The second round of the Qualification Stage began three hours after the first, giving competitors time to recover and strategize. Anthonio spent the intermission in the observation tower, watching other matches with calculated interest while the Academy buzzed with speculation about his dominant first-round performance.
"Did you see how fast he moved?"
"Three seconds! Lei Thunderfist didn't stand a chance!"
"I heard he was F-Rank just over a year ago. Broken Veins. How is that even possible?"
The whispers followed him everywhere, exactly as planned. Anthonio let them talk, let them theorize, while he observed the patterns he already knew would emerge. On Platform Seven, Kael was methodically dismantling a Manifestation 8-Star opponent, his Blade of the Void cutting through defensive techniques like they were paper. On Platform Three, Seraphina encased her opponent in ice with elegant precision, advancing without breaking composure.
Everything proceeding according to the original timeline. Except now, Anthonio was the variable that would break it all.
"Impressive display earlier," a feminine voice said beside him. Aria Goldenheart appeared at the observation rail, her golden hair catching the afternoon light. "Though I suspect you were holding back."
"Everyone holds back something in the first round," Anthonio replied neutrally. "Save your true strength for when it matters."
"Mmm." Aria's amber eyes studied him with knowing intensity. "Still, there's holding back, and then there's what you did. Lei is a brute, but he's not weak. You made him look like a child."
"He overcommitted. I exploited it."
"Is that what you call it?" Her hand brushed his arm, the touch lingering. "I call it dominance. The same kind you showed me in the library."
Anthonio's eyes flicked to hers, catching the heat beneath her playful tone. Aria was his second heroine, claimed before Kael could even meet her, and unlike some of his other conquests, she enjoyed the game. She liked the secrecy, the risk, the thrill of belonging to him while the world remained oblivious.
"Careful," he murmured. "We're in public."
"Which makes it more exciting." But she stepped back slightly, maintaining propriety. "Your second round match is in twenty minutes. Sarah Ironshield. Defensive specialist, Manifestation 9-Star, known for outlasting opponents. How will you handle her?"
"The same way I handle everything." He met her gaze directly. "I'll break through her defenses and make her yield."
The double meaning wasn't subtle, and Aria's lips curved into a smile. "I look forward to watching. And afterward..." She leaned in close enough that only he could hear. "Come find me in the East Wing library. Third floor, restricted section. I'll be waiting."
She walked away before he could respond, her hips swaying with deliberate provocation. Anthonio watched her go, already anticipating what she had planned. Aria was bold, adventurous, and increasingly addicted to the intensity of their encounters.
Later, he told himself. Focus on the competition first.
Platform Two: Second Round
Sarah Ironshield stood across from him, her expression set with determination. She was built like a fortress—broad shoulders, muscular frame, her entire body radiating defensive cultivation techniques. Her specialty was outlasting opponents, letting them exhaust themselves against her shields while she conserved energy for devastating counterattacks.
In the original timeline, Sarah made it to the quarterfinals before losing to a Transcendence 2-Star opponent. She was legitimately skilled, patient, and disciplined.
Against Anthonio, none of it would matter.
"Begin!"
Sarah immediately activated her essence. Golden shields materialized around her body—six interlocking barriers of pure defensive energy, each one capable of withstanding multiple Manifestation-level attacks. She settled into a defensive stance, clearly planning to wait him out.
Smart, Anthonio acknowledged. Against most opponents, this would work. But you're not facing most opponents.
He moved forward at what appeared to be his maximum speed—still only 30% of his true capabilities. His first strike hit her outer shield with a crack of crimson lightning, and the barrier shuddered but held.
"You'll have to do better than that!" Sarah called out, confidence building. She'd withstood the first attack, and in her mind, that meant she could withstand them all.
Anthonio struck again. And again. Each blow calculated, each one testing a different angle, a different frequency of energy. The crowd watched as he seemed to batter uselessly against her defenses, and he could feel their disappointment—was the miracle student hitting his limit?
Perfect, he thought. Let them think I'm struggling.
But he wasn't struggling. He was analyzing. Each strike gathered data—the resonance frequency of her shields, the weak points in their interlocking structure, the precise amount of force needed to shatter them all at once.
Thirty seconds into the match, he had everything he needed.
Anthonio stepped back, and Sarah's eyes narrowed in confusion. Why was he retreating after pressing the attack?
Then he moved.
