《Demon Goddess: if i can’t have love, i want power》 Prolog: The Trial "By this, you are hereby declared to be reborn as a kind and beautiful girl for the fifteenth time," the judge pronounced the final judgment on Elara Olivia Sullivan''s life. "I object!" Elara retorted firmly. In the ethereal afterlife courtroom, a profound hush fell over the assembly as the judge''s words resonated through the luminous chamber. Elara Olivia Sullivan stood with unwavering determination, her eyes blazing with a unique mix of defiance and resolution. The atmosphere seemed suspended in time, as if the entire universe held its breath in anticipation of her response. As the words "I object!" erupted from Elara''s lips, they seemed to reverberate through the very fabric of existence, sending ripples of surprise and disbelief across the faces of the celestial jurors. These beings, each embodying a wisdom and experience beyond human comprehension, exchanged incredulous glances and exchanged murmurs that echoed like distant chimes. Elara''s refusal was unprecedented, an audacious act of rebellion against the cycle of reincarnation that had governed souls for eons. The jurors, accustomed to souls accepting their fates with grace, found themselves grappling with the sheer audacity of her defiance. Their radiant expressions of serenity were momentarily replaced by expressions of astonishment and contemplation. In this realm beyond time and space, where the boundaries between mortal and divine blurred, Elara''s unwavering stance sent shockwaves that seemed to ripple through the very tapestry of existence. The luminous surroundings, which usually emanated an otherworldly calm, now crackled with an energy that mirrored the determination within her heart. The silence that followed seemed to stretch into eternity as Elara held her ground, unyielding and fierce, in the face of celestial incredulity. The cosmos itself seemed to hold its breath, caught between the age-old order and the unexpected defiance of a soul seeking to shape her own destiny. "Reborn as a kind and beautiful girl, I refuse," Elara repeated, her tone calm, measured, and resolute. She was exceedingly certain about her decision. She was ready to be reborn as anything, as long as it wasn''t the role of a kind and beautiful girl. In a moment that seemed to transcend both the ethereal and the tangible, Elara''s words hung in the air like delicate wisps of stardust. Her voice, a harmonious blend of determination and serenity, reverberated within the celestial chamber. The assembled jurors, those luminous beings of infinite wisdom, were once again taken aback by the unyielding resolve that emanated from the young soul standing before them. Being reborn as a kind and beautiful girl was considered the highest form of blessing, a coveted gift desired by many souls who had met tragic ends. However, Elara firmly rejected it. The jurors, celestial sages who had overseen countless cosmic cycles, exchanged subtle glances that conveyed both awe and admiration. The celestial realm had not witnessed such a rebellion in eons, and Elara''s courage stirred their ancient hearts. Through fourteen lifetimes as a kind and beautiful girl, Elara''s existence had been a relentless struggle for happiness. As she stood in the ethereal realm, surrounded by the whispers of other souls and celestial beings, a voice echoed in her mind, recounting her pain. "I''ve endured this cycle for so long," Elara whispered to herself, her voice carrying the weight of countless disappointments. Beside her, a spectral figure nodded in understanding, its eyes filled with compassion. "Your journey has been arduous, Elara. But remember, every life carries lessons, even amidst suffering." Elara''s thoughts drifted back to each lifetime she had lived ¨C the deceptions, the betrayals, and the broken promises. "I''ve known the sweetness of hope, only to have it turn to bitterness," she admitted, her voice tinged with bitterness. "You hold the memories of those experiences," the spectral figure affirmed. "They''ve shaped you, made you resilient." Unauthorized duplication: this narrative has been taken without consent. Report sightings. Elara''s gaze turned inward as the memories surged back, vivid and painful. "The pain of betrayal, the sting of deceit, it''s all etched into me." "It''s part of your story," the figure reminded her gently. "But you also carry the strength to transcend it." Her thoughts then turned to the prospect of another life as a kind and beautiful girl. "To be reborn once more, to face the same challenges... I''m not sure I can bear it." A soothing presence enveloped Elara, offering solace in the midst of her turmoil. "The choice is yours, Elara. Your journey has led you here, to this crossroads." Elara''s heart was heavy as she faced her decision. "I yearn for something different, something powerful." Having already experienced fourteen lifetimes as a kind and beautiful girl in the mortal realm, Elara had yet to find happiness. Instead, her existence was riddled with suffering and betrayal. While in the realm of spirits, she regained all memories from her past lives ¨C memories that were not of joy, but of anguish. Pain, an ever-present companion, had etched itself into her very essence. Betrayal. Deceit. Promises made without an ounce of intention to fulfill them. With each cycle of rebirth, she had endured the weight of these burdens, her heart becoming a repository of scars that spanned across ages. The allure of being reborn as a kind and beautiful girl, a coveted fate for many, had lost its luster in the face of her accumulated pain. As she navigated the afterlife, surrounded by the wisps of souls and celestial beings, Elara''s emotions were vivid and