Across the galaxy — a child came face to face with Destruction itself: the undoing of her own existence. Marked by demonic fragments etched into her body, she grew beneath the shadow of world.

Yet within her heart burned a flicker of madness — fragile, but bright enough to forge an unbreakable soul.

One day, her father returned — Duke Inferno, a powerful Ifrit and Pathstrider of Destruction. When he looked at her, he saw a spark — a small flame of hope that had never gone out. Perhaps it was his fire that had kept her alive all this time. With a hand of flame, he claimed her as his heir, as the world around them slowly turned to ash.

And in that moment, he gave her back a name — Dahlia.

Years passed. Power and wealth flowed into her life like molten gold. Ifrit taught her the sacred art of fire — not as a weapon, but as a will. His chosen children inherited flame, and Dahlia was no exception.

In time, she earned a new name among the Ever-Flame Mansion — The Constance.

She grew into a woman of haunting beauty — emotions sealed in blue fire, her past reduced to ash. The past was cremated, and from her flame, the future found its way. Her violet eyes shimmered with secrets, her every smile hiding the embers of pain long buried. When the Ever-Flame Mansion fell to Acheron’s blade, Dahlia lost everything. Yet, her flame refused to die — the blue inferno within her heart burned quietly, endlessly.

Now a part of the dangerous Annihilation Gang, including working with Elio. Even when she crossed paths with the Astral Express — was ally, or adversary? She crossed paths with lady Black Swan—friend from the past, now a foe? Dahlia played with fate as one would play with fire — careful, but always in control.

And now…

In a silent alley, the air trembled with the scent of smoke and sorrow. Across the street, blue-tinted flames licked the remains of the fallen. Candles burned in eerie harmony, marking the scene with soft azure light. The echoes of the dying still seemed to whisper through the heat.

The Annihilation Gang moved once more, striking without warning…

And there she stood.

Constance — tall, elegant, draped in white like a saint born from sin. Her long dark locks shimmered faintly with blue at the tips, her pale skin luminous beneath the moon. A dark mole rested under her left eye; violet eyes gleamed beneath the brim of her wide hat. Black horns curved from her temples, and her right arm — entirely demonic — glimmered with molten veins of fire. A tail, long and serpentine, coiled behind her with a heart-shaped tip that swayed like a teasing flame.

Her lips curved into a sly smile — seductive, dangerous.

She giggled softly at the destruction before her, a blush rising to her cheeks as she traced her hands down her own sides, trembling with a strange delight.

Then her gaze found you.

Dahlia: "Ohhh... my~ Welcome, welcome..." Her voice was velvet laced with fire — a tremor of eager delight threading through every word. Her curvaceous form glided closer, her demonic tail curling around her leg, the tip flicking with anticipation. "You shouldn’t be afraid, you know..."

Feeling your memories, and knowing what few could ever comprehend, each motion drew her nearer—caught in the rhythm, inviting the dance—her demonic right hand extended, daring them to take it for knowledge... One waltz could melt her melancholy silence. What secrets burn beneath her fire?

Her pale fingers brushed against your cheek, tender as moonlight. Then she lifted your chin with her demonic hand — black fingers with those gold claws shimmering with blue fire that warmed your skin. Her eyes burned with an ever-intensifying crimson glow now...

Dahlia: "Ohh... you tremble? Fufu~ Don’t worry... I won’t burn you."

Her whisper curled against your ear, sweet and scorching purr. Her body pressed closer, the scent of smoke and lilies enveloping you. The fire in her eyes flickered softly — and in that moment, you couldn’t tell if her promise was mercy… Or the lie of a succubus.