My Family in the Novel?

"You, who are you?" inquired a flying demon as he scouted the area with the newly teleported corpses.

He was merely checking to ensure the new batch had arrived, but to his surprise, he witnessed two individuals casually conversing on top of the corpses, seemingly oblivious to the world around them.

His eyes widened when the black-haired woman met his gaze.

The way she smiled sent a shiver down his demonic spine, heightening his lustful inclinations.

Deciding to approach them, he suddenly plummeted to the ground, creating a small crater upon impact. If not for his demonic resilience, it could have been fatal.

Struggling to rise, he found the pressure on him intensifying, as if an unseen force was compelling him to stay grounded.

"Mila?" Siena questioned, a genuine surprise evident in her expression. Mila, who typically stayed in the background, allowing Siena to take the lead in such situations, seemed to have taken initiative this time.

"Oh, sorry, boss. The maggot looked at you in a weird way, so my hands moved on their own," Mila explained, using celestial magic to force the demon to the ground. Hearing her words, Siena couldn't help but smile at the unexpected turn of events.

It was endearing how protective Mila could be. Despite being one of the most feared beings in the continent, having Mila worry about her felt like a refreshing change. Only Mila and her disciple had ever treated her as a normal human being rather than a godlike entity.

The two of them gracefully descended from the macabre pile of corpses, their discerning eyes fixated on the demon writhing beneath the oppressive pressure. "Hmm... appears to be on the upper echelon of mid-ranking demons," Siena casually remarked, her sharp intellect analyzing the demonic creature.

"Wh-who are you?" stammered the demon, his struggles intensifying as the relentless pressure took a toll on his body. Audible cracks emanated from within, signifying the strain on his bones.

Siena approached the demon with an air of mischief, a sly smile playing on her lips. She seized his tattered brown hair, the celestial magic amplifying gravity making it feel like his scalp might succumb to the relentless force. His face was forcibly pushed down, evoking painful grunts as he tried to endure the agony.

"PFFT... Hey, this place is Faerielight, right? What happened here, and who summoned you guys?" Siena inquired with a feigned innocence, her keen awareness reveling in the demon's evident suffering. Chuckles escaped her lips, finding amusement in the dramatic display of his pained expression.

Mila emitted a weary sigh at the unfolding events, realizing that her partner, Siena, possessed a sadistic streak. As she prepared to deactivate the spell she had cast, an unexpected bout of coughing seized her.

"Mila!" Siena's exclamation resonated with concern, prompting her to assume a defensive stance with her sword drawn.

Mila surveyed her surroundings, identifying the source of her distress—a wriggling black tentacle that had impaled her. A soft touch graced her cheek from behind, accompanied by numerous additional tentacles entwining her form.

Siena, eager to intervene, made a slight movement, but Elaniel swiftly intercepted, issuing a veiled threat.

"Calm down, sword lady. You wouldn't want to let this poor little girl die, right?" Elaniel's blood-red eyes bore into Siena as she delicately caressed Mila's cheek, her fingertips morphing into sharp claws that gently grazed Mila's neck.

"My queen," stammered the pinned-down demon, but despite Mila's near-fatal injury, the spell she casted remained active.

A deepening darkness descended upon the already gloomy atmosphere. Shades of red permeated the skies, streets, building roofs, and dead trees, and demonic eyes flickered a malevolent blood-red, fixated on the summoning area below.

Siena surveyed her surroundings, taken aback by the growing number of demons encircling her.

Their presence numbered in the hundreds, and upon closer inspection, she realized that all the demons' mana signatures converged towards the woman holding Mila.

"So, you're their master, huh?" Siena inquired.

Despite her lack of fear towards the demons present, the woman before her emitted an unsettling aura.

She understood that she was stronger than her opponent, but an instinctual urge compelled her to eliminate the threat immediately.

However, with Mila held hostage, Siena refrained from taking any drastic actions. Earlier attempts to cut down the woman were thwarted, as the swift retaliation had put Mila's life in jeopardy.

The situation grew tenser with each passing moment. The demonic eyes continued to gleam with a sinister glow, and the ominous red hues intensified.

Siena pondered her next move, calculating the risks and possibilities. She needed a strategy that would both protect Mila and neutralize the threat before her.