This time, he used 40% of his speed. His fist struck the exact convergence point where all six shields met—the mathematical weak spot in her defensive formation. The impact was precisely calibrated, his crimson lightning attuned to the exact counter-frequency of her golden shields.
All six barriers shattered simultaneously.
Sarah's eyes went wide with shock. Before she could react, Anthonio was inside her guard, his hand pressing against her sternum with enough force to make breathing difficult but not enough to injure.
"Yield," he said calmly. Crimson lightning danced around his fingers, the threat implicit.
"I... I yield," Sarah gasped.
The referee appeared instantly. "Victory to Anthonio Crimsonhart!"
This time, the crowd's reaction was different. The first match could have been luck, catching an overconfident opponent off-guard. But this? This demonstrated technical mastery, the ability to analyze and exploit weaknesses with surgical precision.
As he descended from the platform, Anthonio caught the eyes of several Academy instructors. They were taking notes, discussing him in hushed tones. Master Veyron, the lightning specialist who'd been suspicious of his crimson variant, watched with particular intensity.
Good, Anthonio thought. Let them watch. Let them theorize. They'll never guess the truth.
"Anthonio!" Kael called out, approaching with Seraphina at his side. The protagonist's face was split in a genuine grin. "That was incredible! The way you analyzed her shields and found the weak point—that's genius-level combat theory!"
"Just observation and patience," Anthonio replied with appropriate humility. "Sarah's formation had a structural flaw. I simply exploited it."
"'Simply' he says." Kael laughed, clapping him on the shoulder. "You're being modest. That kind of analysis under combat pressure is rare even among Transcendence cultivators."
Seraphina said nothing, but her silver eyes met Anthonio's for the briefest moment. He saw the hunger there, the barely contained desire. Watching him dominate opponents was affecting her the same way it affected him when he dominated her in bed—arousal mixed with admiration, desire mixed with pride.
Tonight, he promised silently. Tonight I'll give you what you need.
Her slight nod was almost imperceptible, but he caught it.
"Your match is next, isn't it?" Anthonio asked Kael, redirecting attention.
"Platform Four in ten minutes. Manifestation 9-Star opponent, Marcus Flameheart—Lyanna's older brother, actually." Kael's expression turned more serious. "Should be a good fight. He's been training specifically to counter Divine Essence users."
He has, Anthonio thought, remembering the original timeline. And you'll beat him anyway, because that's what protagonists do. But he'll push you harder than you expect.
"Good luck," he said aloud.
"Thanks. Though I think we both know you're the one everyone's watching now." Kael grinned again, completely free of jealousy or resentment. "The miracle student living up to the hype. I'm glad you're on my team for the later rounds."
If you only knew, Anthonio thought as Kael walked away to prepare. If you only knew that your "teammate" is systematically stealing everything meant for you, including your fiancée.
The third round wouldn't occur until the following day, giving competitors time to fully recover. Anthonio made his way toward the East Wing library as the sun began setting, painting the Academy grounds in shades of crimson and gold.
The library after hours was nearly empty—most students either celebrating their victories or nursing their defeats in the common areas. Anthonio climbed to the third floor, then used a concealment technique to slip into the restricted section without triggering the wards.
Aria was waiting exactly where she'd promised, leaning against a bookshelf filled with ancient cultivation texts. She'd changed from her combat attire into something simpler—a dress that somehow managed to be both elegant and provocative, clinging to her curves while maintaining plausible deniability.
"You came," she said, her amber eyes lighting up.
"Did you doubt I would?"
"Never." She pushed off the bookshelf and moved toward him with predatory grace. "I've been thinking about you all afternoon. Watching you fight, watching you dominate those opponents so effortlessly. It was... arousing."
"Was it?" Anthonio closed the distance between them, his hand sliding around her waist. "Tell me what you were thinking."
"I was thinking about how you analyze weaknesses and exploit them. How you make it look so easy, so natural." Her hands moved to his chest, fingers tracing patterns. "And I was thinking about how you do the same thing to me. How you've learned exactly what I need, exactly how to make me..."
"Make you what?" His other hand tangled in her golden hair, tilting her head back.
"Make me yours," Aria breathed. "Make me forget everything except how you feel inside me."
He kissed her then, deep and demanding, and she responded with equal intensity. This was what he appreciated about Aria—she matched his intensity, met him halfway, brought her own desire and passion to their encounters rather than just submitting.
Though submission had its place, as Selene and Victoria could attest.
"Here?" he murmured against her lips. "In the restricted section where anyone could catch us?"
