Lilith settled against the trunk of a tall oak, watching the elves move with practiced efficiency as they established a small perimeter. Thaelon had insisted she take the most comfortable spot in their temporary camp—a soft patch of moss beneath the shade of spreading branches. He'd even placed his own cloak beneath her, despite her protests.

  "Is there anything else I can get for you?" Thaelon asked, hovering nearby with an eagerness that bordered on comical. "Perhaps some berries? We have fresh water from the stream, or I could prepare a light herbal tea that might restore your energy after our... unfortunate misunderstanding."

  "I'm fine, thank you," Lilith replied, trying to keep the exasperation from her voice. His puppy-like devotion was becoming tiresome. Whatever charm effect she'd accidentally triggered seemed powerful enough to turn the once-suspicious elf captain into a fawning admirer.

  As Thaelon reluctantly moved away to check on Tomas, Lilith noticed the sidelong glances from the other elves. They gathered in small clusters, voices low, eyes occasionally darting in her direction. Unlike their captain, they hadn't fallen under whatever spell she'd unwittingly cast. Their suspicion was palpable.

  One female elf in particular—tall with copper-coloured hair pulled back in a severe braid—watched Lilith with undisguised hostility. Every time Thaelon approached Lilith with another offer of comfort or sustenance, the elf's expression darkened further.

  Great, Lilith thought. I've accidentally made someone jealous. The idea irritated her more than it should have. She hadn't asked for Thaelon's attention, and she certainly didn't want to be caught in some elven love triangle.

  The copper-haired elf approached Thaelon, speaking in hushed tones. Lilith couldn't make out the words at first, but then suddenly, the sounds resolved themselves into meaning:

  "—behaving strangely, Captain. This is not like you. We know nothing about this woman."

  "Your concern is noted, Sylrena, but unnecessary. Can you not see she's clearly trustworthy? A warrior of considerable skill—"

  "That's precisely what concerns me! No human moves that fast. There's something unnatural—"

  Lilith froze, suddenly realising she could understand every word. But they weren't speaking English. The lilting, musical quality of their speech was unmistakably different—flowing syllables that connected in ways human tongues weren't designed to form.

  They were speaking Elvish. And she understood it perfectly.

  Lilith blinked, processing this revelation. In Infinity, her character had known multiple languages. Had those skills transferred to her along with Lilith's physical form? It made sense; if her combat instincts had carried over, why not linguistic knowledge as well?

  She listened more carefully now, fascinated by her own comprehension.

  "The human will wake soon," another elf was saying, gesturing toward Tomas. "Perhaps then we can continue our mission without further... distractions."

  "She offered to help us," Thaelon replied, his tone defensive. "Such skill could be invaluable against the slavers."

  "She offered to wait, not to help," Sylrena corrected sharply. "And you're acting as though she's some kind of visiting dignitary rather than a suspicious stranger who appeared on a known slaver route."

  Lilith considered revealing that she understood them, but decided against it. Knowledge was power, and right now, she needed every advantage. Better to keep this ability to herself until she reached the Wastelands and learned more about her empire's fate.

  She glanced at Tomas, still unconscious on a bedroll where the elves had placed him. Once he woke, they would continue to Westbridge, and from there, she would find her way west. No need to complicate matters by giving the already suspicious elves more reason to question her nature.

  Besides, Thaelon's behaviour was concerning enough. If a simple interaction could trigger such devotion, what might happen if she actively tried to use her abilities? The thought was both intriguing and unsettling.

  * * *

  Lilith watched the elves' interactions with growing concern. The way Thaelon hovered around her wasn't just attentive—it was obsessive. According to everything she knew about Succubus Charm, the effect should have worn off after eight minutes. Yet here he was, still gazing at her with puppy-like devotion nearly half an hour later.

  A troubling thought occurred to her. In Infinity, time flowed differently—an entire day lasted only twenty-four minutes in the real world. If that ratio had been reversed in this reality...

  She shuddered. That would mean her charm might last eight hours instead of minutes. The prospect of dealing with Thaelon's infatuation for that long made her want to groan aloud.

  "The human should wake soon," one of the elves said, checking Tomas's pulse. "The sedative we use is carefully measured."

  Lilith nodded, relieved. Once Tomas woke, they could continue to Westbridge, leaving these complications behind. She had no obligation to stay and help the elves with their mission, regardless of how noble it might be. Why take unnecessary risks? She still didn't fully understand her capabilities in this world. Fighting a wild boar was one thing; facing skilled human combatants was another matter entirely.

