The Throne released him with a wet pop, like a beast reluctantly letting go of its favorite toy. Kael stood slowly, his body soaked in sacred fluid—thick, red-black, sweet with divine taste. His muscles twitched with power. His sigil had transformed fully now: no longer a symbol burned into flesh, but a living eye in the center of his chest—open, blinking, watching.
And above him, descending from the vaulted ceiling on chains of wet hair and bone, came the Crown of Hunger.
It wasn't a circlet.
It was alive.
A halo of fused tongues, wrapped in veins, dripping saliva and venom, and whispering all at once:
"We have waited for your cock…
We have tasted your fear…
We have bled with your pleasure…
Now we drink your will."
---
Kael tilted his head. "So drink."
The Crown lowered onto his head, its tongues slithering against his scalp, licking the corners of his mouth, curling around his temples and whispering his darkest urges:
To breed something unholy.
To drown a nation in orgasm.
To consume gods through carnal conquest.
To turn temples into brothels of power.
He welcomed all of it.
And when the Crown settled, Kael changed.
His skin flushed with divine color—gold-veined muscle wrapped in desire. His eyes became ink-black with a red flame behind them. And his cock... no longer just flesh, but a scepter of will. Pulsing. Crowned. Sovereign.
---
The Seamstress Queen watched, moaning softly, rubbing herself with both hands.
"You wear it well," she whispered. "They will kneel... or they will suck."
"Then summon them," Kael said. "The first kingdom to fall shall be the one that once sold me as a slave."
She clapped once, and the temple walls fell away.
Not collapsed—peeled back, like the opening of labia.
Beyond lay the world—Nytheris, twisted and waiting. Entire cities sprawled in the distance, built on the backs of the moaning damned. Great beasts circled temples built from bone and breast. Towers of lustful scholars burned incense made of foreskin and hair.
Kael stood naked on the edge of his new domain.
"What shall we name the first war?" the Queen asked, kneeling again, spreading herself.
Kael thrust his fingers into her mouth. The one between her legs.
"Call it the Culling of Shame."
---
Behind him, the Throne of Teeth moaned in longing.
Ahead, armies of pleasure-slaves waited to be claimed.
Above, the gods began to tremble.
And Kael took his first step into empire.
---