The last floor smelled wrong.
Not a monster wrong.
More like…
someone important had already shown up.
Then I heard it—
BAM! CRACK! DOOM!
Stone screamed.
Something heavy hit the wall, hit the floor, hit reality.
“WHERE THE HELL IS HE?!” a woman’s voice detonated through the chamber. “THIS DAMN TROLL—MOVE!”
Bella went quiet so fast it scared me.
“Oh,” she said, deadpan. “…It’s her.”
I stepped out of the doorway.
And there she was.
Lady Jubeeca.
She looked like a battle given a woman’s body—armor scratched, hair messy from violence, shoulders bare, and knuckles red from whatever poor thing she had already beaten half to death. Knuckles red like she’d been signing autographs with violence.
In front of her was the last boss:
a Giant Troll—
taller than two men stacked, body like a cliff, arms like pillars. It had a broken column in its hands and a mouth full of teeth meant for demons like me.
It roared.
Jubeeca didn’t flinch.
She rolled her neck like she was annoyed that the universe required effort.
“Get up,” she told it—calm. Dangerous. Like a nurse telling you to breathe while you’re flatlining. “Don’t make me look bad.”
The Troll swung the column down.
Jubeeca stepped inside the impact like she was walking through rain.
BAM.
Her fist hit the Troll’s ribs and the aftershock slapped the room. Dust peeled off the ceiling like it couldn’t handle her attitude.
The Troll stumbled.
Jubeeca sighed—
actually sighed—
like it was wasting her time.
“Do you know how far I had to walk for this?” she muttered, then drove a second punch into its stomach.
BAM!
The Troll gagged and coughed up thick purple miasma like smoke from a dying furnace.
Jubeeca smiled.
Not sweet.
Not kind.
The kind of smile that makes you understand why demons kneel.
“Ohhh… there it is,” she said, eyes bright. “Now we’re getting honest.”
The Troll tried to back up.
Jubeeca didn’t let it.
She grabbed its jaw with one hand—like the Troll was a misbehaving dog—and yanked its head down.
Then she kneed it.
BOOM.
The Troll’s eyes crossed.
Jubeeca followed with a straight punch to the throat.
CRACK.
It dropped to one knee.
I watched her beat it down with a rhythm like she invented the word discipline. No fancy spells. No glowing sword. Just pure Jubeeca—brute power, cruel timing, and perfect form like she wanted the crowd to learn something.
Then she finally noticed me.
Her head turned.
Her eyes locked on mine.
And the temperature changed.
“Oh,” she said, voice smoothing into something almost affectionate. “There you are.”
The Troll tried to rise again—
stubborn, stupid.
Jubeeca looked at it like it had interrupted a date.
“Tch.”
She planted her foot on its chest, leaned down, and whispered loud enough for everyone—including me—to hear:
“Stay down.”
Then she punched it in the face so hard the Troll’s head snapped sideways and the floor shuddered like it flinched.
BAM.
The Giant Troll collapsed.
Not dramatic.
Just… finished.
Its body hit the ground with a quake.
And then the worst part started.
The corpse didn’t turn to ash.
It melted into miasma—thick, choking purple-black fog that crawled across the floor and rose up like a wall. It rolled toward the exit like it was trying to seal the Pit behind it.
Like a coffin lid sealing shut.
Jubeeca clicked her tongue.
“Miasma. Of course. That stuff is going to be a pain in the ass,” she muttered.
Bella floated closer, eyes narrowed.
“Place him near it.”
Jubeeca shot her a look so lethal it could’ve been an Arena Skill.
“Are you mad?”
“Trust me,” Bella said, smug. “Just do it.”
Jubeeca looked back at me—really looked.
“You better not die on me,” she said softly, like it was a threat. “I didn’t come all this way for nothing.”
Then she grabbed me before my legs betrayed me and dragged me right to the edge of the miasma wall.
Her hand around my arm was iron.
Her body heat was—
unfair.
She set me down like she was placing a weapon on a table.
“Alright,” she said, exhaling. “Now what?”
Bella’s grin sharpened.
“Watch.”
Even half-dead, my body reacted.
My Hellcore thumped once—
low and hungry.
And I inhaled.