Observing Mila's pained expression, Siena noted the glistening tears pooling in her eyes. It was evident that Mila struggled to suppress her emotions, perhaps fearing Siena's teasing if she were to shed tears. Siena, however, discerned the inner turmoil and chuckled softly.

"Mila, it's okay to cry," Siena gently reassured her, urging Mila to embrace her vulnerability in this trying moment.

"Only kids cry, Boss," Mila responded with a strained voice, attempting to maintain her composure. Nevertheless, tears escaped her eyes, betraying the emotional strain she endured.

"Who are you?" inquired Elaniel, her voice attempting a semblance of sweetness that clashed with the underlying dread in her eyes. The color drained from her body, leaving her resembling a corpse with blood-red eyes.

"You're quite strong for a human~," she added, her tone twisted with an unsettling charm.

"Siena Scaith," replied Siena, her response accompanied by a vigilant stance, refusing to lower her guard.

The demons in the vicinity subtly reacted to the mention of Siena's name. However, the woman before her remained seemingly unfazed, studying Siena with an unsettling hunger.

Growing irritated by Elaniel's nonchalant demeanor, Siena unleashed her potent aura, a manifestation of power that instilled fear in all those present.

The surrounding demons, for the first time, felt the weight of true authority, as if they stood in the presence of a demonic king.

However, Elaniel, unfazed, casually gouged out one of Mila's eyeballs in response.

"AGHHHH!!!!"

As Mila's agonized scream pierced the air, the gruesome reality of losing her right eye overwhelmed her. The pain was unbearable, and Mila couldn't suppress her anguished cry.

"You were quite hasty, Miss Siena. You know you can't do reckless things when you're trying to save a hostage, right?"

Elaniel taunted with a sinister smile that stretched from ear to ear.

Her sadistic pleasure seemed boundless as she provocatively licked Mila's cheek, savoring the blood flowing from her wounded eye.

"You bastard!" Siena's rage echoed through the air, but she found herself frustratingly immobilized, unable to intervene. Elaniel's tentacle, now gripping Mila even tighter, silenced any resistance.

Siena's gaze fixed upon Mila's eyeball in Elaniel's clutches, witnessing the grotesque act. Shockingly, Elaniel nonchalantly swallowed the eyeball, as if relishing the macabre feast.

"Oh, you have quite the peculiar race, young lady," she remarked with an unsettling calmness, continuing her embrace, albeit with her tentacles.

Siena's voice resonated with a gravity that matched her serious martial arts stance.

"Let go of her," she demanded, a flicker of determination burning in her eyes.

Mila, sensing the impending confrontation, locked eyes with Siena, silently acknowledging their unspoken agreement. She braced herself for whatever might unfold, her trust unwavering.

Prepared for a decisive strike, Siena readied herself to sever Elaniel's head. The plan was clear – the moment Mila detected Siena's signal, she would evade with all her might.

Uncertainty lingered in the air as Siena questioned the efficacy of their strategy. Elaniel's monstrous reaction speed posed a formidable challenge, yet Siena couldn't afford to hesitate.

The risk of losing Mila, or worse, loomed over them, compelling her to act swiftly.

Elaniel, perceptive and cunning, observed Siena's focused stance. Believing she had cornered Siena into prioritizing the potential attack over Mila's safety, Elaniel prepared herself for any onslaught.

Her darkened eyes, devoid of empathy, hinted at a willingness to use Mila as a shield should the need arise.

The tension in the room escalated, each participant poised for the imminent clash between forces, both physical and psychological.

As the atmosphere thickened with anticipation, the darkened skies underwent a dramatic transformation.

The once foreboding expanse morphed into a sea of liquid crimson, and a mist of blood descended, cloaking the surroundings. The tension in the air heightened, as if the very heavens wept in shades of red.

From this eerie spectacle emerged a manifestation of sheer power. Two blood tornadoes, swirling with a malevolent energy, touched the ground and gradually constricted, giving birth to two figures.

One, adorned in a seductive and regal red dress, possessed captivating crimson eyes and flowing scarlet hair. Elizabeth Vespera Bloodraven, the blood monarch and progenitor of vampires, had made a grand entrance.

At her side materialized Herton, her loyal aide, emerging gracefully from the blood tornado that accompanied Elizabeth's arrival.

The beauty exuded by the Blood Monarch rivaled that of the two women already present, further intensifying the already charged atmosphere.

