...Train coins, must take... the gambler Lilith... must slaughter, slaughter!!
Fed up with the creature's rasping shrieks, the Demon Knight stamps down on its chest, the sharp spur of her boot finding its throat to cut off any further wailing.
Speak. If Madam Raphael already has the key, why is she still so fixated on me?
...Slaughter, slaughter!!
Done with its screams, she drives the spur straight through the Angel's throat. The tall girl kicks the corpse aside and approaches the next helpless creature sprawled on the ground.
...Spell, Madam Raphael's orders. Find the spell!
Another piece of dying white flesh still manages to speak, and before the knight even needs to act, it eagerly volunteers what it knows.
Oh? So she hasn't gotten her hands on Mammon's treasure yet?
The knight stops what she's doing, and the Angel frantically seizes the moment to spill more secrets.
Treasure vault... is... in the City of No Return. Mammon's throne... empty.
...Spell... must obtain... Must!
Hahaha! Who would've thought the almighty Archangel Raphael would be locked out by some Demon Lord's Code!
Magnificent, absolutely magnificent! See, this is why I wanted to stay alive—to witness such glorious irony!
The girl throws her head back and erupts into laughter.
Oh, my apologies. I got so carried away that I forgot to explain it first.
She wipes the tears of laughter from her eyes and thoughtfully fills in the whole story for her Bloodsworn.
Mammon's treasure vault, also known as the City of No Return, is an underground fortress brimming with countless riches, but only its master and those he invites can enter.
The key, that gold coin Madam Raphael snatched, is only an invitation to the vault. To actually enter the City of No Return, you also need a spell as a passcode.
But I never imagined that foolish Angel would try to silence me for good without even understanding how this works! Hahaha...
By the time she finishes, she can't help but burst into another fit of laughter.
Haha, you're absolutely right, my dear Bloodsworn!
Since we can just head straight there and lie in wait, these mindless flesh-eaters are no longer useful...
Lilith raises her hand, and diamond-patterned cards once again materialize between her fingers.
Now die.
Without wasting a moment, another Angel Pilgrim's foul blood splatters along the roadside by the wheat fields.
Oh... I'm sorry we were so rude to you before, but you still helped save our little town.
The exhausted doorman limps toward them, blood seeping through his right sleeve.
Name's Fann. It's not much of a way to repay you, but please stay the night. It's the least I can offer after what you've done.
Really? Well then, we're grateful for your kindness.
In an instant, she deftly slips back into the mask she calls "Lilith."
The people of Whitehorse are still lost in their millionaire fantasies. If my Bloodsworn and I hadn't happened to pass through... Oh dear, things would have been ugly.
We'd like the inn's finest room with the best view, plus three meals a day and daily housekeeping. That's reasonable, don't you think?
Of course, no problem at all. I can certainly handle that.
The young doorman nods and heads into the inn, giving you no time to reconsider. The deal is already done.
The elegant woman slowly extends her hand, gracefully asking you to accompany her.
Let's go, Commandant.
With that, you give up any thought of resistance and dutifully accept the "legendary gambler's" generous offer.
The suite features rich velvet carpeting and expensive crystal chandeliers suspended from the ceiling. Even though this is a design from the pre-Cataclysm era, it still radiates an opulent grandeur that refuses to gather grime.
The tall girl walks barefoot across the soft velvet surface, through the spacious bedroom, and finally stops by the floor-to-ceiling windows before turning to settle into the leather sofa.
Balrog style. Since the Cataclysm, the people of the Scorched Borderland have never again had the means to enjoy such luxury.
A suite this expensive... Back in the day, only the elite would've had access to a place like this.
You're too kind. I just think that in this one life we get, we should savor every moment, whether sweet or bitter.
Lilith easily uncorks the champagne chilling in the ice bucket, fills a glass with the pale golden liquid for her Bloodsworn, and gives it to you.
Come on, fine wine won't wait. Let's not waste a moment like this.
You ignore the fragrant temptation, instead staying focused on dissecting the contradictions in her behavior.
It's not the secrecy that bothers you. It's the need for an explanation that actually makes sense.
If left unchecked, this tiny seed of doubt will grow into something monstrous, a beast that devours every shred of trust between you—
And the poisonous roots have already begun to spread.
I see you're quite fascinated by my past... Tell you what, while I can't give you a straight answer, I'm happy to share a completely honest story with you.
