"He smells of potential," she continued, her tongue darting out to lick her lips. "Untapped power just waiting to be... drawn out. Perhaps I should offer to train him personally. I have so many techniques I could teach."

The way she said "techniques" made it absolutely clear she wasn't talking about combat training.

"Keep your appetites to yourself, Seraphine," Morganna the Blood Queen said coldly. "We're here to assess his worthiness for the council, not your bed."

"Can't it be both?" Seraphine replied with a sultry laugh, but she leaned back slightly.

"Enough," came a voice that cut through the banter like a knife. Chronus the Timeless, the Tenth Seat, finally spoke. His appearance was shifting constantly, young one moment, old the next, but his voice remained consistently cold and dismissive. "We're wasting time on theatrical posturing. Let's address the fundamental issue here."

He looked directly at Satou, and there was nothing but contempt in his eyes.

"I don't believe a goblin killed Vegeta. The Shadow Hero was arrogant, yes, but he was also one of the most skilled assassins in the kingdom. He'd killed demon nobles, infiltrated our strongholds, and survived encounters with several of us at this very table." Chronus's sneer was palpable. "The idea that some infant goblin, barely evolved, managed to defeat him is absurd. Either the reports are false, or there's some trick we're not being told about."

"The reports are accurate," Loki said smoothly, though Satou noticed his smile had become slightly fixed. "I've verified them through multiple sources. Satou defeated Vegeta in single combat. I've even seen the recording crystal myself."

"Recording crystals can be altered," Chronus shot back. "Especially by someone with your particular talents for deception, Loki. You've been looking for a candidate for the seventh seat for years. How convenient that you suddenly find one in the form of a goblin who supposedly achieved the impossible."

"Are you calling me a liar, Chronus?" Loki's voice remained pleasant, but something had changed. The temperature in the room shifted subtly, though not from cold or heat. It was something else, something that made the air itself feel dangerous.

"I'm suggesting you have motivations beyond honesty," Chronus replied. "You've always been too clever for your own good. Building alliances, making deals, positioning pieces on the board like we're all part of some grand game you're playing. Why should we believe this goblin is anything more than another one of your schemes?"

"Because I vouch for him," Loki said, and now his smile was completely gone. "Because I've staked my reputation on his candidacy. Because I'm telling you, to your face, that Satou earned his place at this table through legitimate achievement. If you have a problem with that, perhaps you should say so directly instead of hiding behind implications.

"Oh, I'll say it directly," Chronus replied, leaning forward. "I think you're lying. I think this goblin is a fraud. And I think you're using him as a pawn in whatever new scheme you're planning. Just like you always do. Just like you did before."

The last words carried weight that Satou didn't fully understand, but the effect was immediate.

Loki's presence changed.

The friendly, charming demon lord who'd been helping Satou, who'd smiled and joked and seemed almost human in his mannerisms, vanished. In his place was something else entirely.

Bloodlust erupted from Loki like an explosion.

It wasn't like when Satou released his own bloodlust, that was the rage of a fighter, the promise of violence from someone who'd learned to kill to survive. This was something far older and far more terrible. This was the bloodlust of a being who'd existed for millennia, who'd slaughtered armies, who'd done things that would make heroes weep.

The pressure was so intense that the obsidian table cracked, thin fissures spreading from where Loki's hands rested. The air itself seemed to scream. Several of the demon lords actually shifted in their seats, preparing for potential combat.

But the bloodlust was focused. Directed entirely at Chronus.

"You will not speak of that again," Loki said, and his voice had changed too. Gone was the pleasant, cultured tone. This was the voice of something ancient and merciless. "Do you understand me, Chronus? That matter is settled. Done. If you bring it up again, I will consider it a declaration of war between our domains."

Satou stared at Loki in shock. This was the first time he'd seen the demon lord lose his composure, the first time the mask had slipped to reveal what lay underneath. The friendly benefactor who'd helped him, who'd sent Cassius to protect his settlement, who'd smiled and made jokes was gone.

In his place was a Demon Lord in the truest sense. A being of absolute power and absolute ruthlessness.

And from the look in Loki's eyes, from the way his bloodlust was focused like a blade at Chronus's throat, Satou understood something else too.

These two had history. Bad history. Something had happened between them, something that left wounds deep enough that even centuries couldn't heal them.

And whatever it was, Loki wanted Chronus dead for it.

Chronus, for his part, had gone very still. His constantly shifting appearance had stabilized, locked into a form that looked middle aged and coldly furious. But he didn't back down.

"You threaten me, Loki? In front of the entire council?" Chronus's hands clenched on the table. "Over a goblin?"

"Over your inability to keep your mouth shut about matters that don't concern you," Loki replied. The bloodlust intensified. "Over your constant need to undermine everything I do because you can't let go of the past. Over your pathetic attempts to turn the council against me by casting doubt on my candidates."

"Gentlemen," Azshara interjected, though she looked more amused than concerned. "Perhaps we should table this particular argument for private discussion. We have business to attend to."

"I agree," Grimfang growled. "Your personal grudges are boring. Either kill each other or shut up."

But neither Loki nor Chronus moved. They stared at each other across the table, decades or perhaps centuries of hatred burning between them.

Satou's mind raced. He'd known demon lords would have complex politics, but this was something else. Whatever had happened between these two, it was personal. Deep. The kind of grudge that ended with one or both of them dead.

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