In front of the looming gates of castle Hollowhain." Standing guard were two armored demon knights, their weapons glinting under the Netherworld's sky. The female knight, clad in silver armor, stepped forward with authority

"Halt! In the name of the Overlord, state your business!" she barked.

The male knight, his armor so shiny it practically screamed "look at me," nodded vigorously. "Yeah! State your purpose or, uh… face the consequences!"

Nyra, arms crossed and tail flicking impatiently, raised an eyebrow. "Since when did Jezabel have guards? And more importantly," she leaned in, her eyes narrowing, "why are there only two of you?"

The male knight fidgeted under her gaze, his armor clanking noisily. "W-Well, uh… we're, uh… the only ones here because… uh… we're real cheats."

Nyra blinked. "Excuse me?"

"Shut up, Patrolis!" the female knight snapped, smacking him upside the helmet with the butt of her spear. The impact sent his helmet spinning comically before it settled back over his eyes. "Ignore my buffoon of a brother! He meant elites! Yeah, real elites!" She turned back to Nyra, her smirk returning as she flipped her spear with a flourish. "And don't underestimate us just because it's the two of us! We're way stronger than we look! Right, little brother?"

"Right, big sis!" Patrolis chimed in, though his voice cracked halfway through.

Nyra sighed, a holographic display flickering in front of her eyes as she scanned their stats:

Patrolis: Steel Knight – Level 250

Fortressa: Emerald Knight – Level 300

Nyra raised an eyebrow but quickly dismissed it. At least they're not complete pushovers. Her tail lashed behind her as she stepped forward. "I have business with Jezabel. Move aside."

Fortressa's lips curled into a smirk. "A lot of visitors have business with the Overlord. There's a line, you know." She stretched out a gauntleted hand, her fingers rubbing together in a greedy little motion. "But for a small appreciation fee of, say… 10,000 HL, I can expedite the process."

Nyra's expression remained flat. "I don't see a line."

Patrolis squinted and turned his head, whispering to Fortressa, "Wait… was there supposed to be a line? Did we forget to set one up? Is that why we have so few visitors?"

"Shut up, you idiot!" Fortressa elbowed Patrolis hard in the ribs.. "If you can't follow proper procedures, then I'm afraid we'll have to escort you off the premises." She flashed a toothy grin. "But for your guaranteed safety how about a 5000 HL escort fee we're professionals after all.

"Yeah! What big sis said!" Patrolis chimed in, puffing out his chest again, "We're totally professional! Like, uh… super professional!"

Nyra's tail flicked behind her as her patience ran thin. "That's blatant robbery." Her eyes narrowed. "You two aren't official guards, are you?"

Fortressa sighed, dramatically placing a hand over her heart. "Well, you got us. We're just two enterprising demons trying to make a living in this crazy Netherworld economy. Cheating visitors seemed like a good HL-making opportunity." Then, without missing a beat, she spun her spear and pointed it at Nyra. "But! We're still getting paid one way or another even if we have to forcibly take it off of you! Come, little brother! Let's show this kitty her place!"

Patrolis nodded eagerly, raising his sword with a dramatic flourish. "Oh yeah, let's..."

BOOM!

Before Patrolis could even finish his sentence, an unseen force sent him flying backward so fast that his armor whistled through the air. He crashed into the castle wall with a deafening crunch, his body embedding itself deep into the stone like a decoration. His armor now sported a visible fist-sized hole, and his twitching gauntlet was the only sign he was still alive.

Fortressa's smirk faltered as she looked at Nyra, who seemed to have not moved at all her previous movement too fast for Fortressa's eyes to track. She coughed into her fist and took a very deliberate step back. "I would like to formally apologize for my actions," she said, her voice suddenly syrupy sweet. "In fact, let's negotiate. How about… uh… 100 HL to pass? Final offer."

Nyra cracked her knuckles, her tail lashing like a whip. "Denied."

Fortressa barely had time to process that response before she was airborne. One second, she was standing her ground; the next, she was an armored projectile, flying through the castle gates. She crashed through multiple walls, her flight path leaving a trail of destruction before she finally skidded to a stop in the middle of a grand throne room, now filled with startled, costumed individuals.

"You're a tough negotiator," she muttered before slumping into unconsciousness.

During the chaos, a man dressed as a lemon saw his golden opportunity.

"Now's my chance!" he hissed, making a mad dash for the gaping hole in the wall.

"No, wait!" Another costumed figure a man dressed up like a mango reached out in desperation. "Don't you know what happened to the last one who tried?!"

But the lemon man did not heed the warning.

Freedom was so close! He could already taste it! He lunged for the exit

Only for the wall to instantly regenerate before his very eyes.

