The cold obsidian bit into Donarstraza's knees. Karnazul's hand remained chillingly still in hers, the faint, ragged pulse beneath her fingers the only sign the Lord of the Nine Blades still clung to the Void. Her quiet apology hung in the oppressive silence, swallowed by the vast emptiness of the ruined arena and the crushing weight of failure. The system penalties were a physical ache – the bruised, unstable feeling of her diminished Charisma, the fog clouding her thoughts (Wisdom Impaired!), the constant low-level nausea warning of her lowered Mana Intoxication threshold.
[Time Update: Orc Invasion - 185 Days Remaining]
The notification pulsed, a cold, stark reminder cutting through her despair. 185 days. Theodric was gone, carrying his warning and her humiliation back to Aethelgard. Karnazul was broken. She was Level 4, nursing bruised ribs (courtesy of a Dragon Knight's knee) and a bruised ego the size of the demon continent. And orcs were coming.
No. The thought, fueled by sheer Elina stubbornness, cut through the Wisdom fog. No more crawling. No more being weak. She gently released Karnazul's hand, pushing herself unsteadily to her feet. Pain flared in her abdomen, but she ignored it. She needed power. Levels. Stats. Now.
Focusing inward, she pulled up her Status screen, the blue framework a familiar, if grim, anchor.
[Status - Donarstraza]
Name: Donarstraza
Title: Fallen Goddess of Lightning and Ruin (Dormant)
Level: 4 (15/400 XP)
Class: Primordial Absorbaatrix
HP: 495/495
MP: 128/128
Stamina: 260/260
[Attributes]
Strength: 17
Dexterity: 14
Constitution: 31
Intelligence: 33
Wisdom: 12 // TEMPORARY IMPAIRMENT (23h 48m remaining) - Foggy thoughts, bad decisions likely!
Charisma: 22 (???) // SIGNIFICANT DECREASE!
Free Attribute Points: 0
[Traits]
* Mana Vampirism (Lv.1)
* Demonic Physique (Lv.1)
* Primordial Spark (Lv.1)
* Primordial Resonance (Lv.1) - Faint, pained pulse from Karnazul.
[Skills]
* Basic Mana Perception (Passive Lv.1)
* Mana Drain (Active Lv.1)
* Lightning Arc (Active Lv.1) .
* Primal Seduction (Passive Lv.2) - Humming faintly, confused by recent events.
Okay. Plan. The Wisdom impairment made it hard, but the basics were clear: XP. Levels. Attribute points. More Intelligence for MP and Lightning damage. More Constitution for HP and surviving orc axes. Maybe Dexterity to actually hit things. She needed to find demons. Weak ones. Lots of them. Blast them. Drain them. Level up. Fast. She needed Karnazul conscious, or at least stable. He knew the layout, the threats, the resources.
"Karnazul," she called out, her voice echoing weakly in the cavern. It sounded thin, lacking its usual resonant command, the Charisma drop painfully obvious. "Can you hear me? We need..." She trailed off. Talking to an unconscious demon felt stupid.
Instead of Karnazul's pained groan or rasping voice, a new sound answered. Footsteps. Not the heavy, armored tread she expected. This was different. Lighter, quicker, yet carrying an undeniable weight – a sense of contained power, like a predator moving through tall grass. Confident. And getting closer from the direction of the main passage.
Donarstraza spun, wincing at the pain in her gut, wings flaring instinctively. Golden lightning flickered uncertainly around her fists. Who? Theodric back? More soldiers?
A figure emerged from the gloom. Donarstraza blinked, her Wisdom-fogged mind struggling to process.
It was a woman.
A demon woman, clearly – the aura of power was unmistakable, similar in scale to Karnazul's but... smoother, less volcanic rage, more calculated depth. But her appearance was utterly shocking.
She was tall, nearly matching Donarstraza's goddess-height, with curves that were frankly... voluminous. Specifically, her chest, her breasts were breathtaking, gravity-defying expanse that immediately made Donarstraza acutely aware of her own, more modest demon-goddess proportions. It wasn't just size; it was the sheer, impossible prominence. And what covered it? Not armor. Not robes.
Slime.
Living, shimmering, deep black slime that clung with impossible surface tension, forming a precarious, minimalist top that barely contained its bounty and a matching, dangerously brief bottom that left long, powerful legs bare. It shifted and gleamed with her movements, somehow staying put. Her skin was a smooth, fear. From her temples swept two large, elegantly curved horns, black as obsidian, pointing backwards at sharp angles. Small, bat-like black wings, almost comically delicate compared to Donarstraza's vast dragon wings, fluttered slightly on her back. Her face was strikingly beautiful, sharp-featured with piercing purple eyes currently wide with surprise and... something else.
