Chapter 85 – Shell and Horns.

The first thing Diana discovered upon waking up the next day was that pulling a closed shirt over her head was a terrible idea.

She was sitting on the edge of the bed, still half-asleep, when she grabbed a cotton turtleneck shirt she usually wore under her armor. She pulled the fabric over her face and the result was immediate: the seam caught on the curve of her right horn, yanked her ear hard, and tore the collar with a dry snap of ripping thread.

Diana huffed, pulling the torn cloth back down.

“Damn it.” She tossed the shirt into the laundry hamper.

She stood up and walked over to the bedroom's full-length mirror. The weight on her head was not uncomfortable, but it was noticeable. It felt similar to wearing a metal tiara all the time, only anchored directly into the structure of her skull. The two horns sprouted just above her temples, curving backward through her black hair, sleek and smooth like polished glass, with very fine golden grooves running all the way to their sharp tips.

Diana touched the base of one of the horns.

A strange prickle, a shiver running straight down her nape to the middle of her back, made her shoulders hitch in an involuntary spasm. There were nerve endings there. She had not expected the horns to be so sensitive to touch.

She looked down at her hands. Her nails were now black, hard, and ended in sharp points. When she tried to pick up the hairbrush from the vanity with her usual careless habit, the tip of her index finger scraped across the wood and left a deep scratch in the varnished mahogany.

“I'm going to have to learn how to hold things all over again,” she muttered.

—At least you don't need to spend money on nail files anymore.

The System's voice echoed in her mind, devoid of the mental space's solemn tone, returning to its usual dry manner.

Diana grabbed a button-up shirt from the wardrobe, put it on carefully, slipping her arms through the sleeves before fastening the front, and sat in the chair to try detangling her hair.

The trouble was navigating around the base of the horns. The brush snagged on tangled strands near her temples, and every tug made the root of the bone pulse with that uncomfortable shiver.

The bedroom door opened slowly. Rhea stepped in carrying a tray with fresh bread, slices of cheese, and a steaming mug of black coffee.

The wolf girl paused at the entrance, watching Diana with the brush stuck in her hair and an impatient scowl on her face. Rhea let out a quiet chuckle, set the tray on the nightstand, and stepped silently behind the Commander's chair.

“Let me help.” Rhea held out her hands.

“I can detangle my own hair, Rhea.”

“Yesterday you almost shattered the bathroom mirror just trying to tie a ponytail.” Rhea gently took the brush from Diana's hand. “Hold still for a minute.”

Diana crossed her arms and grumbled, but she did not get up from the chair.

Rhea began drawing the brush through the black strands, working patiently from the bottom up to avoid pulling at tangles. When the wolf girl's fingers brushed the base of the right horn, Diana shuddered again, tilting her neck to the side.

“Hey...” Diana warned, her voice coming out a little husky. “Don't squeeze there.”

“Does it hurt?” Rhea paused her hand in midair, concerned.

“It doesn't hurt.” Diana looked down at her lap, feeling her face warm slightly. “It's sensitive. It feels like you're poking an exposed nerve.”

Rhea looked at the curve of the black horn, fascinated. She ran the tip of her thumb along the golden grooves with great care, feeling the gentle warmth radiating from the bone.

“It's pretty,” Rhea said sincerely, resuming brushing the long hair. “It suits you. It makes you look like someone who truly runs this place.”

“I was already running this place before I had horns.”

“I know, but now nobody on the street will mistake you for a lost human tourist.”

***

After Rhea finished arranging Diana's hair and tied half of it back with a simple ribbon that did not brush against the horns, the two headed down to the Bastion's kitchen.

Kael was sitting near the sink, finishing polishing his metal greaves, and Aurelia-Elysia was slicing apples on a cutting board. Seraphina sat at the table, reading a scroll with her new grimoire resting on her lap.

When Diana entered the kitchen, all three looked in her direction.

There was still a hint of surprise on their faces, but the initial shock from the past few days had already worn off. Now it was more of a natural curiosity about how their leader was adapting.

