The golden mist slowly dissipated, revealing a monumental screen levitating in the void before Liselotte.
The obsidian floor beneath her bare feet gleamed with a cold luster, and her long elven ears twitched in absolute focus as the azure light of the interface illuminated her beautiful face.
[Sovereign Protocol Initialization...]
[Filtering active Demon King instances...]
[Participants with active Retainer Privilege detected.]
[Number of available candidates: 142.]
Note: In accordance with Dominion Trial regulations, candidacies are presented factoring in a psychological profile outline, Bloodline, and the history of their previous incarnation.
“One hundred and forty-two…” Liselotte whispered. Her ruby eyes with vertical slits narrowed in predatory calculation as her thin black tail swished lazily through the air, brushing against her bare hip.
She had absolutely no intention of wasting time. Her first, uncompromising move was to apply a primary filter:
[Filter: Gender - Female Only]
The list instantly shrank by more than half, leaving a few dozen entries.
Liselotte crossed her arms beneath her massive, heavy bust, hoisting it slightly upward, and began meticulously scrolling through the remaining names.
Years of experience with strategy games and RPGs forced her to analyze the profiles with ruthless, detached calculation.
She wasn't merely looking for someone strong. In a world where Demon Kings were forced to wage brutal wars of survival, a mindless brute was just as utterly useless as a coward.
She needed someone capable of managing resources, developing infrastructure, and commanding an army.
On the other hand... her perverted, degenerate soul desperately craved someone powerful, possessive, dripping with dominance and sophisticated sadism. Someone who wouldn't hesitate to put her in her place and ruthlessly exploit her massive breasts.
Wrestling with these conflicting desires, Liselotte began dismissing candidates one by one:
Candidate 09: Berserker Queen of the Iron Abyss.
Profile: Unbelievable striking power, indestructible body, immunity to pain. Previous life: tribal warlord.
“Reject,” Liselotte muttered, waving her hand dismissively. “Hollow physical strength and zero intellect. She'll fly into a berserker rage at the very first ambush, completely forget about my barriers, and shatter her own skull against the enemy walls.”
Candidate 24: Mother of Blood Spiders.
Profile: Extreme sadism, poison manipulation, cannibalistic tendencies.
“Fantastic level of sadism, but... that Bloodline is pure mediocrity. A standard mid-tier rank with zero potential for evolution in the later stages of the war. Besides, her description heavily implies she eats her own servants when she gets bored. I didn't engineer this divine body just to end up in a spider's stewpot after two days.”
Candidate 37: Archlich of the Frozen Void.
Profile: Incredible magical knowledge, outstanding strategic abilities, cold calculation…
“Boring as dishwater. No temperament, zero emotions, zero perversion. She'd just order me to stand in the corner and count some old bones.”
Liselotte sighed heavily, her pointed ears drooping in exasperation.
She scrolled through the list faster and faster, until suddenly... one specific entry flared with a deep, crimson-black runic light, drawing her gaze like a magnet.
She froze her finger mid-swipe.
[Candidate 14: NYSSARA VALECOURT]
Race / Bloodline: Infernal Demon Empress (Primordial Rank)
Path: Demon King
Retainer Privilege: Active - Available Retainers: 1 / 2 Slots (Support Slots)
Slot 1: EMPTY
Slot 2: OCCUPIED - Elarienne Vael
[Soul Profile Outline - Soul Record:]
In her previous incarnation, a high-born monarch and aristocrat from an advanced magical world. Educated from an early age in the arts of governance, diplomacy, military strategy, and ruthless dynastic politics. Possesses an innate talent for territorial management and brutal military discipline. In her private life, an overt hedonist with highly possessive, dominant, and sadistic preferences. Characterized by sadism, high personal culture, ruthless rewarding of loyalty, and absolute intolerance for uselessness and treason.
Liselotte felt her throat go instantly dry. She swallowed hard, her ruby eyes devouring every single word of the description.
“Infernal Demon Empress…” she whispered, her voice trembling.
That was a bloodline of absolute destruction. Innate talents for hellfire, demonic pressure capable of paralyzing enemies, and forging chains of control!
A genuine empress meant for the front lines. Furthermore - this wasn't some random loser from Earth who had received a systemic promotion like Liselotte.
This was an authentic ruler, forged in the fires of bloody politics, who knew exactly how to manage land, construct fortifications, and lead armies into battle!
And her personality?
Controlled sadism. Sophisticated hedonism. Possessiveness. Absolute dominance.
To a submissive desperately seeking discipline like Liselotte, it sounded like the sweetest promise of heaven on earth. A woman who wouldn't just senselessly destroy her, but would seize her in an iron grip, wring every single ounce of obedience out of her, and turn her into her own private, adored property.
