The scene unfolds in a dimly lit throne room, where the shadows seem to stretch and dance with an ominous life of their own. The massive, stone-carved hall is silent except for the steady echo of bootsteps as Zara and Lyra approach the figure slumped on the obsidian throne. Their father, the once-feared Demon King, sits before them, his eyes dim with age and weariness.

Zara steps forward, her arm draped protectively around her sister's shoulders, her gaze filled with a mixture of disappointment and disgust. Her frown deepens as she looks down at him, her posture tense, muscles taut under the bright red fabric of her uniform. Lyra, at her side, stands calmly with her arms crossed, her expression cold and piercing. The bright red of her eyes cuts through the gloom, and she regards their father with a detached disdain, more calculated than her sister's open anger.

"So this is what you’ve become,"

Zara growls, her voice laced with bitterness.

"The great Demon King, cowering on his throne while his kingdom falls apart. Did you really think you could lead with fear alone, Father?"

Lyra’s gaze doesn’t waver as she speaks, her tone icily calm. Both her and Zara's cocks twitching beneath their pants

"You taught us to be strong, ruthless… yet here you sit, defeated by your own weaknesses. Perhaps it’s time for a change in leadership."