95 Chapter 95
I wish these spells would be more useful. Shin thought, while alone in the storage room walking over to the rows.
Rows of reinforced containment units stretched endlessly through the mountain's interior, embedded directly into stone and alloy. Each chamber was sealed with layered runes and adaptive barriers, humming faintly as they restrained weapons, entities, and things that no longer belonged to the world they were taken from.
Shin stood alone between the rows, holding a book, silver hair shiny as ever.
"Still don't like this section," he muttered. "It's too quiet."
Behind him— Azazel manifested within a dim purple glow around him.
He stood less than four feet away, orange hair dull under the sterile lights, mismatched eyes calmly observing the Lume who should have sensed him instantly.
I managed to activate breaker level four while in the rift. Azazel was enjoyed with Lysrael's gifts.
Azazel had become undetectable.
Even if Shin turned his head and looked directly at him, his mind would slide past the information like it had never been there. Awareness simply refused to lock on.
Shin shifted his weight, rubbing his neck. "Feels like I'm forgetting something."
Azazel didn't react.
He watched Shin carefully—not with tension, but with quiet professionalism. Shin was dangerous, powerful, instinctive. But his awareness was tuned for threats that announced themselves.
Azazel stepped past him.
Shin's shoulder brushed the air where Azazel had been a moment earlier.
Nothing registered.
Azazel moved deeper into the storage wing, boots silent against the metal floor. He passed sealed weapons humming with restrained power, artifacts pulsing faintly behind containment glass, and creatures suspended in cryo-fluid—some humanoid, some very much not.
"These guys sure are serious, capturing all these creatures must've been extremely dangerous."
Stopping in front of the shades chamber.
The moment Azazel stopped—
The Shade reacted.
Its body twitched violently, claws scraping against the containment field. The fluid churned as its head snapped toward him.
Azazel tilted his head slightly. "You remember everything don't you..?"
The Shade slammed once against the barrier, runes flaring in response.
Azazel smiled faintly. "Good. That means Aruno wasn't imagining you."
He turned away.
Further down, past higher clearance seals, past chambers that radiated authority even without occupants, he reached a smaller containment cube—clean, minimal, deceptive.
The Motri Orb floated at its center.
A fractured sphere of shifting symbols and compressed knowledge, light bending unnaturally around it. The closer Azazel stepped, the more the orb reacted, symbols rearranging as if recognizing intent.
"Found you," he murmured.
As his hand passed through the containment field, the orb flared— but no alarms sounded.
Breaker Level Four erased the event from the system's perception the same way it erased Azazel from minds.
The orb collapsed into his grasp, light dimming instantly.
Images flashed across his mind.
A woman standing amid devastation. Long hair. Calm smile. Sharp green eyes, tense enough to kill a man.
"Daiha," Azazel whispered.
The orb pulsed violently at the name.
Behind him, far down the corridor, Shin suddenly stopped walking.
"…No," Shin said quietly. "Something's off."
He turned slowly- "Must've been the wind, from the air compressor."
"Good job kid. You made me smile from the heart." Azazel had been pulled back up the moment Shin turned around.
"Azazel! You did that quite quickly, I thought you would've struggled a little bit, but it turns out I was wrong." Kaigor pats him on the back.
The Motri Orb pulsed again in Azazel's grip, symbols crawling across its fractured surface like living script. The light inside it shifted—green, then darker, then something closer to hunger.
I now have possession of the Motri orb. Daiha would be more than welcome to accompany me on this journey. "It's been so long. I can almost taste her breath."
Looking back down at the orb in Azazel's hand. Lysrael smiled. "So, the Lumes truly kept her."
Azazel nodded. "Preserved knowledge. Not containment. They were afraid to hold her directly."
"As they should be," Lysrael replied. "Daiha does not belong in cages."
He stepped closer, eyes fixed on the orb. "Tell me. What did you see?"
"A woman," he said. "Standing in devastation like it was nothing. Calm. Smiling. Watching the world burn and deciding whether it deserved to keep spinning."
Lysrael's smile widened—not with joy, but recognition.
"Yes," he murmured. "That's her."
Azazel tightened his grip on the orb. "She'll listen to me."
Kaigor raised a brow. "That confident, huh?"
"She values strength," Azazel replied. "Not noise. Not authority. Strength with intent."
Lysrael finally looked away from the orb and met Azazel's eyes.
"Then you will be the one to speak to her," he said. "Not Kaigor. Not me."
Azazel stiffened. "You're sending me alone?"
"You were alone in the Lumes' storage wing," Lysrael replied calmly. "This is no different."
