The scent of roasted horned beast meat spread across the stone courtyard with such intensity that, for the first time, the hitherto empty ruins of Gloamreach Vale felt genuinely cozy.
The fire crackled cheerfully in the fieldstone hearth, casting warm, orange light onto the shattered columns.
Liselotte, however, despite the invitation to a shared dinner, simply could not sit still and enjoy the meal.
She paced around the stone block on her high heels, her expression so focused you'd think the fate of the entire expedition depended on her every movement.
When one of the red workers pulled the largest, juiciest slab of meat from the grate, the maid instantly intercepted it onto a flat shard of stone.
She crouched by Nyssara, blowing carefully on the steaming roast and checking with her fingers to ensure there wasn't too much soot on the surface.
"My Mistress, this piece is absolutely perfect," she declared with utmost earnestness, sliding the stone under the Empress's nose. "It has a crispy crust, it's soft on the inside, and it's not burned in the slightest. Eat this one first, and I will personally ensure the next one reaches the exact same state of perfection."
Nyssara looked at her with a raised eyebrow, not hiding her mild amusement.
She took the roast in her hand, but instead of beginning to eat, she tapped her free finger on the empty spot on the stone right beside her.
"Liselotte," the Mistress tossed out calmly. "Stop dancing over me. Sit your ass down and take your piece, or everything will go cold and you'll be chewing on congealed fat."
"But I should first ensure that you lack for nothing..."
"Sit. That is an order."
"Right away, okay!" the servant squeaked, instantly sitting on the boulder, pulling a smaller portion toward herself.
Before she could even think about etiquette, she sank her teeth into the hot meat.
Her ruby eyes widened drastically, and her jaw began to work in absolute silence.
This was no bland mush or sterile ration from cheap survival games.
The forest horned beast meat was dark, tender, and dripping with thick, wild juices, and the aroma of the herbs rubbed into its surface gave it a slightly peppery, earthy aftertaste.
She swallowed the first bite and immediately bit off another, significantly larger piece.
"Oh my..." she choked out with a full mouth, turning her head toward the worker standing by the fire. "What did you rub this with? This tastes incredible!"
The red-skinned demoness straightened up and struck her fist briefly against her chest.
"Wild garlic and crushed Silvery Herb gathered at the edge of the forest, mistress," the worker replied matter-of-factly. "The hot fat extracts the natural bitterness from the herb and seals the juices inside the meat."
Liselotte nodded with profound appreciation, shoving another piece into her mouth.
Elarienne, sitting on the opposite side with a stone cup of water in her hand, snorted quietly with laughter.
"Incredible," the elf noted dryly, resting an elbow on her knee. "It merely took handing you a piece of roast, and suddenly blissful, longed-for silence fell over the entire valley. We must record this as an official countermeasure for the next time you offer one of your perverted propositions."
Liselotte swallowed hastily, wiping the corner of her mouth with the back of her hand.
"I am remaining silent exclusively out of respect for a good chef, got it?" she huffed with feigned indignation. "Besides, good food requires absolute focus. If I talk, I won't taste half the flavor."
"Of course. Just as if you possessed any capacity for silence whatsoever over the last five hours," the blonde retorted, a tiny, mocking smirk appearing at the corners of her mouth.
Before Liselotte could formulate another malicious riposte, however, Elarienne set down her cup, leaned forward, and with the tip of her boot, pushed a small, flat basalt slab covered in soft, cool moss toward the servant.
Right beside it, she pushed a clay bowl full of Tricolor Berries picked in the forest.
"Take those shoes off and put your feet here," the elf tossed out calmly, as if discussing the weather. "The stone will draw the heat out of them, and the moss will allow your tendons to rest. And eat some fruit, you could use the energy regeneration."
Liselotte froze with a piece of meat in her hand.
She looked at the stone, then at the berries, and finally at the statuesque blonde. Her long, pointed ears twitched violently.
"Elarienne..." she began drawn-out, a suspicious but dreamy glint in her eye. "Did you just show me a shred of human warmth? Don't tell me that severe coldness was just a front and you actually want to quietly seduce me?"
