Though the Demon Lord Victor was now a thing of the past, he had not completely vanished from this world.
The contingency plan he had set in motion began to take effect. Tasa watched as his severely wounded soul drifted downward, wavering as it fell into the library below, which had not yet been affected. Victor's body was left behind in the Abyss. His soul had been banished by the Abyss and then struck head-on by a Legendary-tier attack. After this series of ordeals, the shattered soul struggled to merge with the Book of the Dungeon, beginning a long slumber.
This chapter of history went unrecorded—whether because the heroes could not confirm Victor's death, or because a flood of even more momentous events later overshadowed the demise of a Demon Lord. The records are a blank page, yet Tasa, standing in the front-row seat within the mind of an eyewitness, finally witnessed Victor's "origin."
For Victor, the Great Demon of the Abyss, the two fragments of memory Tasa saw marked his beginning and his end—the moment his soul was born in the mortal realm, witnessing snow and bonfires, and the moment it ended with the exposure of lies and good intentions. But for Tasa, that "end" was precisely the beginning. The Serpent of Lies died because of a single act of kindness—and it was this that gave rise to the Victor she would later encounter, and to that abandoned dungeon, cast out by the Abyss.
Had Victor struck back then, nothing would have remained of the self-destructing dungeon; even if Tasa had come here, she would have had no city to call home. Had Victor not been so severely wounded—even if he had lost all his power—as long as his cunning remained intact, the newly arrived Tasa, who knew nothing of the situation, would have been doomed to lose. She would likely have become just another of his victims. How wondrous the ways of the world are—the death of the demon lord Victor also marked the beginning of Tashara Eryan's great adventure.
The memory she had been reading came to an end, and the magic pool began to ripple gently, like a pot of soup simmering over a low flame.
Tasha's mind wandered for a moment. She couldn't help but wonder: if the soul of the Serpent of Lies had not been born on the Material Plane, if Victor—like other Abyssal creatures—had never been able to perceive the beauty of the world, would his achievements and fate have been better than they are now?
That's hard to say. There are so many powerful demons among the Abyssal races—some are incredibly strong, others incredibly clever—and the cycle of succession remains painfully swift. Even the best swimmers drown, and the finest riders fall from their mounts; those born of greed die by greed. Yet Victor had once claimed he climbed to his later position precisely to live a life different from that of the demonic beasts. His extraordinary adventures and rebellious spirit made him the famed Serpent of Lies, yet they also turned him into an exiled traitor. These causes and effects were intertwined, like an Ouroboros.
Ever since it swallowed the remains bestowed by the Astral Mage, the black cocoon had been writhing ceaselessly. Now, it swelled within the boiling pool, like a piece of steamed rice cake being heated, puffing up so plump it made one want to poke it. The swelling finally reached its peak; the black cocoon burst and then contracted, suddenly shrinking back into a human form. A tall man lay at the bottom of the magical pool, as still as Sleeping Beauty.
He bore a striking resemblance to the Victor from that recent memory—whether it was his own subconscious accepting this body, or Tashan subconsciously shaping him this way, he could not say. Those thin lips parted slightly, as if taking a breath.
A cough erupted suddenly.
The Sleeping Beauty stirred. As soon as he regained consciousness, he choked on a mouthful of water, instantly grimacing and coughing violently. He trembled as he tried to crawl to his feet, but accidentally fell back down; his limbs were all limp and weak, like a newborn lamb—and indeed, a head of white hair and ram-like horns grew from his head. Tasha crouched by the Enchanted Pool, watching him thrash about aimlessly for a while before he finally opened his eyes.
His amber eyes widened suddenly, filled with bewilderment and fear, as if still haunted by memories of death and torment. He gasped for air, scanning his surroundings frantically, his gaze darting warily from side to side.
"Good morning," Tasha said.
Victor looked up at the sound of her voice and saw Tasha; his shoulders relaxed. Before, he had masked his anxiety and helplessness with feigned vigilance; now, he lowered his gaze, the shadows of his lashes covering his now-relaxed eyes.
Tasha's heart skipped a beat during that exchange of glances.
Yes, this was the Victor she knew.
Tasha was struck by the vulnerability that flashed in those eyes, moved by his instinctive relaxation upon seeing her. It sounded a bit strange, but this was the moment when a series of small changes culminated in a qualitative shift. She had known Victor for over a decade, read his history for centuries, delighted in his company, and been drawn to his past strength, intelligence, and danger—but if the Victor here were merely the demon lord of the past, he would be nothing more than a fascinating enemy, a charismatic yet untrustworthy partner.
But this was "her" Victor.
Even in a long-standing friendship, there is that one moment when various emotions transform into love, and this was it. Love and joy spread through her heart, like a sugar cube dissolving in hot coffee. This isn't bad, Tasha thought. This is good. She took Victor's hand, feeling affection and contentment.