The miasma wall collapsed inward like it was being pulled into a black hole—rushing into my lungs, burning like poison and power at the same time.
Jubeeca’s eyebrows lifted.
“…What the hell,” she breathed.
Bella laughed.
“Yep. That’s my boy.”
The miasma thinned.
Then cleared.
The exit appeared again—
open, cold, waiting.
I pushed myself up—
shaking, but standing.
Finally,
Freedom.
I looked at Jubeeca, throat raw.
“Hey… thanks for killing that thing. I’ll pay you back when I can.”
I turned toward the exit.
Bella drifted behind me.
Then—
Jubeeca’s hand closed around my right arm like a cuff.
“We’re not done here yet,” she said.
Her smile returned.
Slow.
Possessive.
“Not even close.”
I tried to pull free.
Bad idea.
It was like trying to argue with a wall.
“Enough games,” I said, voice low. “I need to see the King.”
Her eyes narrowed, amused.
“Listen to you.”
Then her voice dropped—
thunder with lipstick.
“Second Prince Soren. Rightful heir to the Demon King’s throne…”
She leaned closer.
“And my husband-to-be.”
Bella made a choking sound.
“Oh—she’s doing the formal voice.”
Jubeeca lifted her chin, loud enough for the whole gate to hear.
“I hereby call for a mock battle. If you win, I’ll take you to the Demon King himself.”
Her smile turned sweeter.
“If you lose… you will comply.”
“I’m not fighting you,” I snapped. “I did my share of fighting already. I’m tired. Back off.”
She laughed once.
Short.
Mean.
“Ha. No.”
Me and Bella at the same time:
“…No?”
Aisha’s voice cut in like a courtroom gavel.
“MOCK BATTLE SANCTIONED. STARTING SHORTLY.”
I whipped my head toward the air.
“WAIT—AISHA, WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING?!”
“Under the command of Lady Jubeeca,” Aisha replied, perfectly calm, “this duel is authorized. Fighters, prepare for battle.”
“DAMMIT TO HELL!”
Bella floated to my shoulder.
“You got no other way out, big guy. Let’s show her how we got out of the Pit.”
I clenched my teeth.
…Fine.
I raised my hands.
“WE ACCEPT.”
[ARENA HUD — LIVE]
SOREN — HP: [████████??] 80%
WRATH: [██████????] 60%
HELLCORE: READY (Trigger ≤ 25%)
JUBEECA — HP: [██████████] 100%
Lady Lucy—Jubeeca’s mother—stood at the side with thick documents in her arms, face pinched like she already regretted every decision that led her here.
“Do you always have to do it this way?!” Lucy hissed. “At least talk to him!”
Jubeeca didn’t even look away from me.
“Mother, you fail to understand the man standing in front of me.”
Her gaze dragged over my bruises, my scars, my stance—like she was reading a weapon label.
“This is the Second Prince. His brother died trying to be friendly with me.”
Lucy flinched.
“And you think that won’t leave regret?”
I spoke before I could stop myself.
“I barely knew the guy.”
Jubeeca smiled wider.
“Exactly.”
The ground vibrated under her feet.
Pressure rolled off her like a storm choosing violence.
“Ooo,” she purred. “Usually people kneel when they feel my aura.”
I didn’t.
I widened my stance.
Hands up.
Feet apart.
Pit posture.
Jubeeca’s eyes gleamed.
“Hmmm.”
Aisha’s voice dropped the verdict.
“START.”
She moved.
Not fast.
Unfair.
Jubeeca was in front of me before my brain finished blinking. Her right hook came in like a guillotine.
I blocked with my forearm and stepped in close, shoulder-to-shoulder.
“If you wanted to dance,” I muttered, “you should’ve just asked.”
Jubeeca’s lips curled.
“Cheeky.”
She kicked my chest—clean, brutal—launching me back a step, then followed with a side kick.
Her heel came in again—
fast, sharp, meant to fold my ribs.
I didn’t back up.
I stepped in.
I caught her leg with my right arm, hugged it tight to my chest, and my left hand slid up to her waist like it was an embrace—like we were about to slow dance in a war zone.
For half a second, she looked excited.
If you spot this narrative on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.
So I used it.