"That's what makes it exciting." Her hands moved to his belt. "The risk. The thrill. Knowing that at any moment someone could walk in and see Aria Goldenheart, daughter of Duke Goldenheart, on her knees for the exiled Crimsonhart bastard."
The crude description sent a jolt of arousal through him. Aria knew how to play the game, knew what words would affect him most.
"On your knees then," he commanded.
She sank down immediately, her eyes never leaving his as she freed his cock. "I've been wanting to taste you again," she murmured, her tongue flicking out to lick the tip. "Been craving it since last time."
Then her mouth engulfed him, and conscious thought became difficult. Aria's technique had improved dramatically since their first encounter—she'd clearly been practicing, learning what he liked, perfecting her approach. Her tongue swirled around his length while her hand worked the base, and she took him deep enough to make her eyes water.
"Fuck," Anthonio groaned, his hand tightening in her hair. "You've gotten better at this."
She pulled back just enough to speak, her lips still brushing against him. "I've been motivated to learn. Motivated to please you." Then she took him deep again, her throat relaxing to accommodate his full length.
He let her work for several minutes, enjoying the sight of the Duke's daughter debasing herself for his pleasure. Then he pulled her up and spun her around, bending her over a reading desk.
"Hands on the desk. Don't move them."
Aria obeyed, her breathing already heavy with anticipation. He flipped up her dress—she wasn't wearing anything underneath, the brazen woman—and groaned at the sight. She was soaking wet, her arousal coating her thighs.
"So wet already," he murmured, running his fingers through her folds. "Were you touching yourself while waiting for me?"
"Yes," she gasped as his fingers found her clit. "I couldn't help it. Thinking about you, about this, about what you'd do to me—"
He pushed two fingers inside her roughly, cutting off her words. She moaned, pushing back against his hand, and he finger-fucked her with deliberate intensity.
"You like being used like this, don't you?" He added a third finger, stretching her. "Like knowing you're just another conquest, another woman in my collection."
"Yes," Aria panted. "God, yes. I don't care. I don't care that you have others. I just want this, want you, want to feel—oh fuck!"
He'd replaced his fingers with his cock, entering her in one smooth thrust. Aria's back arched, her hands gripping the desk so hard her knuckles went white.
"Quiet," Anthonio warned, even as he began moving with steady, powerful strokes. "Unless you want someone to hear us."
But Aria was beyond caring about noise. She moaned with each thrust, her inner walls clenching around him like a vice. He gripped her hips hard enough to leave marks, pounding into her with increasing intensity.
This was different from his encounters with Selene or Victoria. With them, it was about dominance and submission, about breaking them down and rebuilding them as his property. With Aria, it was more primal—two powerful people coming together in mutual need and desire, neither willing to submit completely but both craving the intensity.
"Harder," Aria demanded, looking back at him over her shoulder. Her amber eyes were wild, pupils dilated with lust. "Don't hold back. I can take it."
Challenge accepted.
Anthonio increased his pace, his cultivation-enhanced stamina allowing him to maintain the brutal rhythm indefinitely. The desk creaked under their combined force, and somewhere in the back of his mind he registered that they were probably damaging Academy property.
He didn't care.
"Touch yourself," he commanded. "Make yourself come on my cock."
Aria's hand moved between her legs immediately, her fingers finding her clit. Within seconds her inner walls were fluttering around him, her body tensing as orgasm approached.
"That's it," he growled, angling his hips to hit the spot that made her see stars. "Come for me, Aria. Let everyone in the library hear who you belong to."
She came with a strangled cry, her whole body shaking with the force of her climax. Anthonio didn't slow down, fucking her through her orgasm and into another, his own release building.
"Where do you want it?" he asked, his voice strained.
"Inside," Aria gasped. "Come inside me. Fill me up. Mark me as yours."
The words pushed him over the edge. He buried himself deep and came hard, emptying himself inside her with several powerful pulses. Aria moaned at the sensation, her body milking every drop from him.
They stayed connected for a long moment, both breathing hard. Then Anthonio pulled out carefully, watching with satisfaction as his seed began leaking out of her.
"Beautiful," he murmured, running his fingers through the mess. "You look good like this. Used. Claimed."
Aria turned to face him, her legs still shaky. "I am claimed. Yours. And I'm not ashamed of it."
He kissed her again, softer this time. "Good. Because I'm not done with you yet."
Her eyes widened. "What?"
