The Hollow Sovereign and the Council of Vessels

(Splash!)

After stepping out of the bath and contemplating that soulless body, the man stretched his limbs.

"Ahhh...! Phew~"

After recalling the past and seeing no other choice, he decided that, to avoid any accidents, it was best to remain inside Galadriel's body, even while sleeping.

"Galadriel, now you are inseparable from me."

Immediately after, he brought his lips close to the motionless figure of the elven queen...

(Mwah~)

Giving her a soft kiss on the lips.

"Without me, your body would also die~ You should thank me for filling you as my shell."

Consumed by the stress and the obligations of the monarch, the man’s sanity had been eroding with each passing day, reaching the point where he had fallen in love with the hollow body of the former elven queen, whom he now considered his true love.

(Sshhhhh—!)

The man then re-entered the queen's body through the opening from which he had emerged, causing the previously deflated body to swell back to its full form.

(Ssssst...!)

With almost surgical precision, the man aligned his feet with the hidden opening in the queen's thigh and inserted his limbs.

"Perfect... it fits like a glove."

Instantly, the elastic muscles of the inner part of Galadriel's thigh enveloped him with a moist and soft warmth. Galadriel's joints were connected by the threads of an organic marionette: vines from the Elven Mother Tree, thin but incredibly strong, upon which the queen's own nerves were entwined. When tensioned, these fibers became as fine as silk threads, but thanks to the sap of the Mother Tree, the miracle occurred upon contact.

(Bzzzt...!)

The moment the man's toes brushed against the marionette's strings, Galadriel's nerves automatically fused with his skin in a perfect symbiosis.

"This is incredible... I can feel everything."

This discovery had simplified the operation, deleting the hassle of manually fixing the strings.

"It’s as if her feet were truly my own."

After securing the first foot, he repeated the process with the other, feeling the nerve connection stabilize.

(Plaf...!)

Due to the volume of his ankles, Galadriel's thighs protruded slightly from the back, creating a small irregularity in the elf's divine anatomy.

"Oh... what am I saying...? We are one!"

However, unless someone knew beforehand the secret hidden within the queen's body, no one would ever notice it.

"No one but me will ever behold such an intimate part of the Queen... You are for my eyes only, Galadriel."

With total control established, the man gave the mental command to stand up.

(CRA-ACK! CLACK!)

Under his command, Galadriel’s body rose slowly from the bed, while her bones and joints creaked as they regained tension, restoring the imposing stature of the elven sovereign.

(Ssssh...!)

But soon, the friction sounds vanished, and the man was able to move the Elven Queen’s legs with smoothness.

"....."

Under his absolute control, he watched with disturbing fascination as Galadriel’s legs slowly spread, revealing the dark forest hidden within.

"Mmm... no problems."

The toes moved with astonishing flexibility.

"The connection is perfect."

Then, he dropped himself onto the shell’s pelvis, causing the queen’s entire body to tremble at the impact.

(Ba-dump!)

And a moment later, the Elven Queen raised the upper part of her body in a trembling fashion.

"....."

It was a dantesque image: her eyes were lifeless, her hands hung limp, and a human head protruded grotesquely from her back.

"Right... time for bed; I have an important visitor tomorrow."

Nevertheless, with feverish enthusiasm, the man began to align his arms and legs with those of the vessel, moving his limbs with agility until the fit was complete.

"Goodnight, my sweet Galadriel~"

Nodding with total satisfaction as he felt control over that perfect body, he caressed his face in front of the mirror. Uttering words in a feverish voice, she...

(Snap!)

With a snap of his fingers, he made an outfit appear magically upon the sovereign’s body.

"Sleep well, my beloved~"

Answering himself while playing the role of the elven queen, she—now wearing, unlike the imposing ceremonial robes of the day, a loose gown of pure white silk and simple ankle-high silk boots—looked like a lily about to bloom in the darkness of the suite.

(Tap, tap, tap, tap—)

In the room illuminated by the luxurious chandelier, the soft white silk boots made hardly a sound against the marble.

"... Seriously... what am I doing...?"

Dressed in that milky silk adorned with golden thread, its light hem swaying rhythmically, the Elven Queen began to move with a divine grace that concealed the monstrosity she carried within.

"No matter how much I hide... that gaze does not go away."

In the twilight of the royal suite, the Elven Queen lay in her bed, but rest was a chimera.