I dipped my shoulder under her center of gravity, pulled her in close, and turned my hips—
A clean, nasty little throw.
Not a slam.
A flip.
Her body lifted like gravity forgot whose side it was on.
WHOOM—
She rotated over me, and I guided her down just enough to keep her from landing clean.
BOOM!
She hit the stone on her back and rolled once, boots scraping.
I landed on my feet still holding her—
still too close—
like I’d just spun my wife at a ballroom.
Bella’s voice popped off, shocked.
“BRO—YOU JUST—”
Jubeeca blinked up at me, grinning like I’d finally spoken her language.
“Good,” she purred. “Do that again.”
Lucy stared like she couldn’t compute it.
“This man is making my daughter look like an actual—”
Jubeeca stopped mid-swing.
Her smile died.
Cold.
“You fit what I expected,” she said softly. “So sign the contract.”
“No,” I said bluntly.
Jubeeca looked past me.
“Mother, prepare the forced blood pact. I’ll be done shortly.”
I laughed through my teeth.
“Shortly, huh—”
A fist hit my gut.
It wasn’t a punch.
It was a collapse.
My body folded like paper.
Jubeeca leaned close, whispering into my ear like she owned the sound.
“Take me seriously now, yeah?”
I hit one knee.
And it pissed me off.
WRATH: 60% → 88% → 100%
Flame crawled up my arms. My horns felt heavier. My muscles tightened like my bones remembered what hate was for.
“Jubeeca…” I breathed. “You are the last person I want to use this against.”
Her eyes shined.
“Then don’t hold back.”
I moved.
I kicked her in the gut—
clean, brutal—
so she could feel what I felt.
Jubeeca dropped to one knee, coughing—surprised for the first time in her life.
Then I went low—
fast—
and swept.
She fell back onto the ground.
Before she could rise, I drove an axe kick down—
She barely rolled out.
The floor cracked where my heel landed.
Jubeeca got back to her knees and slid backward into the distance, coughing again, one hand on her stomach like she couldn’t believe I touched her.
And that’s when we heard it.
A ring of Coliseum demons—male and female—had gathered around the gate, drawn by the pressure like sharks to blood.
“WAIT—did Jubeeca just take a hit?!”
“Who is that guy?!”
“He looks like a beast—”
“I hope he doesn’t have eyes for Jubeeca—I wanna talk to him later!”
Jubeeca heard every word.
Her smile died.
Slowly.
Deliberately.
Like a curtain dropping.
She exhaled.
Then she looked at me.
Not amused anymore.
Not playful.
Something darker.
Something hungry.
She wiped blood off her lip with her thumb and licked it like it was proof.
Then she spoke.
Not loud.
But everyone shut up anyway.
“Alright,” she said. “Now I’m annoyed.”
I took my chance.
I charged in and threw a punch—
and it connected.
BAM!
An aftershock rippled off my fist. Jubeeca’s head snapped slightly. Her HP dipped.
[ARENA HUD — DAMAGE REGISTERED]
JUBEECA — HP: [██████████] 100% → [█████████?] 97%
SOREN — HP: [████████??] 80%
WRATH: [██████████] 100%
STATUS: WRATH IGNITED
She smiled wide—
sick—
and licked the blood from her mouth like I’d just given her a gift.
“I’m going to punch you now,” she said.
“You sick woman.”
Then we did it old school.
No tricks.
No distance.
Just hands.
We planted our feet, shoulders squared, and stopped caring about the crowd, the contract, or the King. We both lunged at the exact same time, our voices tearing out of our throats in a synchronized, bone-rattling roar.
“AAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHH!”
The sound of our combined yell drowned out the stadium’s cheering. It wasn’t a cry of pain—
It was a release.
CRACK. THUD. SMASH.
My fist buried itself in her shoulder; her knuckles caught me square in the jaw. We didn’t back up. We didn’t reset. We just kept swinging, our silhouettes blurred by the purple sparks flying off my skin and the raw, golden pressure radiating from hers.
Every time our knuckles met, a mini sonic boom cleared the dust from the floor.
“HAAAAAA!” I roared again, driving a hook into her ribs that would have killed a Lesser Demon.
“MORE!” Jubeeca screamed back, her own voice hitting a fever pitch as she countered with a blow that sent a shockwave straight through my spine.
