Absolute, almost reverent silence fell over the gorge shrouded in eternal twilight. A cold, dry wind swept between the shattered columns of the ancient ruins, lifting motes of basalt dust that softly struck the full thighs of the girl dressed in the perverted maid outfit.
Liselotte blinked her large, ruby eyes rapidly, feeling her long elven ears burning with literal fire under the heavy stares of both women.
She scratched nervously at the tip of her left ear, and her tail twitched at her side like a spooked little snake.
"Well, you see..." she began cautiously, her melodic, sweetness-drenched voice trembling slightly. "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!"
Elarienne stood perfectly still, staring at her with an expression she had likely never worn throughout centuries of her academic career in her former world. Her facial features hardened into an expression of pure, logical dissonance.
"You spent... points in the character creator?" the elf repeated so slowly, it was as if every single syllable cost her a massive intellectual effort.
"Well... yes!" Liselotte straightened up proudly, thrusting out her gigantic bust, which instantly heaved in the tight corset, spilling over the lacy edges. "I got the chance to create a unique race, after all! Elf cost thirty points, Succubus forty, and the fusion another thirty! Together, a perfect, even one hundred!"
Elarienne exhaled through her nose with a quiet, whistling sound, then tightened her white-gloved hands around her carved staff.
"The baseline appearance in the Vessel Forge could have been retained at virtually no cost," she explained coldly, shooting her a look full of pity. "Your appearance from your previous life cost zero points. Aesthetic modifications within your own race were completely free. The creator points should have been preserved entirely for purchasing spell trees, rare class talents and skills, or equipment! I myself changed almost nothing about my appearance, leaving the entire pool for combat capabilities!"
Another second of silence echoed through the valley, after which Liselotte simply burst into a silvery, shameless laugh.
"Keep my old body? I beg you!" Liselotte waved her hand dismissively, and her demonic tail danced happily in the air. "In my previous life, I was a boring, pathetic guy! I sat in a dark room, stared at a monitor, and never even held a girl's hand in my life! I was a one-hundred-percent, flawless virgin! Since I was given a second chance and the system literally shoved a divine tool for sculpting a new existence right under my nose... why on earth would I live as a man a second time?!"
Elarienne froze yet again. The elf's emerald irises widened, and her long, pointed ears rose by a millimeter. She looked at the woman sprawling before her with porcelain skin, a wasp waist, gigantic breasts, swaying hips, and ruby eyes.
"You were... a man?" she asked quietly, genuine, profound consternation appearing in her haughty voice. "And you voluntarily... turned yourself... into this?"
"Of course I did!" Liselotte spread her arms helplessly with a disarming, wide smile. "I wanted to be beautiful, insanely feminine, and above all: I wanted a body perfectly suited to the role of my Mistress's most perverted, obedient maid! Besides... updating my appearance after purchasing the hybrid was free anyway! All I had to do was pay for the racial base, and I could drag the boob and ass sliders to the absolute limit! A true min-maxer never wastes such opportunities!"
Nyssara rested a hand on her hip, looking at her new subordinate with a mixture of pure disbelief and predatory amusement. The same dangerous, cynical smirk of the Demon Empress played on her lips.
"Your shameless honesty is truly fascinating, Liselotte," the Mistress threw out dryly. "Most of us likely experienced an identity crisis when our bodies changed under the influence of the Demon King bloodline, yet you are rejoicing over your own cleavage like a toddler with a new toy."
"Because it is a fantastic cleavage, my Mistress!" Liselotte bounced on her knees, causing her breasts to jiggle cheerfully.
Suddenly, however, something clicked in the girl's head. Her brain, highly trained to catch minute details, registered one specific word that had fallen from the blonde elf's lips mere dozens of seconds earlier.
"I myself changed almost nothing about my appearance..."
Almost...
Liselotte froze at the thought. Her ruby pupils narrowed into vertical slits, and her long elven ears perked up. The corners of her mouth twisted into a roguish, absolutely wicked grimace.
"Hold on a second..." Liselotte dragged the words out, slowly turning her gaze to the elf beside her Mistress. "What exactly did you just say, Elarienne?"
The blonde woman immediately stiffened, and her hand tightened slightly on her staff.
"Excuse me?" she asked with impeccable coldness.
"You said: 'almost nothing'!" Liselotte took a step toward her, the clack of her twelve-centimeter stiletto echoing hollowly off the altar. The maid's eyes burned with pure, perverse curiosity. "I heard it perfectly! You used the word 'almost'! Since you didn't spend points on a race, that means you were already an elf in your previous life, and you spent some pocket points modifying your body! What did you change, what, what, what?!"
Elarienne proudly raised her chin, trying to ignore the mounting chaos.
"It was nothing of significance," she cut off curtly, her emerald eyes attempting to freeze the perverted woman in place.