raw. The bitterness of deception, the sharp sting of broken trust, and the heavy cloak of unfulfilled pledges loomed over her. Each memory, a thread woven into the tapestry of her being, wove a narrative of heartache and disillusionment. The prospect of yet another lifetime as a kind and beautiful girl seemed like a cruel joke, a repeating cycle of naivety and shattered dreams. To believe in the promise of a beautiful ending felt like a betrayal to her own experiences, a denial of the lessons learned through trials that spanned generations. Elara''s eyes, radiant with an inner fire, were fixed upon the chief judge. Her lips, painted the color of blood-red roses, curved into a determined smile. "I won''t be reborn as that foolish character again! Don''t think I''ll be fooled. Are you all enjoying your spectacle? Delighting in the melodrama of a suffering beautiful girl from up here, huh?" A collective gasp swept through the assembly. Her audacious defiance was a breach of decorum, daring to challenge the highest judge in front of so many witnesses. Yet, Elara''s resolve remained unshaken, her spine straight and her gaze steady. She stood like a lone figure against the cosmic forces, unwavering in her stance. The courtroom seemed to hold its breath, suspended in a moment that defied the boundaries of time. Elara''s words, laced with frustration and a demand for autonomy, reverberated through the expanse. She wasn''t the compliant soul they were accustomed to. The Supreme Judge smirked sardonically and then turned to Elara. "So, what do you want to be born as?" he inquired. Elara replied, her voice unwavering, "I don''t want to be reborn as anyone. I seek an eternal life and the Eternal power to show you that all your judgments and verdicts are not 100% accurate." The courtroom seemed to hold its breath yet again, the tension tangible in the air. Elara''s response was a direct challenge to the very fabric of the afterlife''s rules and regulations. The Supreme Judge regarded her with a mixture of amusement and curiosity. Her words had a profound impact, causing a ripple of whispers among the celestial jurors. Their expressions ranged from astonishment to contemplation, as they grappled with the implications of Elara''s audacious declaration. The Supreme Judge''s laughter resonated through the ethereal chamber, a mixture of amusement and intrigue. "To challenge the judgments of the highest authority is a rare feat indeed. You''ve not only questioned the decisions of the universe but also affronted the male jurors present here. Yet, we have bestowed upon you the greatest gift ¨C the chance to be reborn as a kind-hearted, beautiful woman in your next life." Elara''s gaze remained unwavering, her spirit unyielding. "I won''t be swayed. I''ve made it clear, I don''t want to tread the human path once more. The fate of my soul is yours to determine." As the words hung in the air, a newfound tension rippled through the celestial assembly. The Supreme Judge''s demeanor shifted, his reaction revealing an intriguing blend of reprimand and grudging respect. It was as if Elara''s defiance had ignited a spark of curiosity within him. Among the celestial jurors, expressions transformed from astonishment to contemplation, their wise gazes reflecting a deep consideration of the implications. The Judge''s response, while steeped in authority, was accompanied by a subtle note of reluctant admiration. A resonant chuckle broke the silence, the Supreme Judge''s stance evolving. Seizing the moment to exert his dominion, he presented a proposition veiled in both dread and empowerment. "Henceforth, you shall become a Demon Goddess entity. Your task is to gather the souls consumed by their darkest desires, to devour and harness their power for your own eternal sustenance. This role is usually reserved for souls deemed unfit for any form of rebirth, be it as animals or even plants. It''s a dire punishment." Elara''s expression remained unflinching, her determination solid. Faced with a choice that defied the norms of existence. "I''ll take it!" Elara responded swiftly, surprising herself with the satisfaction that blossomed within her. "I accept your offer, Supreme Judge, and esteemed jurors. I will prove that no matter how good or virtuous a human appears to be, they will succumb to darkness if given power. I will collect the souls you require, as you wish, and harness their strength to eventually overthrow you, Supreme Judge." The celestial courtroom seemed to pulse with a charged energy, the very essence of the afterlife trembling with the weight of Elara''s choice. Her decision was a radical departure from the path she had once envisioned, a pact with immense consequences. The Supreme Judge regarded her with a mixture of intrigue and caution, his regal aura undisturbed. The celestial jurors exchanged knowing glances, the atmosphere shifting as they contemplated the implications of this unprecedented agreement. The silence that followed was profound, a testament to the monumental choice that had been made. The boundaries of fate seemed to blur as Elara embraced her new role, a Demon Goddess tasked with collecting the souls of the fallen, a punishment turned into a quest for power. *** Landlady’s Anger "In the sorcerer''s sinister grasp, shadows weave and whispers cease, for with every incantation, a soul''s essence is drawn, a chilling transaction of power at the cost of light."