Meanwhile.
In a vast, secret hall beneath the Beastkin Royal Palace…
Gumarak lay sprawled flat on the polished stone floor, twitching slightly.
His beard was frizzed, his clothes wrinkled, and his proud dwarven forehead had been smacked so many times he lost count after thirty.
His limbs ached from being thrown, flipped, and pinned in every wrestling style known to elves, beastkin, and demons alike.
"Ugh… Just kill me already…" he groaned.
Mylezra stood nearby, arms folded, smiling like a gentle older sister—except her heel had just moments ago pinned him during a submission lock.
"No~ you have no use if you die," she replied sweetly. "Besides… this is your fault."
Lioness chuckled as he cracked his knuckles.
" I haven't even used my full-body suplex on you yet."
"Eeeek…!" Gumarak tried to crawl away slowly.