I could have chosen any class, but I chose the most perverse one

She is very sure of not losing and therefore is willing to grant me any condition.
I don't know her powers, nor those of her Servants.
I don't have enough information.
It’s a shot in the dark, and I don't like to gamble.

Can I risk the lives of what I hold most precious?

The weight of the situation is palpable, and I find myself torn between the desire for power and the fear of losing everything dear to me.
My mind races, desperately searching for any alternative that might spare my loved ones from harm. Yet deep down, I know there's no escape. I am compelled to face this deadly game head-on and give it my all.

In the grand throne room of the Dark Elf Queen, my heart races wildly. Every fiber of my being is stretched taut, like a violin string, waiting for that note that could lead to my downfall or my greatest victory.

"Strauss Wagner, there is no need for an immediate response," the queen says, her smile failing to mask the underlying malice. "Take your time to think." Her demeanor betrays her guile, utterly failing in its feigned attempt to put me at ease. Indeed, as she speaks these words, she pointedly shows me the hourglass, clearly indicating that time is ticking away.
"As my guests, you shall need rest. Reflect upon my proposal while you indulge in a banquet I have prepared for you, and rest in the comfortable chambers of my palace." Her words sound like an invitation, but I sense the weight of a veiled threat behind them.

I already know my answer, but perhaps I should discuss it first with my Servants.
No, that's not how it works. I cannot run, I cannot afford to be weak.
This is not a democracy where everyone decides and no one really does.
I am the one who commands, I am the one who must bear the weight and responsibilities of choices.
This might be my only chance to gain the upper hand over Azharie.

With a deep breath, I stiffen and turn to the queen, whose white eyes gleam with anticipation.
"Very well," I say, my voice steady despite the turmoil inside me. "I accept your conditions."

Azharie's eyes turn violet and widen in surprise, and her expression shifts from amusement to curiosity.
"You are willing to risk everything," she comments, her voice dripping with satisfaction. "I must admit, you intrigue me, Strauss Wagner."

"Why should I not? The terms are far more advantageous for me. It's you who risks everything.” I retort, displaying my smug smile.

"For me, it's a sure bet, merely a formality. But even if it weren’t, I am always willing to risk everything to gain more. Why should I limit myself when everything I see is rightfully mine?”

"You may have played this game for centuries, but you have never faced an adversary like me. Underestimating me will be your undoing, Queen Azharie Loree’Nahil."

Azharie lets out a dark chuckle, her amusement tinged with a hint of skepticism.
"Then prove it, Strauss Wagner. Show me why you think you can defy the odds."

"I will, I'll make you mine." My defiant expression shows absolute confidence.
If I have to risk everything, I might as well go all out.

"It's not just your powers that make you special. Now I am even more interested in adding you to my collection… I can hardly wait."

I made my decision quickly, lacking many necessary details.
Observing the queen's Servants seated near her, their malevolent gaze weighs on me.
The seven masked figures are an enigma, and I'm not clear on how this Demonic Game of Death unfolds.
I’ll have to interrogate Raqahela. Because of the succubus, I find myself embroiled in a conflict far greater than me.

“But we have talked enough for today! Eat and rest, tomorrow we will deal with the game."

"One last thing, Queen Azharie," I state, attempting to hide the anxiety gnawing at me.

"Speak," she replies, her tone relishing in my unease, which she evidently perceives.

"I don't have as many Servants as you do. I’m at a numerical disadvantage."

The queen slightly tilts her head, amused, her changing eyes challenging me.
"I see you are accompanied by numerous people. In the game, even those who are not Servants can participate. There is no numerical limit. You can use them all against my team. The only limit is that the Masters cannot participate directly in the fight." Her explanation opens up new possibilities for me, but also new dilemmas. "Remember, non-Servants too will die if the Master is defeated."

"I understand." I grasp the implications of her words.
Should I let Welze, Gallo, Jarica Fleubert, and Franz Dadref fight for me even though they don’t have a contract with me?
I’m not thrilled about the idea. Without a contract, they are not very strong, and I have no idea of the level of my opponents.
However, with the addition of four people, I would have a significant numerical advantage.

The queen, with a gesture of her hand, invites me to partake in the banquet.
I gaze at the lavishly set table, a cornucopia of delights that starkly contrasts with the gravity of the situation.
Now comes the difficult part that I wish I could avoid, and indeed I am thinking of a way.
I can't afford to buy more time. I'll have to explain to my companions what the queen told me.
I can already imagine the discussions and controversies with Dadref. Explaining the situation to my women will be even more complex.

I'll be risking their lives in a perverse game for greater power. The alternative, however, doesn't exist.
Being prisoners forever in this alternate dimension, subjugated to Azharie's will.

Sylthrenn, the sinister elf-spider, stands up at the queen's command and escorts me to where the others have remained.
Their faces are painted with numerous questions they want to ask me.
"What did she tell you, Wagner?" the annoying voice of the heartthrob greets me as expected.
"Let's eat first. There's a lot to explain." I avoid answering, trying to buy time to organize my thoughts.

We head to the large table, where the Elfrider indicates our places.
We turn towards the queen.

With elegance, she signals us to sit on the luxurious wooden chairs of the Underealm, apparently covered in spider silk.
Elvish maids silently rush to serve us and offer us drinks.
The cups are adorned with intricate web designs, a clear message of her loyalty to the creatures that share her realm.

I lift my goblet towards the queen, in a gesture of honor. My companions mimic me.
The queen nods. Even from this distance, her beauty is apparent, as she smiles with complacency.
I drink the sweet, spiced wine and feel my nerves slowly calming down.