Floyda had just turned her back to the door when she met her master's gaze, slightly taken aback by the cruelty and darkness she found there. Slowly, she began walking forward, her feet making no sound as she tried hard not to look at the woman writhing on the bed—whom she was convinced was one of the clan leader's disciples.
Flonda had no love for the woman, especially considering she had once stabbed her in the back, both figuratively and literally. A mild feeling of satisfaction flickered inside her at seeing the woman at her master's beck and call. It annoyed her, though, that the woman's groans were from pleasure, not pain.
Stepping lightly, Flonda knelt when she reached her master's side, holding the jug of water and cup in her hands. "I know I should have stayed outside like you ordered, but after a while, I—I was worried you might be thirsty," she said, her voice low, not daring to meet his eyes.
Black, of course, could sense something off about his servant, but he assumed it had more to do with his current state—naked and aroused—than any ulterior motives. "Sure! Leave it on the table. I'll take it," he replied, contemplating whether or not to use her in his next ritual. He hesitated, thinking it might be risky if Voldrak's consciousness reawakened in response to seeing Flonda's death.
He waved her off instead of ordering her onto the bed beside Ophari. "Return to your post at the entrance and wait," he commanded, turning his attention back to Ophari, who was still writhing on the bed, her legs spread, her body begging for release. He intended to fill her to the brim with condensed realm energy before claiming her.
Just as he began channeling his energy, digging his fingers into her wet walls, Flonda spoke again. "M-my lord, the water is cool. Any longer, and it won't stay that way."
Flonda had no intention of going back to the entrance without trying to fulfill her goal. The price she'd paid for the cleansing water was too steep to fail now.
Instead of replying, Black's gaze settled on her, making her heart skip a beat and her palms sweaty. She mumbled nervously, "I-I heard noises outside. With the work you're doing, you'll appreciate the water more," she stammered, blushing as she alluded to the thick, musky smell of sex in the air.
Black nodded, not doubting her sincerity in the slightest. He knew the symbols drilled into her skin compelled her to serve him with unwavering devotion—something that Voldrak hadn't yet fully understood.
"Maybe it's good to take a break," he sighed, walking toward her with a smile, one of the kindest he could muster. As he neared her, Flonda poured the water into a cup, her hands trembling slightly. She stretched the cup toward him with a slight bow of her head, avoiding his gaze.
Black took the cup, raising it to his nose, satisfied when he detected no hint of poison. He gulped it down in one go, then handed the empty cup back to Flonda. He couldn't help but notice the intensity in her eyes—a look that hadn't been there before.
"Yes, Flonda? Is there something else?" he asked with a hint of flirtation, leaning closer, amused by her flushed cheeks. She quickly shook her head. "N-no, my lord," she stammered, trying to hide her disappointment when it became clear the cleansing powder she'd bought hadn't worked.
"So this is who my master truly is," she thought as she turned toward the door, tears clouding her vision.
Black had already put the water out of his mind, focusing instead on Ophari. His hands plunged deeper into her, concentrating all his energy into her writhing body. She howled and gasped, spreading her legs wider, urging him on. But just as he was about to enter her, his body suddenly froze. A look of despair crept across his face as he realized Voldrak was waking up.
Panicked, he backed away from Ophari, wondering if she was the cause. His dark gaze then locked onto Flonda, who was still walking toward the door. In the blink of an eye, he disappeared and reappeared in front of her, grabbing her by the neck. He didn't squeeze hard enough to kill her, but the pressure was enough to convey the danger she was in.
"You put something in the water," he stated coldly, more fact than question.
Flonda wasn't stupid. She knew better than to lie. She nodded quickly, pleading for mercy. "I'm sorry, master! I did it for you! You were acting—" But she didn't get to finish. Black flung her across the room, her body hitting the wall with a sickening crack as bones broke on impact. Blood dripped from her mouth as her vision darkened, and she heard him approach, prepared to end her life.
"Master, please!" she begged, struggling to speak. "I did it for your own—" Once again, Black grabbed her by the neck, lifting her off the ground and squeezing, his grip tightening. But just as he was about to crush her windpipe, he hesitated. Dropping her unconscious body to the floor, he cursed under his breath.
He didn't know what was in the water, but he knew Voldrak would wake and discover everything. Killing her wouldn't help, yet keeping her alive posed its own risks. He was about to finish her off when his vision went dark, his consciousness retreating to the prison Voldrak had bound him in.
"FUCK! FUCK! I'll have to bide my time!" Black raged silently, knowing he had no choice but to wait for another opportunity.
The first thing Voldrak smelled when he awoke was the faint scent of blood. He stirred, surprised by how energetic his body felt despite the fog in his mind. "What the—" He scrambled to his feet as the memories rushed back, his body naked and hard, one of his assassins writhing on the bed nearby, and Flonda lying unconscious, seriously wounded.
Anger flared inside him as he realized he couldn't remember what had caused this mess. But he had a good idea.
"System, I'll give you one chance to explain yourself!" Voldrak growled, his mind searching for answers and finding nothing.
"Master, I have no clue! I'm only conscious in manual mode. When you switch to automatic, your body takes over!"
"You switched without my permission!" Voldrak's voice was calm, menacingly so.
"Master, your life was in danger. The system, too! I have no control over it!" the system pleaded, using the same innocent tone that always put Voldrak on edge.
Voldrak clenched his fists in frustration, anger seething beneath the surface. He could make all the threats he wanted, but what could he do to a parasite lodged deep in his mind? "I need to grow stronger," he swore to himself, realizing that more drastic measures were necessary if he wanted to maintain control of his body.