Elarienne didn't even bat an eyelid as she popped a berry into her mouth.
"I simply have absolutely no desire to listen to you whining from dawn tomorrow about how you can't stand on your feet," the elf cut off coldly. "Eat, and stop looking for hidden motives."
Liselotte giggled quietly, but didn't wait for a second invitation.
She reached her hands to her ankles and, with a loud, metallic click, unfastened the buckles of her lacquered stilettos and slid the tight shoes off her feet.
The moment her bare, overheated feet in thin fishnet stockings touched the damp, icy moss, the girl arched her back.
"Oooohhh... aahn..." a low, guttural, shameless moan of relief escaped her throat.
She grabbed her left instep with both hands, beginning to forcefully massage her stiff toes and the tendon above her heel.
Due to the Pain Craving curse, the sharp, tearing pain of her overworked muscles mingled with the chill of the surface, sending pulsating waves of perverse heat running up her spine.
Liselotte closed her eyelids, panting raggedly through parted lips and releasing quiet, searing sighs with every firmer squeeze.
Nyssara glanced down at her, lifting the corner of her mouth, while Elarienne slowly raised an eyebrow, staring at her with profound skepticism.
"Do you truly have to climax out loud over a simple massage of numb feet?" the blonde asked dryly.
"It hurts so wonderfully it's just lovely," Liselotte mumbled with a blissful smile, resting her head against the edge of the stone. "Infernal heels really are a fantastic invention. An entire day of suffering, and then such relief at the end..."
Nyssara finished her portion of meat, wiped her hands on a clean napkin, and rested her elbows on her knees, looking at the servant with a slightly more serious facial expression.
"Out of curiosity, Liselotte... how exactly do you evaluate that first skirmish in the forest?" the Mistress asked. "Using your skills in practice, how did it look from your perspective?"
The maid opened her eyes and momentarily stopped massaging her foot.
The mask of a dreamy lunatic vanished from her face, and authentic, cold gamer focus appeared in her ruby pupils.
"Honestly?" she spoke in a normal, calm tone. "In the creator, it was just simple mathematics. I knew that ignoring the buff limit had to be broken, because any game with that mechanic instantly crashes the balance. But it's one thing to see plus thirty percent on paper, and an entirely different thing to see it live, when you walk up to that giant wolf and with one swing of your arm drive its skull into solid rock. That's when it hit me that this isn't just some minor bonus. If I stack enough layers of buffs on you, you will literally be able to tear to shreds absolutely anything this world throws at us."
Nyssara nodded slowly, genuine appreciation flashing in her eyes.
"You executed it flawlessly," the Empress said bluntly. "Most people in your position would have panicked at the sight of a pack emerging from the bushes. You stopped me, bought us those three seconds, and prepared the groundwork before the fight. Not only are you a degenerate, but you actually possess enough courage to stand at my side during combat."
Liselotte blinked rapidly.
When they argued over nonsense, she tossed out perverted remarks without a shadow of hesitation. However, when Nyssara spoke with such calm, adult respect, her entire brazen facade instantly cracked.
A thick, strawberry blush bloomed on the maid's cheeks, her ears drooped submissively, and she lowered her gaze, twiddling her fingers.
"I... I just tried to do what I do best, my Mistress," she mumbled quietly, her voice sounding genuinely uncertain for the first time.
Elarienne observed this sudden shift with cold curiosity, but this time refrained from any malicious remarks. The girl had genuinely earned her place in the team.
"Good," Nyssara broke the silence, clapping her hands together. "Dinner is eaten, feet are resting, so it is time to check what is happening outside our little backyard."
The Empress raised her hand and summoned the global communication panel, then tapped the projection option.
A wide, purple-pulsing system chat window unfolded in the air above the stone table.
Liselotte, unable to suppress her innate need for physical proximity, slid off the boulder and sat on the cool moss directly between the seated Nyssara's thighs.
She rested her back against her knees, resting her chin on her bare thigh and craning her neck up toward the glowing letters.