"You said you could take it. Let's find out if that's true."
Ninety minutes later, Anthonio left the library with Aria on unsteady legs behind him. They'd gone three more rounds—once against the bookshelf, once with her bent over a chair, and finally with her riding him while he sat on that same chair, her dress bunched around her waist.
She looked thoroughly debauched, her hair mussed, her lips swollen, her skin flushed. Anyone who saw her would know immediately what she'd been doing.
"I can barely walk," she complained, though her tone was more satisfied than upset.
"Cultivation will heal you by morning," Anthonio replied practically. "Though you might want to avoid your dormmates for a few hours."
"Probably wise." She paused at the library entrance, looking back at him. "Anthonio... I know we keep this casual. I know about the others. But I want you to know—I don't regret this. Any of it."
"Neither do I." And he meant it. Aria served a purpose beyond just physical pleasure. She was politically connected, socially influential, and genuinely skilled as a cultivator. When the time came to solidify his power base, she'd be a valuable asset.
Plus, the sex was incredible.
They parted ways, Aria heading toward the women's dormitories while Anthonio made his way to his own quarters. The Academy grounds were quiet in the evening, most students either sleeping or preparing for tomorrow's matches.
But as he turned a corner, he nearly collided with someone.
"Apologies," he said automatically, then recognized her. "Lyra."
Lyra Shadowmere, Selene's younger sister, studied him with those too-knowing dark eyes. "Anthonio. Out for an evening walk?"
"Clearing my head before tomorrow's match."
"Mmm." Her gaze flicked over him, and he wondered what she saw. He'd cleaned himself with cultivation techniques, but Lyra was perceptive. "Interesting. I would have thought you'd be with your team, strategizing."
"I strategize better alone."
"Is that what you call it?" The corner of her mouth quirked up. "Strategizing?"
A chill ran down his spine. Did she know? Did she suspect?
"What are you implying?" he asked carefully.
"Nothing at all." But her smile suggested otherwise. "Just that you seem to have many... strategies. Different approaches for different situations. It's actually quite impressive, from a tactical standpoint."
They stood there for a moment, tension crackling in the air. Lyra was dangerous—not because she was powerful (though as a Transcendence 2-Star, she was no slouch), but because she paid attention. She noticed things others missed.
"Your match tomorrow is against James Shadowblade," she said, changing the subject. "Transcendence 1-Star. He's going to be your first real challenge."
"I'm aware."
"Are you?" Lyra stepped closer, her voice dropping. "Because James has been training specifically to counter unusual cultivation techniques. He studies his opponents, learns their patterns. And you, Anthonio Crimsonhart, are nothing if not unusual."
"I'll manage."
"I'm sure you will." She moved past him, then paused. "One more thing. My sister has been... different lately. Happier. More fulfilled. I don't know what arrangement you two have, but whatever it is, I'm glad. Selene deserves to be happy."
She walked away before he could respond, leaving Anthonio alone with his thoughts.
She suspects something, the Shadow Heart whispered in his mind. Not the full truth, but she senses the connections. Lyra Shadowmere is more dangerous than she appears.
I know, Anthonio replied mentally. But she also said she's glad. As long as Selene is happy, Lyra won't interfere.
Perhaps. Or perhaps she's simply waiting to see how this plays out. Either way, caution is advised.
Anthonio continued to his quarters, his mind already working through the implications. Lyra was a variable he'd need to account for. But she was also potentially recruitable—in the original timeline, she never developed romantic feelings for Kael, remaining more of a friendly rival. If he played this correctly, she could become an ally. Or more.
One problem at a time, he told himself.
He reached his door and opened it, then froze.
Selene was waiting inside, completely naked, kneeling in the center of his room with her hands behind her back and her eyes downcast. Around her, candles provided soft lighting, and he could smell incense—something designed to heighten sensation and arousal.
"Master," she whispered. "You promised me tonight. I've been waiting."
Anthonio closed and locked the door behind him, his exhaustion from the Aria encounter forgotten. The sight of Selene—powerful, beautiful Selene—in complete submission did things to him that transcended physical tiredness.
"You've been patient," he said, moving toward her. "Have you been touching yourself while waiting?"
"No, master. You didn't give me permission."
"Good girl." He circled her slowly, appreciating the view. Selene's mature body was a work of art—full breasts, curved hips, skin that practically glowed with cultivation refinement. And all of it belonged to him. "Tell me what you need."
