Before she could muster the words, Elowen sliced through the silence. Until that moment, she had been a quiet shadow tucked in the corner, but now her gaze locked onto mine—steady, yet fissured with a hint of doubt.
"Nael… I think you're toying with her." Her voice was calm, but it carried a subtle warning. "Yang Mei doesn't know how to handle someone like you."
I arched an eyebrow, my smile stretching wider, edged with a sharpness.
"So you both came here just to…" I paused, letting the silence gnaw at the air before pressing on. "Take advantage of my goodwill and rip a piece of me apart?"
Yang Mei's hands shot up, her words tripping over themselves in a rush.
"It's not that, Nael! I never… We never…"
But I had already tuned her out. My smile turned icy, and I crossed my arms, filling the room with something intangible yet heavy, a presence everyone could feel.
"So you two came here to tangle with me, hoping to snatch some scrap of power, didn't you?"
Yang Mei froze, her eyes wide, her mouth opening and shutting soundlessly. She looked like a fish gasping on dry land, suffocating.
Elowen spoke for her, her voice cutting through like a blunt blade.
"Exactly."
She barely finished before I raised a finger, tracing a slow arc through the air.
"Silence."
The word dropped like a hammer. Elowen crumpled, her body slumping to the floor, dragged into a sleep I summoned with a whisper. Yang Mei flinched back, her eyes fixed on her friend, horror bleeding across her face.
"Nael…" Her voice emerged thin, almost a whimper.
Silence swallowed the room. She stared at me, pale, her shallow breaths fluttering against the air like the wings of a caged bird.
"What did you do?" she asked, her voice choking, breaking mid-sentence.
I shrugged, a cold smile teasing my lips.
"Nothing much. Just gave her a rest."
I tilted my head, my tone honed to a hidden edge.
"And you, aunt? Have you been eyeing me this whole time?"
The question struck her like a blow. She stammered, words tangling in her throat.
"N-no… It wasn't that…"
But my smile shifted—into something predatory, something that hunted. I stepped forward, my footsteps resounding on the wooden floor like muted thunder. My breathing remained steady, yet it saturated the space, stifling.
Yang Mei retreated until her back pressed against the wall, the cold stones unyielding. There was nowhere left to run.
"Not that it changes much…" I murmured, my voice slow, almost honeyed. "You used to bathe me, dress me… isn't that what you said?"
I leaned in, the warm puff of my breath grazing her skin. She stiffened, her eyes darting for an escape that wasn't there.
Does she even know what she's up against? I wondered, watching panic flicker across her features.
The truth spilled from her, shaky, as if it pained her to speak.
"Yes, yes, I took care of you… I was like… a mother to you!"
Her voice cracked, her tear-brimmed eyes turning aside, fleeing from me. She drew a deep breath, nearly choking on her words.
"I remember…" she whispered, more to herself than to me. "You arrived so small… dark skin, white hair spilling over your eyes. So fragile. I wouldn't let the servants touch you, I bathed you, dressed you… because…"
The rest drowned in the silence, consumed by the growing shadow between us.
But when she looked at me again, she didn't see the boy she once knew. Something larger had claimed that space—something she couldn't grasp.
"So you still want to bathe me? Dress me?"
Her hands flew up, frantic.
"No, Nael! That's not what I meant!"
I pressed closer, pinning her against the wall.
"No?" I echoed, my face so near I could feel her warmth. "Then what did you mean, aunt?"
Her mouth opened, but no sound came. My eyes—or whatever lay behind the blindfold—pierced hers, dragging her into an endless void.
It was like staring into nothingness, she thought, as the darkness seemed to devour every fragment of her.
Within me, something stirred. It wasn't mere desire—it was a raw, ancient hunger, a roar to dominate all I touched. It was the shadow of a lineage I'd sworn to bury, now humming in my skin, alluring and lethal.
