The summons came.
Lilith entered his chambers without ceremony.
Her expression was calm, but Liam knew to see past that mask — the faint tightness around her eyes, the tension in her shoulders. The System confirmed what he already suspected.
[Lilith Zevra / Demon Queen]
[Emotional State: Suppressed Agitation. ]
"The Eight Houses have called a council," she said, her voice slicing through the quiet. "In three days, they will sit in judgment. Of me… and of you. Our performance must be flawless. There will be no room for doubt. No quarter for mercy."
A familiar knot of anxiety twisted in Liam's stomach. His fingers brushed the pills in his pocket — a nervous reflex he stopped halfway.
"What do you need me to do?"
"First," she said, tossing a bundle of dark cloth at him, "you need to understand what it means to be a demon. Not the stories from your world. The reality of mine."
It was a cloak — heavy, woven from a fabric that did not reflect the light that reached it. She wore its twin. At her gesture, he pulled up the hood and put the mask over his face, like she did.
For the first time, he stepped out of the safety of the castle walls, following Lilith through narrow, torch-lit passages that bypassed the main gates and the guards who bowed rigidly at her presence.
They emerged into the capital — Eldhar.
Liam stopped, momentarily forgetting to breathe.
It was far from his idea of hell.
The city was magnificent.
Towers rose like sharpened teeth, and between them wound streets packed with energy filled demons — mercs shouting, demons haggling.
"Remember this," Lilith murmured as they walked, her voice low beneath the noise.
"Demons are not beasts. We are a people — proud, ancient, merciless. The Infernal Houses are the pillars of our world. They respect strength. Compassion is a luxury the weak can't afford."
As they wove through the crowd, she listed the names he would need to remember.
"House Zarthus — led by Veridia. Militants. They want my throne and have the strength to take it.
House Morwen — they control the soul-forges and the economy. Never trust their smiles.
House Kraz'gul — the legion's hammer. They respect only blood and power."
Gradually, the brilliance of the city fell away, replaced by silence and stone. They reached a barren stretch of earth under a starless sky.
Three armored demons stood waiting. Between them, a figure knelt.
As they drew closer, Liam froze.
The man was human — bound, bruised, his face swollen beyond recognition. Dirt and blood streaked his torn clothes. He lifted his head weakly, hatred burning in his gaze even through the pain.
Lilith lowered her hood. The soldiers bowed instantly.
"Your Majesty," one rumbled. "We brought him, as commanded."
The prisoner spat at her feet, his voice a broken rasp. "Mistress of evil," he croaked. "I pray to the gods your black soul burns. I pray your end come soonest. I pray the gods punishment for your soul is unending."
Liam's chest tightened at the sight of the brutalized man. The scene was too raw, too real. His vision began to narrow, breath stuttering.
"Lilith," he said quietly, "why did you bring me here?"
She turned to him — eyes like molten gold, utterly without pity. "Because you need to understand what your role demands. This isn't theater. The blood here doesn't wash off."
She nodded once.
A blade slid free.
The sound came a heartbeat later — the wet crack of steel through flesh.
Liam stumbled back, choking on air. "What the fuck—what are you doing?" He turned away, bile rising, heart hammering so hard it hurt.
Lilith moved faster than he could flinch. She seized his shoulders, forcing him to face the dying man. Her grip was iron.
"Look at him, Liam."
He struggled, trembling. "Let me go—"
"Watch him die!" Her voice snapped like a whip through the air. "You will have to see worse. Do worse. If you can't bear even this, then we're both good as dead."
"I can't—" His voice broke.
"Watch. Him. Die."
He took slow breaths, using every ounce of determination he could muster to calm himself. She was right, how bad did he want to survive?
He opened his eyes.
The man was still kneeling, impaled, blood pooling black in the dirt. His breathing came in shallow, rattling gasps — soft, wet, and slowing. Each one fainter than the last.
Liam's body was shaking, but her words carved through the panic like fire.
"Whatever you're feeling right now," Lilith whispered close to his ear, "it's wrong. It's human. Ask yourself — what would the Primordial Demon feel? What would he do?"
He stared at the dying man — saw the defiance flicker out, replaced by pure, animal terror.
Then, slowly, Liam exhaled.
The fear drained away, replaced by something cold. Detached.
He stepped closer, his movements suddenly fluid, predatory. When he spoke, his voice was low — resonant — like something else wearing human skin.
"The gods you prayed to," he murmured, tilting his head, "why didn't they save you?"
The man's fading eyes met his.
"I'll tell you why," Liam said softly, a faint, chilling smile curling at his lips. "Because the only god here… is me."