He turned, walking toward the heart of the sealed dimension. "Prepare. We won't awaken her yet. First, we observe. We learn. And then—"
His voice lowered.
"—we make sure Aruno never faces her without us."
Azazel glanced down at the Motri Orb again.
Inside it, Daiha's image flickered once more.
A smile.
Sharp green eyes.
Waiting.
Lysrael's hand pressed lightly on my shoulder. It wasn't forceful. Not coercive. But the world bent around me. Light vanished. Shadows thickened like ink. The edges of the storage chamber melted into darkness. I was falling—not physically, but into it. Into a space where nothing could exist but me, the Motri Orb, and the weight of what it held.
When the darkness finally stabilized, I was alone. The orb floated in front of me, pale and fractured, symbols shifting like restless fire beneath its surface. I let out a slow breath. Lysrael's presence lingered for a heartbeat, then vanished, leaving the silence thick, nearly suffocating.
I steadied myself, hand gripping the orb. "Daiha," I murmured, voice low. "If you're in there… speak."
The surface shimmered, green light flaring from the cracks, gentle at first, then brighter, until a voice—liquid, smooth, commanding—flowed through my mind.
"Finally," she said. "It has been far too long."
Her tone was like velvet sliding over steel. Part curiosity, part amusement, part something sharper, deliberate.
"I am here," I said calmly. "Lysrael sent me. I have questions. You have knowledge we need."
A pause. Then, her voice, sultry but precise, "Questions. Always questions. And what exactly is it you want from me, little shadow walking through the dark?"
"You," I said simply. "Your cooperation. Your answers. And Lysrael's… why he sent me to you now."
A soft laugh, warm and cold at the same time, echoed in my mind. "Ah. Straight to the point. I like that. Few come to me with such… clarity. Most stumble, most bleed, most scream before I even speak. You? You simply ask."
I let the orb float closer, fingers tightening slightly around it. "You know why I'm here. Lysrael isn't here to babysit. He wants to observe. You, I, and the knowledge you carry. You don't appear yet—I don't need your body. Just your voice."
Her green eyes seemed to pierce the darkness through the orb. "And you think I will speak simply because you ask? What of your will? Your power?"
"I have enough," I said. "Enough to ensure Lysrael can't intervene. Enough to protect myself. And enough to make sure you understand the situation."
A faint hum radiated from the orb. Symbols pulsed rapidly. Her voice, now slower, more deliberate. "Very well. I will speak—but tell me first… do you understand what it means to hold me, even here? My thoughts, my intent… my essence?"
"I understand," I replied without hesitation. "I am prepared for it. I am ready."
Another soft laugh. "Bold. Reckless. Interesting. Lysrael made a careful choice, didn't he? But tell me, shadow, what exactly does he want? My knowledge? My obedience? Or… merely to see if you can survive this interaction?"
"Everything you can give," I said. "Knowledge, history, intentions. Nothing more. And yes, to test me, if that's what this is."
The orb flared again, light cascading outward. Symbols twisted faster, then aligned in patterns I could almost read, almost understand. Her voice deepened, sultry, teasing..
"Very well… I will speak. But know this—I am no prisoner. You have my attention, Azazel, not my servitude. You will hear what I choose to tell. Nothing more."
I held the orb tighter, eyes narrowing slightly, feeling the shift of her power pressing against my mind. "That's all I need."
The darkness around me seemed to pulse with anticipation. Her voice now calm, like a whisper of silk against stone-
"Then… let us begin."
And with that, knowledge began to flow, subtle at first, like a stream curling through shadows. The Motri Orb vibrated faintly in my hands, alive, thrumming with secrets I had only begun to touch.
I let her speak. I let her guide the truths forward. I listened. And somewhere in the depths of the orb, I could feel her evaluating me just as much as I was evaluating her.
Daiha's voice continued, unhurried.
"Lysrael," she said, almost fondly. "Always watching from a distance. Always pretending restraint is virtue rather than fear."
The orb's light dimmed slightly, green fading toward something darker.
"He sealed me away not because he could not kill me… but because he knew I would not stay dead."
I kept my expression neutral. "And Wonshin?"
A pause.
Then—amusement.
"Ah," Daiha murmured. "The Monkey King. Loud. Proud. Conviction wrapped around instinct like armor. He never trusted me. Smart creature."
The pressure in the space shifted.
"Unlike you."
I frowned. "What's that supposed to—"
The darkness behind me moved.
Daiha's voice faded.
The orb's glow dimmed until the darkness was barely lit, green light bleeding weakly across the floor.
Then—
Pressure.
Not magic flaring.
Not an attack.
Just presence.
