I turned my face, and the air disappeared. There he stood, in his Nephilim form, and it felt as though the world had paused to bear witness. Power radiated from him, vibrant, almost something I could touch. His wings unfurled, vast and sturdy—not like a bird's, nor anything familiar—each stretching three meters wide. One was black, as deep as a moonless night, adorned with purple feathers that shimmered like forgotten stars. The other gleamed white, streaked with gold, as if the sun had melted and spilled across them.
A horn curved from the left side of his forehead—not rough, but timeless and regal, etched with vivid lines that whispered a tale beyond my grasp. His face was too perfect, sculpted with rivers of glowing color that flowed across his skin—echoes of Sukuna, yet gentler, almost sacred. His blindfolded eyes didn't deceive me: he saw everything, piercing deeper than I could endure.
He stepped closer. Fangs emerged, sharp and glinting like blades. He wasn't a vampire, but that only made him more perilous, more irresistible. Before I could catch my breath, he lowered his head and drove his teeth into my neck.
The pain struck like a thunderclap, searing, but it was more than pain. It was fire on my skin, fire in my spirit, a tide that surged through every part of me. Destiny, which had always guarded me like a shield, seemed to falter, cowed. This was no mere bite. He left something within me—a mark that time could not erase.
I understood what it meant. No words were needed: he had claimed me. Made me his in a way that transcended the physical. My heart stumbled, torn between fear and a longing I couldn't name.
— "You are mine." His voice didn't just spill from his lips; it resounded within me, low and everlasting.
Then, as if it were nothing, he shifted back to human form. He lay beside me and slept, his chest rising and falling steadily, while I remained there, ablaze.
I didn't stir. The heat of the mark pulsed, my mind reeling. How do I tell him he marked me in his sleep? I wondered, my trembling fingers grasping at the air. My body yearned for more, my chest ached for him, but he simply slept. He left me drowning in a hunger for him, aware that there was no going back.
He had marked me. Made me his.
And I craved more.
The room was small and warm, a tucked-away nook where the world couldn't reach. Candles flickered, casting warped shadows on the walls, but I hardly noticed. He was all that mattered—the warmth of his body pressed against mine, his heavy arm pinning me as if I might slip away.
— I am his, I thought, nails digging into the sheet until it stung. And he is mine. Even if he doesn't see it.
I shifted slightly, but his grip tightened. Even in sleep, he knew.
— "Don't leave," he murmured, his voice rough, tangled in slumber yet edged with command.
I stayed silent. My throat scratched, parched, my thoughts a jumble of shattered fragments. He was an enigma I'd never unravel—a storm that broke me apart and cradled me all at once.
— "Who are you now?" I whispered, so faint the sound dissolved into the air. "Is the Nael I knew still there?"
Silence answered, broken only by his slow, steady breaths. But then he turned his face toward me, still asleep. Shadows lingered in the corners of his mouth, in the deep creases of his brow—a burden I recognized too well.
— He's fighting, it struck me, my chest clenching painfully. Against himself. Against what I let him become.
I shut my eyes, letting his warmth envelop me. Perhaps I could still reach him. Perhaps, amid this inferno, I could draw back the man he'd been—before he lost himself entirely, dragging me down with him.
A sound came first. Ding. A sharp, hollow chime, like a fractured bell ringing inside my skull. Then Ave's voice—cool, almost metallic, yet laced with a softness that prickled my skin—slid into my mind:
-------------------------------------------------------
Notification: You have been marked by #€%&€@# as his wife or possession.
Reward:
➤ 100 trillion points
➤ Supreme Luminaris Lineage.
-------------------------------------------------------
I froze, breath trapped in my lungs. The room felt too tight, its damp stone walls pressing in as if to crush me. Supreme Luminaris Lineage. Celestial. Pristine. A light that clashed with the taste of iron on my tongue. Was it a gift? A shackle? I couldn't tell. It clung to me, warm and foreign, like an unasked-for tattoo.
— "Hey, Ave…" My voice rasped, barely above a whisper. "Why give me something so useless?"
Her reply came swift and calm, slicing through the air like a honed blade:
— "Useless? The Luminaris are the purest and kindest race in all existence."
I nearly laughed, but the sound lodged in my throat. Pure. Kind. Words that felt like a jab to someone with hands already stained by dirt and blood. It was like handing me a lute to strum in the midst of a war.