"'Nothing of significance'?! Bullshit! That is the absolute worst possible answer!" Liselotte took another step closer, swaying slightly on her thin heels, her nose practically touching the elf's face. "Hair? No, your blonde waves look one hundred percent natural for a High Elf from a fantasy world! Eyes? Height? Ears? Or maybe... breasts?"
Liselotte's gaze shamelessly slid downward, scanning the mage's elegant robe, buttoned tightly to the neck.
"Your breasts are modest, probably a D-cup... so that's not it either! So what did you change?!"
Elarienne maintained a stony facial expression, but as Liselotte's gaze traveled even lower, toward her hips, the elf's eyelid twitched, and her emerald pupils darted to the side for a fraction of a fraction of a second.
For Liselotte, this was like blood thrown to a shark.
"AHA! I saw that! You looked away!"
Before Elarienne could even react, Liselotte completely abandoned the concept of personal space. With a quiet squeak, she lunged forward and, without a shadow of hesitation, dug both hands straight into the shocked mage's sides!
"W-what are you doing?!" Elarienne choked out, her cold dignity cracking for a moment as her long elven ears shot straight up into the air.
Liselotte wasn't listening as her small, practiced hands slid over the robe's fabric with the precision of a perverted tailor checking the seams. She slid down and shamelessly grabbed Elarienne's buttocks with both hands, squeezing both firm hemispheres!
"Hmm... the butt has ideal density, but that's probably standard elven anatomy..." Liselotte murmured under her breath, completely ignoring the fact that Elarienne had literally frozen in pure horror.
The maid slid her hands higher, unceremoniously groping the sides of her chest.
"Nothing extraordinary here either..." Liselotte furrowed her brows, and her gaze shot straight down to the folds of fabric falling between Elarienne's thighs.
She reached out a hand, fully prepared to jam her fingers directly into the dignified elf's crotch, an expression of sudden, blood-curdling suspicion dawning on her face.
"Wait... do you have..."
For the very first time, a violent, strawberry blush bloomed on Elarienne's cheeks. The elf froze with her eyes wide open, utterly paralyzed, literally half a centimeter away from having her little secret unmasked...
SMACK!
The sound was so massive and juicy that it echoed thunderously throughout the entire basalt gorge.
"KYYYAAA!"
Liselotte shrieked at the top of her lungs as Nyssara's hand came down with ruthless, brutal force right onto her exposed buttock, barely covered by the miniature skirt!
The strike was perfectly aimed - it stung like living fire, sending a wave of paralyzing heat rushing up the girl's entire spine. Thanks to the [Pain Craving] curse, her body's initial reaction was a wild, perverse shiver of pure pleasure... but her stilettos had entirely different plans.
Survival instinct jerked Liselotte to the side. The girl jumped, desperately trying to scramble away from the Mistress's hand - and that was her fatal mistake.
The twelve-centimeter, needle-thin heel of her lacquered shoe landed on a crooked, mossy stone of the ancient altar, causing Liselotte's ankle to buckle at an unnatural angle.
"Oh crap, balanc…"
The perverted maid couldn't even finish the word as her arms shot into the air, windmilling frantically in a desperate attempt to catch her footing.
Her massive bust bounced violently, dragging her center of gravity straight down.
Her left foot slipped out from under her on the slick moss, and Liselotte tipped forward like a felled tree, slamming her shoulder and cheek into the stone slab!
The momentum didn't immediately die.
Because of the miniature skirt and the slippery latex corset, the girl flipped onto her side and rolled comically, like a bowling pin, down the stone steps for a solid two meters, kicking up a cloud of dust and losing her white maid's cap in the process!
She landed flat on her back at the foot of the dais, her legs clad in lace stockings sticking helplessly up in the air, her huge breasts spilling out to the sides, and her tail wrapped awkwardly around her ankle.
Silence fell over the altar, broken only by the quiet groans of the battered servant.
Nyssara slowly lowered her hand, dusting it off with stoic calm. Her tall silhouette towered over the altar, radiating an aura of absolute, icy dominance.
She sized up Liselotte, who was lying in the dust, with a hard, commanding stare.
"Rule number one, Liselotte," the Empress spoke in a voice so deep and stern that the ground beneath them seemed to tremble. "Stop shamelessly molesting people without my permission."
Nyssara didn't raise her voice, but every single word carried the crushing weight of an experienced monarch.
"Just because you yourself are an incurable, shameless degenerate ready to strip naked in front of anyone at a moment's notice, does not mean you possess the right to violate the boundaries of my subordinates. Do you understand?"
Liselotte, lying with her belly thrust upward and massaging her aching, stinging buttock, swallowed loudly. Her skin tingled, but Nyssara's dominant tone acted on her like the sweetest balm.
"Y-Yes, my Mistress..." she stammered submissively from the dirt, clasping her hands over her sternum. "I apologize profusely... But you have to admit, I was incredibly close to solving that mystery!"
