it but couldn’t stop. She wanted to crawl away, to disappear, but her body refused to move.

She was trapped.

That was the truth. There was no running, nor hiding. The Princess wasn’t some fantasy they had dragged into the world—she was real. And Marie’s instincts screamed it, the way an animal knows when a predator is inches from its throat.

It hurt. Gods, it hurt. Like her soul itself was being scraped raw.

And at that moment, she understood. There was no escape. They had no way out. They had damned themselves with this summoning. And not just themselves. But the whole world.