The ocean stretched endlessly beneath the crimson glow of a dying sunset.
A lone ferry cut through the waters, its silhouette black against the bleeding sky. Waves hissed against its hull like whispering ghosts, and in the distance, the island waited — lush, green, and strangely silent. A paradise on the surface. But those who stared too long swore they saw the treeline breathing.
None of them knew who had sent the invitations.
Each had arrived in their own way, drawn by the promise of a “private, all-expenses-paid retreat for exceptional women.”
For Rias Gremory, the crimson-haired heiress of the Underworld, the letter had appeared on her desk at Kuoh Academy, sealed with gold and a faint trace of demonic magic she couldn’t identify.
“An invitation for a queen, perhaps?” she’d said with a smile.
Asia, ever the innocent, had clasped her hands. “It sounds wonderful! A real vacation!”
Xenovia had grinned, tossing her sword over her shoulder. “As long as they’ve got good food and no paperwork, I’m in.”
Meanwhile, elsewhere in another world entirely, Albedo’s golden eyes shimmered as she read the same gilded envelope.
“A resort…?” she murmured, wings twitching with suspicion and curiosity. “Perhaps Ainz-sama’s doing? A secret test of loyalty?”
Beside her, Shalltear Bloodfallen twirled her parasol and smirked. “If it is a test, I’ll pass it in style. I do adore a bit of tropical bloodshed.”
Far beyond their realms, in a far more chaotic dimension, the self-proclaimed angels Panty and Stocking Anarchy were already packing.
“Free resort? Booze included?” Panty cackled, throwing a pile of swimsuits into her suitcase.
“Maybe it’s haunted,” Stocking said, nibbling a cupcake. “If I get to beat up some demons in a bikini, I’ll call it a good trip.”
“Haunted’s fine. As long as the bar’s open 24/7.”
Even Charlie Morningstar — ever the optimist — had accepted with delight.
“An island resort for peace and rest! Maybe it’s a chance to show that even demons can enjoy life without chaos!” she’d said, practically glowing.
Nifty, bouncing beside her, clapped her hands. “Oh, oh! I can clean the rooms! And sweep the haunted halls! Heehee!”
The Island
The ferry reached the dock just as night fell. A silver mist clung to the sand like breath. Lanterns flickered along a path leading to a towering resort hotel — The Elysium Haven. The building gleamed with gothic arches and marble, somehow ancient and modern all at once. The air was warm, but not welcoming.
Rias stepped off first, her eyes narrowing. “Strange… this energy. It feels demonic, but—”
“Different?” Xenovia finished, scanning the treeline. “Yeah. Like something’s watching us.”
Asia shivered. “Maybe it’s just… island spirits?”
“Welcome, honored guests!”
A bellhop in a crisp white suit appeared — tall, eerily pale, his smile a bit too wide. “We’ve been expecting you. Please, follow the lights to the grand hall. Dinner will be served shortly.”
As they walked, the island seemed to shift subtly. Trees rustled without wind. The air carried the scent of roses — and faintly, iron. Albedo’s steps echoed on the marble steps, her eyes darting toward the shadows. “I do not like this,” she whispered to Shalltear.
“Don’t pout, Albedo,” Shalltear purred. “Maybe they’ll have a midnight blood bar. I’m famished.”
Panty and Stocking, meanwhile, were unimpressed.
“Where’s the hot tub?” Panty grumbled.
“Probably haunted,” Stocking muttered.
“Good. I like my bubbles with a side of ghosts.”
The resort’s interior was dazzling. Crystal chandeliers sparkled overhead, and portraits of smiling women lined the hall — but their eyes… seemed to follow the guests as they passed. The air carried the faint hum of chanting, so soft it could almost be mistaken for the wind.
Charlie clapped her hands. “Isn’t this wonderful? Everyone from so many worlds, together for peace!”
Nifty zipped between chairs, her feather duster twirling. “Shiny floors! Big tables! Love it!”
A voice echoed from the staircase.
“Welcome… to the Elysium Haven.”
Two figures descended slowly — tall, poised, elegant. The crowd fell silent.
The first had crimson skin and long, slicked-back green hair; her grin was sharp and calculating. The second’s hair glowed icy blue, her expression cool and disdainful. Both wore pristine white resort uniforms that looked suspiciously like something out of a devil’s contract ceremony.
Panty froze mid-step. “Oh, hell no. Is that—?”
Stocking’s lollipop fell from her mouth. “Scanty. And Kneesocks.”
The Demon Sisters smiled in perfect sync.
“Long time, no wings, angels,” Scanty purred.
“We’re simply… rebranding,” Kneesocks said smoothly. “Hospitality is our new trade. After all, souls make excellent guests.”
Charlie blinked. “You two run this place? That’s amazing! You’ve really turned your lives around!”
Stocking facepalmed. “She has no idea…”
Panty sighed. “This trip just got interesting.”
Dinner was exquisite — exotic fruits, dark wines, spiced meats, and desserts that shimmered like starlight. But beneath the chatter, there was tension. Every so often, a light flickered, and someone could swear they saw a different reflection in the silverware — their own face, twisted, watching them with hollow eyes.
Rias, ever composed, leaned toward Albedo. “You feel it too, don’t you?”
Albedo nodded slowly. “The energy here is wrong. There’s no flow of life or death… only stagnation. A prison disguised as paradise.”
Shalltear tapped her glass. “Then we’re walking into a trap. Delightful.”
Asia clasped her hands nervously. “Maybe it’s just the atmosphere…”
“Atmosphere doesn’t breathe when you’re not looking,” Xenovia muttered.
At the far end of the hall, Scanty raised her glass. “To our guests — may you enjoy your stay forevermore.”
Her smile lingered a bit too long on the word forever.
Charlie, oblivious, cheered. “To peace!”
Panty and Stocking exchanged glances.
“Bet you ten cupcakes,” Panty whispered, “they’re up to no good.”
“Make it twenty,” Stocking said. “This place smells like old souls.”
When the clock struck midnight, the island’s true nature began to whisper.
Asia awoke first, hearing something through the walls — a soft humming, like a choir of trapped voices. She peeked out her window and froze. The sea was glowing faintly red, pulsing like a heartbeat.
Down the corridor, Shalltear opened her eyes, fangs gleaming. “Blood in the tide,” she murmured. “How… poetic.”
In another suite, Albedo paced by candlelight, wings quivering. “This island reeks of envy and desire,” she said. “Like it’s feeding on it.”
Meanwhile, Panty and Stocking were sneaking out with flashlights.
“Rule one,” Panty said, “never trust demon-run spas.”
“Rule two,” Stocking added, “bring snacks.” She held up a bag of cookies.
They passed a mirror in the hallway — and stopped.
Their reflections smiled back… a second too late.
(And now the tale begins so who shall be the one who is catprued by a demon?)
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