Vol. 2 Chapter 83: Games

The queen's eyes scrutinize each of us, her expression unchanged, yet we can feel the intensity of her gaze. It's as if she's looking through us, seeing the very essence of our beings. The atmosphere in the hall grows heavy and unnerving, and I sense the tension rising among my companions.

"Welcome, my guests," she speaks aloud, her voice resounding throughout the hall so that even my companions, who have stayed back, can hear. Her eyes are now a brilliant shade of violet, and I can't help but feel as though I'm in the presence of a semi-divine being.

"I am Azharie Loree’Nahil, the absolute Queen of the Underealm, Mother of the Spiders and ruler over the dark elves. Few humans have had the honor of being in my presence. Even fewer have survived," she introduces herself with an energetic tone befitting a queen.

Still forced into a kneeling position, despite all my efforts to stand, I remain immobilized. "You already know who I am. Why did you want to meet me?" I ask, trying to keep my voice steady despite the pressure I feel.

I raise my gaze to meet hers and, to my great surprise, I see emotions flicker across her iridescent eyes—a hint of curiosity, a touch of amusement, and a glimmer of danger.

"Strauss Wagner, you are Raqahela's new puppet, an enemy of Barthomefolus," she responds, her tone leaving no room for doubt. Her voice is lower, as if she doesn't want those who are left behind to hear what she's saying. These words are meant only for me. This mention of the demons implies that behind the queen is the enigmatic Barthomefolus, and Raqahela's warning is now becoming a tangible danger.

"So you don't know me. I'm nobody's puppet," I retort, but her response is a laugh that fills the room.

Her laughter instills in me a strong sense of discomfort.

"I like your defiant eyes. I can't decide whether to gouge them out or turn you into my plaything." There's no bravado in her tone. Her voice conveys absolute certainty in her ability to carry out her threats.

"Anyone who has underestimated me has deeply regretted it," I threaten her. Until now, it's been true, but I've never faced an opponent of Azharie's caliber.

The queen laughs again, clearly amused.

"Rise!" she commands in a deep voice, a regal tone that cannot be ignored.

Once again, the effect of the spell forces me to stand. All of this is damn frustrating. Being treated like a puppet is infuriating. How can I defend myself against this power? I can't keep being at the mercy of the queen's power. She smiles, seeing me so helpless, as if she could read my thoughts. I hope she doesn't possess this ability, but being bound to a demon, she could very well have this power.

Now that I'm standing, I notice the queen is holding a crystal hourglass. Inside, there appears to be what looks like sand, but it sparkles as if it were silver glitter. The queen's right hand slowly lifts the hourglass, as if she wants to show it to me.

Time seems to have stopped as the queen gazes at the hourglass with a look of pure concentration. The sand falls very slowly, as if it's not indicating the usual passage of time but instead is a timer for something else.

"Strauss Wagner, you are ignorant. Like most humans, you are unaware. Dimensions collide, devouring each other. This is the nature of things. The endless hunger. And I fully embody this hunger."

Her words are cryptic and I don't immediately grasp their meaning, but I sense they are meant to explain why I am here before her.

"When the sand in this hourglass has all fallen to the bottom, everything in your world within the range of the rifts will become part of the Underealm," she explains, giving meaning to the hourglass she shows me.

This revelation surprises me. I've never heard of this before. I've read various books on the subject and I still remember the lessons on dungeons I attended at the academy. The queen laughs at my confused expression.

"You don't know this game? This is the game in which no dimension can exempt itself. The rules are simple." The queen gestures to the Elfrider. The servant rises and promptly brings her a silver tray with a sphere about the size of a tennis ball on it. It looks like a magicore, but its colors are different from any magicore I've ever seen. The color oscillates between gold, purplish, silver, and bluish tints. The sphere almost resembles a planet, a gas giant, indeed floating as if not bound by gravity, and on its surface are ripples with shades like clouds, continuously moving, changing shape and color.

"This is the dungeon core of our invasion. Destroying it would close the rifts," she explains while observing the sphere. "See? The rules are simple."

So, that is a dungeon core. It's the first time I've seen one. According to what I've studied, they are usually dropped by the bosses of conventional dungeons.

"Do I need to defeat you to obtain it?" I ask for confirmation.

The queen can't help but laugh. "Impossible! You could never defeat me. We are on two different planets. How old are you? Counting both your lives?"

Does she even know this about me? The fact that I've transmigrated? How does she have all this information?