[ARENA HUD — COMBAT EXCHANGE]
JUBEECA — HP: [█████████?] 97% → [████████??] 94%
SOREN — HP: [████████??] 80% → [███████???] 73%
WRATH OUTPUT: UNSTABLE
COLISEUM PRESSURE: RISING
For those ten seconds, we weren’t a Prince and a Lady.
We were just two storms trying to occupy the same space.
Bella screamed like she was watching her favorite sport.
“IT’S AN OLD-FASHIONED FIST FIGHT!”
Our breaths turned into growls.
My Wrath held—
then sputtered.
The last punch I gave her didn’t have the muscle I needed.
My arm felt heavy.
My lungs felt wrong.
Wrath fizzled.
[ARENA HUD — WARNING]
WRATH MODE: FAILING
WRATH RESERVE: [██????????] 18%
SOREN — HP: [███████???] 73%
JUBEECA — HP: [████████??] 94%
Jubeeca caught my fist against her cheek—my knuckles pressed to her skin—and didn’t push it away.
Instead…
she opened my hand.
Held it like it was a couple things.
I froze.
Confused.
Bella’s voice cracked.
“Uhhh—WHAT’S she doing?! She knows this is a mock battle, right?!”
Jubeeca’s eyes softened in a way that made my stomach drop.
“Don’t worry,” she murmured. “We’ll hold hands more.”
Then she leaned in, voice sweet enough to rot your teeth.
“And with each punch you land on me… I can feel your love.”
My hand felt like it was being crushed.
Her grip was terrifying.
Also—
her palm was sweaty.
I hated that I noticed.
Jubeeca lifted her chin.
“Aisha,” she said. “Bring it.”
Aisha’s panel flickered into view like it had been waiting for this moment its whole existence.
“CONFIRMED. FORCED BLOOD PACT DOCUMENTATION IS READY UPON REQUEST.”
Bella hissed.
“Oh—she’s seriously serious.”
Jubeeca’s gaze never left mine.
Then the air behind her shifted.
Not power.
Not a buff.
Something else.
Like a rule changing.
A small spectral presence unfolded behind her shoulders—faint, feminine, and smiling too hard—like obsession given wings.
Aisha labeled it immediately.
“SPECTER DETECTED: OBSESSION.”
[ARENA HUD — EVENT]
WINGS OF OBSESSION — ACTIVE
Condition: Target resists bond
Duration: 10 seconds
Effect: Flight + Pursuit Lock
ARENA SYSTEM NOTE:
Skill usage detected outside standard duel parameters.
Classification: Noble Authority Override
Jubeeca’s voice went soft.
“I never could use this,” she admitted. “Not once.”
She smiled at me like a curse.
“But Soren… Thank you for making me fall in love with you.”
Bella went stiff.
“Uh oh.”
Wings unfurled.
Not angelic.
Not holy.
Predator wings—sharp-edged, elegant—made for chasing something that runs.
I stared.
“That’s… cheating.”
Jubeeca laughed.
“So is breathing.”
She grabbed me and launched upward like she didn’t care if the sky had laws.
The Coliseum shrank beneath us.
The crowd screamed.
Bella shrieked in my ear.
“SOREN—!”
“Wings end soon,” Jubeeca said brightly. “Two seconds.”
I panicked.
“WHY THE HELL DID YOU FLY US UP HERE THEN?!”
Jubeeca hugged me tighter.
“For we fall together and die together, silly.”
We passed clouds.
Her wings turned to drifting feathers.
And we dropped.
The wind howled.
I tried to break free—elbows, knees—nothing.
She held me like a coffin holds a body.
“You only need to comply,” she purred. “Put your blood on the document… and we’ll be fine.”
LIKE I CAN THINK IN A TIME LIKE THIS—COME ON—THINK—THINK—
Then my mother’s words hit my mind like a bell.
Pick your wife. Even have mistresses. Just get strong and come save me.
I swallowed.
“Hey,” I said.
I kissed her.
Mid-fall.
Not soft.
Not romantic.
A desperate, brutal, stupid choice.
Her eyes widened.
Then—shockingly—she smiled into it.
I pulled back just enough to speak.