Victor squeezed her hand in return, and Tasha pulled him to the edge of the magic pool, brushing aside the strands of hair dripping with water. His silver hair wasn't soft; it was slightly prickly, with a metallic sheen.
"Did we… win?" Victor said blankly.
His voice was a little hoarse, like someone who'd been asleep for a long time. He looked a bit out of it, as if he'd just woken up from general anesthesia, his whole body still dazed. "Too bad," Tasha said. "You didn't sleep long enough. The Abyss hasn't come yet."
"Just a few years?" Victor asked, looking up in astonishment. The movement seemed to trigger something in his nerves, causing him to collapse face-down on the edge of the magic pool, his forehead pressed against his arm, groaning as if in pain. He clutched his head pitifully, like a wretch struggling to get out of bed the morning after a hangover, and muttered indistinctly, "Wait a minute, I think I…"
Victor was recovering rapidly; that dazed expression was fading bit by bit, and Tasa could almost hear the sound of countless gears turning inside his head.
The great demon of the past was gone forever, but this restoration brought back far more than just a body. The remnants of the great demon had reshaped his form, and the dungeon's protection had stabilized his shattered soul. Many chaotic memories he could not bear in the past would now be sorted out. Victor hadn't "recovered"—he had simply become whole again.
"It's been a long time," Victor muttered to himself.
The chaos subsided. The reborn demon straightened his body, standing in the magic pool, and reached out to Tasa once more. Earlier, when Tasa had reached for him, his grip had been as desperate as clutching at a lifeline; now, Victor's gesture was polite and graceful, his palm facing upward, the movement as natural as extending a hand to ask someone to dance on the dance floor. Tasha raised an eyebrow at him, and he flashed a toothy grin, as if he truly couldn't have pulled himself out on his own.
"You are so kind, my dear mistress," Victor said flatteringly as she pulled him out.
"Don't call me 'dear,'" Tasha said. "Nothing good ever comes of your flattery."
"Is that so? I was just trying to express my deep gratitude and affection for you," Victor said innocently, quickly changing the subject in the face of Tash's unresponsive, cold expression. "Good morning! Come to think of it, shouldn't you be saying, 'I'm glad to see you're safe and sound'?"
Tasha paused, realizing which scene he was referencing—back when she first gained a physical form, she had demanded that the Book of Dungeons greet her with "Good morning" and "I'm glad to see you're safe and sound" before getting down to business. At that time, Tasha was still the [Broken Dungeon], having just acquired her first title; her tentacles had only just begun to spread across the land of Eryan, and her scale was nowhere near what it is today.
In the blink of an eye, so many years had passed. The once-hidden Dungeons now stood on equal footing with the human empire; the Wolf-Headed Body had undergone multiple generations of renewal; and the Book of Dungeons had acquired a human form. Though so much had changed, and the speaker's perspective had shifted, the two conversing parties remained just as they were in the past. Both the Dungeon and the Demon have memories as sharp as a razor; they can still play off jokes from over a decade ago.
"Why haven't you mentioned that I haven't yet complimented your beauty?" Tasha teased.
"That would be most welcome," Victor replied, spreading his arms wide and even spinning gracefully on the spot like a male peacock in mating season—except that he had neither feathers nor clothes.
Tasha obliged, her gaze sliding from his handsome face down to his wet neck (where the white hair was still dripping), then to his chest, and not stopping there, continuing all the way down. His newly formed body was completely naked, its bronze skin marked by smooth, flowing muscle lines, with droplets from the magic pool glistening on its surface. Victor's hair was like silver threads, and his warm-toned skin had shed any scaly or metallic texture—it felt the same to the touch. When she reached out, he blinked, as if unsure whether he was being sexually harassed.
Tasha's fingertips traced a path from Victor's shoulder to his chest, pressing gently against his full pectoral muscles. The sensation was surprisingly pleasant. Like chocolate, Tasha suddenly thought—it looked exactly like Dove milk chocolate…
"What's Dove chocolate?" Victor asked, bewildered.
Oh no, I thought that out loud, Tasha clicked her tongue inwardly. While being reshaped in the Magic Pool had certainly made their bond tighter, a momentary lapse of concentration was also to blame—proof that a wise ruler must never let lust cloud their judgment.
"A kind of dessert, meant to compliment your beauty," Tasha said, her expression unflinching.
Victor looked at her, half-believing, half-doubting.
"It's nothing serious," Tasha said calmly. "You're stronger than I imagined. I used to think the Serpent of Lies was the pale, frail type—all talk and no substance."
"That's pure prejudice!" Victor protested. "Every demon is different. Just because I'm witty and eloquent doesn't mean you can jump to the conclusion that I'm frail as a reed." "—By the way, do you plan on giving me some clothes? Don't touch me there—ow!"
