The space beneath Liselotte's feet collapsed, and a violent magical current 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.
A wave of sudden, icy air washed over her senses, blowing against her almost entirely naked thighs, clad in nothing but lacy stockings.
However, Liselotte paid it absolutely no mind.
Her ruby eyes with vertical slits widened drastically, instantly ignoring everything else in a fraction of a second: the surroundings, the ground, the sky, and the entire structure of the new world she found herself in.
Only one figure mattered, standing a mere few steps away. Tall, statuesque, with a body radiating raw, dangerous power that made the very air around her tremble and congeal.
Two majestic, curved horns grew from her forehead, and crimson-black hair cascaded in waves over her shoulders. Her deep, blazing eyes looked down with a cold, inhuman confidence.
It's her… the thought exploded in Liselotte's head like a firework.
She really is my Mistress!
She looks a hundred times more powerful, darker, and more dominant than in her portrait!
And before her brain could even process this sight, Liselotte's gaze skipped a half-step to the right. Right next to Nyssara stood a second woman. A tall, immaculately elegant elf with long, lustrous blonde hair falling softly over an exquisite, emerald-and-gold robe, buttoned tightly all the way up to her neck.
She held an intricate, carved staff in white-gloved hands, and her cold, emerald eyes looked at the newcomer with stoic, aristocratic distance.
The level of arousal and excitement in Liselotte's body instantly shattered all acceptable norms.
Two!
Two unearthly beautiful, powerful women in one place!
One an empress dripping with power and sadism, and the other a haughty, elegant lady!
Only in this moment, somewhere on the distant periphery of her perception, did she register her surroundings.
They were in a deep valley shrouded in eternal twilight, surrounded by towering, vertical cliffs of black rock that completely cut off the bottom of the gorge from the rest of the world. Shattered, ancient ruins piled up around them - moss-covered columns, cracked basalt blocks, and the vine-choked foundations of a long-forgotten civilization.
And in the very center of this bleak landscape rose an ancient, mysterious altar of smooth, black stone, covered in faintly pulsing runes. It was on its slab that these three women had materialized.
Liselotte, however, had no intention of admiring the architecture.
"MISTRESS!" she squealed at the top of her lungs, her fluffy elven ears fluttering in wild frenzy.
With a loud, rhythmic clatter of her twelve-centimeter stilettos, she broke into a run toward Nyssara. Her miniature, latex maid skirt bounced with every step, shamelessly exposing her lacy panties and garter belt, and her monstrous, corset-compressed bust heaved so violently it almost spilled out of the neckline.
Her thin demonic tail whipped through the air behind her like a crazy lash.
She reached the steps of the altar, stopping right in front of Nyssara, and before the Mistress could even twitch an eyelid, an unstoppable, shameless torrent of words shot from Liselotte's mouth:
"My Mistress! My wonderful, most perfect Mistress! I can't believe you really accepted me, I swear you look a thousand times better in person than in your soul profile, your aura is simply insane, your horns are amazing, and your gaze makes me want to instantly drop to my face! I will be the best, most useful support in this entire world, I swear! I can cast the most powerful protective shields on you, I can heal you, I can stack buffs, I can carry your luggage, scrub the floors, hand-feed you, and in my free time... in my free time I can do absolutely anything your sadistic soul desires!"
Nyssara raised a single eyebrow, and her predatory lips twitched slightly in boundless stupefaction. Beside her, Elarienne stared at Liselotte with a facial expression so completely frozen, it was as if a creature from an entirely different dimension had suddenly fallen from the sky, one not described in any elven bestiary.
Liselotte, however, was just getting started. The more she spoke, the more she felt her own words heating her succubus blood:
"...I can lick your boots after you return from battle, I can kneel naked at your feet during war councils, and if you feel like it, you can order me to lick your pussy until you moan with pleasure, I can masturbate in front of your throne right before your eyes, bounce on a giant dildo to entertain you, you can tie me up, whip me, punish me for the slightest mistake and use my body like a free toy, just make me your little, obedient bitc - "
"Girl, breathe, for fuck's sake."
Nyssara's calm words cut through the air like the crack of a whip.
In that exact fraction of a second, the [Total Surrender] curse activated on Liselotte.
HUUUUUP!
Liselotte's mouth slammed shut with a loud clack of teeth, and her chest expanded in a massive, spasmodic, deep inhale. Her entire body stiffened in an unnatural posture, forced to instantly, physically fill her lungs with air against any attempt to utter even one more syllable.
Her huge breasts rose almost to her chin, and her ruby eyes bulged in pure, bewildered shock.