Suddenly, Liselotte's gaze drifted down to the second occupied slot in the retainer section.
“Wait a minute... someone is already there?”
She tapped the profile of the second Support: Elarienne Vael.
A miniature portrait unfolded before her eyes, causing Liselotte to literally freeze with her mouth hanging open.
Staring back at her from the crystalline pane was a tall, inhumanly elegant elf with porcelain skin and features so aristocratic they almost physically hurt to look at.
A cascade of long, lustrous blonde hair spilled over her shoulders, and her cold, emerald eyes stared out with a haughty, flawless calm.
She wore an exquisite robe embroidered with green motifs, buttoned all the way up to her neck, and pristine white gloves, her slender fingers elegantly grasping an intricate staff.
She looked like the absolute embodiment of purity, wisdom, and supreme academic dignity.
Liselotte felt the blood rush to her cheeks with such violent force that her elven ears burned a deep, throbbing crimson.
“Oh my... she is absolutely breathtaking...” an unconscious, quiet squeak of pure delight escaped her lips.
A barrage of entirely inappropriate, incredibly filthy visions regarding exactly what their shared servitude at the side of the Demon Empress might look like instantly exploded in Liselotte's mind.
She shook her head violently, desperately banishing the thoughts of the emerald-eyed elf, and forced her focus back to Nyssara's main profile.
Every single piece of the puzzle snapped flawlessly into place. Nyssara was a mighty Demon King with a devastating bloodline, and she already had a pure, elegant elf in the form of Elarienne at her side!
“To keep searching would just be pure cowardice,” she declared aloud with a heavy, feverish sigh.
She extended her slender hand toward the golden icon at the very bottom of the profile:
[Request Servitude Contract]
She pressed the button.
[Servitude Contract Request has been transmitted to: Nyssara Valecourt.]
[Transmitting candidate's full Soul Record...]
[Awaiting Sovereign's decision...]
[Ability to cancel application locked.]
And in that exact fraction of a second, as the letters locked into place, all of Liselotte's euphoria evaporated like camphor.
A paralyzing, icy shock violently jolted through her entire body.
Her eyes widened so drastically that her ruby irises nearly eclipsed the whites entirely, and her tail went as rigid as a steel cable.
What... what the hell did I just do?!
It was only now, hitting her with the force of a runaway freight train, that the sheer magnitude of what she had done finally sank in.
After all, she had just sent her profile to an alien, ruthless, sadistic empress from another dimension!
She had sent her a profile containing the Total Surrender curse, permanently forfeiting all of her free will!
A profile bearing the title Hopeless Degenerate!
“Jesus Christ... she's going to think I'm an absolute, irredeemable lunatic!” Liselotte grabbed her cheeks with both hands, pacing frantically in circles on her bare feet.
“Or worse... she'll accept me and order me to kneel on gravel for the first three days just for the sheer audacity of it! I can't take it back! Why do I always click first and think later?!”
***
At that exact same moment, in an entirely different sector of the endless systemic void, Nyssara Valecourt stood in a cold hall. She was faced with a choice of 14 separate gates, accompanied by a notification informing her that she could select one of them to instantly teleport to her new territory.
Her tall, statuesque silhouette projected an aura so dense and oppressive that the very air around her seemed to physically congeal.
Crimson-black hair cascaded in heavy waves over her alabaster shoulders, and two majestic, curved horns of polished obsidian protruded from her forehead.
Clad in a heavy, aristocratic gown of dark silk featuring a daringly high slit, she stood with her hands clasped elegantly behind her back, staring intently at the magical portals before her.
Suddenly, a quiet, metallic chime shattered her contemplation.
[Request Received: Servitude Contract.]
[Applicant for vacant Support Slot: Liselotte.]
Nyssara arched a single eyebrow, a fleeting shadow of genuine amusement flickering in her deep, blazing eyes.
“Oho... I certainly didn't expect anyone to come to me of their own free will,” she purred, her voice a low, velvety rumble.
She waved her hand, opening the submitted character sheet.
For the first few seconds, she read in absolute silence. Then, the corners of her mouth twitched.
And a moment later, a silvery, completely unrestrained, booming laugh echoed through the void.
“What in the nine hells is this?”
She dragged her gaze over the lines of text with rapidly mounting disbelief:
Race: Elf-Succubus Hybrid.
Title: Hopeless Degenerate.
Curses: Prohibition on trousers, mandatory high heels, constant emission of aphrodisiacs, vulnerability to spankings, and a hunger for discipline...
And sitting squarely at the very top:
Total Surrender - absolute, permanent servitude with the total forfeiture of control over body, equipment, and progression.
“Is this some kind of sick joke?” Nyssara shook her head in sheer amusement. “Some extreme pervert actually decided to volunteer as my personal mascot? This girl isn't even fit to sweep the floors compared to Elarienne, she is...”
