"Ughh..." He spat blood, the metallic tang flooding his senses. The wounds were lethal, a latticework of crimson across his chest and limbs. He had miscalculated the Quantum Shift, the spatial coordinates skewed by the residual energy of Elle's final attack. He had landed far from the regenerative pond, the intended sanctuary. He chuckled, a dry, rattling sound. He was a fool. A fool driven by an obsession that had led him to this precipice. But it had been exhilarating, a dangerous dance with death that had been, undeniably, worth it.
Her lips, tender, softer than he had imagined, sweet and pure, were a vivid memory, a complete opposite to the encroaching darkness. The taste of her, a fleeting sweetness, lingered on his own lips. His strength was ebbing, the reserves of Quantum Energy dwindling. He was channeling the last vestiges of his power to maintain the vital functions of his body, to keep the artificial veins and arteries pumping, to stave off the inevitable collapse. But it was a losing battle. "Ah... for a kiss..." The darkness began to consume him, a cold embrace. His breathing slowed, each shallow gasp like the last remaining grains of sand in the hourglass of his fading life. Without conscious control, the intricate network of Quantum Energy that sustained his body would fail. If only he had been more precise, more calculating. If only he had landed in the pond, he would now be bathed in its restorative embrace, his wounds knitting themselves closed. Darkness was so peaceful, so tempting, a release from the relentless pursuit.
He felt the ground tremble beneath him, the vibrations resonating through his failing body. Then, a sudden, bone-chilling cold, a plunge into the abyss.
The miscalculation during his Quantum Shift had resulted in a devastating impact, his body slamming against the edge of the pond's platform, the force creating a spiderweb of cracks across the ancient stone. He had managed to crawl away from the immediate impact zone, but the distance to the pond's edge was too great. The platform, weakened by the impact, finally gave way, collapsing beneath him. He plummeted into the depths of the regenerative pond, the icy artificial fluids enveloping him, a shock to his system.
Immediately, the pond's restorative properties began to work, the old computer acknowledging him and his wounded state, releasing the Quantum Energies stored through generations, infusing his damaged cells, accelerating the healing process. In the abyss of darkness, his mind drifted, a kaleidoscope of memories and desires. He saw Elle, her image a phantom in the inky blackness, his obsession, his doom, but also a promise, a "what if" he couldn't let go. She was his. He had to claim her. It was his purpose, his existence.
He opened his eyes.
The clicking of her heels echoed through the hallway, her gaze was focused, but not in the present. Her anger, embarrassment, and vulnerability, a tempest of emotions she had never fully experienced before, came from the past, from the despicable act that man had committed. She hated it, she hated him more than anything. He was dead, she had made sure of it. It was his audacity, his sheer insolence, that burned within her, refusing to abandon her mind.
"Greetings, my love," Lord Alexander, the man her father had promised her to, repeated. His lecherous gaze swept over her body, lingering on the exposed skin of her shoulders and the curve of her hips. She felt his hunger not for the power she represented, the alliance she would bring, but for her body.
"Your display of power upon the pathetic Spanish Empire was wonderful, goddess-like, my dear. They soon will be forced to surrender before us," he said, his eyes gleaming with a predatory light, his blonde hair and green eyes didn't hide his age though his corpulent frame, genetically engineered, gave him the looks of a man in his thirties. He looked artificial, everything on him. It was difficult to reconcile this man with the feat of defeating the high knight Gilbert, Elle couldn't believe it.
"Greetings, my lord. It was the will of the king, my duty," she replied, her voice laced with a subtle edge. Inside, she was seething, a volcano of rage threatening to erupt. She had killed fools before who looked at her like this bastard was looking at her, but not now, now she was forced to play the role of the obedient daughter and bride, a pawn in her father's political games.
Lord Alexander stepped closer, his hand reaching out to her, his fingers tracing the line of her jaw. "Come," he said, his voice a slither of possessiveness, "Let me see you closer."
Elle's skin crawled at his touch, a visceral reaction of disgust. But she didn't flinch, didn't recoil. "I must see the dress," she excused herself, her voice cool and composed. "The tailor awaits."
She turned, leaving him standing in the corridor, and continued her journey to the tailor's chambers. She was a prize, a trophy to be paraded before the council, and she knew she had to play the part, to wear the mask of compliance, until she could find a way to shatter this gilded cage.
The wedding preparations were in full swing, the castle buzzing with activity, a hive of servants and nobles scurrying to and fro. The air was thick with the scent of incense and the murmur of hushed conversations, a cacophony of whispers and expectations. She walked through it all, her mind racing with thoughts of rebellion and escape, of vengeance and liberation. But she knew she couldn't leave her father, not without a plan, not without a means to ensure her survival. Her father was powerful, ruthless, and he would show no mercy if she dared to defy him. He was smart, he could take over the council by force, but he had chosen a more subtle path, a web of alliances and manipulations. However, if she failed him, he would discard her, replace her with one of her younger sisters. Elle didn't particularly care for her sisters, but neither could she run from her fate, not entirely. The very key to her power, the ornate crucifix that hung between her breasts, was not just a conduit for her Quantum Energy, but also a tracker, a surveillance device that would always betray her location to her father. Without this crucifix, without the intricate jewels embedded within it, she would be powerless, a lamb among wolves.