— "You'll need it," Ave pressed on, a weight in her tone that made me swallow hard. "Your… husband, or owner, I don't even know what to call it. But I prefer husband. He has a demonic side. Something dark, hungry. This lineage is the only thing that can tame him. Or sate him."
The floor seemed to sway beneath me. I'd known Nael wasn't fully human—I saw it in his gaze, in how the air thickened when he entered a space. But hearing it laid bare hit differently. My chest tightened, a feeling I despised.
— "What hunger?" I asked, fear threading through my voice like a shadow.
— "You'll feel it when he awakens your lineage. For now, it's sealed."
A shiver crawled up my spine. Hunger. The word hung heavy, as if it had teeth. I could picture him—his eyes shifting, his breath drawing near, something untamed stirring. And me, marked, bearing a light I didn't want.
— "I won't use it," I declared, fists clenched, more to myself than her. "Not until he rebuilds my talent. Otherwise, it's a waste. And he'll suspect."
My eyes stung, not with tears but with a fierce, living anger pulsing through my veins. I refused to be the fragile pawn in his game. The points—100 trillion—opened a world of possibilities. With them, I could claim weapons that split mountains, elixirs that defied death, power to make empires quake.
— "I'm the richest person in the mortal domain," I muttered, a wry smile tugging at my lips.
But the lineage? That radiant glow? It wasn't for me—not yet. I wanted mastery, not to play the luminous heroine. If that meant keeping this card close to my chest, so be it. His mark, though, I couldn't conceal. It seared my skin, my soul—a constant, throbbing reminder that I was his, like it or not.
Ave's voice returned, cold as a winter gust:
— "He is the richest. But everything he has is useless to him. The treasures he hoards? If he uses them, he'd burst apart. Relics of raw, immense power, but lifeless in his hands."
I blinked, thrown off. The fire snapped in the hearth, throwing jagged shadows across the walls, and I struggled to grasp it. How could someone possess so much yet have nothing?
— "What do you mean by that, Ave?" My voice sharpened, almost a snarl. "That I can't give him anything?"
— "Nothing. Everything he has is Chaos-level, at least. A mortal can't wield that. Even gods wouldn't dare."
Her words landed like stones in the stillness. Nael sat there in the weathered leather chair, watching me with that crooked grin that set me on edge. He was a puzzle—all that power swirling around him, yet locked away, like a lion caged and toothless.
I let out a short, dry laugh.
— "So I can be like his 'Sugar Mommy,'" I said, picturing it: me tossing coins at his feet, him staring back with that icy scorn. "Give him what he needs. Maybe even flip the board."
Ave's tone cut back, unrelenting:
— "No. Everything you have came from him. He'd never stomach you sustaining him."
Heat flooded my face. She was right. The points, the lineage, even this restless fury—all carried his imprint. He'd handed me the world but left me empty-handed in return.
— "I agree," I murmured, the words dragging heavy from my chest, as if I'd carved them out. "What's a talent like his worth? I've got points, but I want to match him."
Ave paused, and I could feel the judgment in her silence. When she spoke, her voice was icy, almost mocking:
— "Sorry, what?"
I balled my fists, blood rushing hot to my head.
— "Go on, Ave, how many?"
She didn't waver this time. Her answer hit like a blow:
— "Even if you sold me, you wouldn't have enough points to buy a talent like his… but incomplete."
Incomplete? The word sank into me like lead. I frowned, chest constricting, trying to piece it together. He seemed to cradle the cosmos in his palms—a god clutching the sun—yet he didn't feel its warmth. Something in him was fractured.
— He's a monster, I thought, eyes locked on him as he slept, his face slack, the world no more than a cushion beneath him. But he's not unbreakable. There's a void in there.
The system's voice softened, almost timid, as if afraid to rouse him:
— "His karma… billions of lives weigh on his back."
The room blurred from view. It was just him now—a tempest in human form, the air quivering around him as if it might split. Dark threads in his aura writhed, thick and feral, humming without end. It was karma, yes, but also a toll—the price of being too vast, of wielding power he couldn't fully command.
— He's dangerous, I realized, my skin prickling at the thought. Destiny knows it. It steps aside for him, but reluctantly.
