Black hair, sharp demon horns, and a scorpion tail dragging across the ground.
Beneath the pale skin of her neck, purple veins like branches occasionally flickered past—her body being simultaneously empowered and eroded by a rampant poison.
The scorpion tail's segnts rose like skeletal spikes, piercing into the walls of the building, enabling her to maintain absolute balance on any terrain and at every angle.
"Who are you...?"
Ulysses furrowed his brow tightly, his gaze finally becoming half-serious.
Though her appearance remained unchanged.
She was entirely different from the Miss Duchess of monts ago.
She even gave the Tenth Ancestor Marquis Ulysses the impression that the Miss Duchess and this Scorpion Tail Witch were utterly distinct creatures.
The Scorpion Tail Witch suddenly tilted her head.
Those violent eyes were entirely prepared to dismber the Ancestor of the Blood Clan, inch by inch.
The Scorpion Tail Witch instantly lunged at the Tenth Ancestor Ulysses.
Distracted by multi-threaded summons, Ulysses failed to react in ti, and Hyperion's dagger pierced through his skull. Using sharp claws, she forcibly ripped a chunk of flesh from Ulysses' face.
"Ahhh! You!"
Ulysses roared in agony, pulling himself back with all his might.
At that mont, he couldn't spare attention to the summons dispatched to the Hall of Annihilation or the western camp.
The Miss Duchess' original strength should never have posed a threat to him.
But now, the opponent clearly possessed an attack power terrifying enough to threaten Eighth Rank Life.
"Heh... Hah..."
The Scorpion Tail Witch crushed the eyeball she had just pulled from Ulysses' skull with her claw-covered exoskeletal hand and casually tossed it away. The splatter of blood vanished entirely into the night sky.
"You've lost your clarity—how can you possibly be a threat to now?"
Ulysses clutched his bleeding cheek, staring with one eye at the fully transford Hyperion.
His voice carried incredulity.
So ugly, so filthy.
This was no longer the Miss Duchess he had admired.
She had beco the maddest, most depraved, most vile of the Demon Royal Family.
"..."
Hyperion's whites of her eyes had turned black, tears of crystalline poison dripping down in corrosive streaks.
With misty venom erupting from the corners of her lips, her full demon form erged—a thin and ominous scorpion tail uncoiling behind her waist, amber demon eyes swirling with uncontrollable chaos.
She was no longer the pure, unsullied light of spring; she had beco a cold, dirty, unredeemable entity from the blood-soaked depths of despair.
The Marquis Ulysses, neither expecting nor wanting an answer, was startled in the next mont by a light laugh.
"I feel great now. It's just that my father never allowed to be like this."
Hyperion raised her untainted hand, her fingertips brushing the poisonous black tears from her eyes, her smile tinged with the mania of liberation.
She surprisingly managed to maintain her consciousness.
She simply felt her spirit was excessively excited—overstimulated.
"The kind, ek righteousness you showed before—was all of that just a facade?!"
The Tenth Ancestor Marquis Ulysses finally showed an intrigued expression as he questioned the demon across from him.
As he gazed upon this scorpion-tailed demon, all fondness had disintegrated, leaving nothing but disgust!
"That was the true as well; humans inevitably possess duality."
Hyperion lightly stroked the shoulder of her chanical ssenger. Reflected in the glimring silver surface, she no longer avoided her true visage.
"But isn't it possible that my black-haired demon form is my original appearance?"
She spoke with evident composure.
In everyday life, she had altered herself into a silver-haired girl, just like her mother, to live in Ichrite.
From a young age, the disparity with the surrounding children had made her insecure—had made her feel like an anomaly.
On the first day she appeared in her demon form during the entrance exams at Purgatory Corridor Academy, she instinctively felt ashad.
But now, she could face her true form unabashedly.
It turned out she wasn't an ugly duckling; even in her demon form, Lanci would still assure her in the Demon King Palace that she was beautiful.
"You wretched thing, how dare you deceive ...!!"
The Tenth Ancestor Ulysses had never encountered such artistry in deception and humiliation—a "tool" that toyed with him to this extent. His hand clenched tightly against his chest.
Ulysses' fingers trembled slightly, his breathing turning labored. As an impeccable artist, he had never been so blind before.
He could not tolerate having his feelings fooled.
He quickly steadied his emotions.
If the other party held no value, then this worthless woman wasn't worth his anger either.
"Hmph, a cheap woman like you, who only hides her true self, will never earn the love of others. All your efforts are nothing but delusional farce—so pathetic that killing you feels like a waste of my ti and a stain on my hands."
Ulysses waved his hand as he spoke, the flesh on his injured cheek gradually regenerating.
To him, Hyperion was pitiful.
From childhood, she had changed herself to cater to others, incessantly accommodating, seeking approval, only to turn into soone even she no longer recognized. Ultimately, what she gained was nothing but illusory affection.
So ugly, so cowardly.
"Haha."
Hyperion heard Ulysses' words, feeling entirely unperturbed.
Perhaps, in the past, she might have agreed with what he said.
"Even if I'm like this, there's soone who would always accept as I am. He finds my original form beautiful beyond comparison, he considers my clumsy words funny, and I know he understands —that's why I let my guard down."
If, one day, that person saw her without an angelic face, as a ruthless, bloodthirsty demon—would he still treat her the sa?
She knew he would. She deeply believed he would.
When she first t Lanci, he had been dark, brimming with negativity and hostility.
The first ti she showed her demon form before Lanci.
The first ti Lanci learned she was a true demon.
Lanci's kindness toward her was steadfast and enduring, never once wavering.
"...What on earth are you thinking about?"
Ulysses stared into Hyperion's eyes that brimd with an overflowing sea of emotion, stirring his rage.
At this point, Ulysses had expected Hyperion to grow frantic and lose her sanity, yet none of this unfolded.
Instead, he was hearing her self-assuredly boasting sothing to him?
Where could a man like that exist?
There couldn't possibly be such a man—a saint who wholeheartedly accepted every part of this lowly Miss Duchess, filling the void in her soul!
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