"Your dress is ready, my lady," a servant girl said, her voice barely a whisper, bowing her head low.
Elle followed her into the chamber where the garment awaited, her breath catching in her throat. The dress was a masterpiece of darkness and seduction, a shimmering obsidian creation that seemed to absorb the light around it. It was almost entirely see-through, with strategically placed crystals and lace that would make her look even more tantalizing. Her skin would be on full display, her body a canvas for the hungry eyes of the court.
Her stomach churned as she was helped into the dress, the fabric feeling like silken chains around her, constricting her every movement. She hated it, but she knew she had to wear it. It was a symbol of her submission, a declaration to the world that she was now Lord Alexander's property. Yet, as she stared at her reflection in the mirror, a spark of defiance flickered in her eyes. The dress might claim her body, but her will was still hers, a fire that refused to be extinguished.
As the wedding day approached, she went through the motions of the ceremonies and rituals with a practiced grace, her movements fluid and elegant. Inside, she was a maelstrom of anger and resentment. The moment her first kiss had been stolen played on repeat in her mind, the lingering phantom of his lips on hers. It was him, the moment he had dared to touch her he had cursed her. She had even had dreams, disturbing visions where she did not pull away from the kiss, where she embraced it, where it led to other, more intimate acts. She fought against these memories, these forbidden desires, even as she faced the reality of her impending marriage. Her hatred for him grew with every beat of her heart, a burning desire for revenge, for a retribution that could never be. It was pointless, he was gone, reduced to ash, and the irony was that these memories, this hatred, was the only thing keeping her from breaking to the weight of the shackles of her life.
The night before the wedding, she found herself unable to sleep, she didn't want to dream those dreams that had made her wake up wet. Just like that. Undeniably. Utterly drenched in need. The anger then gave place to the fear of the unknown that awaited her in the arms of Lord Alexander, fear of the life she had been forced into.
In the quiet of her chamber, she stared at the crucifix that hung around her neck, its dark metal gleaming in the moonlight. It was a symbol of her bondage to her father's will, a constant reminder of her powerlessness, and ironically, the conduit for her Quantum Energy. With trembling hands, she reached for the necklace, her fingers tracing the intricate carvings. The three jewels, Quantum Engines, glinted in the moonlight, mocking her with their brilliance. If she got rid of it, she would be free of her father's control, but also completely powerless, a fragile human in a world of predators. The choice was clear, a bitter pill to swallow. With a snarl of rage, she let her hand fall away. She had never been without her powers, had never known the vulnerability of a lesser human, and the thought was terrifying. She couldn't bear to set herself powerless.
The wedding day dawned. The castle, a fortress of obsidian and steel, was adorned with black and crimson banners, the colors of Lord Alexander's House, the House of the Black Dragon, and the Devereux house. The scent of dark incense seemed to fill the world, the murmur of ancient pacts, and the hushed whispers of the gathered nobles. The atmosphere was charged, a mix of anticipation and dread, a reflection of the power that Lord Arthur Devereux wielded.
Elle was a vision of dark beauty as she walked down the aisle, all eyes on her body, trying to uncover the intimate parts her dress kept hidden. Her father, Lord Devereux, stood at the head of the procession with her, his eyes burning with a mix of pride and a silent warning. She knew that if she faltered now, if she showed even a flicker of defiance, the consequences would be swift and brutal.
Her heart pounded against her ribs, a frantic drumbeat against the silence of the hall, as she approached the altar where Lord Alexander waited. His smile was reptilian, cold and calculating, a predator savoring its prey. His hands were clasped before him, the knuckles white, and she could feel his hunger for the possession of her very being. She felt a wave of nausea, a visceral revulsion, but she forced herself to remain composed, to play the part of the obedient daughter, the bride.
The cardinal, his eyes too etched with age and the weight of ancient rituals even though his genes kept him from aging beyond forty, spoke the ancient words, his voice echoing through the cavernous chamber. The air grew thick with anticipation, the silence broken only by the rustle of silk and the soft murmur of blessings. The moment for the vows arrived, a moment that felt like a death sentence.
Elle looked into the devouring, lustful eyes of the man she was about to marry, and whispered her promise with the fluidity of a very enamored bride, each word a bitter taste on her tongue. The rings, cold and heavy, were slid onto their fingers, sealing their union in a ritual that felt more like a curse than a sacred bond. The weight of her father's expectations, and the weight of her own loss, pressed down on her with suffocating force.
As the cardinal opened his mouth to declare them husband and wife, a loud, clear voice rang through the hall, shattering the solemn silence.
"I object!" Echoed in the building.
The faces of the assembled nobles turned, their expressions a mix of shock and confusion, searching for the source of the interruption. But they found only guards sprawled on the floor and the perpetrator was nowhere to be found. The intruder had used a spatial shift to teleport directly to her side.
