Naya Blackwell, the general of the infernal legions, right hand of the Demon King, the coldest general ever, was doing something entirely out of character.
She was going to lunch.
No, not her private meals but the common dining hall, the one used by soldiers, lieutenants, and the occasional reckless mercenary who wandered there.
Even the guards seemed confused as she walked past them.Whispering, She never eats here. Did someone die?
Truth be told, Naya didn't know why she was doing it either. All she knew was that she had questions, and the answers weren't in her reports.
Lunch hour in the Obsidian Fortress was usually loud, demons shouting, laughing, throwing food, occasionally stabbing one another for fun.
But when Naya entered, the noise died immediately.
Forks froze midair. Conversations stopped too. Someone choked on their drink.
Every head turned as she crossed the room, boots clicking against stone, red eyes sweeping over the tables.
She chose a spot in the center, sat down with confidence that made the entire hall collectively hold its breath, and cleared her throat.
"Don't be shy," she said evenly, gesturing to the empty seats around her. "Come sit next to me. I have questions."
For several seconds, no one moved. Then a few of the braver soldiers moved slowly forward.
Soon half a dozen demons sat around her table.
Naya folded her arms. "Relax. I'm not going to burn anyone."
They relaxed approximately 0.5%.
"I'm looking for information," she said. "About the masked human who's been visiting our dungeon."
The demons exchanged uneasy looks.
"You mean… her, General?" asked one soldier, his horns twitching nervously.
"Yes. The one who keeps defeating you all on her way to my floor."
A ripple of embarrassed laughter went through the group. Naya raised an eyebrow, and the laughter died instantly.
"Well," said another demon a tall one with purple skin. "She's… nice?"
Naya blinked. "Nice."
"Yeah! She always says thank you after fights," the demon added quickly.
"Sometimes she heals the wounded before moving on. She's polite."
"She healed you?" Naya's tone was flat.
The demon coughed. "Technically, yes. After she stabbed me."
Another soldier piped up eagerly, "She's really funny, too! Last time she passed through, she told us some jokes ."
Naya's jaw tightened.
The cook nodded enthusiastically. "She even helped me carry supplies once! Said the bags looked heavy."
Naya stared at them in disbelief. "You're supposed to guard the dungeon, not form a fan club for intruders."
A nervous laugh fluttered through the group.
One of the younger demons, scales gleaming bronze, raised his hand hesitantly. "We, uh, play cards sometimes."
Naya turned her head slowly. "You what."
"Just when it's quiet!" he said defensively.
"She's really good, actually. Keeps winning."
"She's cheating," muttered another.
"She is not!" the bronze demon protested.
"She's just clever!"
Naya pinched the bridge of her nose. Saints of shadow, she thought.These are my soldiers. My handpicked soldiers. Playing cards with the enemy.
She looked up, expression unreadable.
"So," she said, voice deceptively calm. "The masked intruder fights her way through half a dozen floors, stops to play cards, and leaves you all breathing. Is that correct?"
A chorus of uncertain nods.
"And not one of you thought to stop her?"
"Well…" the cook began, "she doesn't hurt anyone unless they attack first. And she's… well, kind of…"
"Kind of what?" Naya prompted.
"Popular," someone blurted out. "She's… popular, General."
"Popular," Naya repeated slowly, as though testing a foreign word.
The room went quiet again.
She leaned back in her chair, arms crossed, eyes half-lidded. The picture of composure except for the faint twitch in her temple.
They were supposed to protect the dungeon, maintain order, strike fear into the hearts of intruders.Instead, her soldiers had turned her fortress into a halfway tavern for one overly friendly human.
"She's very inspiring," murmured one demon at the far end of the table.
Naya's gaze snapped toward him. "Inspiring how?"
"Well, she said we're 'too cool to be evil,'" he explained nervously. "That we have great teamwork."
Naya didn't know whether to laugh, groan, or launch herself into the nearest lava pit.
Another soldier hesitated, then said, "She always keeps her mask on, though. We never see her face."
Finally, something useful.
"Always?" Naya asked.
"Yes, General. It's enchanted, I think. No one can use magic to see through it. We tried once—uh, not to be creepy! Just curious!"
Naya's expression didn't change, but her fingers drummed lightly against the table.
Enchanted mask.
Strong enough to block magical sight. Interesting. That kind of craftsmanship wasn't common among humans. Either this girl was wealthy, or she had powerful allies.
"Any idea what's under the mask?" she asked.
The table erupted into speculation.
"She's probably hideous," one demon said.
"She's definitely beautiful," argued another.
"No one hides their face unless it's to be mysterious and attractive."
"She's weirdly polite," said the cook. "Maybe she have a big rank?"
"Or cursed!"
"Or maybe she's secretly a human spy!"
Naya raised a hand, and the chatter died instantly.
"Enough."
The silence returned, thick and uneasy.
Naya studied their faces: eager, foolish, oddly fond. It was almost insulting how easily the human had charmed them.
Then again, she couldn't entirely blame them. The girl had an aura, raw, stubborn energy that refused to bow even in the face of death.
She could see how that might… appeal.
The thought irritated her more than she expected.
One of the lieutenants finally gathered the courage to speak. "General, if you don't mind me asking… why the sudden interest? We thought you didn't care about her."
Naya's eyes flicked toward him, sharp as a blade. "I don't."
He looked unconvinced.
"She reached my floor twice," Naya added, tone cool. "That makes her my problem."
That, at least, was believable enough. The soldiers nodded quickly, eager to avoid further questions.
Naya reached for her glass and took a measured sip, pretending not to notice their nervous glances. Inside, her thoughts tangled.
They play cards with her. They talk to her. They call her nice.
The words I have a crush on you floated back into her memory, annoyingly persistent. She dismissed it, but not completely.
"How often does she come normally ?" Naya asked suddenly.
"Every week, more or less," the bronze demon said. "Sometimes twice."
Naya tilted her head. "Twice?"
"She said she was bored once."
The glass in her hand almost cracked.
Of all the reasons to invade a demon fortress, boredom was not one she'd expected.
She set the glass down carefully. "Very well. When she comes again…"
The table collectively tensed.
"Let her directly to my floor," Naya said.
They blinked.
"Uh… directly?" asked the lieutenant, uncertain he'd heard correctly.
"Yes. No obstacles, no delays, no detours. Just let her through."
The soldiers exchanged uneasy looks. One finally asked, "If we do that, won't she, uh… die?"
Naya smiled faintly. "Perhaps. Perhaps not. Either way, I want to see for myself."
The room went utterly still.
Then Naya stood, smooth and commanding as ever, and turned to leave.
Her cloak swept behind her, trailing faint embers.
"Enjoy your lunch," she said over her shoulder.
The doors slammed shut behind her.