Donarstraza just stared, utterly dumbfounded. Another woman? On the demon continent? Dressed like... that? And radiating power that felt like a dark ocean? The intimidation wasn't just from the power; it was the sheer, overwhelming... presence. The Primal Seduction skill buzzed uselessly, confused.
The demon woman stopped, taking in the scene: the ruined arena, the unconscious Karnazul in a pool of his own blood, Donarstraza standing over him, lightning sputtering. Her eyes widened further, then filled with an expression Donarstraza didn't expect: profound, almost goofy, levels of shame and distress.
The woman clapped both hands dramatically to her forehead, the slime top wobbling precariously. "Oh, the Abyss take me! My Lady! Your most glorious, most radiant return!" Her voice was a rich contralto, currently pitched high with theatrical despair. "And here I am, caught unprepared! Lurking in the corridors like some skulking imp, while calamity unfolds!" She dropped to one knee in a surprisingly fluid motion, bowing her head, her horns gleaming. *"Forgive your unworthy servant her tardiness, Divine Storm!"
Donarstraza remained frozen, lightning fizzling out completely. Servant? This powerhouse? "Who... who are you?" she managed, forcing her voice to sound commanding, though it cracked slightly.
The woman looked up, her eyes shimmering with unshed tears of what looked like genuine, over-the-top hurt. "You... you don't remember?" The shame intensified, radiating from her in waves. She placed a dramatic hand over her ample slime-covered chest. "Has the glorious tumult of your reawakening scattered the memories of your most devoted? Oh, the cruel fates!"
She took a deep, shuddering breath that made the violet slime glisten alarmingly. Then she stood, striking a pose that was both submissive and strangely proud. "To spark the divine embers of your recollection, My Liege," she declared, her voice dropping to a reverent whisper laced with a hint of playful sadness, "I am Lilith. High Minister of the Fractured Realms, Keeper of..." She paused, her eyes meeting Donarstraza's golden ones with a sudden, disarming warmth. "...and your Second in Command. The one you, in your infinite and occasionally mischievous wisdom, personally dubbed... Slimzy."
High Minister? Second in Command? SLIMZY? The information slammed into Donarstraza like a physical blow. Second Not Karnazul? Karnazul was just... her attack dog? Her right hand, sure, but not the second? A thousand questions erupted: What was Karnazul's formal position then? Why hadn't she been here? What did a "High Minister" even do? Why the slime?!
The Wisdom impairment screamed at her to ask, to demand clarification. But the Charisma penalty screamed louder: Danger! Weakness! Showing ignorance to this powerful, eccentric, and clearly emotionally volatile demon who held the title of Second in Command felt like suicide. Lilith radiated power and seemed devoted, but there was an unnerving sharpness beneath the theatrical shame. Revealing her memory gaps, her vulnerability, could shatter whatever support she had left.
Donarstraza forced her expression into one of cool, slightly bored recognition, channeling every ounce of her diminished Goddess persona. "Lilith," she stated, the name feeling alien on her tongue. "Slimzy. Of course." She waved a dismissive claw towards the ruined Karnazul, praying her voice didn't tremble. "Your tardiness, while noted, is secondary. Attend to that. Ensure the Lord of Nine Blades survives. His... zeal... exceeded his discretion today."
Lilith's eyes flicked to Karnazul's broken form. The theatrical distress vanished instantly, replaced by a sharp, calculating assessment. "Ah. Karnazul. Ever the blunt instrument." She tsked softly, gliding forward with unnerving grace despite her attire. The slime shifted, clinging perfectly. She knelt beside Karnazul, not touching him yet, her gaze analytical. "Punctured pride and perforated physiology. A mess, but a survivable one, for him." She looked back up at Donarstraza, a bright, almost cheerful smile replacing the earlier sorrow. "Worry not, My Storm! Slimzy will have your fierce, if somewhat dim, guardian patched up and grumbling in no time! Consider it my belated welcome gift!"
The cheerful efficiency, the casual dismissal of Karnazul as a "blunt instrument," the sheer absurdity of the slime-clad powerhouse promising repairs – it was overwhelming. Donarstraza just nodded stiffly, the Charisma "???" pulsing erratically like a bruised nerve. She had her Second in Command. She was called Slimzy. And Donarstraza had absolutely no idea what game she was playing, or how much the demon continent's true power structure just got a lot more complicated. The orcs felt like the least of her problems.