THUD.

The lemon man rebounded off the freshly repaired wall and flopped onto his back with a pitiful groan.

"Oh, Mister Lemon..."

A sing-song voice rang through the room, playful and honeyed, yet carrying the weight of impending doom.

A shiver ran down the lemon man's spine. Slowly, trembling, he sat up. "J-Jezabel…"

Jezabel pouted dramatically, twirling a lock of her hair. "Trying to run away from me? The cute, adorable, totally fair Overlord? How could you be so cruel?" She sniffled, pressing a hand to her chest as if wounded.

The lemon man was already shaking.

Jezabel's pout turned into a grin. "I think you deserve a punishment."

The lemon man made a pitiful whimper, knees knocking together under the invisible weight of her presence.

But just before Jezabel could fully unleash her chaotic whims

"Lady Jezabel."

A soft, serene voice cut through the tension like a ray of divine light.

Mastema stepped forward, her expression filled with concern. "I humbly request mercy for this man. You've been pushing him and the others pretty hard for the past few days…"

Jezabel turned, her eyes gleaming with impish delight. "Ohoho? Pleading for a fallen angel, Mastema? My my, I knew you were getting corrupted."
Mastema gasped. "Corrupted?!"

Jezabel clasped her hands together in mock delight. "Of course! First, you start sympathizing with a devil, and now you're standing up for a fallen angel an enemy of Big G himself! I love this character development!"

"That's not corruption!" Mastema protested, flustered. "I remain faithful! God teaches us to be merciful and forgiving!"

Jezabel put a finger to her lips, tilting her head with a devious little hum. "Hmmm but didn't Big G make you an arbiter? That means you're supposed to be all, 'judgment this, punishment that, smite smite smite', right? But here you are, pleading for mercy on behalf of Big G's enemies." She giggled, eyes twinkling. "Ooooooh someone's not doing their holy homework properly!"

Mastema opened her mouth, then closed it, her mind momentarily thrown into turmoil. "That's… no… I…" she stammered, lost in thought, unable to come up with a counterargument.

Before Jezabel could further revel in Mastema's existential crisis, another voice spoke up.

"Lady Jezabel, Mastema."

Peon, who had been standing in the background watching the nonsense unfold, finally decided to chime in. "Shouldn't we be more concerned about, you know…" He pointed at the knight-shaped wreckage still sprawled on the floor. "Like, who exactly threw her in here?"

Jezabel barely spared the unconscious knight a glance, waving a dismissive hand. "Oh, that's just Nyra making her dramatic entrance."

Mastema shook off her daze, blinking. "How do you know that?"

Jezabel grinned. "Stage Viewer."

Peon frowned. "Stage what now?"

"It's a technique that lets me see an overhead view of what's happening in an area," Jezabel explained.

Peon's eyes lit up with realization. "So that's how you keep catching all these spies and assassins!" He rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "Could I learn this technique too?"

Jezabel's grin stretched wider. "And I assume once you learn this technique, you'd never use it for anything other than security purposes? Certainly not to, say… sneak a peek at Mastema while she's naked?"

Peon paled. "WHAT?! No! I..."

Mastema yelped, her face turning bright red. "P-Peon?!" She stumbled back, suddenly treating him like a demon worse than Jezabel herself.

Peon's face flared with embarrassment. "I would never dare!"

Jezabel burst into laughter, clapping her hands together. "Relax, relax! I'm just messing with you! The technique auto-censors nudity. At most, you'd see Mastema in her lingerie." Jezabel's eyes gleamed as she tapped a finger to her chin. "I must say, very bold choices, Mastema."

"EEEEEEEK!" Mastema screamed, practically steaming as she covered her face with her wings, her thoughts spiraling into unknown territory.

Meanwhile, Peon stiffened as a horrible realization dawned on him. His voice dropped to a whisper. "Wait… does this mean… you've been spying on us?" A chill ran down his spine as his mind raced to the stress-relieving activities he'd done in the privacy of his room.

"Oh, Peon…" Jezabel's grin turned predatory as she adopted an exaggerated stance. She raised one arm skyward, fingers clawed like she was about to summon forbidden powers. Then, with a twirl so theatrical it belonged on a stage, she pointed a single, trembling finger at the heavens.

Peon's face instantly went pale. "NO!"

Jezabel ignored him entirely. She clenched her fist, trembling with overwhelming (fake) power, before snapping her arm outward in a ridiculously elaborate motion, as if drawing some invisible, legendary blade.

"My blade can cleave through armies!" She spun in place, flipping her hair for maximum dramatic effect. "My flames shall scorch the very heavens themselves!"
Peon clutched his head. "STOP!"