Nyssara narrowed her eyes dangerously.
"That does not help your case in the slightest, girl."
At that moment, Elarienne, who had finally regained control over her breathing, walked to the edge of the steps. She straightened her pristine robe, smoothed out her gloves, and cleared her throat quietly.
There was no longer a trace of a blush on her pale face - the perfect, aristocratic mask of icy calm had returned.
"Actually... Your Highness," the elf interjected calmly, looking down at Liselotte, "it... didn't bother me all that much."
Nyssara slowly, with visible reluctance, turned her head toward Elarienne.
For three whole seconds, the Demon King stared at the statuesque, elegant elf, and the vein on the Empress's temple began to throb with double the frequency.
Don't tell me... Nyssara thought with heavy dread, pressing her lips into a thin line. Don't fucking tell me that this seemingly saintly, prudish elf is also some kind of warped pervert... I'm going to lose my goddamn mind with these two before we even encounter our first Hero...
The Empress let out a long, martyred sigh and rubbed the bridge of her nose.
She actively chose to ignore Elarienne's comment for the sake of preserving her own sanity, refocusing her attention back on the maid lying in the dust.
"Returning to you, you walking disaster," Nyssara snorted, pointing a finger at her lacquered shoes. "Since you decided with such passion and stubbornness to permanently lock yourself out of wearing any normal footwear, you could have at least learned that one does not perform sudden leaps on uneven cobblestones while wearing twelve-centimeter stilettos!"
Liselotte rolled over onto her stomach, propping her chin on her hands and swinging her little feet in the air with an absolutely innocent, thoughtful expression:
"I didn't know..." she admitted with dead seriousness. "In my previous life, I mostly walked around in beat-up sneakers. That... that actually might have been one of my less thoroughly considered curses."
Nyssara snorted mockingly, crossing her arms.
"I've seen your profile, you little liar. I don't believe you for a second. I'd bet my life that if we turned back time and placed you in front of that Vessel Forge panel again, you would do the exact same thing."
Liselotte froze for a fraction of a second, before her ruby eyes blazed with pure, unbridled enthusiasm.
"Yes!" she shouted with full energy, grinning goofily. "Definitely yes! I just might have picked fifteen-centimeter ones instead, so they'd push my ass out even more!"
"You aren't helping your case, Liselotte."
Elarienne took a step forward, looking with astonishment at her shoes, and then at her own leather, perfectly flat, practical boots.
"Why on earth..." the elf spoke quietly, furrowing her brow, "can you exclusively walk in heels?"
Nyssara shook her head in heavy amusement.
"Because she is a perverted little idiot, and the entire mass of her brain clearly went straight to her breasts. This degenerate strapped herself with an entire chain of the most humiliating curses this world has ever seen!"
Elarienne brought a hand to her chin, nodding in understanding.
"I grasp the mechanics," the elf stated matter-of-factly. "Forfeiting convenience and accepting curses in the Vessel Forge allowed us to generate additional creation points to purchase skills and talents. I myself decided to accept a few curses to unlock Arcane Weaving... Nevertheless..." Elarienne shifted her gaze to Liselotte, "I never imagined anyone would come up with the idea to exploit that mechanic in such an... inventive manner."
"Oh, trust me, Elarienne, you have no idea," Nyssara laughed, her voice ringing with a mix of pride and sheer disbelief. "I remember her application sheet almost by heart. The [Heels or Barefoot] curse is merely the tip of the iceberg! This little one has permanently barred herself from wearing pants, forced an automatic blush of shame and lust upon herself, locked herself out of holding any melee weapons, and... engineered an addiction to pain!"
With every passing point listed, Elarienne opened her mouth wider, and her emerald eyes dilated in pure horror.
"A ban on flat shoes..." the mage repeated in a weak voice, looking at the sharp rocks of the gorge. "Why, after a mere four hours of marching through mountainous terrain in heels like that, it will be an absolute nightmare! It is pure, senseless torture!"
Liselotte lay on her stomach, wagging her tail carelessly, and beamed the sweetest of her smiles at her:
"That's exactly why the curse granted a whopping ninety points, smartass! Pure profit! The greater the torture, the more free CP I had to spend on buffs for the Mistress!"
Elarienne froze.
She stared at the girl lying on her stomach in the perverted maid outfit, at her sparkling ruby eyes and that utterly joyous, unhinged facial expression.
For the first time in her long, aristocratic life, the elf felt the very foundations of her rational world crumbling into dust.
It was impossible to argue with this girl using logic.
It was impossible to appeal to her reason. To Liselotte, the concepts of "pain," "shame," and "humiliation" were not drawbacks - they were currency, which she gleefully paid for the sheer privilege of functioning in a state of permanent, perverse absurdity.
Elarienne slowly lowered her gaze, arriving at the only conclusion that currently presented itself to her mind: this maid was a walking, living anomaly that common sense simply could not comprehend