The Headquarters of the Demon God's Soul – Dark Magic Castle
In the depths of the grand hall, there were no windows—only a few magic torches hanging on the walls, emitting a faint glow.
However, this small amount of light did little to warm the vast chamber.
Instead, the interplay between the dim flas and the surrounding darkness only intensified the unexpected chill that filled the hall.
The most striking feature of the grand hall was the imposing, finely crafted throne standing atop three steps, directly facing the entrance.
Its black surface bore no decorations or carvings, yet at first glance, it exuded a bone-chilling aura.
It was as if rely gazing upon it offered a fleeting glimpse of an existence far beyond comprehension, causing an instinctive shiver to run down one's spine.
Below this black throne, seven other thrones were symtrically arranged on either side of the central aisle leading to the entrance.
The left row had four thrones, while the right had three.
Except for the third throne on the right, all other six seats were occupied.
"Aside from Ophelia, is everyone else present?" A brown-haired young man seated on the second throne from the left scanned the hall and spoke softly.
"Garlos, are you seriously stating the obvious? Isn't it plain as day?" A girl seated directly opposite him, on the second throne from the right, retorted impatiently.
She was a young girl with long, flowing blue hair cascading down to her waist.
Her delicate face bore deep blue eyes tinged with a hint of violet, reflecting her clear frustration.
Draped over her shoulders was a slightly oversized black coat, making her petite fra seem even smaller.
Leaning on her throne, she propped her face up with both hands, her cheeks puffed slightly in irritation.
"Eh? Stella, you seem to be in a really bad mood," said a green-haired young man seated on the third throne from the left, resting his hands lazily behind his head.
"Hmm, let guess—did you get summoned while you were out shopping sowhere, and you had to co back unwillingly? Is that why you're so upset?"
"W-What are you talking about? I don't understand at all!" The blue-haired girl imdiately refuted his words, but her expression clearly revealed thoughts like, How did you know? and He actually guessed it right.
"It's simple—because Stella is an idiot."
"Who are you calling an idiot?!" The blue-haired girl lifted her head, her deep blue eyes flashing with a dangerous glint as she glared at him.
"Dylan, say that again! Be careful, or I'll kill you!"
However, Dylan remained completely unfazed by Stella's rage.
Instead, he stretched his right cheek downwards with his fingers and made a mocking face at her. "The next throne-ranking battle is still half a year away, so I'm not scared. Stella is an idiot."
"You bastard!!" Stella clenched her fists, veins popping on her forehead.
"You think just because the ranking battle is far away, you can get away with this?! I'll kill you right here and now!"
"Alright, enough. Stop fighting, Dylan, Stella." Seeing that their argunt was about to escalate, a voice of reason finally spoke up.
The speaker was a young man seated at the farthest seat on the left row, just below Dylan.
His na was Reign, and he sighed in exasperation before continuing, "Since they went as far as to call all Seven Thrones back, even at the cost of abandoning our missions, it must be sothing serious. Let's quiet down and listen to what Garlos has to say."
"Reign is right. You two need to stop, Stella, Dylan." A calm voice finally spoke up from the highest seat on the right row.
It belonged to a black-haired girl—none other than Tsukiyo, the Second Throne of Demon God's Soul, the very person who nearly killed Ishu.
"Hmph."
Hearing Tsukiyo's words, both Stella and Dylan reluctantly ceased their bickering, each letting out a cold snort before turning their faces away from each other.
Watching this unfold, Garlos let out a sigh, feeling a headache coming on.
If he had any choice in the matter, he would have avoided gathering all of them here.
The First Throne was notoriously reclusive, while the Second Throne only cared about matters related to that person and showed no interest in anything else.
If in a good mood, she might say a sentence like she just did; if indifferent, she wouldn't react even if the other Thrones were killing each other right in front of her.
And if she were in a bad mood... well, she might just go on an indiscriminate rampage.
On the other side, Stella and Dylan seed to be born with clashing fates—they could barely exchange a few words before getting into a fight, which usually escalated to Stella chasing Dylan all over the headquarters, turning the place into chaos.
As for Ophelia, who was absent, she was cold to everyone except Stella and that person, often leaving others speechless with her sharp tongue.
anwhile, Reign, being the newest mber of the Thrones, barely had any authority.
