No! I don't want to be a Super Necromancer!

Damien studied the silent female closely. She stood utterly still, pale silver hair cascading like liquid moonlight down her back, contrasting sharply with her deep ebony skin. Her presence was eerily tranquil, yet unmistakably dangerous.

The very air around her seemed darker, heavier, filled with suppressed menace.

He turned slowly back to Lyrisa. "What's stopping the other houses from joining together to challenge them?"

Lyrisa shook her head slowly, her voice holding a subtle tension. "Politics and fear, Damien. Our allegiance to the Darkness Sovereign shapes everything, our culture, our hierarchy, our ambitions. Every drow house desperately strives to curry favor with the Sovereign.

We serve, and we are rewarded according to our contributions. House Umbra holds the highest favor precisely because they have provided unmatched service and sacrifices to the Darkness Sovereign over generations."

Damien's brows furrowed slightly. "Sacrifices?"

"Lives, souls, enemies," Lyrisa explained evenly. "Whatever the Sovereign demands, House Umbra provides without hesitation. Their devotion borders on fanaticism, yet that fanaticism has granted them unmatched authority and near-unlimited power."

Damien absorbed this quietly, glancing briefly at Vathrian and his entourage. "So your second-ranked house and Umbra are in direct competition?"

She nodded. "In principle, yes. House Nocturna craves Umbra's position more than anything. But they would never openly attack unless they saw undeniable weakness. To openly oppose Umbra is political and physical suicide."

Damien chuckled softly, eyes returning to the solitary figure. "She must be extraordinary to wield that kind of intimidation all alone."

Lyrisa followed his gaze, her tone thoughtful. "She is known as Nyxara. Few outside House Umbra know her capabilities fully, but even her rumors are terrifying. They say she manipulates darkness itself, not mere shadows, but absolute void.

She can strip away senses, drain life energy, control souls with a whisper. No one dares challenge her openly. Even Vathrian, arrogant as he is, wouldn't risk it."

A tense silence settled between them, broken only by the faint murmurs of distant drow groups preparing themselves, whispering cautiously about alliances and rivalries.

Damien exhaled slowly, folding his arms over his chest. "And where does your house stand, politically?"

Lyrisa's smile turned faintly bitter. "House Xarvith stands proudly independent. We serve the Sovereign loyally, but we have always maintained a certain detachment from outright political machinations. Our strength is combat. Our reputation is forged in blood. Politics weakens purity of purpose, so we keep our distance."

Damien nodded thoughtfully, eyes drifting back toward the lake's surface. "Yet here you are, competing with the other houses for JerAxle the Dark's inheritance."

She inclined her head slightly. "Exactly. JerAxle was unique, a legendary figure who rose to prominence through raw power and devotion to the Sovereign. His legacy can drastically shift the balance of power. Whoever claims it gains immeasurable prestige and strength. It could elevate my house significantly."

Damien gave a knowing glance. "And you personally."

Lyrisa smiled, eyes bright with ambition. "Naturally."

They stood quietly for a moment, observing the tense interactions unfolding around them. Houses exchanged wary glances, whispered threats veiled beneath diplomatic courtesy, and occasionally cast furtive looks toward the impassive Nyxara, who appeared utterly indifferent to it all.

Damien exhaled softly, leaning closer to Lyrisa. "Do you expect conflict when the inheritance site opens?"

She nodded solemnly. "Without question. Alliances here are fleeting. Friendships are shallow. When power is at stake, drow turn savage. Even my house, despite our combat prowess, must tread carefully. One misstep and we could be targeted by multiple houses."

Damien's expression grew serious, his voice low and steady. "Then we'd best be prepared."

Lyrisa smiled confidently, eyes glittering with determination. "We are. The inheritance site below this lake will test strength, cunning, and resolve. You've already proven yourself formidable. Together, I believe we stand a strong chance."

Damien smiled at her in complete understanding.

He was just her tool, her favorite toy at the moment, and a useful one at that.

And although they have shared their bodies and the camaraderie between them was warm and comfortable, Damien was no fool to think that she was in love with him.

Together, she said.

But Damien knew the moment it was advantageous for her that he died, she would discard him in an instant.

Still, he was extremely piqued by the inheritance of JerAxle the Dark. If he could somehow snatch it, it would be a great boon to him. At worst, he would be learning about his future enemy.

Yes, it still benefited him to follow her.

"Then make sure you take good care of me." Damien smiled at her.

Lyrisa laughed softly, eyes sparking with amusement and genuine warmth. "Always. And watch your back, Damien. You've made enemies already."

He chuckled lightly, eyes drifting briefly to Vathrian's hostile gaze across the lake. "Thank you very much for that."

She laughed again and caressed his arm gently, her voice sincere. "You're welcome, my handsome monkey king."

They fell silent again, each quietly preparing themselves, their shared presence providing comfort amid rising tension.

As the moments passed, the atmosphere thickened palpably, anticipation turning sharp and edged with eagerness. Everyone knew that once JerAxle the Dark's inheritance site opened, chaos would erupt swiftly.

Until then, however, the lake remained serene, its surface deceptively calm, hiding both danger and opportunity beneath its tranquil exterior.

The air grew tense with anticipation as the lake trembled and suddenly split down the center, parting like a shimmering curtain drawn aside by invisible hands.

Where the serene waters had just been, a luminous portal now glittered invitingly.

But guarding that enticing gateway was something from nightmares, a monstrous nine-headed dragon whose sheer presence radiated overwhelming dread and menace.

Its nine serpentine heads twisted and writhed independently, each crowned with wickedly sharp horns and armored scales that gleamed ominously under the eerie subterranean light.

Its eyes burned with fierce elemental fury, a chaotic blend of fiery red, chilling blue, crackling purple, and venomous green. The air around the beast swirled violently as elemental energies danced chaotically, fire, ice, lightning, poison, each head seething with barely restrained power, each jaw lined with teeth like polished obsidian blades.