"Aunt…" I whispered, my voice laced with a chill that prickled the air. "You know what happens to those who play with fire, don't you?"
She shook her head, her hands clutching the wall.
"Please, Nael… I just wanted to protect you…"
I leaned in further, the space between us dissolving. My gaze, though veiled, cleaved her in two, leaving her exposed, brittle.
"So you just watched while I grew up?"
"That's not what I said!" she shot back, her voice rising, nearly a shout.
"No? Then what was it?" I stepped closer still, my heat engulfing hers. "Did you want to lock me in a room to study me up close?"
The more she speaks, the more I want to shatter her into pieces, I thought. It's not desire. It's power—pure, untamed.
That Nephilim blood, sealed within me like a covenant, blazed in my veins. It wasn't just wanting—it was commanding, being the law, the master of all I surveyed.
Yang Mei struggled to hold her ground, but I was there, each movement a promise of something irrevocable. The air quivered, every word and silence teetering on the razor's edge between control and surrender.
"And now, aunt? What did you really want to say?"
Her silence screamed louder than any words. The thread between what was and what is snapped, and there, in that room, only the clash of light and shadow remained—between what we once were and what we can never be again.
Nael stood before her, his eyes pinned on Yang Mei like a predator sizing up its prey. A cruel smile danced on his lips, faint but keen as a blade. He sensed the chaos within her—the desire simmering against the fear that restrained her. It was a silent waltz that captivated him, quickening the pulse in his veins. With the tips of his fingers, he brushed her neck, light as a feather. Her heart, pounding wildly, seemed to bend to his touch, steadying as though he held the reins of an unbroken beast.
"Relax, Yang Mei," he whispered, his voice soft, almost melodic, sliding into her ears like honey. "You don't need to be afraid of me. I just want to show you paradise."
Yang Mei blinked, dazed. His words reverberated within her, coiling around her mind like thick fog. A strange peace crept in, warm and deceptive, dissolving the shadows of her doubts. She resisted for a fleeting moment, fists clenched against her thighs, but her defiance slipped away like sand through her fingers. Before she knew it, her lips quivered, yielding to something she refused to name.
"So you want to lock me in a room and see how much I've grown?" Nael asked, tilting his head, a feigned puzzlement coloring his tone.
"That's not what I said! You're twisting everything," she retorted, her voice climbing, but it faltered when his tongue breached her mouth. A burst of flavors overwhelmed her—sweet fruits she recognized, others she could only dream of, blended in a heat that made her gasp. As the kiss deepened, his hands roamed, bold, grazing places no one had dared touch. She jerked back abruptly, air trapped in her chest.
"This is wrong," she said, nearly breathless. "You're my nephew, you're like a son to me."
But before she could cling to reason, his tongue brushed her lips again. Yang Mei wavered, torn, and then—without understanding why—she began to match his rhythm, even as a voice inside her screamed to stop.
The room felt smaller now, the walls closing in as if in league with Nael. He smiled once more, but the light never reached his eyes—cold, distant, nearly hollow.
"Yang Mei, you're fighting against what you truly want," he said, his fingers tracing a leisurely path across her face, pausing at her chin. With a gentle nudge, he lifted her gaze, anchoring her in his stare. "You want me as much as I want you."
Is he right? she wondered, the thought slicing like glass. His kisses, his touch, they scorched her from within, yet reason wailed, a faint echo amid the storm in her chest.
"No, this can't be happening," she murmured, more to the air than to him.
Nael leaned closer, his warm breath teasing her ear.
"You can't run from nature, Yang Mei," he whispered, his voice heavy with a dark promise that sent shivers through her. "Our bond transcends blood. It draws us in, whether you accept it or not."
In a swift motion, he pulled her to him, the kiss deeper, ravenous. Something shifted. It was as if he siphoned her strength, each shard of her will melting in his grasp. Her eyes fluttered shut, and she plunged into a chasm of sensations, submerged in waves she couldn't name.