"Do not worry, darling; I am yours and you are mine~"

Save for the glimmers of her exposed skin beneath the moonlight, the silence of the room felt heavy. It seemed as if a pair of invisible eyes observed her from the darkness of the night, stalking the secret that pulsed beneath her flesh.

"... Yes... You are right... My sweet Galadriel..."

Caught in the limbo between sleep and wakefulness, the man’s memories were dragged back once more to that fateful moment where his humanity was lost forever, as he fell into a deep sleep.

(SPLASH!)

In his vision, he saw himself hidden within the abdomen of the dying monarch when Galadriel’s body was pitilessly cast into a subterranean spring.

"The natural power of the spring should revitalize her, my Queen..."

The water was not crystalline, but a thick soup of ancient energy and magical sediments.

(What is this...? I can't breathe!)

In the depths of that liquid abyss, the man bore witness to a nameless horror.

(... N-no... Get away...!)

Hundreds of roots from the Mother Tree, hungry for life, detected the royal vessel and lunged toward it.

(Crr-ack! Gulp!)

The roots did not merely surround the body; they violently entered through the queen's open wounds.

"¡¿?!"

Back then, the man felt panic surge through his spine as those plant fibers, resembling wooden tentacles, forced their way through the interior of the corpse, devouring useless organs and replacing them with their own elastic structure.

(Wheeze!)

The roots fused with Galadriel's nerves, weaving a web of silk threads that connected every joint.

(Gub-glub...!)

Submerged in the viscous fluid of the spring, the man felt the walls of Galadriel's abdomen contract.

(Stop, stop, stop, stop, stop, stop, stop, stop, stop, stop, stop, stop, stop, stop, stop...)

It was not a death spasm, but the beginning of a violent metamorphosis.

(I'm in here...! Please!!)

The roots of the Mother Tree, driven by a millennial will, detected the void of life and lunged to claim the royal vessel in an attempt to infuse more life.

(Crr-ack! Hiss!)

First, the finest roots, thin as glass capillaries, penetrated through the queen's pores and combat wounds.

"¡¡!!"

Crouched in the center of that torso, the man watched in horror as these white fibers began to devour the remaining internal organs. The liver, kidneys, and intestines were dissolved by natural acids, transforming into a nutrient biomass that the roots absorbed to strengthen themselves.

(She is... they are eating her from the inside!)

The sound was unbearable: a constant splashing of organic matter being restructured.

(GET ME OUT!!)

In place of viscera, the roots began to weave a complex scaffolding. They created a system of flexible wooden pulleys and silk tendons that anchored themselves directly to Galadriel’s spine.

(TIGHTEN! SNAP!)

At the same time, the elf’s original nerves, stripped of their biological function, were "peeled" and wrapped around the fibers of the Mother Tree.

(Please...! I shouldn't be here!!)

The man saw how his own space within the body widened; the roots pushed the ribcage outward, creating a reinforced cavity—a cockpit specifically designed so that a "pilot" could fit without damaging the external structure.

(Fshhhhh—!)

At that moment, the golden sap flooded the interior, acting as both a lubricant and an electrical conductor.

(I can see... I can feel the water outside...)

When the roots reached the queen's eyes, they pierced the eyeballs from behind, connecting the optic nerves to the "strings" that reached the man's hands.

(... Through her.)

The final process was the most invasive.

(... That day... I was afraid...)

The roots intertwined with the man's own skin, creating silken threads.

(No one heard my voice...)

Galadriel's skin, previously pale from death, regained a pearlescent glow as the sap began to pump through her veins instead of blood.

(... It was painful.)

She was no longer a corpse; she was a biological artifact of imperial level.

(Ba-dump!)

When the last thread tightened, the Elven Queen's body gave a violent spasm, and her lungs—now converted into bellows of vegetable fiber—inhaled their first breath of humid air.

(I ceased to be me.)

The man and the queen were now a single entity.

(SPLASH!)

Thus, the figure of the queen emerged from the water...

"YOUR MAJESTY!"

A scream tore through the silence of the spring as a slender figure lunged into the water.

"Are you alright, Your Majesty?!"

It was a high-ranking elf of sharp, aristocratic beauty, her silver hair floating like moonlight threads upon the surface.

"She is trembling..."

With an expression of anguish etched into her perfect features, she firmly gripped Galadriel’s shoulders just as the queen surfaced from the depths.

"Haaa...! Haaa...! Haaa...!"