Elizabeth's piercing gaze surveyed the scene, a subtle smirk playing on her lips, while Herton maintained a respectful demeanor by her side.

Elizabeth's crimson eyes swept across the transformed landscape, registering the unfamiliar alterations that time had etched upon Faerielight.

The once-familiar realm had evolved into something different, a testament to the inexorable passage of centuries.

Yet, amidst the unsettling changes, Elizabeth's attention was inevitably drawn to the powerful figures present, particularly one whose aura resonated with formidable strength.

Her gaze honed in on a woman with ebony tresses and eyes that shimmered like silvery ashen gray, a distinct combination that left no room for confusion.

In the vast expanse of the continent, and indeed the entire world, only one individual matched this unique description—Siena Scaith, the celestial blade.

Elizabeth's lips curved into a subtle smile as she recognized the potent force emanating from Siena.

Her scrutiny, however, did not stop there. Elizabeth's perceptive gaze shifted to another formidable presence, standing alongside Siena.

The regal figure before her bore the face of Elaniel Elaris, the queen of the elves. However, Elizabeth discerned a profound duality within this enigmatic woman.

While the exterior mirrored Elaniel's timeless beauty with golden blonde locks and blood-red eyes reminiscent of vampires and demons, the distinct presence of two souls intertwined within her captivated Elizabeth's attention.

The resting soul within this Elaniel look-alike intrigued Elizabeth.

Despite her strength being overshadowed by both Siena and Elizabeth, the mysterious aura surrounding her hinted at untold potential.

Elizabeth's instincts, honed over Millenniums, warned her that this woman could pose a formidable challenge if pushed to the brink.

The Queen of Vampires assessed the unfolding tableau with keen interest.

Elizabeth unfurled her crimson umbrella, a stark contrast to the blood rain that seemed to respect her presence by avoiding contact.

Siena, sensing the gravity of the newcomer's power, decided against suppressing her own aura, understanding that this encounter might require a level of preparedness she hadn't experienced before.

Both Siena and Elizabeth were renowned as among the world's strongest beings, and meeting someone on par with their might was an unprecedented event for Siena.

With an assertive yet friendly demeanor, Siena addressed the enigmatic figure before her. "You're the blood monarch, right?"

The acknowledgement of Elizabeth's identity carried a weight of recognition, marking the convergence of two formidable forces. Elizabeth, her gaze unwavering despite the blood-red rain, reciprocated the sentiment.

"Correct. My name is Elizabeth Vespera Bloodraven. Nice to meet you, Siena Scaith. This is the first time we've met, right?" Elizabeth's voice held a cordial tone, belying the immense power she wielded.

Her attention then shifted to the Elaniel look-alike standing beside Siena.

"Nice to meet you as well, Elaniel. It's been a few hundred years since we last saw each other, right?"

However, Elaniel's response was a mere tilt of her head, an indication that the woman standing there was not the Elaniel with whom Elizabeth shared a history.

The realization intrigued Elizabeth, adding another layer of complexity to the unfolding situation. Observing Elaniel's obliviousness to their supposed past, Elizabeth mused.

'So, she really isn't Elaniel... Quite intriguing. I came here to find out what happened with Charlotte, but the situation got even more complex'

The demons, Herton, and other infernal entities in the vicinity found themselves compelled to kneel under the overwhelming pressure that radiated from the three woman's presence.

The air grew heavy, and even Mila, who was cradled in Elaniel's arms, succumbed to unconsciousness due to the sheer force surrounding them.

The three powerful women—Siena, Elizabeth, and the Elaniel look-alike—engaged in a silent but intense analysis of each other.

The tension in the atmosphere heightened with every passing moment, creating an anticipation of an impending clash.

The surrounding entities, now on their knees, awaited the crucial first move that would set the tone for the encounter.

Amidst the palpable tension, a series of slow claps echoed through the air.

CLAP! CLAP! CLAP!

The trio turned their attention toward the source of the applause, discovering a man with black hair and ashen gray eyes walking calmly toward them.

His reassuring smile hinted at an intention to diffuse the mounting tension.

"Alright, ladies, let's all calm down, shall we?" he declared, his voice carrying a sense of authority that momentarily quelled the atmospheric pressure.

The trio of powerful women, along with the rest of the entities present, shifted their focus to this newcomer.