“Does that answer your question?”
Her cheeks flushed.
Her grip tightened.
“…Yes.”
Then she landed.
Quiet.
Perfect.
Like the ground owed her softness.
I stumbled on my feet, dizzy, and stared at her.
“So you planned this knowing you could just—”
Jubeeca leaned close, twirled a finger against my chest like I was a new toy.
“Well,” she murmured. “If I didn’t… you’d still be a big ol’ mean beast.”
She turned her head sharply.
“Mother. Bring the contract.”
Lady Lucy looked like she wanted to faint.
“Dear—”
Aisha’s panel slid in.
“HERE IS THE FORCED BLOOD PACT, LADY JUBEECA.”
Bella swooped behind Aisha.
“So you changed it?”
Aisha’s tone remained calm.
“I cannot avoid bonding outcomes due to Pit law and noble authority,” Aisha said. “However… I adjusted the terms for Prince Soren’s survivability and comfort.”
[FORCED BLOOD PACT — ADDENDUM (AI-REVISED)]
- Lady Jubeeca must provide shelter and recovery space for Prince Soren
- Lady Jubeeca must train him when possible
- In public settings, Lady Jubeeca must maintain “civil spouse conduct” (no public cruelty)
- Bonded party may not be treated as “weapon property”
- Mutual consent rituals required for escalation
Jubeeca’s face turned pissed—
and also flushed.
Lucy smiled like a mother watching karma do backflips.
“My dear daughter… you found yourself a man.”
Bella laughed like she’d been waiting years.
“HAHA—she asked for a husband and now she got one.”
The crowd pushed closer, hungry for drama.
Demon 1: “So does that mean she’s off the market? REALLY?!”
Demon 2: “Who is the guy? He looks familiar—”
Demon Girl 1: “He looks like an animal that needs to be tamed—OH MY!”
Demon Girl 2: “Will Jubeeca allow him to have other wives?!”
I sat on the floor with my head down.
I already knew coming back to the Coliseum would be drama.
Jubeeca approached, cheeks still pink, expression split between victory and annoyance.
“We have to go,” she said.
“Now?” I rasped. “Don’t you got business—”
“No,” she snapped. “Because apparently…” she glared at Aisha, “…I’m supposed to act like an actual wife.”
I blinked.
“Wait—what?”
Lucy smiled.
“You found yourself a man, my dear. Treat him like your husband. Not a weapon.”
Bella added, sweetly poisonous, “Delicate emotional weakness, huh? Doesn’t suit you, Lady Jubeeca.”
Jubeeca’s eyes narrowed.
Then she did something that made the entire gate gasp.
She leaned down, grabbed my shirt, yanked me up—
—and kissed me again.
Not gentle.
Not shy.
Like she wanted the crowd to understand one thing:
Mine.
The demons screamed.
Jubeeca pulled back, breath hot, eyes furious and flustered at the same time.
“THAT’S IT. SHOW’S OVER!” she barked at the crowd. “DON’T YOU ALL GOT MATCHES?!”
They scattered instantly.
Even demons fear scheduling.
Jubeeca turned and pointed like she was ordering a soldier.
“HURRY UP AND FOLLOW ME!”
I stumbled after her, my legs feeling like lead, but Jubeeca wasn’t waiting. She reached back, grabbed my wrist, and started dragging me through the halls of the Coliseum.
The crowds of demons lined the corridors, their eyes wide as they watched the legendary “Ice Calamity” dragging the soot-stained Second Prince behind her. I could hear the whispers—the shock, the jealousy, the awe.
“She’s actually taking him to the private wing?”
“Look at his eyes… he’s half-dead.”
“She’s gonna eat him alive.”
Jubeeca didn’t care.
She didn’t look at them.
Her focus was a laser, locked on the path ahead.
Every demon who saw her face scrambled out of the way, practically pressing themselves against the walls to avoid her path.
She was a woman on a mission.
And I was the prize.
Bella floated beside Aisha’s fading panel, still laughing.
“This is going to be interesting,” Bella murmured.
Aisha’s voice followed us like a recorder that never sleeps.
“DATA RETRIEVAL: SUCCESSFUL. PRINCE SOREN’S GROWTH IS NON-YIELDING. MUST CONTINUE TO MONITOR.”