"So tell me to stop," Nael said, his tone a low taunt, almost a purr.
Unbeknownst to him, as he spoke, something unraveled within. The aura cloaking his instincts frayed, and a scent flooded the room—light as a blooming garden, yet laced with a bitter, choking edge that seized the senses. Yang Mei turned her face, desperate to evade the gaze that stripped her bare, but exposed her neck instead. Nael didn't hesitate. His lips met her skin, drawing on it with a ferocity that pulled a moan from her throat.
His scent enveloped her—a floral perfume tinged with something perilous, dragging her under. Why can't I stop? she thought, her resolve evaporating like mist. Lust surged, fierce and unrelenting. Before she realized it, she was on the bed, pinned beneath him, trembling through two orgasms that left her soaked—and he hadn't even shed her clothes.
Nael drew nearer, his dark eyes glinting.
"No, this isn't right," she whispered, her voice frail, adrift.
"Ask," he commanded, his tone sharp.
"What?" she countered, feigning ignorance, though she knew.
"That I break you," he said, each word a dagger. "From body to mind, to your soul. Ask."
She swallowed hard, her gaze glassy.
"Break me," she whispered, quaking. "Leave nothing. Do whatever you want with me."
With that, the final strand of sanity snapped. She remained aware, yet lost to what lay ahead.
A piercing sound split the air. A notification flared in Nael's mind:
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Notification:
➤ She is the first one you kiss. Due to your Giver physique, one of the pillars of your Primordial power, she gains an Eternal talent, moldable by your will.
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Reality slammed into him like a fist. Nael blinked, his chest tightening. What the hell did I almost do? he thought, staring at Yang Mei—surrendered, vulnerable. For the first time since his power awakened, anger surged—not at her, but at himself. She lay there, drowning in lust, and it repulsed him. He craved the struggle, the defiance, the thrill of bending her while she clung to reason. Not this. Not such effortless submission.
With a flick of his hand, he teleported her to her room. Silence settled, thick and oppressive, until more notifications chimed:
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Ding!
Achievement:First kiss.
Reward:
➤ The Tortured physique activates. Pain and pleasure, amplified tenfold, now under your control.
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Achievement:A woman of superior domain, surrendered to lust.
Reward:
➤ Ignore any barrier. Pain and pleasure affect even the insensitive.
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"System, what the hell is this?" he muttered, irritation flaring. "You want me to make anyone explode just by touching their face?"
No reply came. He shut his eyes, heart racing, struggling to swallow the frustration scorching his throat.
Nael lingered, watching Yang Mei sleep. A faint smile curved his lips, but it held no warmth. He had triumphed, yes, but the victory tasted sour. That strength, so easily subdued, hung on him like chains. I didn't want this, he thought, a void yawning within. Was there another path?
With a sigh, he drifted to the window. The moon glowed, cold and aloof, bathing the world below in silver. He lifted his hand, a blue flame sparking between his fingers, alive and throbbing. With a thought, it streaked outward, igniting a distant tree. The fire swayed, and for a moment, he lost himself in its dance.
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Ding!
Look on the bright side, host. Pain ten times greater, pleasure too. It's not insignificant.
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"If you say so…" he replied, his voice dry, a bitter laugh slipping out. "Bright side? Controlling others' pain and pleasure—is that a gift or a cage?"
He turned, his footsteps echoing as he left the room. His mind churned. Monster? God? Or just a man ensnared in a game he couldn't fathom?
Back in his room, Nael paused at the sight of Elowen. She slept, her silver hair fanned out like a luminous veil. He approached, his gaze fixed on her. Once, she had intrigued him, sparked something alive in him. Now? Nothing. The pleasure and pain he'd tasted had hollowed him out, leaving only a shadow of who he'd been.
With a heavy sigh, he collapsed onto the bed. He closed his eyes, the future a murky haze. One truth stood clear: nothing would ever be the same.