  Better to focus on reaching the Wastelands and discovering what remained of her empire. That was her priority—not playing hero for strangers.

  "Captain!" An elf scout burst into the clearing, breathing hard. "Another carriage approaches from the north. It's them—definitely slavers this time."

  Thaelon's demeanour transformed instantly, his love-struck expression hardening into something predatory. "How many?"

  "Six guards visible. But the cargo..." The scout's voice faltered. "Children. At least four, maybe more."

  The atmosphere in the camp shifted palpably. Weapons were drawn, faces set with cold determination. Even Sylrena's hostility toward Lilith seemed momentarily forgotten in the face of this news.

  Lilith stood, peering in the direction the scout had come from. Her enhanced senses picked up distant sounds—the creak of wheels, the clink of metal, and something that made her stomach tighten: the muffled whimpers of children.

  She sighed deeply. She might have become a demon in form, but that didn't mean she had to embrace cruelty as her nature. Jacob wouldn't have walked away from this, and neither would she.

  This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it.

  "I'll help," she said, surprising herself with the firmness in her voice.

  Thaelon beamed with predictable approval, but Sylrena's eyes narrowed.

  "We don't need your—"

  "Yes, we do," Thaelon cut her off. "Six guards is more than we anticipated. With her skills, we can ensure none of the children are harmed in the confrontation."

  Lilith drew her sword from her dimensional inventory, the blade materializing in her hand with a faint shimmer. The weight felt perfect, balanced for her new body's strength and reach. This would be a good opportunity to test her combat abilities against real opponents. And if things went badly, she could always reveal her wings and flee—that ability, at least, she'd already confirmed worked perfectly.

  "What's your plan?" she asked Thaelon, ignoring Sylrena's glare.

  "We'll position archers on both sides of the road," he explained, pointing to locations on an imaginary map. "The first volley targets the drivers and any guards with ranged weapons. Then we move in for close combat."

  Lilith nodded, considering. "And where do you want me?"

  "With me," Thaelon said immediately. "We'll lead the direct assault once the arrows fly."

  "Fine," Lilith agreed, testing the edge of her blade with her thumb. "But let's be clear—the children's safety comes first. No risks that might endanger them."

  As the elves moved into position, Lilith felt a strange calm settle over her. The familiar pre-battle focus she'd experienced countless times in the game returned, but now accompanied by physical sensations—the quickening of her pulse, the heightened awareness of her surroundings, the subtle flow of power beneath her skin.

  * * *

  Lilith crouched behind a large oak tree, her fingers lightly resting on the hilt of her sword. The elves had positioned themselves with practiced efficiency—archers hidden in the foliage on both sides of the road, while Thaelon and three other warriors waited with her for the close-quarters assault. Despite their obvious skill, Lilith couldn't help but notice how they maintained their distance from her, all except the besotted Thaelon.

  The road ahead curved gently, offering just enough concealment for their ambush. Lilith's enhanced hearing picked up the approaching carriage long before it came into view—the creak of wooden wheels, the clink of metal, and the occasional sharp command from one of the guards.

  "Remember," Thaelon whispered, "we wait for my signal. First volley targets the drivers and any guards with ranged weapons."

  Lilith nodded, but her mind was already racing ahead. Two spells had come naturally to her so far—the fireball and the portal to her Infernal Sanctum. Both had manifested with an ease that suggested she could access more of her abilities from Infinity. Perhaps she could enhance her combat effectiveness before the fight began?

  As the sounds of the approaching carriage grew louder, Lilith closed her eyes and focused. She reached for the memory of Haste, a Transmutation spell she'd used countless times in the game. The knowledge unfurled in her mind like a scroll being opened—not as a memory of button presses or game mechanics, but as if she had spent months studying the arcane formulas, practicing the somatic components, and mastering the verbal incantations.

  She whispered the words, her fingers tracing an intricate pattern in the air. Golden light shimmered around her body, enveloping her in a temporal aura. Instantly, the world around her seemed to slow down. The rustling leaves, the shifting shadows, even Thaelon's breathing—all moved at half their normal pace.

  "What did you—" Thaelon began, his words stretched and distorted to her enhanced perception.

  Lilith smiled. "Just evening the odds."

  Thaelon raised his hand as the carriage came into view. Six men rode alongside a covered wagon—two driving, four flanking as guards. Their weapons were drawn, eyes scanning the forest with the wary vigilance of men who knew they were transporting valuable, forbidden cargo.

  Thaelon's hand dropped.