For several seconds she stood there, lungs distended, blinking her eyelashes rapidly.
It... it really works - she thought in boundless delight, feeling a crimson flush from the [Blushing Curse] spreading across her cheeks and ears.
One command from my Mistress, and my body executes it instantly, without asking for consent!
This is simply brilliant!
Nyssara sized her up with a cold gaze, from the top of her maid's cap, down her exposed cleavage, all the way to her twelve-centimeter stilettos. A shadow of amusement mixed with profound doubt appeared in her eyes, as if she were looking at a highly hyperactive, poorly trained puppy that had just charged into an aristocratic salon.
"It seems your soul profile didn't lie in the slightest," the Demon Empress finally spoke with dry, dominating calm. "Though I must admit, your verbal expression is even more exhausting than I assumed."
Nyssara shifted her gaze to the elf standing beside her, making a slight gesture with her hand:
"This is Elarienne Vael. She materialized on this altar a mere thirty seconds before you, so we managed to exchange basic pleasantries before you decided to offer me your entire repertoire of bedroom services. Elarienne is your companion and the second Support under my command."
Elarienne slowly lowered her staff and bowed with impeccable, almost cold grace, her long blonde hair rustling softly against the silk of her robe.
"A pleasure to meet you, Liselotte," the elf said in a voice so clear, melodic, and composed, it was as if she were lecturing from the podium of a prestigious magical academy. Though her face remained a perfect mask of etiquette, a barely perceptible, analytical curiosity flickered deep within her emerald eyes.
Nyssara clasped her hands behind her back, and her posture instantly gained weight.
"Let us dispense with the hysterics, we have more pressing matters," the Mistress stated matter-of-factly. "Before we begin planning anything in this territory, we need to compare information."
Elarienne nodded in understanding; she too believed that as a support, they might possess slightly different information than the Demon Kings.
"As a Demon King," Nyssara continued, a small, vertical frown of concentration appearing on her forehead, "I received access to a command panel, territory specifications, Sovereign Nexus mechanics, and units. The system also provided me with one rather alarming number: a million Demon Kings have spawned in this world. I did not, however, receive a single word of explanation regarding how many so-called Heroes correspond to us."
Elarienne furrowed her delicate, pale eyebrows, and her elven ears twitched slightly.
"A million?" the woman repeated. "That is interesting. Before I was redirected to the Support path, a general global statistic flashed on my welcome screen. The total number of registered participants downloaded from various dimensions was over fourteen billion souls."
Nyssara locked her gaze on her, raising an eyebrow.
"Fourteen billion?" the Empress confirmed.
"Yes," Elarienne affirmed calmly. "I find it highly improbable that there are thirteen billion nine hundred and ninety-nine million Heroes hunting a mere million Demon Kings in this world. Such a disproportion of forces would simply be nonsensical."
"I agree," Nyssara muttered, crossing her arms under her bust. "A million demonic armies against fourteen billion enemy units would mean total annihilation in a matter of days, regardless of our talents. Something here is clearly amiss..."
Both women fell silent, plunging into heavy, tactical analysis.
At the exact same time, Liselotte... completely drifted off into her own private world.
The serious debate about global demographics and the military balance of power ceased to interest her after exactly three seconds. Instead, with a lewd, blissful smile on her face, she raised both hands and grabbed her left breast.
She squeezed it with all her might, trying to wrap her fingers around its unbelievable volume, but her hand was simply too small to contain such an amount of soft, bouncy flesh.
She lifted it high, testing its weight, then let it go - the breast dropped with a soft impact, jiggling mesmerizingly and shamelessly in the corset's neckline.
Liselotte giggled quietly to herself, repeating the experiment with her right breast.
"There's probably just more than one world," she tossed out casually, with a goofy grin on her lips, weighing her bust in her hands like two ripe watermelons.
Dead silence fell over the valley.
Nyssara and Elarienne simultaneously froze, then slowly, synchronously turned their heads toward the girl dressed in the erotic maid outfit.
The sight was truly bizarre: two dignified aristocrats from other worlds stood in the middle of dark ruins, staring at a silver-haired succubus-elf hybrid who, in a latex apron and stockings, was kneading her own breasts through the lace with the expression of an absolute, dreamy degenerate.
Nyssara's first instinct was to ruthlessly ignore this little lunatic. However, the words Liselotte had tossed out with such disarming nonchalance struck the minds of both women with the force of a thunderbolt.
Elarienne blinked her emerald eyes, and an expression of pure, intellectual epiphany appeared on her forehead.
