Chapter 22

Astaroth's chilling gaze fixated on the girl submerged in the tub, her delicate features distorted by the rippling water. A wicked smile slowly crept across his lips, revealing his malefic pleasure. In the depths of his eyes, a twisted amusement danced, fuelled by the recognition of an irresistible talent hidden within the girl. It was as if the interwoven fabric of fate of this world call Arcania, had led him to this very moment, entangling their lives in an inexplicable web.

Astaroth studied the girl before him, her resemblance to the ancient elf queen, a figure from his dark and haunted past, was undeniable. That queen, with her mastery of forbidden arts and arcane spells, had left an indelible mark on his soul. Astaroth's mind raced, contemplating the possibilities that lay before him. Should he bestow more of his demonic essence upon her, he wondered, to forge a new servant of monstrous power? The sinister notion swirled in his mind, mingling with doubt. What if the infusion of his dark energy proved fatal, snuffing out the very life he sought to manipulate?

As he caught sight of her face, all doubts in his mind vanished in that instant. Elizabeth Ashcroft had stopped struggling and stood before him with her eyes closed, her features subtly altered, a faint flush adorning her cheeks and her breath slightly heavy. The bite mark on her breast has healed fully, and her body is now even more alluring. Astaroth threw back his head and laughed and form his fist in front of the girl. Astraroth's grip tightened, his fist squeezing until a single drop of blood formed, suspended ominously. With great focus, he channeled his mana, drawing upon the dark power within his demon core, and infusing it into the crimson droplet.

Elizabeth's eyes suddenly snapped open, sensing the imminent release of power. A sensual smile curled upon her lips as she parted them, revealing a tongue that hungered for the blood's forbidden essence. With deliberate anticipation, she steps out of the tub, kneeling before the imposing figure, she bared her mouth, a gateway to her insatiable thirst for the forbidden elixir of life. The anticipation coiled within her, a predator ready to strike. And then, it happened. Astaroth's blood, dripping with noxious and ancient secrets, descended into her waiting mouth, igniting an unholy fire on her tongue.

The taste was intoxicating, a blend of sweet agony and forbidden ecstasy that sent shivers down her body. With each drop that she savored, the connection between the witch and demon king deepened, intertwining their fates in a macabre dance of power and darkness.

Seven drops, drawn from the very core of the demon king, coursed through Elizabeth's veins, infusing her with a surge of otherworldly energy. She could feel it, a sinister force pulsating within her, eager to be unleashed upon an unsuspecting world. The seven drops found their way to her mana core and fuse into it and from there the demon blood circulate and create a new mana heart. The pact was sealed, their alliance forged in blood and darkness, as Elizabeth emerged from the ritual with newfound power and an insatiable hunger for more.

Her once raven-black hair now cascaded in a shock of ghostly white, a haunting manifestation of the immense power coursing through her veins. Every fiber of her being crackled with raw energy as if she were a live wire charged with a million volts of electricity. With a mere thought, she could command any of the elements, bending them to her will, seamlessly merging darkness and light into an ethereal tapestry of magic.

She extended her trembling palm, a conduit for unimaginable forces, and the very fabric of time and space seemed to distort and quiver in response. The spell she had painstakingly crafted, a culmination of endless hours and tireless devotion, now seemed insignificant in the face of her unleashed potential. The world around her trembled, caught in the throes of a mysterious and unpredictable power.

Astaroth's piercing gaze fixed upon her, seeing her testing out her new powers, his voice oozing with dark allure. "Now that my blood and essence have merged with your very being, your mana heart has been reborn. Your astonishing talent and unwavering determination have allowed you to forge a new heart in a matter of minutes. No human, elf, nor demon has ever received seven precious drops of my essence." Elizabeth, still in her state of nakedness, lay prostrate on the cold hard floor. "I owe everything to your boundless generosity and the pity you have shown me, my lord," her voice fills with gratitude and nervousness.