"I've been playing this game for a few hundred years, Strauss Wagner. There's no competition."

She looks down at me with an amused smile.

"I assume you didn't want to talk to me just to make fun of me." If I really can't compete with her, why invite me to her palace and talk to me? She could simply crush me with her power.

"My whims know no limits, nor am I interested in imposing them. Do you know how high-level demons resolve their disputes?" she asks. Now her eyes are as white as snow.

"Enlighten me." I urge her to continue.

"High-level demons avoid direct confrontations because that would cause cataclysms. No one would truly emerge victorious, the damage suffered by both parties would be greater than the gain. Therefore, they resolve disputes with a game and a contract. We solve the game of dimensions with another game! A game within a game." Azharie smiles, evidently amused by the idea.

"So that's what that filthy abominable being Barthomefolus is aiming for," Raqahela comments telepathically. Only now, as I'm in the jaws of the black widow, does she make herself heard to point out the obvious. If I had had this information earlier, perhaps I could have prepared better. Knowledge is power, and at this moment, I am devoid of it.

"I know you have Servants, and I have them too," she says, gesturing towards the seven seated around her. "In the Demonic Game of Death, Masters have their Servants fight against the Servants of other Masters."

Is this what she means by a game?

"Why go to such lengths?" I fail to understand why she needs to set up such a competition. She just needs to wait for the hourglass to run out, and the human territory will be added to her realm.

"Because I desire you, Strauss Wagner! But you belong to Raqahela's faction and I cannot confront you directly due to what I told you. The only way is through the game."

She desires me? "What are the conditions?"

"If I win, you will enter into a Master-Servant contract with me. You will become my eighth leg."

She really wants me. But this doesn't make much sense from a practical standpoint. I'm only an F-rank Venture. "In a way, I’m honored, but I'm quite weak by nature. What’s the point?"

"The world is my feast, and I will consume everything I desire. First of all, it would be a humiliation for Raqahela, and Barthomefolus would very much enjoy that. But the main reason is that I collect special beings. You can create curses. I can use curses but only those I have learned, whereas you can create them. I want that power," she responds sincerely, and everything begins to make sense.She even knows that I possess this ability. It is as if her eyes can see everything about me.

But these information are useful. She has access to demonic magic but cannot create curses like I do, yet it's clear she can create contracts and who knows what other powers she hides. If I were her servant, she could use the [SHARE SKILL] ability and use my [CURSE MAKER] ability.

Azharie shares several things in common with me. One of these is that she also wants everything. I can see in her ever-changing eyes a constant desire for something more.

"If I win?"

Azharie laughs. "It won’t happen. That’s why you can set any condition."

She underestimates me. It’s not arrogance, but complete confidence in her power and her Servants. The situation looks bleak, but being underestimated gives me an advantage.

"If I win, you will enter into a contract with me. Additionally, I want the magical equipment of your Servants, the dungeon core, and the liberation of the hostages." I haven’t yet decided how to deal with the prisoners, but for now, I’ll try to save them and then assess whether to eliminate them or play the role of the hero who saved the academy in the dungeon. Both solutions could bring me advantages, so it's better to keep all doors open as long as possible.

"Is that all? You’re not hungry enough," she responds, laughing at my proposal.

"You’re right, I wanted to see how far you would go. I’ve changed my mind, if I win, I want everything you own, including your life and your soul," I say with a malevolent smile. This is like going all in at roulette.

"Very well, I accept your conditions!" exclaims the queen, pleased. "Know that the penalty for defeat in the Demonic Game of Death is the death of all the Servants of the defeated Master," she warns me with a diabolical expression.

"The souls of the defeated Servants become [CORRUPTION POINTS] that are added to the winner’s prize," Raqahela adds, confirming the rules of the game.

My blood runs cold at this information, and I am shaken. I should have anticipated this. I turn to look at my women who have been left behind about ten meters away.

From that distance, they couldn't have heard much of what we said. Their expression is curious. My women become worried when they see that I am not calm and lack my usual confidence.

In this deadly game, if I lose, I myself will become a Servant and will be enslaved by the queen of the dark elves. But that's not the worst part. If I lose, the women I love and have so painstakingly enslaved will die. If I win, Azharie would become my Servant, and I would gain infinite riches. She is very sure of not losing and therefore is willing to grant me any condition. I don't know her powers, nor those of her Servants. I don't have enough information. It’s a shot in the dark, and I don't like to gamble.

Can I risk the lives of what I hold most precious?