In other words, this group was full of problematic individuals in every possible sense.
"Garlos, what is the reason you suddenly summoned all of us here?" A shadowy figure sitting in the first seat of the left row asked indifferently, pulling Garlos out of his thoughts.
"Ahem." Gallos cleared his throat.
Once silence returned, he finally spoke in a low voice, "Regarding that... the decision to summon all of you wasn't mine."
"Hmm???"
"If it wasn't you, then who?" Reign, seated at the fourth seat on the left, furrowed his brows slightly.
The others also showed a hint of curiosity.
"It was ."
A voice, as lodious as a song yet chillingly cold, suddenly rang out.
At the sa ti, a series of rhythmic, faint footsteps echoed from the entrance, slowly making their way into the ears of the Seven Thrones.
"This voice!"
"Could it be?!"
Hearing the cold yet familiar voice, the Seven Thrones displayed a mix of emotions—surprise, excitent, and disbelief.
Their eyes remained fixed in the direction of the approaching footsteps, unblinking.
Finally, the owner of the footsteps revealed herself.
Appearing before the Seven Thrones was an incomparably beautiful young woman, seemingly in her early twenties, with long pink hair cascading down her back.
A black cloak draped over her slender fra, beneath which she wore a white outfit adorned with purple trim.
Her slightly fluffy pink hair was tied into a long ponytail by a pale purple ribbon, while a crescent-shaped hairpin rested against the left side of her forehead.
Her flawless, porcelain-like complexion, paired with deep, ocean-like eyes, made her seem almost otherworldly—like a masterpiece sculpted by the hands of the divine, beyond reproach.
The corners of her lips curved slightly—three parts deep, three parts light, with four parts an undeniable pride—forming a mysterious, unfathomable smile.
It was a smile born from innate nobility and confidence, one that seed to emanate from the very depths of her soul.
Her ethereal beauty was akin to that of a celestial being who had descended upon the mortal world, radiating an aura so dazzling that even Mira and Erza would pale in comparison, both in appearance and presence.
With unhurried steps, the pink-haired girl gracefully passed through the ranks of the Seven Thrones, ascending the highest black throne at the very peak of the hall.
Then, she slowly sat down, overlooking the seven below.
"It has been quite so ti, my proud blades," she spoke, her cold voice tinged with a faint sense of nostalgia.
"It has been six years and one hundred twenty-one days since we last saw you, Master," Tsukiyo—who was always composed—now had a rare tremor in her voice.
Her deep, unwavering gaze locked onto the pink-haired girl, filled with an indescribable reverence—perhaps even devotion.
A faint blush colored her normally pale cheeks, betraying her emotions.
"Master, you have finally appeared before us once more!!!"
"Is your body still in good health, Master?"
"We have finally seen you again, Master!"
..............
Amid the chaotic and unstructured voices, each carried a deep, heartfelt emotion—an unwavering faith that could not be denied.
Seated at the highest throne, the pink-haired girl smiled slightly and gently raised her hand.
Instantly, all the voices quieted at once, demonstrating her perfect control over everything.
"It has been six years. In order to complete that thing, I was unable to spare any ti and could only use the crystal ball as a dium to communicate with you through my consciousness. But during my absence, you have all done well. That brings great comfort."
"Please do not say such things. To be of service to you, Master, is the highest honor for us, the Seven Thrones."
"Very good." The pink-haired girl nodded.
"The frawork of that thing is now nearly complete, so I can finally take so ti away. This ti, I have summoned you all through Garlos for one purpose—to seize the 'Key.' For this mission, not only will you be participating, but I will also be joining you."
"Master, there is no need for you to trouble yourself. No matter what kind of mission it is, we, the Seven Thrones, can accomplish it perfectly," Dylan spoke confidently, his tone filled with undisguised self-assurance—one that echoed the thoughts of everyone present.
The pink-haired girl chuckled softly and shook her head. "Dylan, it's not that I doubt your abilities. The reason I made this decision... is, in truth, my own selfishness. After all, this temporary freedom is rare, and I wish to use this chance to see soone I have longed to et..."
She paused, gently touching the crescent-shaped ornant at her temple, her lips curving into a faint smile filled with longing and joy.
("Nord-niisama... it has been thirteen years. Finally, we can see each other again.")
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