Diana grabbed an apple slice from Aurelia's board.

Biting into the fruit, she noticed another difference.

The taste was not merely sweet as before. Her tongue picked up unusual details: the amount of water in the pulp, the density of the sugar, and a faint trace of plant mana the tree had absorbed from the soil while growing. It was a rich, almost overly sharp perception.

She swallowed and looked at Kael.

“How is the courtyard?” Diana asked.

“Clear, Commander.” Kael set down the polish. “I adjusted the gravity matrix to twice normal weight, as you requested yesterday.”

“I'm heading down there to test my balance.”

Diana walked to the back door and stepped out into the walled inner courtyard.

The air was cool. The purple willow swayed its leaves in the corner of the stone wall.

Diana stepped inside the circle marked by runes on the ground. The moment she crossed the line, gravity intensified, pulling her body downward with twice its normal weight.

In her former Level 36 human body, that pressure would have buckled her knees and made her lungs strain just to draw breath.

Now, with her new Archdemon physiology, her body barely registered the change. Her legs bore the weight without trembling. The density of her muscles and bones absorbed the gravity as if it were nothing more than a slightly heavier breeze.

Diana made a short vertical leap.

She rose three meters into the air without needing any arm momentum, turned her body, and landed on the tips of her boots upon the gravel, completely steady, without losing her center of balance to the horns.

“Not bad,” she muttered to herself.

She held out her open right hand.

She concentrated thirty points of mana into her palm and activated a simple spark of Greed's Flame.

Black fire ignited at the tips of her black fingers.

Diana paid close attention to her internal circulation. There was no stabbing sensation at her temples. There was no headache, nor the feeling that her arteries were about to burst under the mana pressure. The spiritual pathways of her new body were wide, resilient, and channeled energy with clean smoothness.

She closed her fist and dispelled the flame.

***

Kael and Aurelia-Elysia watched from the back porch, leaning against the wooden railing.

“She looks faster even standing still,” Kael remarked, crossing his thick arms. “The way she steps has changed.”

“Her mana is far calmer,” Aurelia said, holding a mug of tea with both hands. “Before, whenever the Commander cast major spells, you could feel the air around her tightening too much, like a stretched rope on the verge of snapping. Now it feels like magic is just part of her body.”

Seraphina approached the railing, adjusting her glasses with her index finger.

“It is the biological adaptation of a noble lineage from Hell,” the summoner explained in her usual methodical tone. “Archdemons do not use mana as an external tool they draw inward. They are made of mana condensed into flesh and bone. Diana's body is now the conductor itself.”

Rhea leaned against the porch column, her amber eyes tracking Diana's movements in the courtyard, following every step with a slow sway of her tail.

Diana stepped out of the gravity circle, breathing easily. She walked over to the porch stairs and picked up a clean towel to wipe the light sheen of sweat from her brow.

“I've finished the basic test,” Diana said, ascending the wooden steps. “Body balance is dialed in. Mana pathways are one hundred percent functional.”

She looked at the four faction members gathered there: Kael at Level 37 with his nearly one-thousand-health shield, Aurelia-Elysia at Level 37 with her wide barriers, Rhea at Level 37 with wind-cleaving speed, and Seraphina at Level 40 with her ancestral spirits.

In the basement vault, thirty-seven and a half gold coins ensured they had more than enough resources for any purchase or repair they might need.

There was no frantic rush, yet there was no reason to remain idle either.

Diana rested her hand on the porch railing, her dark eyes with golden rings gazing out at the Ivory Citadel horizon.

“Tomorrow we return to the Forge District,” Diana stated in a calm, decisive tone. “I will collect the Crown of Sovereignty from Master Volkan, finish the armor reinforcements, and map out the route to the Level 40 dungeons. Rest is over.”

Kael thumped his gauntlet against his chest, Aurelia smiled, Seraphina adjusted the grimoire at her waist, and Rhea took her place right behind the Commander's shoulder.

The new body was ready. The Arcane Greed Faction was in lockstep. And the ascent toward the summit of Hell continued.