The space behind me compressed, as if the world itself had taken a step closer. I turned —and she was there.
A woman's silhouette stood less than a foot away.
No inhuman distortions.
Just a human outline—long hair falling over bare shoulders, body perfectly still, perfectly composed. The darkness refused to let me see her face, no matter how I focused. My vision slid off her features like oil on glass.
My breath caught.
"You asked about Lysrael," she said, voice no longer distant—right here, solid, real. "And Wonshin."
Before I could respond, her hand slammed into my chest.
Not a shove.
A claim.
I hit the wall that manifested behind me hard enough to rattle the darkness, breath knocked from my lungs. Her body followed instantly—no hesitation, no warning. She pressed into me, weight deliberate, unforgiving.
This wasn't seduction.
This was intent.
My instincts screamed to react—to fight—but her presence crushed the thought flat. Desire surged through my nerves, hot and immediate, drowning logic before it could form.
I gritted my teeth. "You—"
Her fingers dug into my throat—not choking, just enough to remind me who controlled distance, breath, pace.
"You don't speak now," Daiha said calmly.
She kissed me—not slow, not exploratory. Hard. Open. Demanding. The kind of kiss meant to break resistance, not invite it. My body betrayed me instantly, heat spiking, pulse hammering as her power flooded every nerve.
I knew exactly what this was.
And I didn't stop her.
That was the choice.
Her knee forced its way between my legs, rough, unyielding. She moved with practiced cruelty, using my reactions against me, every shift calculated to strip control piece by piece.
"This," she said quietly, lips brushing my jaw, "is what you mistake for strength."
She bit down—hard enough to hurt, not enough to mark. My hands twitched at my sides, torn between grabbing her and pushing her away.
I grabbed her.
She approved.
Her silhouette moved with ruthless confidence, pushing me back into the wall again, harder this time. No tenderness. No illusion of balance. Just raw dominance, bodies colliding, friction sharp and punishing.
"You took Hikari because you could," Daiha said, breath steady despite the violence of her movements. "Because no one stopped you."
Her grip tightened.
"Now you will understand what it means to be used—and to accept it."
My jaw clenched.
Every instinct told me this was wrong.
Every other part of me burned for it.
I let it happen.
The world narrowed to heat, pressure, impact—her pace brutal, unrelenting. She didn't ask. She didn't slow. She took control of every movement, every breath, every sound torn from my chest.
And the worst part—
—I wanted it.
Not because she forced me.
Because her power made resistance meaningless.
Her silhouette loomed over me, body moving with merciless precision, as if she were carving the lesson directly into my flesh.
"This is foreplay," she said flatly. "Not punishment."
Her voice dropped.
"This is balance."
Her silhouette pressed against me, impossibly close, shadow folding over my body. I could feel her intent in every movement—every curve, every subtle press, every weight shifting against mine.
Her hands were ruthless—scratching down my legs, digging in with nails that left marks, claiming territory. My knees buckled under her, every nerve screaming, every muscle betraying me as heat and tension surged up from the base of my spine.
Then—her mouth. Hot, demanding, pressing against me. I gasped, body trembling, hips jerking against the force of her dominance. Every shiver, every pulse, every frantic heartbeat bent to her rhythm.
She took me in her hands, rough, deliberate, teasing and punishing all at once. Fingers squeezing, lips pressing, tongue moving with precision—I couldn't stop it. I tried to resist, tried to push back, but my body betrayed me. Every nerve sang with a mixture of pain, pleasure, and humiliation.
Her nails dragged down my thighs, leaving scratch lines that stung sharply, marking me, asserting dominance. I shivered violently, groaning, hips jerking, caught completely in her control. She moved with relentless precision, every action calculated to overwhelm, to punish, and to make me want it.
"Do you remember what it meant to take without giving?"
My breath caught. I couldn't speak. Couldn't think. Could only quake under her, caught between fear, desire, and the raw, consuming weight of her presence.
Her hands tightened on me, pulling hard, pressing me against her, while her lips worked in tandem, demanding, claiming, relentless. I gritted my teeth, shivering, trapped, entirely consumed, every thought reduced to heat and shuddering need.
"You'll enjoy all of this. But you won't ever finish." Manifesting a long replication of Azazel's body locking him in place, inserting it inside him. "You will receive everything you have done to that girl."
"Actually I change my mind, I havnt eaten in a long time. So I'll just have you, as my first treat back."
The darkness swallows them whole, bringing them into light in front of Kaigor and Lysrael.
"WHAT THE FUC-" Kaigor reacted.
"Daiha let him go. We'll settle this matter between us. Let Azazel go." Lysrael says like