"Now that you have received this gift from me, your body and soul shall be forever bound to my will. The immense power that lies within you will belong solely to me," the words echoed ominously in the dimly lit room. The demon lord's eyes gleamed with a sinister hunger as memories of his past life as the king of darkness flooded his mind. His first disciple, the elf queen, had succumbed to his influence. Now, a wicked desire stirred within him, tempting him to ensnare the witch before him and make her his loyal servant in this new world.

The Demon King Astaroth had not viewed the goblin king as his subordinate; he saw him as an unwitting pawn in his sinister experiment to gauge his formidable power. Ever since awakening from his slumber, the demon lord had grappled with an unsettling uncertainty regarding the extent of his restored might, and by giving him a bit of power the demon king can gauge how much power the human holds.

Elizabeth's eyes darted upwards, trembling in the presence of the fearsome demon lord. A potent mix of fear and reverence coursed through her veins, entangled with an inexplicable desire to be held by the demon king himself. Her voice quivered as she spoke, attempting to gather her courage.

"Master," she stammered, "I have yet to introduce myself properly, yet you have already bestowed upon me great gifts. I am Elizabeth Ashcroft, the sole disciple of Azrael Blackthorn, the revered grand wizard of Arcania. But that was the person I once was. Now, with you as my master, I beseech you to grant me a new name. A name that will signify unequivocally that I am owned by you, destined to be your eternal slave."

As Elizabeth finished her plea, an eerie silence engulfed the room. Shadows danced ominously across the walls, casting an otherworldly aura. The demon lord's eyes bore into her soul, assessing her devotion, testing her loyalty. Moments stretched into an eternity as the air grew thick with anticipation.

Finally, a malevolent smile twisted across the demon lord's face, sending a shiver down Elizabeth's spine. His voice, dripping with a sinister charm, cut through the silence like a razor.

"Elizabeth Ashcroft," he hissed, savoring each syllable, "your past identity shall hold no power from here on, and from this moment forward, you shall be known as Lalitha, the Queen of the Shadow Realm. Those who dwell in the darkness will become your instruments, their fear fuelling your dominion." A sinister grin crept across his face.

His eyes gleaming with wicked delight, he continued, "I have come across an intriguing soul, one that has endured multi-generations of curses. A soul tightly bound, now mine to bestow upon you, a gift for becoming my first servant."

The air grew heavy with an unsettling stillness, suffocating the room as the demon king parted his lips, unleashing a chilling silence. A foreboding tension hung in the atmosphere as if awaiting the manifestation of something sinister. Suddenly, an otherworldly form emerged from his mouth, a tortured soul writhing and twisting in a macabre dance. Its ethereal essence swirled ominously through the air, a haunting spectacle that is horrifying.

Lalitha, her eyes wide with respect and excitement, inclined herself in a low bow. With a trembling hand, she received the soul, delicate as it hovered within her grasp. Carefully, she cradled it, an unsettling weight against her palm, before surreptitiously depositing it into the depths of her own shadow. The bestowed title from Astaroth had endowed her with newfound powers, granting her control over her shadow, which now served as a gateway to a realm of unimaginable possibilities. It could conceal an entire army, dormant and ready for her command.

"Master," Lalitha whispered, her voice dripping with a seductive allure, "I have nothing to offer you but this pure, untouched body. It is yours to command. If my lord desires, I will serve you without hesitation, fulfilling your desires and orchestrating acts of pleasure." Lalitha approaches her master and wraps her arms around him.

Back at the treacherous front line, Alfred briefed the general and the rest of the knights on the new information he had obtained from the witch. Little did they know that the witch they had once known had been consumed entirely, body and soul, by the vile demon king. With bated breath, the men absorbed Alfred's revelations, their minds teetering on the edge of disbelief and wonder. The witch's unparalleled power and her mastery in crafting sinister incantations left them stupefied and unnerved.

General Lance, his face etched with a mix of determination and anxiety, broke the silence that engulfed them. "It seems we are still entangled in a web of mysteries. Yet, armed with these spells bestowed upon us by Elizabeth, what do you believe are our chances of obliterating the malevolent goblin king?"