"I need you to use me," Selene breathed. "I need you to dominate me, master. I need to feel owned, controlled, completely at your mercy. Please."
The desperation in her voice was genuine. This wasn't roleplay for Selene—this was a fundamental need, something she craved at a soul-deep level. Her cultivation, her power, her status as a Sovereign 6-Star—none of it satisfied her the way submission did.
"Stand up. Hands behind your head."
She obeyed immediately, her movements graceful despite the vulnerable position. Anthonio walked around her again, his hands trailing across her skin, teasing but not satisfying.
"You watched earlier," he said. "When Victoria came to my room. You watched me fuck her, watched me make her call me master. Did it make you jealous?"
"No, master." Selene's breathing was already heavy. "It made me proud. Proud that you can dominate even a Sovereign cultivator, proud that you make powerful women submit. And it made me wet, knowing I'd get my turn eventually."
"And now it's your turn." His hand closed around her throat—not choking, but controlling. "Tonight, I'm going to push your limits, Selene. I'm going to see exactly how much you can take. Your safe word is 'crimson.' Use it if you need to. Otherwise, you're mine to do with as I please. Understood?"
"Yes, master," she gasped, her pupils dilating with anticipation and arousal.
"Good. Now get on the bed. Face down, ass up. And don't move unless I tell you to."
What followed was intense even by their standards. Anthonio had brought silk ropes infused with cultivation-suppressing formations—they wouldn't fully restrict a Sovereign, but they would mute Selene's ability to resist. He bound her wrists and ankles, spreading her out across the bed in the most vulnerable position imaginable.
Then he began.
He started with his hands, spanking her ass until it glowed red, until she was gasping and moaning with each impact. Then his mouth, teasing her with his tongue but never quite giving her what she needed. When she was desperate, writhing against the restraints and begging incoherently, he finally entered her.
But he didn't let her come.
Every time she got close, he'd slow down or stop completely, keeping her on edge. It was exquisite torture, and Selene loved every second of it.
"Please," she sobbed at one point. "Please, master, let me come. I need it so badly—"
"Not yet." He pulled out completely, ignoring her whimper of loss. "You come when I say you can come. Your pleasure belongs to me, remember?"
"Yes, master, I remember, I just—please—"
He flipped her over and entered her again, this time with her legs over his shoulders, hitting deeper than before. Selene's eyes rolled back, her entire body trembling with need.
"Look at me," he commanded.
Her eyes snapped to his, wild and desperate.
"Who do you belong to?"
"You, master! I belong to you!"
"What are you?"
"Your slut! Your property! Yours to use however you want!"
"Good girl." He finally let his hand move to her clit, rubbing in the exact pattern he'd learned would drive her insane. "Now you can come. Come for your master, Selene."
She exploded, screaming his name as her orgasm tore through her. But Anthonio didn't stop. He fucked her through it and into another, then another, until she was a quivering, sobbing mess of overstimulated nerves and overwhelming pleasure.
Only then did he allow himself to finish, coming deep inside her with a groan of satisfaction.
He untied her carefully, checking for any signs of actual distress. But Selene just curled into him, trembling with aftershocks, a blissful smile on her face.
"Thank you, master," she whispered. "That was perfect. That was exactly what I needed."
"I know." He stroked her hair gently. "Sleep now. You've earned it."
She was unconscious within minutes, exhausted in the best possible way. Anthonio held her for a while, his mind already turning to tomorrow's match.
James Shadowblade. Transcendence 1-Star. Trained specifically to counter unusual techniques.
In the original timeline, James made it to the semi-finals before losing to the eventual champion. He was skilled, adaptable, and dangerous.
Against Anthonio's Transcendence 7-Star power, he wouldn't stand a chance. The question was how much of that power to reveal.
Enough to win decisively, Anthonio decided. Enough to make people wonder. But not enough to expose the truth.
He'd show them 50% of his speed. Maybe 40% of his power. Just enough to dominate a Transcendence opponent without making it look easy.
The game continued. And with each move, he drew closer to the endgame.
Beside him, Selene murmured something in her sleep, pressing closer. Somewhere in the Academy, Seraphina was probably lying awake, thinking about him. Aria was recovering from their encounter. Victoria was planning how to protect him from institutional scrutiny.
All of them his. All of them playing their parts in the grand design.
Welcome to the rewritten story, Anthonio thought as he drifted toward sleep. And the best part? None of you even realize you're in it.
END OF CHAPTER 22