  The elven archers released their first volley, arrows whistling through the air toward their targets. But Lilith was already moving. The Haste spell had accelerated her to such a degree that the arrows seemed suspended in flight, their trajectories visible as they inched toward the slavers.

  She darted forward, covering the distance to the carriage in what felt like a single heartbeat. The world blurred around her, trees and undergrowth smearing into streaks of green and brown. The first slaver didn't even have time to register her presence before her blade sliced through his neck, separating head from shoulders in one clean stroke.

  Lilith pivoted, her body moving with a grace and precision that felt both foreign and intimately familiar. There were no memories of training with a sword, no recollection of practicing these techniques, yet her muscles executed them flawlessly—as if she'd spent decades perfecting each movement.

  She recognised the technique as she performed it: Dimensional Strike, a Hellblade ability that in the game required nothing more than pressing a button. Here, in this reality, she understood it was more complex. She wasn't teleporting between targets as it appeared from the outside; she was compressing the space between herself and her opponent, crossing vast distances with a single step.

  The second slaver died before the first one's body hit the ground, her blade piercing his heart from behind. The third and fourth fell in rapid succession, one disembowelled, the other cleaved from shoulder to hip. Blood sprayed in slow-motion arcs around her, droplets hanging in the air like crimson stars.

  The fifth man had just enough time to widen his eyes in horror as Lilith appeared before him. His sword rose in a desperate, futile defence. She batted it aside effortlessly and opened his throat with a flick of her wrist.

  Only the sixth slaver managed to comprehend they were under attack. His hand moved to draw his weapon, his mouth opening to shout a warning. Lilith reversed her grip on her sword and struck him with the hilt, precisely calculating the force needed to render him unconscious without killing him.

  He crumpled to the ground, the only survivor of her assault.

  From the moment she'd taken her first step to the instant the last slaver fell, barely three seconds had passed in real time. The elven arrows were just reaching their targets—targets that were already dead, their bodies collapsing to the blood-soaked earth.

  Lilith stood amid the carnage, her blade dripping red onto the dirt path. The golden aura of the Haste spell flickered and faded, returning the world to its normal pace. She surveyed her handiwork with a detached curiosity, noting the precision of her cuts, the efficiency of her movements.

  What disturbed her wasn't the violence she'd just committed—it was her complete lack of reaction to it. There was no shock, no revulsion at having taken five human lives in the span of heartbeats. Instead, she felt... disappointed. The fight had ended too quickly. A part of her had wanted to prolong their suffering, to hear them scream, to watch the hope drain from their eyes as they realised death had come for them.

  Lilith froze, catching herself. These weren't her thoughts. Jacob wouldn't think this way. This was how she'd role-played Lilith back when this was just a game—the sadistic demon queen who revelled in the suffering of her enemies.

  But was it truly just role-play? A cold doubt crept into her mind. Perhaps she had always harboured these dark impulses, using the character of Lilith as an outlet for desires she couldn't acknowledge in the real world? Or worse—was Lilith's persona slowly bleeding into her consciousness, corrupting Jacob's humanity with demonic instincts?

  The elves emerged from their hiding places, weapons still drawn, eyes fixed on Lilith with expressions ranging from awe to undisguised fear. They approached cautiously, as if she might turn her blade on them next. Even Sylrena, who had been openly hostile before, now kept her distance with a new wariness in her gaze.

  Only Thaelon moved toward her with any confidence, though the love-struck adoration in his eyes had been tempered with something new—respect tinged with fear.

  "By the Eternal Grove," he whispered, surveying the bodies. "I've never seen anyone move like that. Not even the most skilled of our warriors."

  Lilith wiped her blade clean on the cloak of one of the dead slavers. "We should check on the children," she said, gesturing toward the covered wagon. The sounds of whimpering and quiet sobbing emanated from beneath the canvas.

  Thaelon nodded, still staring at her with that mixture of adoration and newfound caution. "Yes, of course."

  As the elves moved to secure the area and tend to the captives, Lilith caught her reflection in a puddle of blood at her feet. For a brief moment, she thought she saw her human disguise flicker, revealing the blue-skinned demon beneath. She blinked, and the image stabilised.

  "Who are you really?" Sylrena asked quietly, having approached while Lilith was distracted.

  Lilith met the elf's suspicious gaze with a level stare. "Someone who helped save those children," she answered. "Isn't that enough for now?"

  Sylrena's eyes narrowed, but she didn't press further. Instead, she moved to help the others with the wagon, leaving Lilith alone with her thoughts and the cooling bodies of the men she'd slain.