She was just about to wave her hand and dismiss the application without a second thought, when her gaze abruptly slid down to the combat abilities section.
The Empress's laughter died in a fraction of a second.
Her crimson eyes widened, locking onto a single, glowing golden runic icon.
[Unique Talent: Amplification] - Nullifies the restriction on stacking identical buffs on allies.
Nyssara completely stopped smiling as she read those words a second time.
Her mind instantly discarded the layer of erotic absurdity and immediately began running the brutal mathematics of war.
She lightning-fast analyzed the spell arsenal: Greater Heal, Regeneration, Empower, Haste, Greater Barrier, Mana Infusion...
As a melee-focused entity, she relied entirely on brutal, direct combat. If a standard mage cast Empower on her, she would receive a flat ten percent boost to her strength.
But this little succubus?
This completely unhinged girl, armed with a gigantic mana pool inherited from the elves, could cast the exact same spell five times in a row!
She could double her speed. She could stack triple regeneration, ensuring wounds closed the moment they were opened.
And if Nyssara ever ran low on energy for her hellfire, this submissive mascot functioned as a living, inexhaustible mana battery!
Nyssara steepled her fingers beneath her chin, her gaze jumping back to the [Total Surrender] curse.
She... genuinely surrendered absolutely everything to me.
A slow, predatory, terrifyingly dangerous smile bloomed on the Empress's sensual lips.
“Unbelievable...” she whispered with pure, dark fascination. “This little one is undeniably insane. A walking moral catastrophe... but from a strategic perspective, she is the single most devastating support weapon this world has ever seen.”
Nyssara didn't hesitate for another second. She extended a slender finger tipped with a claw-like nail and pressed the glowing, crimson symbol:
[ACCEPT CONTRACT]
***
In Liselotte's hall, a massive, low rumble echoed, violently shaking the entire space.
Golden letters exploded before her eyes in a blinding flash:
[CONTRACT ACCEPTED BY SOVEREIGN!]
[Your Mistress is hereby designated as: NYSSARA VALECOURT.]
[Curse Initialization: Total Surrender...]
[The Master-Support Bond has been permanently cemented in the Soul Record.]
[Level Synchronization: Your level is now bound to the Mistress's level (Level 1 → Level 1).]
[Descent Procedure commencing in: 60 seconds!]
“Aaaahn...!” a sudden, shameless moan tore violently from Liselotte's chest.
The exact moment the Total Surrender curse activated for the very first time, she felt it physically.
A heavy, irreversible, agonizingly sweet wave of absolute servitude rolled through her spinal cord, saturating the very structure of her soul.
It felt exactly as if an invisible, red-hot collar of pure gold had violently snapped shut around her neck, the other end of the leash resting securely in Nyssara's hand.
The girl stood on trembling legs, panting heavily, a thick, crimson flush from the [Blushing Curse] rapidly spreading across her cheeks.
“She accepted me... She really accepted me...” she whispered in a euphoric daze.
And then her gaze fell upon the countdown timer:
[Time until Descent: 45 seconds!]
“Wait!” she snapped back to reality in a fraction of a second, looking down at her completely naked, gleaming body. “I can't just materialize in front of my new Mistress buck naked like some savage from the woods! First impressions are everything!”
As the proud bearer of the Hopeless Degenerate title and the owner of the complete Adult Equipment Collection, she had the most depraved wardrobe in the entire dimension at her absolute disposal!
Since her curses explicitly mandated skirts, heels, and leg exposure, and her role was glaringly obvious... she intended to greet her Mistress exactly as an elite, sinful sex-maid should!
“Inventory! Maid Set, immediately!”
She waved her hand, tearing open her wardrobe interface. A luxurious clothing rack materialized before her, displaying the selected ensemble. Liselotte began dressing with feverish haste, utterly savoring every single brush of the fabric against her hyper-sensitive skin.
When she finished dressing, she quickly checked her reflection in the mirrored floor.
The sight was genuinely breathtaking. She looked like the living, breathing wet dream of every depraved aristocrat: an inhumanly beautiful, silver-haired elf-succubus clad in a highly provocative sex-maid outfit.
“Perfection…” she murmured, her heart beating frantically against her ribs.
[Time until Descent: 3... 2... 1...]
[Descent Gate Activated!]
[Transferring to Sovereign's initial territory...]
The milky whiteness and the ebony obsidian shattered with a deafening crack.
The world violently spun into a kaleidoscope of screaming purple and pitch black. The space beneath Liselotte's feet entirely collapsed, and a violent magical current violently jerked her body, sucking her down into the bottomless tunnel of teleportation.
A second later, she felt solid, cold ground beneath the heels of her stilettos.