The air here didn’t breathe—it watched. Each flickering torch felt like an eye, casting judgment from the shadows.
“Your Majesty!” three figures knelt at once before him.
Taryn turned to the archdemon beside him for an explanation.
“These three are the heads of palace management,” the archdemon said. “They are also your official retainers.”
“She is Sheba, head of hospitality and concubine affairs. He is Ox, manager of inventory and records. And she is Imp, in charge of intelligence... and torture.”
Taryn observed them closely.
Sheba was a voluptuous succubus, her allure almost supernatural. One glance from her could stir desires long buried—and even Taryn, whose heart had been frozen since the attack on Xara, felt a strange shiver. That alone unsettled him.
But the archdemon acted first.
Without warning, he seized Sheba by the throat, lifting her effortlessly into the air.
“What do you think you’re doing before His Majesty?” he growled.
It was the first time Taryn saw the composed butler’s mask slip into aggression.
“Don’t hurt her,” Taryn said calmly.
The archdemon’s arm trembled... but he obeyed, lowering Sheba to the floor.
Taryn remained still, his mind sharp despite the unfamiliar world. These weren’t divine servants like those in Xara’s realm. These were imprisoned demons. Dangerous beings. He knew that beneath their deference lay potential betrayal.
He had to establish dominance early—or risk becoming their pawn.
“Your Majesty,” the archdemon said carefully, “you are unaware of her offense—”
“I know,” Taryn cut him off. “She tried to charm me.”
His tone was light. Even smiling. But his eyes were cold.
A case of content theft: this narrative is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.
Sheba fell to her knees.
“Master, I beg you—please punish me. I swear it wasn’t intentional. I’m a succubus... in my excitement to finally meet the Dimensional Sovereign, I lost control of my nature.”
Without waiting for his response, she raised her clawed fingers—and raked them across her own face, maiming her perfect beauty.
“I vow to remain scarred for a thousand years,” she whispered.
Taryn’s mind reeled at the savagery. But his heart... remained unmoved.
You think that’s enough? he nearly said, but paused. Somewhere inside, a flicker of discomfort stirred. Not guilt. Not pity. Just the quiet question—was this what it meant to be a Sovereign of a Domain?
“You think that’s enough?” he said at last, flatly. “We’re in hell. If that counts as punishment, we’re setting a bad example.”
Everyone froze.
What Sheba did next shocked even the other demons.
She manifested a dagger in her palm—a curved blade coated with the dark, dripping juice of the fruit from the Tree of Zaqqum. The others immediately recognized it—not just any weapon, but one laced with a potent, infernal poison.
Before anyone could react, Sheba drove the dagger into her own chest, severing both breasts in one swift motion. Instantly, her skin erupted in boils. Her flesh turned sickly, blistered, oozing. The poison from Zaqqum twisted her form until she resembled a walking plague.
“I will remain untreated in this state for as long as you wish,” she said, kneeling.
She then summoned a cosmic contract, etched her vow into it, and signed it with a drop of her blood.
Taryn said nothing.
Inside, he was stunned by the depth of her devotion—or was it desperation? Either way, his heart remained frozen.
He simply nodded.
Then turned to Imp.
She shivered under his gaze. She looked like a timid child—no older than eight—but he knew better. She was a psychopathic devil with a twisted mind. She was Terror incarnate, hiding behind a child’s eyes.
Then to Ox—a scholarly, horned demon who looked like a bookworm trapped in the body of a minotaur. Friendly on the outside. Probably scheming beneath it.
“It’s my pleasure to meet you all,” Taryn said at last. “I trust you’ll take care of me.”
“We shall, Your Majesty,” they replied in perfect unison.
He turned back to Sheba.
“I can’t have my head of hospitality looking like that. Heal yourself—but wear a veil from now on. I trust you’ve learned your lesson.”
Sheba nodded. She retrieved a potion from her inventory and drank it. Her body began to regenerate instantly. Skin smoothed. The boils faded. But the scars she inflicted herself remained faintly—a reminder.
She reached for a dark silk veil and covered her face.
“What a waste,” Ox mumbled to himself. He scribbled a note on a parchment scroll mid-sentence, cataloging the loss like a librarian grieving a burned book. “That restoration potion takes a thousand years to produce... and there are only three left in the entire valley.”
In silence, the demons retreated—but inside their minds, the scheming continued.
What was I thinking? Sheba thought. Just one misstep and I could’ve been erased. I didn’t expect the lord to be so terrifying. He resisted me without blinking... even Damion set me up, then tried to act righteous. Bastard.
Hah! Idiots, Imp thought with manic glee. They don’t realize his heart is sealed. He’s more devil than human already. I understand him best... I’ll win him over. Eventually.
They could not touch him. They could not defy him. Taryn was their Sovereign of a Domain. With a mere thought, he could erase them from existence.
And so, they did what demons always did.
They plotted.