In this story, I promise to be completely transparent, no secrets, no lies.
Rejected, she downs half the glass herself. The alcohol warms her voice with a pleasant buzz. Nothing pairs better with fine wine than the urge to spill secrets.
What you make of this story, what truths you uncover... well, that's for you to figure out.
Now then, relax. Let's enjoy what you've rightfully earned together.
A second glass appears, pushed to you with quiet determination. This time, you can't think of an excuse to decline.
Now, where shall I begin?
Long, long ago, in the Scorched Borderland, there lived a little girl named Eleanor in a small settlement called Whitehorse.
Eleanor's father was a tax collector appointed by the Sanctuary, tasked with gathering taxes from the people of the town and delivering them to his superiors.
Thanks to the room for error, the family enjoyed a life of considerable comfort.
Little Eleanor didn't grasp the concept of money itself, but she understood it represented power.
All she had to do was flash the bright golden coins, and even as a child, she could instantly earn an adult's respect.
She loved the rush of power that wealth provided, and took equal pleasure in watching those around her fall prey to their own greed.
One day, a distinguished visitor arrived at their home. Her parents sternly warned her to show nothing but absolute respect. This was someone so far beyond their status that even their entire fortune won't buy a moment of respect.
The woman was tall and striking, with bronze skin and an elegant demeanor. If not for her parents' repeated warnings to address her as Madam Raphael, Eleanor never would have guessed this woman wasn't entirely human.
Her parents talked with their guest for the entire afternoon. Eleanor, lurking outside the door, caught only the final exchange—
"Don't let your ambitions grow larger than your abilities."
With that, the woman takes her leave.
When the parlor door swings open, Eleanor darts behind the wall and manages a clumsy greeting.
My lady, I wasn't trying to eavesdrop...
Drop the act. I couldn't care less what you heard.
The famous Archangel doesn't spare Eleanor so much as a glance, utterly unconcerned about her listening.
Like your parents, you've already developed quite the appetite for power at such a young age. I suppose that's the Sinclair curse. Ambition runs in your blood.
But I'm curious to see if you'll break that pattern.
Even as Raphael walks away, she never bothers to actually look at Eleanor.
The question is, are you strong enough to bear the weight of such grand ambitions?
Years later, standing in the woods over her parents' bodies, Lilith remembered those words from Madam Raphael.
Madam Raphael had already revealed the cause of their deaths over a decade ago, but it took Lilith several more lifetimes to truly grasp what those words meant.
By the time she finally caught up to the truth, it no longer mattered.
In the end, her parents died pursuing a fool's dream. They'd spent years trying to claim the key to Mammon's Vault, painstakingly gathering the spell needed to unlock it, and that obsession sealed their fate with the Sanctuary.
Mom, Dad... I'm nothing like you. I refuse to die like some stray dog bleeding out in the gutter.
I'll keep growing until I'm strong enough to claim everything I want.
She'd learned a hard truth: money might buy power, but wielding that power takes far more skill than most people have.
Those who can't make it through society's brutal selection process are destined to be discarded.
I'll climb to the top. All the way to the very top...
Because I'm destined to be the happiest person in all the Scorched Borderland.
She sets out on her journey, silently rehearsing the spell her parents died trying to obtain, the words she'd overheard as a child, burned into her memory.
She set out across the wasteland, threading through fields of crumbling stone and rotting flesh, pushing past ruins choked by dust storms and howling gales, until at last she found her own personal paradise.
She gambles everything she can spare, putting her life on the table for a chance at her goals.
She dances through gunfire and spins of the wheel, finally living the life she always dreamed of.
...So do you understand now? This isn't about picking fights. It's about taking what I need.
I never run from whatever fate throws at me, but if I'm still standing... then I've got another fight left in me.
She empties the last drops from her champagne, having consumed every scrap of food within arm's reach, yet the aching void in her gut refuses to be filled.
The girl leans back against the sofa, feet propped up, one hand placing the empty glass aside while her other fingers lazily wind through her hair.
She yearns for the person before her to answer her desires, or maybe, to be the one who holds her back from the edge.
Gray Raven, do you get it? We've come too far to back down now. If we don't get our hands on that treasure, Raphael will rip us to shreds and feast on what's left.
This was always going to be winner-takes-all from the very beginning.