"Don't be afraid, there's no one else here," Tasha said nonchalantly as she withdrew her hand. "Besides, you've seen me so many times; it's only fair that I get a look back now."
"Do you realize you sound like a female duke who's abducting a young man?" Victor reminded her. "The kind from at least five hundred years ago, who ruled with an iron fist over feudal lands and demanded the bridegroom's right of the first night."
"How does the new body feel?" Tasha asked.
She shifted from small talk to business in a single second—the transition was so abrupt she made no attempt to hide it. Victor was at a loss for words, yet he couldn't remain silent; the contract still held, and he had no way to hide the truth.
"Not bad," he said, cracking his neck and spine. "It's pretty much like the human doppelganger I used to create myself. I'll need to experiment a bit more to see exactly how it works, but I'm no longer that useless mascot I used to be."
"Can it fly?"
"Uh, no. Not every demon can fly!"
"Does it use magic?"
"It does… though, given that I've been banished from the Abyss, I can no longer use the Abyssal magic I once knew. Besides, I was never good at magic to begin with, so, ahem."
"You're not in a weakened state anymore, are you?"
"Of course not!"
"Then your intellect and memory have returned to their former levels?" Tasha said. "As one of the most intelligent demon lords, you must have a solution for the Abyss Portal, right?"
"..."
Victor looked at Tasha.
Tasha looked at Victor.
Victor looked at Tasha with a mix of grief and anger.
Tasha looked at Victor calmly, but her serious expression finally cracked, and she burst out laughing.
"Ah, you're making fun of me again," Victor said petulantly, brushing his damp hair to the side. "A shattered bottle can't be restored to its original state. If you want a brand-new, unopened Great Demon, you'll have to go back to the Abyss and capture one. Anyway, this is how I am now—there's no returning me…"
"Are you still hungry?" Tasha asked.
Victor paused, his eyes flickering at the reminder. His face went blank once more, like someone who'd been plagued by noise their whole life suddenly finding silence.
"I'm not hungry anymore," he exclaimed. "That… endless craving—it's stopped."
The Abyss's gifts and shackles forever bind its creations; from cannon-fodder monsters to demon lords, a collar is forever fastened around their necks. The curse of emptiness and hunger is eternal, lasting until death, unless the Abyss itself severs the puppet strings.
"You weren't hungry when you were the Book of the Underworld, were you?" Tasha said.
"That's true, but I didn't feel anything else back then either." "Victor narrowed his eyes, seemingly lost in recollection. "It's always like this when using an artifact as a vessel. Everything I see and hear feels as if through a fog; there's no desire, no satisfaction. Touch feels as though it's through thick fabric, though pain is the least diminished. But when using a flesh-and-blood body like this, the Abyss quickly erodes it, making the sensations almost indistinguishable from my true form—and I still feel hunger."
He paused, then laughed involuntarily.
"I have some souls I'm quite fond of, but I don't visit them often," Victor said. "These souls, exposed like this, look so delicious that I can't truly focus on appreciating them. I always have to reserve some of my energy to control myself, because a demon is never truly full. A bunch of cracked nuts, a bunch of shelled crabs, dancing on your dining table, while you're starving, and all you have to do is reach out to take them—with no consequences whatsoever. The most exhausting part is that you don't even want to do it."
"Can you imagine that?" He looked up at Tasha with the joy of a child sharing an experience with a playmate. "I wouldn't run away just because of someone's kindness—they just got too close… Imagine a piece of meat you're desperately trying not to eat, insisting on jumping up to kiss your lips?"
As he spoke, Victor licked a droplet from the corner of his lips, just as he'd licked the blood that had splattered onto his face earlier. His eyes sparkled, and his lips glistened from being licked. Tasa suddenly thought it would be nice if this guy were still wearing a tuxedo—a tuxedo has a collar, which would be convenient to grab and pull down.
The demon was now completely naked, so Tasa had no choice but to reach around the back of his head and push down.
Thank goodness, after his rebirth, those curved horns had shrunk considerably and wouldn't clash with Tasha's own horns.
His amber eyes widened in surprise, but Victor only froze for a moment before quickly, without asking why, lowering his head to wrap his arms around Tasha's waist. His tongue was truly forked at the tip, and his teeth were tiny triangles, making Tash feel as though she were kissing a docile shark, or some other predator—the best part being that you knew he wouldn't bite you.
This was the heart of the Dungeon, and they were standing right beside the Demon Pool. As one of the perks of being in the Dungeon, Tash could still see everything even with her eyes closed.
