The sky was invisible here, and the surroundings were full of rough rocks embedded with glowing gems, some of which got flicked onto the skirt armor by the stirring steps.

A supple figure darted through the cave, the living armor made of pitch-black resilient scales that sliced through the air currents in its rampage aided the body to accelerate, while the screaming sound of tearing air echoed in the vast cavern.

Mud splashed with every step, not sparing even the rocks at the edges.

Gurellia could have done it more gracefully, her body light as a spirit cat, and she could have left no trace at all if she had wanted. But that was too slow, the hunters behind her wouldn’t allow her the leisure.

Exposing her location no longer mattered, Gurellia’s demonized claws dug into the rock, the force of her bulging muscles catapulting her body into the darkness of the cave.

Both the hunter and the prey were one and the same, Gurellia was not without the instinct to counterattack. Yet, it was those hunters pursuing her that had taught her all of this.

The War Messenger from the Demon Race, also known as Armored Evil Demon, had scales that served as a layer of living armor. Unlike the Black Abyssal Demons who preferred dueling, and the Sin Demon Clan who liked deceit, the War Messengers revelled in the hunt. It was entertainment to put their prey in mortal peril.

As a former royal, Gurellia understood all too well the vile nature of her kin, even before Sara Nightwish came to seek her out, she herself had once reveled in it due to cognitive dissonance.

Not long after she fled, a black torrent ripped apart the area she had passed through, the cave trembled on the brink of collapse, as if it could cave in at any moment.

Blood-red eyes emitted an ominous glow in the dark, rising and falling in succession, connecting into fear—a lineup of executioners eager for the bloom of fresh blood.

"Her Highness has become weak... It doesn’t matter, we’ll train her again, and she will still be the rightful heir to the throne."

This was the Stone Monster district of the City of Wandering, a labyrinth of caves underneath the city, an underground palace amplified by space-time magic.

The Stone Monster district was the outermost layer of the underground palace, as for those winding tunnels leading straight to the bottom, no one knew where they led to—unknown realms, divine temples, another world; there were numerous speculations. Combined with the various races of the City of Wandering adding their embellishments, the underground palace became the city’s greatest mystery, although from the outside, it seemed to be just a ring of mud carried by the city.

The unknown mystery was the key to Gurellia’s hope of escaping. Perhaps, among the things in the underground palace, there was something that could intimidate or even crush those War Messengers.

She just needed to run faster, before they could stop her...

"Gurellia..."

That voice, as if it had crawled right out of her own nightmares, plagued her countless nights with dread.

The black armor was adorned with upward spikes resembling a crown wrapped around him, with two streaks of blood trailing beneath the blood-red eyes. In those eyes similar to her own, it was as if a thousand trapped souls were wailing inside. Despite the emotionless words, Gurellia felt overwhelmed by the intimidation within, curled up on the ground like a wounded cub.

Standing in her way was the king of the War Messenger Demon Clan.

Relicette War Messenger. Her father, her master.

An unbeatable presence, the fear that occupied her mind controlled her body, and tears dropped from Gurellia’s eyes smudged with disheveled hair. She trembled and buried her head into the filthy mud, showing her loyalty to the king.

With every step Relicette took, Gurellia felt fear coursing into her blood, one step closer to her heart.

"Father... Father."

That hand, which toyed with her fate, seized Gurellia’s Demon Horn, pulling her out of the mire.

A hint of emotion appeared in those bloodthirsty eyes.

Loss.

"You have grown weak, Gurellia; you didn’t even struggle or resist before you submitted."

The devil’s voice completely shattered her psychological defenses; her tears mixed with the mud on her cheeks, marring her face.

"I... I’m afraid of pain..." After Gurellia said that, she immediately regretted it, but the man did not give her the chance to take it back.

"You’ve really become fragile, fragile enough to disappoint me. Pain is something we need to forget. A worthy War Messenger grows stronger through pain. Come, Gurellia, let me teach you again."

In Gurellia’s desperate pleas for mercy, Relicette gently wrapped his arms around her waist, patting her trembling back.

Then, his claws cut through Gurellia’s armor like a venomous snake, stirring inside her flesh.

Gurellia let out an agonized howl. Her nails scraped against her father’s armor, sparking fire, but left no marks to convey her agony.

Crack.

Relicette’s hand drew out, bringing with it a segment of broken rib.

Screams and howls echoed in the cave. Gurellia rolled in the mud like a shrimp.

Relicette stood beside her, caressing the blood-fleshed rib in his hand.

"Your will is weak, but the War Messenger’s body is still strong." The bowl-sized wound on Gurellia’s back had already healed, and even the missing rib would regrow soon. "Your body still carries my pride. My child, soon you’ll display the stature befitting a queen of the Demon Race."

"However, child, what is this toy?" In Relicette’s hand, the bracelet her mother had left was glowing in the dark.

"Give it back to me... it’s what Mom left behind..."

"Oh, the Succubus?" Relicette casually crushed the bracelet and tossed it aside like trash. "I wondered why my child suddenly ran away from home. It seems her mother did something unnecessary..."

"I’ll find an opportunity to kill her..."

Gurellia’s tears stopped, and her eyes fixed on the fragments sinking into the mud.

"Mom... is already dead, this is what she left to me..."

Relicette casually clapped his hands, "Good news, she was not a trophy that brought honor. It seems I don’t need to dirty my hands," Relicette’s gaze turned cold again, "Your eyes now, they are good, Gurellia. But this hatred, is it for the Succubus? I’ve taught you. Emotions are the greatest weakness of living beings. A War Messenger does not need such flaws."

"You need more ’guidance’."

Gurellia felt an unprecedented fury. She was completely different from her former self, the life in the City of Wandering had infused new vigor into her soul housed in this shell.

"Shut up! You heartless beast, what do you know? Mom was just a tool for breeding in your eyes, you damned brute have no right to insult her! Guidance? You and all your crap can go lick the lich’s ass! I am Gurellia Nightwish; I am a Succubus, not one of your damned killing machines!"

"This is the City of Wandering, you uncivilized bumpkin, feel the terror of the Arcanists!"

Gurellia pulled out the nameplate engraved with Anna’s name, the small piece of metal had grown hot from the prolonged infusion of magic.

"I call for help, in the name of a good citizen of the City of Wandering, save me, enforcers!"

The light from the nameplate grew hot and bright. Under the watchful eyes of the War Messengers, a massive portal opened in the darkness, its brilliant light shining like hope into Anna’s heart.

A figure leaped out of it.

But the figure plunged Gurellia into panic.

"William! Why are you here!"