The sounds coming from the tent were... unholy.
Even by demon standards.
Serenith sat curled in a corner of the tent like a traumatized bunny in a den of wolves. Her wings draped protectively around her, trembling ever so slightly. Her halo flickered like a faulty light bulb. But her wide, shimmering eyes peek through her feathers, locked in horrified fascination as the area around her becomes a warzone of erotic destruction.
The once-ornate command tent was a smoldering disaster zone. Silk tapestries shredded and smoking, a small fire licking at what was left of the bar cart.
Lucien and Ignara moved like beasts in heat, limbs tangling, magic flaring. The tent groaned in protest. Half the furnishings were laying in smoldering piles, while the roof resembled a colander from the sheer number of blast holes.
Ignara howls with joy, claws digging into the floor as Lucien growls like a beast reborn.
"G-goddess above…" Serenith breathes, a soft whimper escaping her lips as Ignara lets out a feral moan, back arched in ecstasy while Lucien gives her everything he's got and then some.
They switch positions. Again.
Ignara mounted him like a queen claiming a throne.
Then came the ravaging.
Skin slamming against skin like a hammer on an anvil. Sparks erupts from Lucien's hips as Ignara slammed her thighs into him with the full-weight of a love-starved dragon goddess.
She stops mid-thrust as a her head cocks back and he entire body erupts into pulses of pleasure.
She falls back limp, but Lucien catches her gently.
Then pounds her even harder.
Deep and relentless.
The dragonkin women is reduced to a quivering, drooling pile of limbs, blissed completely out of her mind.
Lucien's grin was so smug it should be banned.
Serenith trembled as he threw her a smirk mid-thrust while Ignara was practically erupting from euphoria.
She didn't mean to.
Truly, she didn't...
But Serenith's body betrayed her.
Her fingers twitch downward, crawling along her thigh, wings falling slack to her sides.
She quivers and her eyes flutter closed.
Lucien peeks while changing positions, and he catches it.
Oh, he definitely catches it.
His precious, innocent angel guardian with her eyes half-closed, mouth half-open, quivering with delight as she gently pleasures herself to the thought of him.
He grins like a devil who just won a bet with God.
-----------------
The next morning Ignara struts out into the rising sun like a victor returning from glorious war, her leather outfit miraculously still intact and somehow even tighter.
Her tail flicks. Her hips sway. Her cheeks are flushed with pride and something far less holy.
Lucien follows, hands folded behind his head, whistling a cheerful little tune as if he hadn't turned a woman into a flamethrower the night before.
Serenith drags her feet behind them, red-faced, muttering prayers under her breath and avoiding eye contact with anything that breathes.
At the village square, families sit around elegant folding tables brought in by the royal chefs. Platters of steaming food are devoured as the villagers praise their "glorious Dark Lord" between mouthfuls of roasted hellboar and candied soulfruit.
Lucien grins and lifts a hand.
He snapped his fingers.
Silence.
A magically enforced hush fell over the crowd. Even the babies stop crying.
He smiled. "I appreciate your praise, my darling little monsters. But if you're all full, it's time to evacuate. Renovations begin shortly."
The villagers laugh cheerfully, stuffing their faces faster. One even raises a glass. "To our beautiful demon king!"
A roar of cheers follow.
Fifteen minutes later, the villagers stood just outside the village boundary, clutching bags of gold, signed consent forms, and their most precious belongings. Grandmothers held family portraits, children cradled demon plushies, and one man hugged a statue of a goat.
Lucien strolled forward, hair billowing dramatically despite the lack of wind.
He raised his hands.
The ground beneath the village quaked and began to rise.
Stone and earth groaning as the entire town was lifted into the air like a sacrificial offering. He narrowed his eyes and the ash in his veins pulsed.
Lucien claps.
The village imploded.
BOOM~
Buildings smash together with volcanic violence, reducing a century of architecture to mystical ash that rained down in a gentle drift of gray snowflakes.
Lucien casually dusts off his hands like a man who just cleaned his desk.
The villagers stare in stunned awe.
He bows deeply.