She could see the taut muscles in Victor's back as he bent down; one of her hands rested on the nape of his neck, the other half-circling his broad back. The contrast in their skin tones was striking, like milk poured into hot cocoa. That chocolate-colored skin felt soft, warm, and firm—it bore none of the characteristics of a reptile. Tasha's hand slid downward, past his narrow waist, to his well-defined abdominal muscles. They tensed slightly at her touch, as if ticklish.
She could see that Victor's eyes were still open; those vertical pupils stared straight at her, resembling yet distinct from the Snake of Lies of the past. The Snake of Lies' eyes had a cold, inorganic quality, like frosted stained glass; even when its face wore a smile, those eyes remained devoid of any warmth, observing coldly from the sidelines; These, however, reminded Tasa of honey or the finest maple syrup—as if she could taste the sweetness just by licking them.
"You judge a book by its cover," Victor said after the kiss, his tone somewhere between a complaint and a whine. "You used to treat me like ice, but now you're all fire. You must be lusting after my good looks."
"I'm glad to see your thick skin remains as ever," Tasha said. "I'm truly sorry, but I just can't muster much interest in a book."
"How narrow-minded! You're a city, and I still love you!" Victor said.
"...I suppose your sexual preferences are just too free-spirited," Tasha sighed.
"I call this 'being drawn to your soul'!" Victor said, licking his lips.
"That's a truly convincing line coming from a demon," Tasha retorted. "I bet you've said that to contract partners of every race, young and old, male and female."
"That's racial discrimination," Victor muttered, waving his hand in front of Tasha's face. "Is it an optical illusion or something? Why does your gaze always drift downward when you're listening to me?"
"I think you've noticed there's a bit of a height difference between us," Tasha said with righteous indignation. "For the sake of my spinal health, it's perfectly normal for my gaze to be below your face. It's definitely not for any other reason—otherwise, I could just take my time looking at you from the Dungeon's perspective, front and back, top and bottom, couldn't I?"
"You should be looking at my eyes, not my chest—I thought that was something only girls needed to be told," Victor complained.
"Your eyes are right there in the Book of the Dungeon; I've been staring at them for ages," Tasha said. "As for the rest of you, I feel it's absolutely necessary to take a few extra glances before they're covered up by clothes."
"Wait, aren't you just admitting you've been looking?!"
"How do you feel about the consequences of being banished to the Abyss?"
"I have mixed feelings… Hey, you can't keep slamming on the brakes like that!" Victor lamented. "Dear Master, I have no objection whatsoever to your gaze or your line of sight, and I'd be more than happy to show you some things you've never seen before. Just have a little pity on me—I've been through so much, trapped in this book-pool for so many years."
It wasn't entirely flirtation or playing the victim. He stretched his toes against the stone tiles, his back against the magic pool, his hands still resting on Tasa's waist, his fingertips hooked into the seam of her clothes, brushing against that small patch of exposed skin. The newly reborn demon stretched his body, like a snake emerging from a long hibernation and stretching in the sunlight. How did it feel to regain his memories and start sensing the world again after centuries? Tasha didn't need to guess; from the other end of the link, she could sense a contentment that was almost ready to burst into song.
"You know, I'm actually in no rush to find something to wrap myself in." Victor chuckled softly, resting his head in the crook of Tasa's neck, clearly sensing that Tasa had no mind for business at the moment. "As long as you want it, I don't mind speaking to you like this from now on. After all, the Book of the Dungeon didn't exactly have a cover in the past, did it? I've been naked in front of you for many years already."
His voice trailed off in a soft trill; his forked tongue quivered in the air before flicking against Tarsha's earlobe. His hands remained demure, yet his voice was deep and his gaze alluring—a level of charm far surpassing that of the Book of the Dungeon. At last, he looked every bit the seductive demon.
"By that logic, plenty of others have seen you naked," Tasha said matter-of-factly. "Like Ah Huang, Marion, the Wrath Demon Simon, and the Holy Son of Saros, Samuel."
The guy who'd just flashed that devilish grin was instantly brought back down to earth. With every name mentioned, Victor's face darkened a little more; when he heard "Samuel, the Holy Son of Saros," he couldn't help but let out a groan of disgust. "How could you do this! You're totally ruining the mood!" he accused, his shoulders slumping as his whole body slid downward, a dramatic display of his despair. That towering figure shamelessly hung onto Tash's arm, his warm head pressed against her chest, like a dejected giant dog. Tash finally burst out laughing, yanked him up, and tossed him to the edge of the Demon Pool.
There were still mountains of problems to solve in the future; the puzzles they'd unraveled didn't bode well, and the unknowns remained a mystery. A world's worth of troubles awaited Tasha's resolution, and enemies from another plane were watching her with bated breath, but at least in this moment, Tasha felt lighthearted and joyful—she had obtained what she desired.
You no longer belong to the Abyss; you belong to me.