That same violation that had wounded her mother's pride, had not been Saphira's cross to bear.
She had entered this world as a consequence, but not as a direct victim of that specific defilement.
In the constant suffering that hell had to offer, this was a significant mercy.
She was a transaction, not a spoil of war.
This unique positioning, being a product of cold utility rather than hot violence, and being raised in an environment devoid of affection but also, crucially, devoid of sexual release from her own father, had profoundly shaped her nascent devilish nature.
It had steered the alignment of her sins away from the chaotic, insatiable fire of lust.
She had never been taught to see her body as a primary tool for immediate gratification or survival through seduction. Instead, her value was assessed in terms of power, cunning, and loyalty.
Consequently, her soul had attuned itself to different means.
The sin that burned brightest within her was pride.
A fierce, defensive pride in her own capabilities, a haughty disdain for those who relied on baser instincts, and a deep-seated belief that she was destined for more than being a pawn.
Intertwined with her pride was a potent strain of wrath.
Not the hot, impulsive rage of a berserker, but a cold, simmering fury at her circumstances; a righteous indignation against the fate assigned to her by her callous, uncaring parents.
This wrath was a fuel for ambition, a desire to overturn the established order that deemed her expendable.
Though, her lust was not absent, it was every devil's birthright, but in Saphira, it was something she held command over, not the other way around.
It was not something that she avoided either, but instead saw it as a potential strategy,
a weapon to be studied and wielded when the situation demanded, when the opportunity presented itself.
This attunement made her dangerous in a way that a merely seductive devil could never be.
She could think.
She could plan.
She could wait slowly, meticulously, for the right opening.
Though, it wasn't as if a seductress had no benefits of her own...
Saphira, now getting accustomed to being delivered, she mulled over her plans of actions as she packed her few items.
If she was to gift her body, then she might as well try to use it to seduce this unknown devil.
"Pfftt~ probably what that beast would have used me for when I reached the peak-tier either way…"
Once reaching the peak-tier, only a week, or at most a month, was needed to break through to the deeper layers. Though, reaching the depths had many avenues that are to be discussed later.
In the end, hell's children were primarily two things: marginally more trustworthy subordinates, or vessels for pleasure.
The concept of incest held no taboo in hell; bloodlines were about consolidating power and passing down royal lineages. Being a perfect race, of a higher order, there was also no potential defects from inbreeding: if anything, it only strengthened their bloodline and power!
Born from a devil's womb, her growth had been unnaturally swift.
At three months of age, she had blossomed from an infant to the appearance of a twelve year old human girl of her inherited mixed lineage; a lineage that gifted her with an ethereal, almost fragile beauty of a human, then further refined by a devil's potency.
Now, at just over a year old and possessing the power of a high-tier lesser devil, she looked like a young mortal maiden, albeit with enchanting crimson skin and blaring purple sheep-like horns.
Her body was draped in soft, alluring curves, and her skin was like polished blood jade; a beautiful contrast to the rampaging hellish landscape.
Strands of silky black hair lazily Hung at the sides of her cheeks, while her eyes held a haughty pride that had never been truly challenged; at least not until now.
"Sigh~"
With a sigh that was more a shudder of resignation than acceptance, she turned her back on the small abode.
There was no choice.
A devil did not refuse a direct command from a superior, especially not one of her father's rank. To do so was death, or worse.
She grabbed anything she deemed necessary, took a single, last glance, and left the place she used to call home; now nothing but a reminder of the bastard who she once called 'father'.
If she was to be gifted, then it would be on her terms!
She moved with a natural, gliding grace, her form like a red fairy in the perpetual gloom.
Jagged rocks crunched under her bare feet, and the acidic wind tugged at her simple, unadorned hide and bone armor.
Kaelgor had deemed it too dangerous to arm his daughter, a high-tier lesser devil, with abyssal steel armor. Such armor was of great assistance in surviving agasint beings of greater strength.
Saphira scoffed at the thought.
At least she had her blade, Saphira thought as she looked at the sleek, 3 foot long black blade at her waist.
As she moved with grace, various eyes followed her figure out.
She ignored the leering, hungry gazes of the lesser demons stationed along the perimeter, their lust and curiosity plain and heavy.
They saw what her father saw: a beautiful object.
Some of the more perceptive, and opportunistic, demons recalled that their Lord Kaelgor had said that they would leave in the morning… so why did it seem like Saphira was leaving their territory now?
Was she seeking to escape?
Shadowy figures moved quickly in the bruised gloom of hell's night, heading towards their lord to seek his favor for giving this piece of information.
Seeing the figures darting to go snitch on her odd behavior, Saphira coldly snorted and sped up. She was doing what she was commanded to do, albeit a little earlier and without the escort of her father.
Only by being by herself could she try to grasp the situation in her fair hands.
'What does my father gain from this? Is he a pawn, or is he a player?' Questions floated in her mind as she left the faint light of the territory in the background.
On the way out, she glanced towards an armored demon, her cold gaze focusing as she turned into a black and red blur and disappeared into the darkness; the armored demon also disappeared from the group of demons he was overseeing.
The darkness was a deep red, while purple miasma flowed like a sea above the ground.
Moving swiftly through the dim hellscape, her elegant form soon neared her dreaded destination. Her speed as a high-tier lesser devil made the journey fast and smooth; a few wild demonic beast corpses were left in her trail.
On the short journey, a flair of wild, powerful demonic mana surged like a tidal wave towards her. According to the directions that the demon from earlier had given, the surges of demonic mana was coming from her destination too!
The first trace of interest was born at that moment.
Soon, she was standing at the edge of the basin, seeing the dominating, sinister black obelisk, her mind pausing as her eyes shimmered with an indecipherable light.
Moving her gaze, she saw the glimmering barrier, and within, the signs of frantic demons working about.
Around the basin, her fathers forces, alongside the forces of the other two fortresses, seemed to encircle the cage she was heading towards.
'This was not the lair of a mindless beast…' A flicker of something other than dread sparked within her.
Curiosity.
As she approached the barrier, her heart hammered with a volatile mix of indignation and a strange, nascent thrill.
She was being given away like livestock, but she was also being sent to the source of the strange, powerful flares of energy that had recently lit up the sky.
Those flairs were odd too.
They weren't stronger than that of a peak-tier devils, but the fact that it encompassed and spread out so far and wide was shocking.
As a point of reference, if a peak-tier lesser devil could fill the air with 1000 units of mana in a 1 kilometer meter radius, then this obelisk filled a 100 kilometer radius with 100,000 units of mana!
The ratio was still the same, yet the accomplishment was something no peak-tier devil could achieve.
A hint of understanding flashed in her mind.
She was being delivered to the one devil who had managed to make her formidable father incorporate her into his strategies as a transaction.
He most likely an equal, or possibly even more formidable!
She was a sacrifice, but perhaps, just perhaps, she could be something more!
She would submit, as commanded, but her submission would be a weapon in disguise.
She would learn the secrets to the surges of demonic mana, her captors weaknesses, his desires, and she would use them to ensure that her value was no longer determined by the whims of others, but by the sharpness of her own will and the strength she commands.
Saphira's face regained its calm.
She stepped forward, ready to meet the devil who she had been gifted to; her body a perfect facade, an offering wrapped in smooth, tempting skin and hiding a unbendable resolve within.