The sounds of battle raged on from beyond the barrier.
Distant, thunderous explosions, roars, and the clash of steel served as a constant reminder of the chaos unfolding outside.
Comparatively, Adam's situation was more peaceful.
Adam, with sweat dripping down his brow, was focused on engraving the runes onto the nexus.
His hands moved with a supernatural precision, tracing the intricate, glowing lines of the grand teleportation array into the dark and hard surface of the obelisk. The throbbing demonic mana from the stone under his hand felt like a heartbeat.
The flaring demonic energy that pulsed from the battlefield could only hint at the violence that was ongoing; reminding those within the barrier that their peace could be broken at any given moment.
Adam was filled with a complex mix of emotions: desire for the fragment that flared within Kaelgor's chest, anxiety for finishing the array before the chaos overwhelmed them, and caution towards the newcomers who had pledged their allegiance.
It was an annoying, distracting mix of emotions, of conflicting impulses that threatened to cloud his mind. Though he couldn't afford to let those thoughts interfere with his work.
He had to focus, had to push himself to his fastest speed possible to complete the array before it was too late.
Even the subtle lust for Nyx, the sleek, seductive deviless who had pressed herself so intimately against his side, was forcibly pushed aside, reluctantly set aside to the depths of his consciousness.
On both of his sides, working on the more complex rune parts, were Lyra and Saphira.
Their presence was a subtle, yet very distinct defensive barrier.
Beyond them, his demons labored with desperate efficiency, their movements driven by fear and loyalty.
And at the furthest points, the three new devils worked on their assigned sections, their forms barely visible through the swirling miasma in combination with their location being opposite of his.
The blatant caution was a must.
Even Lyra, usually uncaring about most matters, still kept note of the new devils, her silver eyes occasionally flickering towards them with a mixture of suspicion and wariness.
While Saphira was constantly making sure her back wasn't towards them, her body tense, her movements guarded.
Although she didn't trust Adam either: how could she, after what he had done to her?
Still, she knew that he meant no harm to her, other than having sex at least.
The thought was exasperated; a reminder of her subjugation, but it was also a strange comfort.
At least with Adam, she knew what to expect.
The new devils were an unknown variable, and unknown variables were dangerous.
Still, just the thought that she was working to help Adam was weird to her.
"He took me, and now he needs, no, demands my help!"
Anger was first to arise.
But then, the thought made her smirk in satisfaction inside: that Adam was desperate, that he needed her strength.
That his dominance that he showed her, right now, was no longer as apparent.
The thought of what would happen if she said 'no', if she stopped being of aide, flickered through her mind.
'Would he demand that she work?'
'Or would he barter?'
'Better yet, would he beg?'
The thought was absurd, a fantasy born of her wounded pride, and she knew it.
There was no way that Adam would beg to her.
But she could still dream.
"I could still make things hard for him though~" She thought slyly, as a self-admonishing smile tugging at her lips.
"But… Hmph! I suppose I'll help him! But only because my instincts are telling me that it's dangerous!"
It was a justification, a rationalization that allowed her to maintain her pride while still complying with his demands.
That arrogance, that stubborn refusal to fully submit, a remnant of a devil pride that wouldn't go away even after her capture.
There was still fire in her, still a spark of defiance that refused to be extinguished.
In the end, she decided against risking anything, less she angers him.
The memory of his fury, of the overwhelming power he had wielded against her, was still fresh in her mind.
Reluctantly trudging along was all she could do at this moment.
A silent scowl was etched onto her beautiful face.
Meanwhile, Lyra worked meticulously, almost gently.
Her movements were light yet fast; her hands traced the runes with a grace that seemed almost practiced.
There was an elegance to her work, a precision born of experience, patience, and long hours of dedication.
Her movements seemed even more natural, more efficient than that of Adams.
Her mind, however, was drifting, wandering as her meticulous, monotonous movements reminded her of a different lifetime.
Of a life that had been stolen from her.
She thought back to her time as a keeper in the library, back when she had been an elf in her past life.
Young and untalented, she had sought to help her community in any way she could, working tirelessly, overworking even, to make life easier for her brothers and sisters.
They had called each other family in her elf village, even if they weren't blood-related.
Being a keeper in the library had consisted of long nights of record keeping and managing accounts.
Endless hours of tedious, thankless work.
"Lyra, we need this…"
"Don't forget about that…"
"Did you do this yet, Lyra?"
"Lyra."
"Lyra."
"Lyra!"
It had been peaceful, in its way, but also tiring, boring, repetitive.
A life of quiet servitude that had left her feeling hollow and unfulfilled.
Looking back, no longer chained by her naivety and filial piety, she realized her work, effort, and sacrifices had been expected out of her.
She had been a tool, a resource: a means to an end.
There had been no gratitude, no recognition, no sense of belonging.
She had given everything, and in return, she had received nothing.
She glanced back at Adam, his handsome face focused, charming. His body was strong and intimidating; filled with power and determination.
Danger was all around, yet his dominance and arrogance subconsciously stood firm even in such a state.
A small smile tugged at her lips, a comfort spreading through her body.
She much preferred this new life.
This New her.