The Mistress didn't even reprimand her; with complete naturalness, she placed her hand on her slender nape, occasionally brushing the soft base of her elven ear with the tip of her nail, sending a quiet shiver of contentment through Liselotte every few moments.
The first thing that caught the eyes of all three women was a small counter in the top right corner of the screen.
Active Demon Kings in Sphere: 999,904 / 1,000,000
"Ninety-six..." Elarienne read aloud, her brows drawing together in a hard grimace. "Barely a few hours have passed since the Descent, and nearly a hundred players have already been eliminated from the trial."
Nyssara swiped her finger across the screen, opening the main message stream.
The torrent of words scrolled at breakneck speed, but the content was entirely different than during the initial minutes of panic.
Now, the chat resembled a chaotic, ruthless bazaar combined with a chronicle of desperation and old scores being settled:
[Hey, does this counter drop from logging out or from dying?]
[Do you see a log out option anywhere?]
[I'm just asking a fucking question.]
[Has anyone else tried to wake up? I hurt myself and I'm still here. I don't know what to do.]
[Don't do that again. Keep writing here, I'm here.]
[DEMON KINGS LMAO I'm sitting under a rock and waiting for an hour for something to stop sniffing the entrance.]
[Looks like you've got your first subject.]
[Come tell him that.]
[How do you retract claws? I can't touch my face and something got in my eye.]
[Try to relax your whole hand. Mine retract when I stop moving them.]
[Not working.]
[Because you didn't even say what race you are. How are we supposed to know if they even retract?]
[Who is near the sea somewhere? I hear waves. Maybe if we start walking along the shore, we can meet up. I don't want to sit here alone.]
[Don't broadcast where you are in general. Everyone reads this.]
[I'm forming an alliance. I have experience managing a large guild, looking for competent people. PM for details.]
[You were a discord mod, chill out.]
[Okay, and what's your plan? You going to type lmao until something eats you?]
[Are those ninety-six people really dead? Does anyone KNOW or are you all just guessing?]
[Stop spamming for a second. The girl I was talking to had something outside her entrance. I didn't catch her nick. You had white hair and forward-facing horns. Speak up if you see this.]
[Is there any way to scroll this damn chat?!]
[Will trade meat for something to start a fire. Don't ask what kind of meat, because I'd like to know too.]
[Send the system description.]
[If I had a description, I'd probably know.]
[WATCH OUT for the guy selling a map of safe passages. He sent me a drawing with an arrow and the word "forward".]
[Post the nick.]
[Did you seriously pay him up front?]
[Yes, seriously. Now you can either help or have another five minutes of comedy.]
[My mom's name is Agnieszka Wójcik. If anyone talked to her, please tell her Michał is alive. I don't know what name she's under.]
[I'm looking for family too. We should agree on one tag for these messages, otherwise everything gets lost.]
[Something just said "help me" in my brother's voice a minute ago. I am sitting alone. My brother is eight years old.]
[Do not go out. No matter what you hear, do not go out.]
[Has anyone checked exactly what this grace period protects against?]
Liselotte snorted quietly under her breath, her gaze lingering on the argument over the fake map.
"A few hours have passed, and someone has already managed to start scamming others," she muttered. "And of course, the guy who fell for it is the one getting roasted."
Nyssara, however, paid no attention to the squabbling. After reading the question about the grace period, she shifted her gaze to the small question mark icon next to her status. She tapped it with her nail, pulling up a detailed system note.
"Listen to this," the Empress spoke coldly, reading the text aloud:
"'The Veiled Period guarantees the total concealment of the Sovereign Nexus's presence from the magical and divine senses of Heroes for a period of 72 hours. The grace period DOES NOT BLOCK aggression from indigenous beasts, local tribes, or predators inhabiting a given ecosystem'."
Elarienne nodded slowly, piecing the facts together.
"That explains those ninety-six fatalities," the elf stated. "Many of them assumed that 'grace period' meant total invulnerability. If someone landed at the bottom of a gorge full of predators or in a nest of venomous spiders and carelessly walked outside, they were simply torn to pieces."