So why not team up with me? We could be the ones who walk away with everything.
Her silver eyes shimmer with predatory gleam, every word dripping with seductive promise. Anyone else would have already fallen under her spell.
But Gray Raven knows there's far more to Mammon's Treasure than meets the eye.
Why not?
Intrigued but unruffled, she fixes Gray Raven with an expectant look, waiting for you to elaborate.
...Mm, why get bogged down in such tiny details?
Sensing that her current approach isn't working, Lilith quickly changes course.
I'm ready to stand by your side, fight alongside you, share whatever we gain together...
As long as I honor those terms, we remain allies.
She bolts upright, sending champagne and empty bottles tumbling across the table. Before Gray Raven can react, she seizes your hand and presses it firmly against her chest, against the demonic flesh that burns like a forge but will never again know the rhythm of a beating heart.
Bzzt—
Glass clinks and rolls across the floor, the sharp sounds echoing through the tense silence.
If you have any doubts about my loyalty, then go ahead and break our covenant and let me rot back into the corpse I was.
My dear Gray Raven, you've always held all the cards.
Good. I'm pleased we managed to work things out after all.
Lilith lets go of your wrist and takes a few measured steps back.
The burning ambition that had flickered behind her eyes vanishes once again, replaced by the quiet satisfaction of someone who just got exactly what they wanted.
We've got plenty of hard fights ahead of us. After tonight, let's put all our doubts behind us and focus on what we're here for.
She collapses back onto the bed, the velvet covers muffling her voice into something almost tender.
We went through all that trouble to get such a lovely room... Would be a shame not to... yawn... make the most of it...
She went from fierce predator to sleepy kitten in the span of minutes. You can barely keep up with her changing moods, but there's little choice but to roll with whatever version of Lilith you're dealing with.
For the moment at least, you have managed to keep the Demon's hunger in check through careful words, and she's agreed to behave herself around her Bloodsworn.
Nothing else you can do now except keep playing this dangerous game with a Demon.
You grab the extra pillow and blanket from the bed and make yourself comfortable in the armchair.
...
No answer except the gentle rhythm of her breathing fills the quiet room.
You shake your head, dismissing the ridiculous notion, and settle in for the night.
Before the Gates of the City of No Return
The Next Day, Noon
The Next Day, Noon Before the Gates of the City of No Return
Demon territory is always empty. The ravaged earth looks like it's been chewed up and spat out, scarred with countless craters and crumbling stone.
Lilith navigates the treacherous terrain with her Moon Umbrella as a walking stick, moving with such grace she might as well be performing a ballet across the wasteland.
Ever since the previous Mammon vanished, the City of No Return has been completely unguarded. After passing through several abandoned checkpoints, Lilith stops before a massive stone gate that's tightly sealed.
Welcome to the gates of the City of No Return!
Beyond this door lies the treasure vault that haunts every soul's dreams across the Scorched Borderland. It's Mammon's legendary treasure, gateway to hell itself. So tell me, are you ready to witness a miracle?
Lilith spreads her arms in an exaggerated gesture, her words filled with mockery.
Let's make this qui—achoo! Ugh, I can't stand it. Centuries pass, and these Demons still have absolutely no taste!
You pull back your hood, and the familiar stench of blood and rotting flesh immediately fills your nostrils. Apparently, Demons are no more refined than Angels when it comes to their methods.
I'm a Demon, dammit! Why the hell would I associate with those brainless money-grubbers?
Morigan's fur stands on end all over its body. It looks absolutely furious.
Well, look at that! Someone's already volunteering to give us the answers...
The silk canopy and ribs open as the Moon Umbrella blossoms like a flower in mid-air. Dark crimson streams of magic flow from tiny apertures around its edge, weaving intricate patterns across the ground below.
The crimson threads converge with deadly precision on several pale figures emerging from behind the massive stones.
...Click-click...
You see? Madam Raphael was thoughtful enough to arrange a grand welcoming for us.
It would be rude to waste such hospitality, don't you think?
The girl's smile blooms across her face, but the wicked curve of her lips brings to mind a reaper's scythe.
Her blade bites into flesh, blood flowing into the chamber as you take aim at the writhing pale forms scattered across the ground.
Of course, Commandant.
A card brushes against her lips as she cloaks her bloodlust in false hostility, hidden beneath the umbrella's dark veil.
As you wish.