- The Demon Goddess ~~~ What agony could surpass the ordeal of traversing life as a dispirited, unemployed man? Within the confines of his surroundings, Viktor found himself trapped within a space so squalid and derelict that it hardly merited the designation of a place to rest. Now, it was a scene of utter chaos, dominated by a sprawling mound of detritus that emitted a noxious odor, extending as far as the eye could discern. Similarly beleaguered was the young man who had just stirred from his slumber, his eyes swollen and reddened¡ªnot from tears, for in the midst of these wretched living conditions, an array of curious creatures like ants had become his unwelcome cohabitants. Before Viktor, a disheveled figure who once held the esteemed title of foremost in his field stood amidst a procession of ebony-hued mice, scurrying in succession. Having only recently retired from his exalted position, he was now a mere ghost of his former self, a man intricately intertwined with the threads of ill fortune. His gaze swept over the scuttling rodents with an air of apathy, laden with indifference and exhaustion¡ªan embodiment of the disarray that had now woven itself into the fabric of his existence. On closer inspection, the room, now submerged under layers of refuse, likely harbored several repugnant creatures capable of taking to the air when threatened. "Ah, you wretched cockroach. Rot in hell!" Viktor''s exclamation reverberated through the air, a mixture of frustration and disgust painting his words. The fervent outburst wasn''t without consequences. It managed to pique the curiosity of a stern-faced, middle-aged woman who happened to be passing by. Her countenance bore the marks of perpetual seriousness, a demeanor only accentuated by the unwavering presence of hair rollers she seemed to wear as a permanent fixture. With an air of determination, the woman strode purposefully toward Viktor''s room, her steps echoing with a resolute intent. Her knuckles rapped against the door in a forceful rhythm that mirrored her unyielding demeanor. "Hey there! Young man! I kindly granted you a two-day grace period to settle your overdue room rent. If, by any chance, you''ve failed to produce the requisite payment at this very moment, brace yourself for an imminent camaraderie with the destitute and the homeless." This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it. As her voice carried on, each word enunciated with a strict clarity, she struck the door with a cadence that conveyed her stern warning. Meanwhile, Viktor had sought refuge beneath a haphazard pile of bedding, concealed from the world''s judgment and ensnared in the mess that cocooned him. In this impromptu retreat, he artfully sidestepped the impending obligation of satisfying his overdue rent payment, effectively deferring the responsibility tied to the abode he currently called his own. "Oh, damn it! Just go away, go away, go away!" Viktor muttered in a fervent whisper, the words tumbling from his lips like a desperate plea. In these recent days, Viktor found himself trapped in the relentless grip of adversity, struggling to break free from the oppressive shadows that had swallowed his once-thriving life. His muttered mantra served as a desperate attempt to chase away not only the unwanted intrusions but also the haunting thoughts that seemed to cling to him like a persistent specter. As time wore on, his battle with his circumstances began to take its toll on his very constitution. The mere sight of appetizing, nutritious meals turned his stomach, and he found himself unable to partake in the simple pleasures he once enjoyed. Neglect had wrapped its cold fingers around him, becoming an intimate companion in this desolate chapter of his life. It clung to him like a second skin, eroding the vibrancy that had once defined his appearance. The lines of exhaustion and sorrow had carved their marks onto his features, a vivid reflection of the turmoil within. Amid his struggle to maintain even the semblance of normalcy, a bitter realization dawned on him. "How in the world am I supposed to gather the funds to settle my rent?" he questioned aloud, his voice carrying a poignant blend of exasperation and helplessness. "My stomach has been aching with emptiness, reduced to subsisting on nothing more than plain water and rice that''s now infested with weevils since yesterday." The words lingered in the air, a stark testament to the depths of his current circumstances and the daunting challenges he faced. An angry, forceful kick from the infuriated landlady crashed into Viktor''s room door, the impact causing the aged wood to splinter and crack under the pressure. With a resounding crash, the hinges finally relinquished their grip, yielding to the unyielding fury of the blow. The door swung open in a violent gesture, its protest echoing in the room. "Ugh, darn it. What''s that smell?" The woman''s voice rang out, a symphony of disbelief and repulsion that reverberated within the confined space. Her eyes, widened in disbelief, bore witness to the grotesque scene before her, her initial shock contorting into a visage of discomfort as the overpowering, acrid stench assailed her senses. The malodorous assault was potent enough to elicit a physical reaction, her features wrinkling involuntarily as she winced. "No wonder the other tenants have been complaining about the trash smell. Seems it originates from here," she muttered, her voice tinged with a mixture of irritation and apprehension. Her gaze swept over the expanse of the room, now dominated by an overwhelming pile of refuse, and it was clear that the room bore the brunt of the blame for the pervasive odor. Navigating her way inside, the landlady''s emotions swung like a pendulum between genuine concern and unmitigated repulsion. Her footsteps hesitated momentarily, as if the sheer disarray before her challenged her ability to process what lay within. With a steady breath, she ventured further, her gaze sweeping the room in search of any sign of Viktor''s presence amidst the refuse.