Voldrak knelt beside Flonda's still form, binding her wounds with the remnants of a tattered cloth, his movements methodical but filled with an undercurrent of impatience.
He wanted her awake—needed her to fill in the vast gaps in his memory. His hands worked quickly, though his mind was already elsewhere. He glanced over at the writhing woman on the bed—Ophari, one of the clan leader's disciples—her naked body glowing with an energy that did not belong to him. Her moans and pleas for him to fill her echoed through the room, stirring a primal reaction in his body.
"Ple-please! Help me!" she begged with her legs open, even as she touched herself with an insatiable look on her face, her eyes focused on him, urging him to step closer and plug her dripping hole, something his mortal body responded to but which his mind couldn't.
His lips curled in disgust. His body might have wanted to give in to her pleas, to debase himself in pursuit of power, but his mind, calculating, wouldn't allow it. Voldrak wasn't one to lose control—especially not for something as trivial as pleasure. He stepped closer, watching her convulse as the energy swirled around her, her body responding to it instinctively.
"I could take it," he muttered under his breath, staring at the pulsing light in her body. He could take it the way she wanted him to... the way his body screamed that he should. Yet, the uncertainty of the consequences held him back. He wouldn't risk it. Instead, he raised his hand, dark energy gathering at his fingertips, swirling in a menacing, red-tinged cloud. Voldrak hovered his hand over her body, channeling the energy downward, letting it envelop her.
Ophari's eyes widened in terror as his dark energy clashed with the foreign light inside her. Her screams grew louder, frantic, and piercing. Blood poured from her nose and mouth as she thrashed against the bed. But Voldrak didn't flinch. He simply watched, his face a mask of indifference, as her life force and all the energy bottled into her forcefully seeped out of her and into him.
Her skin paled and slowly her body began to shrivel up until it was nothing more than a hollow husk.
With a sigh, he let the last of his energy dissipate and turned away from the corpse. His expression remained blank as he picked up his clothes from the floor, dressing himself with care. He glanced down, relieved that his clothes hadn't been dirtied by the mess on the bed. Through the window, he could tell dawn was approaching. Pale light filtered into the room, casting long shadows across the floor.
"Time to go," he muttered to himself when he heard a faint stir behind him. He turned sharply, eyes narrowing as Flonda began to wake. She groaned softly, her body aching from the wounds she'd sustained, but she forced herself to sit up, blinking away the dizziness.
Voldrak waited for her to fully regain consciousness before fixing her with a hard, piercing gaze. "Tell me everything," he ordered, his voice cold but with a softness that almost resembled concern. "Don't leave anything out."
Flonda trembled, her heart racing in her chest as she struggled to sit upright. It didn't help that her last memory was being squashed against the wall by the man who now stood over her. Yet, she quickly noticed that something was different. His voice was less threatening, but still commanding.
She hesitated for a moment, her gaze drifting to the lifeless body on the bed, a sense of glee in her heart as she realized her master had killed her like he should, instead of taking her like he had previously intended.
'I wasn't wrong!' she thought before she began speaking.
"I… I'm sorry, master," she stammered, bowing her head in submission. "You were not yourself. You were possessed by something dark. I—I could sense it and…"
She recounted everything: how his demeanor had changed. She told him how she had risked using the cleansing powder in the water to bring him back, regardless of the danger. Her voice quivered as she spoke, but she pressed on.
"You were focused more on bedding the two women than anything else!" she said, while trying and failing to keep the bitterness she had felt out of it.
Voldrak listened in silence, his expression unreadable, absorbing every word without a flicker of emotion. When she finished, he gave her a single nod, a sign that he had been paying attention.
"This cleansing powder… Can you get more?" he asked, his voice flat, betraying no hint of the turmoil brewing inside him.
"Y-yes, my lord," Flonda replied quickly, scrambling to her feet despite the pain coursing through her body. Her ankle screamed with pain, and she tasted blood on her tongue, convinced that her ribs were just as bad, but delighted that the mostly detached master she knew was back.
"Master, were you really possessed? By what?" she wanted to ask, but she held her tongue. It wasn't her place to question him. She was a slave, and if he wanted her to know, he would tell her.
Voldrak's mind raced, trying to process everything she had said. He was grateful for the cleansing powder, but the thought of being so easily overtaken by the cursed system gnawed at him. He needed to find a way to strengthen his defenses, to ensure that his mind would never again be taken over by that malevolent force.
"Let's go," he said abruptly, his tone brooking no argument as he moved toward the door.
Flonda followed, biting her lip to stifle the pain as her ribs screamed with each step. She spotted a steel sword near the door, one typically reserved for the heads of the family. Without a word, she wrapped it in cloth to hide its shape and strapped it to her back, hoping it would serve her well.
Voldrak stepped out first, pushing the door open with a swift motion, but he froze instantly. In the courtyard, three figures stood on the well-tended grass. One of them, a striking woman with long, silvery hair, sat regally upon a chair as if it were a throne. Two old men flanked her, standing with an eerie stillness despite their obvious age, each leaning slightly on a staff for support.
Around them, a small entourage of slaves stood in quiet deference. Voldrak's gaze locked onto the woman, recognizing the air of authority that surrounded her. His first instinct was to fight—dark energy surged within him, ready to be unleashed—but he hesitated. If they were here to kill him, they would have already attacked.
The woman smiled faintly, her eyes gleaming with a sharp intelligence. "Voldrak," she greeted, her voice soft but commanding, "we've been waiting."
Voldrak tensed, his muscles coiled like a spring, ready for action, noting from the corner of his eyes that Flonda seemed to recognize her, instantly dropping to her knees the second they stepped out.
"Who are you?" he demanded, his voice cold and dangerous.
The woman didn't flinch. "You can call me Adrani, I'm the clan leader," she replied smoothly, "and I believe we have much to discuss."
"Discuss?" Voldrak's tone was skeptical.
Her smile widened just a fraction. "You've stirred quite the storm, Voldrak. But I didn't come here to fight. Why fight when we can work together?"
Voldrak narrowed his eyes, suspicion clear on his face.
Adrani's gaze flicked briefly to Flonda, her expression unreadable, before returning to Voldrak. "You're powerful, and I don't believe my clan is something you want when you can have the other four!"
But she had just spoken again when he caught a hint of wariness in her eyes when she looked at him. She had sent people to kill him, and yet instead of attacking, she's trying to cut a deal, something Voldrak could tell wasn't something she normally did.
A soft smile was on the edge of her face, but he recognized it as empty and completely devoid of the emotion that should be behind it.
'She thinks I'm just as strong as her, if not more!' he recalled what Flonda had told him, and he believed it, considering how the system had beaten the two women he found difficult to deal with. The worst part was that he wasn't yet strong enough to fight her; he was stronger, but it wasn't ENOUGH.
He clenched his fists. "I'll listen," he said, his voice low and dangerous, "but if this is a trap, you won't live to regret it," He said bluffing, something else he had unparalleled mastery in.