Daralis was raging with fury. She flew over the Great Southern Sea, spewing fire into the waves and roaring from the depths of her lungs. The roar of her draconic form was swallowed by the untamed vastness of the calm waters. She still trembled with anger, and even the revelation of the Sword God made little impression on her. On the contrary — it only made her even more furious.
If only she had enough strength… She would make him pay. That's what she thought, though deep down she knew it was nothing but a fantasy. For now, she wanted to deal with that damn hydra. She ugly?! Hmph! How dare he! No one had ever said that to her. Not even her siblings.
And they liked to get on her nerves. Not just Kiro. It was all because she was the youngest, and the only one raised by their mother rather than their father. That was exactly where she was headed — far to the south, beyond the continent of Montara. To the island of monsters that exhaled poisonous gas.
"I'll deal with all of them…"
Massive rock formations and sandy cliffs rose above white beaches. She was approaching an island where no weakling would want — or dare — to live. Barely a hundred kilometers away lay the lost southern continent, known as the Golden one. Once, it had been covered in magnificent civilizations, legendary structures, wealthy cities, and proud dynasties. Now, it was a breeding ground for catastrophe monsters — emptiness and a warning to the world.
From time to time, flying catastrophe beasts approached the island, only to become prey for the powerful wyverns circling the area. Two-legged, winged reptiles with hard scales and long, agile bodies — slightly smaller than their draconic cousins, but no less bold or dangerous.
Daralis, flying in the form of a dark dragon, did not provoke much concern among them. They knew who she was. Simply — their ruler's daughter had arrived. Some greeted her as they flew past, respect in their eyes, while others paid her no attention.
Several hundred of these reptiles, and far more of their cultists — often distant descendants who could not fully assume wyvern form — inhabited the southern edges of the island, where watchtowers kept an eye out for catastrophe monsters and cursed aura storms.
She passed vast canyons, wilderness, and rocky hills at the center. The island was immense and untamed. Savage man-eating beasts and monsters roamed below, surrounded by cliffs on all sides, unable to escape this burning hell. Forced to devour one another and feed on vegetation — strange vegetation, sustained by aura… The island resembled a dish — though not a flat one — its "walls" formed by steep cliffs and elevations, far higher at the edges on every side.
At the southernmost point stood a complex of temples, towers, and bastions. Old stone, yet well-maintained and regularly restored. High walls and drawbridges stretched over chasms — a fortress impossible to conquer. The domain of the wyvern Demon Lord…
"Welcome, noble Daralis. You did not inform us of your intention to arrive," spoke a bald, thin man with slightly darker skin. His white cloak and the chain around his neck — larger and heavier than those worn by the others — revealed his importance. "Had you sent word, we would have prepared a huge feast. After all, it is a rare occasion. Your mother has missed you dearly… You visit her so rarely…" He touched his chin, a tear rolling down his cheek as he turned slightly, overwhelmed with sorrow. "You are a heartless child…"
Daralis, thoroughly irritated, stuck out her tongue at him, clenched her fists, and shouted:
"She was the one who chased me away last time! She told me not to come back! And it's always like that! Every single damn time!"
A great green fog burst from the windows, cascaded down the walls, and poured directly onto the marble-paved courtyard where they stood. Some panicked, taking on half-wyvern forms and fleeing into the air; others bowed their heads and stood firm.
"Mom! What!? I'm telling the truth! Last time you beat me up and said a weakling like me couldn't be your daughter! Am I wrong!?"
From the fumes of the poisonous green cloud emerged the figure of a petite girl. She had the same pointed ears as Daralis, the same pale pinkish skin, but her hair was light violet like Kiro's. If someone saw Daralis's older twin and placed this youthful-looking woman beside her, they would think she was a third sister! Young, beautiful, and well-kept. Indra Ridens! One of the six famous Demon Lords! Older than the fall of the Golden City — a Flying Terror and a pillar of the Sword God!
"'Damn'!? Who taught you to speak like that!? Curses!? At your age!? In my house!? Over my dead body, young lady!"
Four horns sprouted from her forehead — one smaller fused with a larger one on each side. Dark violet and black scales adorned the dark violet wings that grew from her back, and a long, agile tail covered in sharp scales completed her humanoid half-wyvern form.
"Sorry, Mom. It slipped out. By accident. Ow!"
Daralis cried out, but before anyone could react, she was already in her mother's arms — grabbed with both hands and pulled straight onto her lap. Soon, the courtyard echoed with the sound of spanking as her backside turned red and tears welled up in the eyes of one of the most powerful rulers of the underworld.
