The chamber was still shaking from the aftershocks of a five-way duel that had somehow involved hymn missiles, dragon fire, shadow knives, and one exploding teapot. Dust and feathers drifted lazily from the ruined ceiling. Broken council chairs smoldered along the edges of the hall, and the academy's proud marble floor looked like it had been taste-tested by an angry god with a chisel.
And then—silence. The girls froze mid-attack. The last fragments of hymn-fire sputtered into ash. Drakana's claws hung poised over stone. Rosette's knife stopped a millimeter from the Demon Lord's throat. Even Lilia's wedding-gavel trembled as she hesitated. Because the Demon Lord had finally spoken.
And what she said was this:
"You're cute. I accept."
Her voice rolled through the chamber like velvet and thunder.