I stared at Jubeeca’s back—walking like she owned the world—then touched my neck where the chain-collar had manifested and vanished.
I could still feel it.
Like a promise.
Like a trap.
Like a door that only opens one way.
And the scariest part?
Part of me didn’t hate it.
Not anymore.
Not after the Pit.
Not after learning I could become something sharp enough to cut destiny back.
Because if Jubeeca wanted a husband…
She was going to learn what it meant to marry a demon who crawled out of hell and refused to kneel.
Jubeeca didn’t just walk into the chambers.
She threw me inside.
The heavy obsidian doors slammed shut with a boom that rattled the frames.
Bella tried to phase through immediately—
but Lily caught her by the spectral tail.
“Let them be, Wrath,” Lily said calmly.
Bella twisted.
“The hell do you mean let them—”
“My Lady has been starving since he entered the first floor,” Lily replied. “You don’t want to be in there when she finally feeds.”
Bella froze.
“…Fair point.”
She drifted back, annoyed, but not stupid.
“Tch. Fine,” Bella muttered, floating down the corridor. “I’m not watching that.”
The hallway lights flickered once as she disappeared into the dark—giving privacy like she hated the concept.
Inside the chamber, the room was quiet.
Too quiet.
I barely managed to stay on my feet before the exhaustion hit like a collapsing building.
The Pit had drained everything out of me.
My muscles trembled.
My lungs burned.
And the Hellcore in my chest thumped like a wounded heart.
Jubeeca closed the distance between us in two steps.
“Be quiet, husband,” she murmured.
Her voice wasn’t loud, but it carried a command that slipped past my thoughts and into instinct.
“Just give me the fire. I’ll take care of the rest.”
She reached behind her without looking, caught the cord of the heavy obsidian-velvet shades, and with one sharp tug—
the curtains swept shut.
The last of the Coliseum’s artificial light vanished.
Darkness swallowed the room.
Only one thing remained:
the violent purple glow radiating from my chest.
My Hellcore pulsed weakly.
Once.
Twice.
Three times.
My hands came up, trembling, palms pressing against her shoulders.
It wasn’t a fight.
I didn’t have the strength for a fight.
It was a plea.
“Jubeeca… stop,” I rasped, head falling back against the pillows as she pushed me down onto the bed. “Please. Just let me… I just want to rest. Five floors, ten… I did twenty. Just let me sleep.”
In the dim purple light, Jubeeca didn’t move.
My hands pushing against her felt like a breeze trying to stop a mountain.
She leaned down further, caught my wrists, and slowly—inevitably—forced them down beside my head.
“You can sleep when you’re empty,” she whispered against my ear, breath hitching as the first wave of my miasma-tainted heat bled into her skin.
“But right now? You’re overflowing.”
“And I’m hungry.”
Outside the chamber walls, the air hummed faintly as the Soothe began.
My Hellcore’s unstable flame softened.
The violent purple glow deepened into something slower.
Calmer.
Controlled.
My grip loosened.
The “spell” of her native aura, mixed with the bone-deep exhaustion of the Pit, finally won.
My fingers curled weakly into the sheets as my eyes drifted shut.
The room glowed a dim, bruised purple as the excess miasma bled away.
For the first time since entering the Pit…
my breathing steadied.
Jubeeca watched me for a long moment.
Then she smiled.
Not the cruel smile from the arena.
Something quieter.
Possessive.
Satisfied.
On the far wall, the fireplace cast one final, flickering shadow:
the silhouette of a man trying to push back a storm—
and a woman who had finally decided to swallow it whole.
The last thing I saw before the world faded to black was Jubeeca’s predatory smile—the look of someone who had finally found her favorite meal.
[FADE TO BLACK]
[ARENA SYSTEM — OBSERVATION LOG]
Subject: Prince Soren
Status: Stabilizing
Hellcore Output: Controlled
Miasma Saturation: Elevated (82%)
Notice: Uncatalogued influence detected.
Designation: Lady Jubeeca
Classification: SYSTEM ANOMALY — “THE ARENA”
Priority: DO NOT RESTRAIN
Outcome Projection: UNKNOWN
uthor Note — End of Chapter