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The golden light poured out of Balor’s chest like a physical hand, wrapping around Esabella’s figure.

She froze on the stone steps. Her dragon-sword remained half-raised, her red lips parting slightly as the warmth touched her hair, her neck, and her wrists. Everywhere the light caressed her skin, a soft, ethereal glow emanated from her flesh.

”Father?” she murmured, her voice barely a whisper.

A voice answered. It didn’t echo through the vault; it vibrated deep within her own soul.

’Little flame. You grew up.’

The tail behind her, which had been stiff and covered in jagged switchblade barbs throughout the entire battle, slowly went loose, the spikes flattening smoothly against the dark skin.

”I’m sorry,” she whispered, her shoulders trembling. ”I’m sorry I was late.”

’You were never late. Now, take what belongs to our bloodline.’

Balor let out a furious, panicked roar. ”Stop it! Shut up! You belong to me!” He violently slammed his fist against his own caved-in chest plate. ”Be quiet, you dead old fool!”

The floating floor core thumped once, loudly, like a massive heartbeat. The golden light suddenly burst out of Balor in a straight, violent beam, sinking directly into Esabella’s heart.

Esabella arched her back, her throat letting out a loud cry. It wasn’t a scream of agony, but something far grander. Her hair lifted into the air, swirling around her head like a dark halo.

Glowing crimson lines ran across her porcelain-white skin like fine cracks in glass. Then, the lines shifted into a glossy pitch-black, and rows of smooth, dark scales began to rise out of her flesh, flowing seamlessly like ink from a brush.

Dante came to a halt ten paces away. His baseline physical energy was low, and his legs felt slightly heavy from the raw strain of the previous healing process, but his dark eyes remained locked onto her. Nobody in the entire obsidian vault dared to look away.

A sudden ring of dark fire burned away her black lace corset. Beneath it, the sleek, red-black scales spread across her ribs and the curves of her wide hips, forming a tight, organic set of armor. The scales didn’t cover everything; they mapped along her thin waist, her stomach, and the long, elegant lines of her thighs in sharp, curved royal patterns, leaving her bare shoulders and long white collarbones completely exposed.

The torn skirt dissolved, turning into a low-cut band of dark scales resting dangerously low on her hips.

Her majestic horns grew longer, curving backward into two dark, jagged crowns that framed her beautiful face. Her tail thickened noticeably, the jagged bone-shards along the spine turning the glowing color of molten iron.

With a sound of tearing fabric and air, two massive wings burst from her back. They were enormous—pitch-black on the outside and a burning red on the inside, with deep veins that pulsed like glowing coals. When they snapped open to their full span, the sudden gust of wind knocked three nearby northern soldiers clean off their feet.

Her eyes were the final piece to transform. The attractive red irises turned into a brilliant, glowing gold, the pupils stretching out into thin, dangerous vertical slits.

She lowered her head, looking down at her own hands. Her nails had lengthened into long, glossy black claws that looked like small, razor-sharp blades. She slowly flexed her fingers, a beautiful, captivating smirk stretching across her red lips.

”So this is what it feel like” , she said ”I can feel everything.”

”My Queen...” the old southern captain whispered from the far wall. His legs had given out, and he dropped to his knees in pure awe. Beside him, the young vanguard soldier from the door stood completely frozen, his mouth wide open.

”That’s a real dragon,” the young soldier stammered, his eyes wide. ”A true royal one. Not a fake power like the Warlord. She’s... she’s...”

”Beautiful,” the old captain said quietly, his voice trembling. ”And absolutely terrible.”

Warlord Balor stepped back, his massive five-meter frame stumbling. For the first time all night, the giant looked incredibly small.

”No,” Balor rasped, his face twisting in denial. ”No, no. You’re just a weak girl. That core belongs to me!”

”It was never yours.” Esabella tilted her head, her glowing gold eyes completely calm. ”You only borrowed it. And now, I am taking it back.”

She vanished.

It wasn’t a sprint or a jump. One breath she was standing on the platform, and the next, a massive black wing slammed directly into Balor’s side like a collapsing mountain wall. The giant flew across the vault, crashing heavily into a thick obsidian pillar before the entire stone structure crumbled on top of him.

The vault shook violently, a rain of dust falling from the ceiling. Esabella landed lightly, folding her wings halfway behind her back. She turned her head, her glowing gold eyes locking instantly onto Dante.

Her ruthless smile changed in a second, turning incredibly soft, and sweet. The sudden transition frightened Gideon more than the dragon wings did.

”Dante,” she murmured, her voice dropping even lower as she walked toward him. Her hips swayed with a dangerous, slow grace with every step, deliberately letting him take in the view of her long, scale-accented legs because she knew he was too stubborn to speak. She stopped right in front of him, close enough that he could feel the intense, seductive heat radiating from her body. She slowly raised her left hand, gently touching his collar with one black, blade-like nail.

”Did you see? Did you watch me?”

Dante looked at her new form, his face with same expression. ”I saw.”

”Was I good?”

”Well, You were fine.”

”Fine?” Esabella let out a soft, amused laugh. She stepped an inch closer, her chest rising and falling against the scales. ”You were hurt earlier. I saw the stone strike your shoulder. The moment I saw it, I wanted to tear this entire mountain down to the bedrock.”

”It’s already healed,” Dante said.

”Good.” Her black nail slid down the center of his chest, the gold inside her slitted eyes glowing brightly. ”Because if anyone dares to break you again, I will break them back, piece by piece. Then I will lock them in a dark box and keep them forever, so they can never touch a single thread of your clothes again.”

Dante stared at her crazy, obsessive expression for a long moment. ”I think That’s a lot.”

”It’s love, Dante,” she said happily.

”It’s still a lot.”