Vex and Vile clapped first, hopping excitedly and praising his power. The High Council blinked back to life, then joined in with polite, if shaken, applause.
Lucien stretched and called out, "Alexel!"
Alexel stumbled forward, still glowing from the previous day's activities.
"Yes, Lord?"
"Get the builders started on the sewer systems. The geo-mages will be here in three days with fresh canals. Let's have the base ready before they show."
Alexel salutes with renewed confidence. "We'll have it done sooner, Lord Lucidius."
"My man! Get it done."
Alexel spins on his heel and shouts, "BUILDERS, MOVE!"
Dozens of demon masons, enchanted tools in hand, sprinted toward the site. Some were shirtless. Many were ripped. All were ready.
Lucien flicks his wrist, summoning a swirl of ash that morphs into floating blueprints. Pages unfurl midair, spinning lazily like enchanted scrolls.
Serenith approached warily, peeking over his shoulder.
"You're doing all this from memory?" she asks, eyeing the complex layouts.
"More or less. Infrastructure's kind of my thing," Lucien says, lazily adjusting the orientation of a floating page.
She frowned. "What's… that?"
"Gravity-fed latrines," he replies. "You flush, it's gone. Hygienic. Simple. Revolutionary."
Her brow furrowed further.
Lucien chuckled. "Wanna learn? I can teach you. Better to understand my vision if you're planning to keep judging it."
She eyed him warily… but curiosity wins.
"Fine. Enlighten me."
---------
Hours later, they sat side-by-side under a construction canopy, blueprints spread across a table, surrounded by enchanted lights. Serenith sips wine slowly, half-tipsy, eyes wide with wonder.
Lucien lounges like a devil on holiday, one leg hooked lazily over his chair arm, a pointer floating beside him made of concentrated ash magic.
"Okay, so this," he circled a diagram, "is the irrigation system. It'll connect directly to the bathhouse, medical center, and school. We're standardizing fresh water access across the Ashlands. Imagine that."
Serenith, flushed and a little tipsy, squinted at the blueprint and sipped from her glass.
"And that?" she gestures, voice looser now.
"Maybe a cultural hall? Double purpose. Knowledge and pleasure. Probably a brothel with books. Or a library with very interactive reading."
She rolls her eyes, then giggles against her will.
Lucien leaned on one elbow and went on to explain systems like stormwater drainage, energy-efficient architecture, and integrated bathhouses.
"It's… brilliant," she says, slumping back. "I underestimated you."
"You and every ex I've ever had."
She chuckled. A genuine one.
"I still don't know if this brings balance," she said, swirling her wine. "But it's… something."
Lucien raised his glass. "If flushing toilets and clean water don't bring balance, we're all doomed."
She snorts.
He leans closer. "See? I can be good for the world."
"You're still a pervert."
"I'm a productive pervert."
They clinked glasses.
--------------
The moon casted silver over the flattened land where a new town would rise. Foundations now stretch out in a perfect grid, glowing faintly with construction magic. Magical stakes mark plots. Sewer lines glitter with energy sigils.
Lucien and Alexel stand in the middle of it all, surrounded by glowing work lights and hammering sounds. Builders shout cheerfully, magical tools dancing through stone and mortar.
The grid of streets was already forming.
Lucien cracked open two chilled bottles of demon champagne and handed one to Alexel.
They drank.
Lucien grinned and clapped him on the back. "So, how's your first day of empire building?"
Alexel, flushed and sparkling with pride, laughs.
"I've never been happier, my lord."
Lucien smirks. "It's the twins, isn't it?"
Alexel chokes on his drink. "M-maybe a little."
They both erupted into laughter, raising their bottles toward the stars.
"Here's to building," Lucien says, "and blowing minds."
"And backs," Alexel adds.
As the night deepened and the first bricks were laid by flickering magical light, the sounds of construction rose in harmony with distant moans of the infamous succubi twins coming from the royal tent.
Serenith sat at the tent entrance, muttering something about filing a celestial HR complaint, but even she smiled as she gazed over the transformed land around them.
Because for the first time… it didn't feel like chaos.
It felt like purpose.