He was there, standing beside her, holding her against himself, his other hand aiming a revolver at Lord Alexander's confused and angry face. It was the man she had killed. The man whose kiss burned on her lips.
"She is mine," he proclaimed, his voice cold and deadly, sending a shiver down her spine. The gunshot echoed through the hall, Lord Alexander's brain spilled everywhere. "Mine alone!" The infuriating man proclaimed, and then forced a kiss upon her lips once again.
Elle was too shocked to react, too stunned by his audacity, by his very existence. He wasn't dead. He was here, claiming her as if she was a possession, as if she was his to claim. Am I dreaming? She thought, detached from the moment. His eyes met hers, and she recognized that infuriating expression on his face, now smeared with Lord Alexander's blood. A wave of nausea, followed by a surge of pure, unadulterated rage, washed over her. He dares! After everything! Her blood boiled. Her heart hammered against her ribs. She tried to push him away, to claw at his face, her eyes blazing with fury, but he didn't release her. Her strength was pathetic, useless. She tried to summon her Quantum Energy, to unleash her power, but there was nothing. A cold dread gripped her. How? The question echoed in her mind.
"Insolent bastard! Die!" Her father yelled, raising his hand, and she expected to see the familiar surge of Quantum Energy building around him, and next her captor would be melting from the inside out. But this time, nothing happened.
"I see now from where she got the anger issues," the man casually said, a defiant grin on his face. "But don't worry, father-in-law. I'll fix her. I'm good at fixing things."
"Shut up, you animal! Let me go!" She yelled at him, her voice showcasing her vulnerability, only to be silenced by another kiss, a brutal, possessive kiss that made her want to tear his lips from his face. She tried to bite him, to draw blood, but he was too fast, too skilled, and broke the kiss before she could inflict any damage.
"Mean!" He told her, a playful glint in his eyes.
Her minions, the Model X-IV6 robots, rushed to her aid, their mechanical limbs moving with surprising speed and precision. The man, her would-be kidnapper, shot at them, the sound of gunfire echoing through the hall, mingling with the screams of the terrified wedding guests. They fell, one by one, their metal bodies clattering against the cold stone floor. The panic grew, the guests screaming and running for the exits, the cardinal and guards frozen in shock and terror. The man didn't miss a beat, his revolver definitive death, taking down any who dared to approach. The air was filled with the scent of gunpowder and fear, the powerlessness of those around her and the absence of the Quantum Energy she was usually surrounded by made her wonder again if she was dreaming.
"5, 4, 3, 2…,Time to go. Honeymoon awaits," he told her, with a dark humor. Her father's power surged in the room, the pressure palpable, a suffocating wave of Quantum Energy.
"That's really impressive, you learned the timing, father-in-law," the man congratulated, tossing a small orb towards Lord Devereux. "But you're too slow."
Elle saw the effort in her father's face for completing his casting, but the power faded before he could, along with that of those near him.
"How?" She let out, with a mix of confusion and fear, as she found herself lifted into his arms. He then grabbed her crucifix, and she got paralyzed because her crucifix was like her womanhood. Nobody else had ever touched it. He casually ripped it from her neck and abandoned it on the altar. "No…" she gasped in a tone so defenseless that when he heard it was like a painful physical hit that changed his expression for one that displayed regret. He didn't stop. He rushed towards the exit.
Her father tried to block his path, but the man was stronger, faster, even the genetically engineered bodyguards couldn't match him, their bodies ending lifeless on the floor.
"This is a dream…" Elle muttered in disbelief.
He didn't say anything, he just carried her out of the building.
Outside, guards aimed their weapons, their fingers tightening on the triggers. He looked at his watch as they opened fire, and the Quantum shield materialized for two seconds, allowing him to perform a spatial shift again. After those two seconds the null field got reactivated and the defenses of the guests that had been around and behind the intruder and Elle, failed. The guards massacred the guests by accident.
"We did it," he said as they reappeared in the heights.
"What?" She replied, instinctively holding tighter. They were in the sky, the cold air rough against her delicate skin. He was grinning, the city was beneath them, its streets extending vast in all directions without visible end. They fell for five or six seconds, a colossal shadow appeared beneath them, and they landed on a metallic surface inside a ship, he courteously absorbing the impact of their landing pulling his body beneath hers.
"What is this?" She demanded, her voice trembling with a mix of rage and fear. "What did you do? How did you take my power?"
"This is my ship," he said, his grip tightening. "And you are coming with me. You're safe now."
A flicker of relief, quickly suppressed, flickered within her. At least I'm not marrying him. But the relief was overshadowed by a burning hatred for the man who had stolen her kiss, her power, her freedom. "You're insane!" She struggled in his arms, her body tense with fury. "Let me go, you animal! You will pay for this!"
"We're in the middle of the sky, Elle," he said, his voice laced with amusement. "And I don't think your father will be in the mood to give us a ride down. And Elle… You are mine."