"More than one world..." the mage repeated slowly, staring at Liselotte with a new, strange gleam in her eye. "Of course. A multiverse trial structure. Fourteen billion participants were not dropped onto a single planet. They were divided among hundreds, if not thousands, of parallel spheres. In this specific world, in our instance of the Dominion Trial, there is exclusively one million Demon Kings and a proportional number of Heroes."
Nyssara released a slow, heavy breath from her lungs, a tiny, pulsing vein dancing on her temple for a fraction of a second.
The fact that the most logical and incisive conclusion had come from the mouth of a girl who was currently testing the elasticity of her own cleavage with a lewd pant was a difficult pill for the Demon Empress to swallow.
"Excellent," Nyssara cut off coldly, tearing her gaze away from the groping maid and returning to hard facts. "That explains the scale. The issue of survival rules remains, however. Upon assigning my Bloodline, the system displayed five ironclad conditions for survival."
The Demon Queen raised her hand, counting on fingers tipped with sharp, black nails:
"First: death means the immediate and irreversible loss of the right to participate. There is no respawning or second chances here. You die - you're gone forever.
Second: the condition for ultimate victory in this trial is achieving total control over the world or the complete destruction of the local human empire.
Third: upon fulfilling the victory condition, we are given a choice - return to our former world, remain in the current one as eternal rulers, or take up a challenge in a higher-tier world.
Fourth: we have exactly a three-day grace period.
And fifth: as a Demon King, I must be constantly prepared for attacks from Heroes, adventurers, imperial armies, and - perhaps most dangerously - from other Demon King factions. If we lack power, the priority is absolute discretion."
Liselotte finally pulled her hands away from her breasts, nodding obediently, though the same incorrigible spark still smoldered in her eyes.
"And your Bloodline, my Mistress?" she asked quietly, blinking innocently. "How did you acquire it?"
Nyssara furrowed her brow, a note of genuine irritation sounding in her voice.
"The selection process was a pure mockery of free will," she explained coldly. "I was placed in an endless, black hall where a million identical, crystal vials filled with a bubbling liquid floated. There were absolutely no labels or descriptions. I was simply meant to approach, choose one, and drink. Fortunately for me, my hand landed on the essence of the Infernal Demon Empress. A legendary class, which granted me two unique Support slots as an innate perk."
Elarienne nodded solemnly, taking the baton. Her voice once again assumed the tone of a measured university lecture:
"That is actually quite logical," the elf added. "From the information I received as a Support, it appears our role is diametrically different. We do not possess our own Sovereign Nexus, we have no right to territory or to directly manifest units. Our fate is inextricably intertwined with the Ruler. Furthermore, our level is rigidly synchronized with your level. If you reach level two, we immediately advance alongside you."
Nyssara and Elarienne looked at each other with silent understanding. Two adult aristocrats, highly educated in their former worlds, had perfectly synthesized the political and military rules of their new reality.
And then both of them, at the exact same moment, slowly lowered their gazes to the third member of the team.
Liselotte was kneeling on the cold stone of the altar, still wrestling with her cleavage. Her small hands were once again fruitlessly trying to squeeze both massive, bouncy hemispheres at once, and her fluffy demonic tail wagged happily right above her exposed buttocks.
Silence fell over the valley once more.
Liselotte felt two piercing gazes on her and froze.
She slowly raised her head, tearing her fingers away from the lace, and smiled crookedly, feeling all her earlier brazen confidence evaporate into thin air.
"And what about you, Liselotte?" Nyssara finally asked, a highly dangerous, venom-dripping chill entering her velvety voice. "What did you learn from the system instructions prior to your arrival here?"
Liselotte raised a slender hand and nervously scratched the tip of her long, pointed elven ear. Her cheeks were flooded with a fresh, thick wave of red.
"Well... you see..." she stammered in a spooked, squeaky little voice. "Truth be told, my Mistress... I... I didn't really read most of those boring messages. As soon as I saw that the advanced Vessel Forge character creator had unlocked for me... I just immediately clicked on it and started playing around."
Nyssara slowly closed her eyes, bringing a hand to her forehead. The pulsing of the vein on her temple became visible even from two meters away.
Elarienne, meanwhile, fixed Liselotte with a stare so absolutely shell-shocked, it was as if she had just heard a mathematical proof that two plus two equals seventeen.
"Are you trying to tell me..." the elf began slowly, accentuating every single word with mounting disbelief, "that instead of studying the rules of survival, you immediately threw yourself into body modification and spent your creator points on bodily edits?"