Naya could still see her fire dying on the floor.
Naya sat alone at the long table, one hand resting against the cooled surface where the flame had erupted moments ago. There was no marks on the walls or elsewhere since the dungeon healed itself thanks to Naya magic.
She hadn't expected anyone to come to this floor tonight. Certainly not the masked girls who had been haunting the lower floor for weeks. Naya had grow used to the weekly noise in the lower halls.
But the human always stop stopped one gate short what had happened tonight, was she so confident in beating Naya or just crazy.
Naya exhaled slowly and poured herself another glass of wine. Her sleeve slid back as she moved, revealing her tattoo that went from shoulder to wrist: black petals.
She had dressed lightly, expecting to just complete some work then goes to sleep not to have to fight today but right now Naya thought was:
So that woman was real, just by the scent Naya could tell that woman had a good magic potential and she had teleported it was a difficult magic to master even Naya didn't master it completly.
Her second thought had been: She looks fragile.
And her third, after the fireball had left her hand: Perhaps I overdid it.
The wine tasted sharp, almost sour. She let it roll over her tongue before swallowing, eyes half-lidded. Across the room, the air still shimmered faintly from residual heat.
A knock at the door interrupted her thoughts. One of the captains entered—Lieutenant Verin, the only one foolish enough to speak freely in her presence.
"The intruder escaped again," he reported.
"I noticed."
"She reached your floor this time."
"I noticed that as well."
He hesitated. "Should we track her? Perhaps set traps in the upper corridors—"
"No." Naya's gaze cut across the room, calm but absolute. "If she wants to play adventurer, let her. The dungeon knows the difference between prey and guest."
"Guest?" Verin echoed, uncertain.
"She hasn't damaged the core, hasn't harmed civilians, and somehow leaves the place cleaner than before." Naya gestured vaguely toward the lower halls. "The rats down there practically wave her through."
Verin frowned. "Some of the troops are beginning to think she's under your protection."
That drew a low, humorless chuckle from Naya. "My protection? She trespassed into my chamber. If that's protection, I'd hate to see rebellion."
Still, the words lingered as the lieutenant bowed and withdrew.
Naya returned to the window overlooking the magma plains. The world outside shifted constantly—lava streams carving new paths, geysers of ash painting the sky in crimson clouds. To most demons, this view was home. To her, it was habit.
She flexed her fingers. The burn of spent magic tingled beneath the skin. That blast had been meant to end the encounter, not obliterate it. But the girl had vanished before the fire touched her. Teleportation required remarkable focus; doing it under that pressure bordered on impossible.
"She doesn't look that strong," Naya murmured. "Or maybe I just didn't give her time to show it."
She remembered the way the intruder had stood—tense but unafraid, light magic shimmering faintly at her heels. The aura had been unmistakably human, yet there was something off about it, a resonance that brushed against Naya's own fire rather than resisting it.
That had been the strangest part. Human light usually repelled demon flame. Hers hadn't.
The dungeon thrummed softly, as if echoing her curiosity. The torches along the wall flared higher, golden edges flickering within the red. Naya frowned. Even the magic of the fortress seemed to remember that brief collision of powers.
"Ridiculous," she muttered, pushing away from the window. "A human intruder shouldn't interest me."