Jezabel gasped loudly, eyes burning with imaginary suffering. "But alas! Mine is a path of solitude!" She raised a trembling hand to her face, peering at the world through imaginary tragic lenses. "For I am the sword that defies fate!"

She finished with a final flourish thrusting her arms out as if she had just cast an ultimate move.

Peon visibly crumbled, dropping to his knees like his soul had physically left his body. His spirit, dignity, and will to live had all been incinerated in the flames of secondhand embarrassment.

"No… NOOOOOOOOO!" he wailed, reduced to nothing but a husk of a man.

The costumed onlookers glanced at each other, uncertain whether to be concerned or entertained. Meanwhile, amidst the chaos, the fallen angel in the lemon costume took advantage of everyone's distraction, inching his way toward the door.

He gritted his teeth, gripping the handle. "Come on, just open already…"

At that exact moment, the doors swung open violently, crashing into him with such force that he was launched backward, embedding himself into the far wall like a lemon flavored decoration.

Everyone immediately turned toward the entrance, even Peon and Mastema snapping out of their predicaments.

Standing in the doorway, exuding an aura of pure, unfiltered annoyance, was Nyra.

"Jezabel, we need to talk."

On the way leading to the grand Nether city of Hollowhain, a cloaked figure rode atop a peculiar mount a three-humped camel trudging forward with the air of someone who very much regretted their life choices.

Underneath the cloak, the girl's long red twin-tails swayed with the motion of the beast. She clutched the reins excitedly, her crimson eyes sparkling as she beheld the massive, demonic metropolis looming ahead. Above the jagged skyline, monstrous dragons soared through the skies, their massive wings stirring the storm clouds like whirlpools in an ink-black sea.

"Wooow! This place is huge!" The girl leaned forward, eyes shining with wonder.

The camel, named Lacooda, glanced up at the circling dragons, his fur bristling with unease. "Perhaps we should turn around, Lady Chysis. It's still not too late."

"Nonsense, Lacooda!" Chysis placed a dramatic hand over her chest. "As heir to House Gremory, I must save the poor, unfortunate souls of my faithful servants! They were forced into demonhood against their will! I, their benevolent mistress, cannot sit idly by while they suffer!"

Lacooda gave her a long, deadpan stare. "...My lady, you don't have to lie. It's just the two of us. I know you're really just trying to skip out on all your noble and territory management lessons."

Chysis gasped, looking genuinely offended. "Lacooda! How could you doubt my noble heart!"

The camel let out the deepest, most exhausted sigh a camel could possibly muster. "Fine. But tell me, oh wise and noble heir, how do you plan on finding your old servants? This city is massive. It houses millions of demons."

Chysis blinked. "Uhhhhh…"

Lacooda's eye twitched.

"You don't even have a plan, do you?!" he cried.

"I do! It's called getting lucky!" Chysis declared confidently, puffing out her chest.

"That's not a plan!"

"It is when you have the legendary Gremory luck!" Chysis beamed.

Lacooda didn't even bother to respond as he promptly turned around and began walking the other way.

"Hey! Why are you turning around? The city's that way!" Chysis pointed ahead in alarm.

"I'm getting us out of here before you get us both killed," Lacooda grumbled, quickening his pace.

"You can't just do that! I am your master, and I order you to stop!"

Lacooda ignored her, his stride turning into a determined gallop. "Nope. I'm taking us back home, and nothing you say will change my mind."

Chysis squinted. Then, a sly smirk crossed her lips.

"Oh? Nothing, you say. How about this, Lacooda… If you accompany me on this journey, then when we return home, I'll let you mate with any and all of the camels at the Gremory estate."

Lacooda froze mid-step. His ears perked up. "Any and all?"

"Yes. As a Gremory, I always keep my promises."

Lacooda's eyes gleamed. "Even… the four-humped ones?"

Chysis gave a solemn nod. "Even them."

A sudden silence fell.

Lacooda's thoughts spiraled into pure, primal vengeance.

Those four-humped, self-important assholes… Always looking down on us three-humped camels. Thinking they're so superior.

Oh-ho, but wait until they see the look on their faces… When I sire all their females…!

His entire body trembled with newfound purpose.

Lacooda whipped around with blazing determination. "Lady Chysis! I, Lacooda, loyal steed of House Gremory, shall accompany you on this noble mission!"
Without another word, he charged toward the city with renewed vigor.

Chysis grinned, leaning back comfortably. "That's the spirit, Lacooda!"

And thus, the overly enthusiastic heir of House Gremory, along with her talking three humped camel, rode forth into the heart of the demon metropolis.