Silence fell over the valley for a moment.
Liselotte felt a light, unpleasant chill run down her spine.
She pressed her back harder into Nyssara's knees, and her demonic tail wrapped around the Mistress's ankle.
She looked up, straight into her blazing, crimson eyes.
"My Mistress..." she spoke quietly, with a rare, genuine uncertainty in her voice. "What happens if... if someone destroys our Sovereign Nexus? Or if you die? Do we, as Supports, simply vanish along with you?"
Nyssara looked down at the maid's small face.
Her hand slid softly from the nape of Liselotte's neck to the top of her head, gently combing through the silvery strands.
"The system remains silent on that matter," the Empress answered with absolute, unwavering calm. "But I have absolutely no intention of testing it in practice. We have massive cliffs surrounding us, we have five workers who will begin erecting a palisade at the only entrance to the hollow tomorrow. We have a full stockpile of timber, food reserves, and water. And above all... I have you and Elarienne at my back. If any beast attempts to breach these ruins, I will personally snap its neck before it can even look in your direction."
Liselotte let out a held breath. The warmth of Nyssara's hand and her confident tone worked instantly.
The fear evaporated, replaced by that same boundless, blind loyalty. She nuzzled her cheek against her thigh, purring with quiet relief.
"I know, my Mistress," she whispered. "I know you will protect us."
Suddenly, the servant's gaze returned to the levitating chat, where messages about the lack of food and water appeared almost every other line. The gears of an experienced MMO market veteran instantly clicked in her head.
"Wait just a minute..." Liselotte sat up abruptly, recalling the text from some demon king about the scam he had fallen for, nearly smacking her chin against the Mistress's knee. "Since we have an active [Trade] tab, that means we can list items for sale there, right?"
Elarienne looked up as she answered:
"Theoretically, yes," the elf admitted. "The trade panel allows for the contactless exchange of resources via spatial inventories."
"Then what are we waiting for?!" massive, golden coins flared in Liselotte's eyes. "They are literally dying of hunger and thirst out there! A simple piece of roast or water is a matter of life and death to them! We could make an absolute fortune off of this!"
Before Nyssara could answer, the maid clapped her hands, and that same incorrigible, warped smirk appeared on her lips:
"And you know what would sell even better? My sweaty little stockings from today's raid through the forest! Or the water from my evening bath! I guarantee there are at least a hundred such degenerates from Earth in that chat who would surrender their entire starting capital for it!"
Elarienne covered her face with her hand, shaking her head in resignation.
Nyssara, however, slowly tightened her fingers on Liselotte's ear, pulling it lightly but firmly upward.
"First of all, my little maid: no man dying of dehydration is going to purchase dirty stockings instead of water," the Empress tossed out dryly. "And secondly, and most importantly: I remind you that ever since you selected me as your Mistress, absolutely everything you are wearing, including your underwear, your body, and your sweat, is my exclusive property. You will not sell my belongings to strange men. Have you understood?"
Liselotte squeaked quietly, but there was not a shred of fear in her eyes - the words about being Nyssara's "exclusive property" sent a wave of heat flooding through her lower belly, and her demonic tail danced in the air.
"Yes, my Mistress! I won't sell a thing! Everything stays for you!" she assured feverishly.
Nyssara released her ear, returning to the trade panel.
"Nevertheless... the idea of selling surplus food is one hundred percent accurate," the Mistress concluded. "Before we list anything, however, we must know exactly how much we have. Elarienne, tomorrow morning you will calculate the resource requirements of our workers for the next two days. And you, Liselotte..."
The Empress looked at the girl sitting at her feet with a predatory smirk.
"...your task before going to sleep will be to meticulously count every single plucked berry and every slab of dried meat in the depot. I want a full balance sheet on the stone by morning."
Liselotte blinked, then saluted proudly with a wide smile on her lips.
"Reporting for counting duty, Your Imperial Majesty! I will be the most meticulous warehouse manager in this entire cursed dimension!"