She had no intention of resisting and only regretted her loose tongue. Her mother was of royal blood — a descendant of a legendary lineage — and while she might tolerate the extermination of entire nations for some purpose, vulgar language or crude behavior was something she would never accept.
"That my own daughter, raised by me personally, would speak like some gutter-born harlot! I hope this never happens again!" she declared sternly, still upset, though quickly softening with motherly concern. "I'm sorry, dear, sometimes I forget that I'm a bit stronger than others…" she added as Daralis curled up in pain, breathing heavily as if on the verge of dying.
The others watched in terror and quickly carried her to the infirmary wing. By evening, Daralis could stand on her own, though not without two canes to keep from falling. She had no intention of letting other men touch her. As for women, there were barely a dozen on the island. After all, how many could endure eating raw meat, herbs, and nuts, combined with constant combat training and meditation, day after day? Not to mention catastrophe aura storms and offers of a comfortable life in glory, serving other Demon Lords or the demonic Sword Empire?
Later that night, they brought the meat of a great alligator, taken from an expedition to the lost continent. Curiously, catastrophe monsters rarely killed mindless creatures lacking self-awareness — as if their targets were users of will, not aura…
Since their guest was accustomed to luxury — despite her extremely harsh upbringing on Wyvern Island — they even decided to cook the meat, to the disapproval of the bald warrior managing the fortress, who protested by fasting.
"We have our customs," he declared, but Indra dismissed him with laughter. She simply enjoyed testing and tempering them, while secretly cooking her own meals when no one was watching. Even Daralis knew that, though she wouldn't dare point it out. She herself had done similar things over three thousand years ago, while living here…
"So why did you come here? I thought you weren't supposed to return? That I'm a bad mother because I scolded you a bit for picking fights with your siblings…" she said.
"You said a weakling like me couldn't be your daughter…"
"Oh, arguments happen. Anyone can get carried away sometimes! You know I love all my children — you, Kiro, Adaris, Leano, and even that bratty Midaris! Mmm! Going after that lazy demon! That loser Fug Caligo! All he cares about is perfume and dancing. I will never agree to their marriage! Never!"
Poisonous mist burst from her nostrils, and an explosion of red-violet aura shattered the surrounding walls. The stone table cracked under her fists, her black gloves nearly touching the floor beneath her knee-high leather boots.
"Oh, I forgot again that I'm a bit stronger… Ahem…" she muttered, touching her forehead as her long hair rippled with aura. "Control yourself, Indra, control… Midaris is young, she'll grow out of her foolishness…"
At the mere thought of her sister — older by a thousand years — Daralis shivered. All five sisters were incredibly powerful, but Midaris had the most aura and the greatest love for battle. Always. Their mother's favorite and their father's greatest worry…
"So, what do you want from me? Kiro hasn't caused trouble again, has she?"
The words caught in Daralis's throat. Was she really supposed to ask for help dealing with a bunch of weaklings? Her? A black dragon? In appearance, she resembled her father, but in temperament, she was closer to her mother — though with a streak of sadism and childishness. She, Midaris, and Adaris inherited draconic traits, while Kiro and Leano were more wyvern-like. She felt something stab at her heart. Her mother's golden eyes pierced straight through her.
"The Sword God!" she began. The others listened intently. The flames of the candelabras flared. The vast room suddenly felt cramped. "Someone got under my skin. I was about to deal with him — I already beat his companions — but that old man, your master, stopped me and told me to come back in a few thousand years… Where's the justice in that!?"
Indra swallowed a juicy piece of alligator, took a sip of white wine, and replied:
"Turin is right. Why torment some children? Find something else to do. To think that bearded man sacrificed such a fine monument… Hmm, it took him a long time to appear on Montara again. I heard what happened. Varyn's daughter is uniting some D-rank monsters and thinks she can drive off that old vampire, hm? Bold. I like that attitude," she said, amused. "But why did you go there and cause a mess? You're not five hundred years old to act like a brat…"
Daralis felt embarrassed. The elite wyverns looked at her with reproach, though she knew she was in the right. She hadn't expected her mother to drop everything and confront the Sword God, but she had at least hoped for some support…
She grew sad. Memories of favoritism toward her older sisters and constant belittlement weighed on her not-so-empathetic heart. She looked at her mother with grievance and spoke straight from the heart:
"He — the hydra, friend of that vampiress — he wrote for everyone to see that I'm ugly… I—"
An explosion of aura threw her and everyone nearby to the ground. Toxic fumes shot into the sky.
"Ugly!? Ridens blood ugly!? I'll kill him! I'll tear his corpse apart!"