Darkness.
And silence... the only things that remained in the room.
Within that still, suffocating void, a figure lay sprawled on the ground—
Black veins twisting grotesquely across her skin, a sight as revolting as it was tragic.
A peak Viscount-rank demon—
Dead.
Just like that.
[System Notification]
Skill • Blood Memory has been activated.
Skill • Blood Assimilation has been activated.
***
Eyla Varnes of House Ildareth was born of noble blood—a minor branch of the Pride Clan, known not for power but for legacy.
Her family carried the ancient sigil of the lion with two horns, their lineage steeped in dignity and discipline.
But when her house fell to ruin in a border war, their lands were taken, their name stripped of status, and their blood diluted in the eyes of the higher clans.
But blood never forgets.
She was only twelve when she lost her everything and stepped into servitude.
Not out of loyalty—but necessity.
The Pride Clan took her in out of obligation, branding her as a fallen noble.
They handed her a mop instead of a sword. Silence instead of training.
But Eyla didn't complain.
She endured it all and use that pain to grow.
Unlike others blessed with talent or backing, Eyla clawed her way up through sheer cunning.
She never fought to stand out—but she always knew when to kneel, when to flatter, and when to strike from the shadows.
And so, rank by rank, she rose. Lesser servants feared her.
Even minor nobles avoided crossing her.
By thirty, she had become a Peak Viscount—not through battle, but through calculated ambition.
And that's when she saw him.
The prince. The heir of the Demon King. Tall, ethereal, and born with a charm that bent even the proud to his will.
Eyla fell for him the moment she saw him.
She wasn't delusional—she knew her place. But a part of her believed,
'If my house hadn't fallen… if my rank were higher… perhaps I could've stood beside him.'
She knew all to well how absurd her thought was...
Yet, she didn't give up.
A close friend of hers worked in the royal palace.
Pulling Favors, trading secrets, and bartering her future, Eyla finally got her transfer approved.
She would serve in the Demon King's inner castle. And perhaps—just perhaps—she could serve the prince himself.
But fate, cruel as ever, laughed in her face.
She was assigned not to the prince, but to the princess.
It's only something she know after joining...it was the rule of demon castle... If the prince or princess has awakened their mana....
Then they will be assigned a personal servant of at least a count rank...
So, she was assigned to the princess...
The princess was quite cute and even prince love her dearly so she makes sure she became closer with her and she serve her with all her heart... just so the prince notices her...
But soon thing turn the worse turn.
The princess also awaken her mana at the age of 10… she was happy for her but it was then the head butler told her she can no longer serve her...
The princess who was comfortable with her old servant didn't want the new one...
Eyla also tried to explain the head butler that she is at the peak of viscounts rank and in 5 to 6 year she will be able to reach the count rank...
But the head butler refuse saying it's a rule....
Thus, the princess was given a proper Count-ranked attendant, Eyla was demoted to care for that adopted slut of the demon king castle.
The bastard child...
A girl born of the unknown origin. A half-demon. A nobody.
"How could I—of Pride blood—be forced to serve her?"
Eyla tried to remain composed.
She was too smart to lash out.
Too close to her goal to break character.
So she accepted her new role as the escort of that half demon...
But every time she walked through the halls beside that girl… every time she saw the prince's cold gaze sweep past her, only to land with contempt on the half-breed standing behind her...
It burned.
She told herself it wasn't meant for her. That the disgust was for the girl, not for her. But even then—it cut deep.
The girl, the half-breed… the adopted daughter of the Demon King, acted exactly as Eyla expected.
Arrogant. Bitter. Always picking fights with the princess, always trying to match herself with royalty—
Pathetic.
Even though she was pretty and has same hair colour as the prince and princess, anyone with eyes could see the difference.
She wasn't like them.
Not in aura, not in presence, not in blood.
She wasn't even a Nobel.
In Truth she was dirtier than a commoner...
Because of this Eyla wanted nothing to do with her.
All she wanted to stay quietly in the castle and become a count so she can serve the prince.
So she did her job.
Polite.
Silent.
Efficient.
Then every night, she trained in secret, feeding her mana core, pushing herself closer to the Count rank.
She had almost touched it. Just a bit more. If she broke through, they'd have no excuse—they had to reassign her.
Maybe even to the prince.
Even the princess was bearable.
But this girl?
This dirty half-blood?
Eyla could hardly breathe the same air without her pride recoiling.
Then came the day it all went wrong.
She was cleaning the girl's room, sweeping near the vanity when her hand slipped.
The vase tipped over and shattered, crimson-hued moonblossoms spilling across the marble floor.
"..."
The room fell silent.
Eyla turned; eyes already lowered. "My apologies, Lady Rie. I—"
Rie scoffed, cutting her off "Are you blind or just useless? Do you even know how much that vase costs? That's more than your entire family's worth."
She stepped closer, voice dripping with spoiled venom. "Maybe if you worked with your eyes open instead of your mouth, you wouldn't be such a disgrace."
Eyla's face contorted in anger at mention of her family but she control herself .
She bowed deeper, voice measured. "Please forgive me my lady, It won't happen again."
But before she could stand— Slap.
The sound echoed like a dagger in a quiet hall.
Eyla's head jerked sideways, the sting burning across her cheek.
Her eyes widened—not in pain, but pure disbelief.
She turned slowly, touching her face.
Had she…?
Did this half-breed just Slap her?
Her?
How dare she?
Her vision blurred with rage.
Her blood—the blood of House Ildareth, a noble line born of Pride itself—boiled.
She gritted her teeth, voice trembling.
"You dare... hit me?"
Her mana surged.
Not enough to burn the walls—but enough to shake the floor.
Enough to let the girl feel it.
Rie gasped.
She fell back onto the floor, eyes wide with terror as she looked at her with fear
Eyla stood over her, breathing heavily, her hand still outstretched.
The girl was only twelve.
Unawaken.
Defenseless.
Just a half-demon brat raised under a false title.
If she wanted to, she can kill her with a flick of her finger...
Her anger was surging but it soon calms down like a boiled water ...
Eyla's logic returned for a second.
Her fingers trembled as she pulled her mana back.
What am I doing? If the head butler found out—if the prince heard—she'd lose everything.
Her position, her future, her path to the prince.
She stepped back.
Ready to apologize.
But then— She saw it.
The fear.
The tears trembling in those red eyes.
Something in her clicked.
It wasn't pity.
It was satisfaction.
The girl who always carried herself so smugly... the half-blood who walked beside the prince as if she belonged there...
Was now kneeling on the floor, clutching her throat, looking up at Eyla like a scared animal.
For the first time in years, Eyla smiled.
A slow, creeping smile. Not out of amusement.
Out of control.
Out of dominion.
Out of pride.