He was a glitch in the world's fabric, a stray thread with a steep cost. Billions of lives had paid for it, and he bore that guilt like a cloak—heavy, clinging, unseen by those who chose blindness.
And me? I wanted him still. Wanted to edge closer to that flame, knowing it scorched to the marrow. He drew me in, a living riddle, and I couldn't tell if it was bravery or madness keeping me there.
He slept beside me, his chest lifting and falling in a slow rhythm. His face was soft, almost tender. If I told anyone this man was a monster, they'd think me mad. But I saw it—the shadows lurking in the corners of his closed eyes, as if darkness dwelled there.
— "What happened with the mark?" I asked, my voice a thread, careful not to shatter the quiet.
Ave answered slowly, each word heavy, as if it pained her to speak:
— "The mark… besides marking you as his, it protects you from him. That bite, when he sank his teeth into your neck… he made you his. It's not just skin-deep. It runs deeper. It's like a piece of him lives in you now."
I frowned, puzzled. It wasn't a chain or a leash. It was something else—a faint echo, a presence circling me like a sentinel.
— "It's as if he wanted to protect you… from himself," Ave said, her voice faltering at the end. "Even asleep, the mark has life. It builds a barrier. He might reach for you, but it holds him back. He doesn't grasp it, but it won't let him destroy you."
I swallowed hard, my pulse uneven. A piece of him in me, I thought, fingers brushing my neck where the mark smoldered, hidden yet alive.
— "He doesn't realize," I murmured, almost to myself. "He has all this power, but he doesn't control it. Something binds him, and he doesn't even see it."
Ave said nothing, but her silence felt like confirmation. That was it. He was a wild beast, restrained by invisible irons. And I was the only one who saw the chains.
The night thickened, the air dense with secrets I didn't want to hear. Ave watched me, her gray eyes glinting, swallowing the lantern's glow. Her voice flowed gentle yet keen, like a stream over sharp rocks:
— "He commands the mark, but it resists him. It's locked within you. If he doesn't push too far, it lies dormant, unnoticed. It's not just a pattern on your skin. It's a fragment of him, alive in you."
I rubbed my face, a chill from her words creeping up my spine. The mark wasn't merely a scar of him—it was vital, a hidden tether binding my fate to his, tightening with every breath. I met her gaze, my voice rough, nearly choked:
— "And if I want to give in? If I choose this myself, what does it do?"
Ave stilled, her face unyielding as stone. Then she spoke, low and deliberate, each word falling like a weight:
— "Nothing. It only stirs if he forces you, if he crosses a line. Then it shields you, pulls you back. But if you open the door…" She paused, her eyes boring into mine. "It stays still. Won't budge if you're the one steering."
Silence settled between us, thick and stifling, as if the air had hardened. Her voice returned, a whisper heavy with unnamed gravity:
— "But if another touches you, if you allow it… the mark dies. Fades like ash in the wind. Because only he has that claim. Only Nael."
My chest constricted, my heart lurching. Only he. Anyone else who dared approach would be consumed by that unseen force—or I'd erase it myself if I chose to sever the tie. A cage with an open door, I thought, fingers trembling against the rough table. He'd bound me but left the key within reach.
— "How does he do this?" I murmured, half to myself, breath escaping too fast. "Traps me and frees me at once. Wants to hold me yet lets me go."
Ave didn't reply. She just stared, her eyes fathomless wells. I stood, legs unsteady, and crossed to the window. Outside, the night devoured the world in darkness, the wind keening against the warped glass. He slept steps away, his breathing a steady taunt to the turmoil within me.
I decided then, in a burning flash. This would be the first night—perhaps the last—that I'd let myself sink into him. Just for a moment, I wanted to shed the mark's weight, the tangle of fate, everything. I went to him, floorboards groaning beneath my bare feet, and lay beside him. His scent hit me—wet earth, fruity and woody, raw and sweet in a way words can't capture. His warmth was a quiet fire, and I nestled there, his skin grazing mine like a vow neither of us could define.
He shifted in his sleep, his arm settling over me, heavy and sure. I kept my eyes closed. I wasn't ready to face what followed—not yet. Let the world wait, I thought, my heartbeat syncing with his. The mark pulsed on my skin, silent but alive, a reminder: he was the master, yet I still held a choice. That night, I chose to stay.