But the Elven Queen, panting violently with her amber eyes wide and fixed on nothingness, had no room to even look at her.

(At that moment, I was terrified...)

Her lungs of vegetable fiber inhaled the air with supernatural force, causing her chest to rise and fall in an erratic rhythm.

(... I was paralyzed.)

The spring water, mixed with traces of golden sap, slid down her pearlescent skin, giving her a spectral appearance under the cavern's filtered light.

"Bring the ceremonial garments! Quick! Warm silk blankets, now!"

Seeing her monarch’s state, the silver-haired elf commanded the other handmaidens waiting in the shadows of the stalactites...

"""As you command!!"""

Noticing how the sovereign's body vibrated with alarming intensity, they acted immediately.

"Calm down, my lady... you are safe."

However, the elf could not have been more wrong.

(Tremble... tremble...!)

The Queen, who now remained on her knees upon the damp stone, did not tremble from the icy embrace of the water, but from the purest terror a human being could experience.

(... Somewhere... I knew it...)

Inside that "case" of divine flesh, the man felt like an intruder trapped in the engine of a war machine.

(I am not her... I am not her...)

His own teeth chattered against Galadriel's palate as he felt the internal roots tighten to support his weight.

(... I knew that those words...)

Every worried glance from the elves was a stab of fear: a single mistake, a single out-of-place human gesture, and those creatures would tear him apart right then and there.

(... Were something I was not allowed to say.)

The thought repeated like a mantra in the back of his mind, while the hands of the handmaidens began to cover his naked body with precious fabrics.

(Now... I am Galadriel... and Galadriel is me...)

The authentic Galadriel had vanished, and what remained was an impostor trembling with panic, disguised in the skin of a goddess the entire world worshipped.

"Aaaaaaahh!!"

And so, the Elven Queen bolted upright in her silk bed, her chest heaving and her gaze lost in the golden rays filtering through the royal suite’s windows.

"Haaa...! Haaa...!"

Cold sweat soaked the fine silk gown, clinging to Galadriel’s pearlescent skin.

"It was only... only a dream," she whispered between gasps, as her mind tried to anchor itself in the reality of the present. However, the echo of the roots and the spring water still vibrated in her joints.

"I cannot afford to falter now." It wasn't just a memory; it was the mark of her origin as a flesh marionette. "Today is the day."

Attempting to regain her composure, the "Queen" recalled the events that had led her to this point.

"Today, I will get answers..."

Before the official audience with the monarch of the Holy Kingdom, an "oracle" of mysterious origin—yet possessing an authority that allowed no rebuttal—had summoned her to a private chamber in the Great Golden Cathedral.

"We can do this... right, Galadriel...?"

Opening her eyes slightly, Galadriel accepted her fate.

"Of course, darling~"

She knew she couldn't refuse a call that seemed to resonate directly within the silk threads holding her body together.

(CLACK! CLACK!)

Finally, upon arriving at the rendezvous, the deathly silence was broken by the sound of her own boots against the marble.

(Were others summoned as well...?)

But she was not alone.

(... No one here seems ordinary.)

In front of her, four other figures waited in a formation that exuded an almost unbearable pressure.

"It seems many beauties have gathered."

To the left, the witch Noelle Nostrade stood with lascivious confidence. Her figure was imposing; her generous bust defied the seams of her dark robes, while her wide hips and firm thighs gave her an air of dangerous fertility. However, her hazel eyes sparkled with a vulgar mischief that did not belong to the scholar the world knew.

"Acting like a saint is exhaust—ouch! I mean... it is a beautiful morning... hohoho~!"

Beside her, the Saint Tsarina looked like a sixteen-year-old porcelain doll. Her long blue hair fell over her petite shoulders, and her white robe highlighted a purity that contrasted violently with the rough way she scratched her neck, showing a lack of manners unfitting for a saint.

"...Asmodeus... I don't think I should be here..."

Beyond them, Saint Pamela—inhabited by Linker’s spirit—stood rigid. Her beauty was blonde and divine, with an invisible biomechanical corset accentuating an incredibly thin waist and perfectly formed breasts.

"...."

Finally, young Lionel adjusted his white headband. Unlike the others, he did not wear sacred finery but his chef’s attire, his amber eyes fixed on the group.

"Welcome, everyone~!"

And so, there, before the high command, they met in the council chamber...

"Mmm... a male soul in a divine case. You have a... spicy rhythm~. Welcome to the group, little Saint."

With a fallen goddess.