Gloria gently lifted Rheas’ tear stained face and kissed it over and over. Turning around in his lap and wrapping her legs around his waist, she admitted him into her.

Enveloped in her warmth, he let go of the morass of frustration, shattered ambition and defeat and sank into the sweet release of submission and lust. With a guttural roar, he crossed his arms behind her back and gripped her shoulders tightly. Standing up, he slammed her back to the wall and thrust furiously.

Their moans and grunts resonated and built into a crescendo as every thrust brought them closer to the peak. Without Aura, Rheas’ back and hips burnt from the exertion and yet he moved faster and faster until with a simultaneous cry, they climaxed, her nails leaving trails of blood on his back.

Rheas sank to his knees with her still clinging to him, both of their breaths coming in gasps and pants. They stayed like that, immersed in each other’s presence as their arousal slowly cooled. His flaccid member popped out of her and some of his seed leaked out. For the first time in his life, he felt a pang of regret for her inability to conceive and his embrace tightened.

Connected by their bond, Gloria felt some of his thoughts and her eyes widened in surprise before narrowing with happiness. “Silly boy, if only you could have been a bit more patient or trusted me more. With that dagger of yours, your potential was boundless and any ‘talent’ your stepping stone.” Her fingers ran through his curls, comforting him as she maintained their embrace, her chin on his shoulder. “Yet, you turned your fang inward to the family and devolved into a zone beyond redemption. Yes! I know of your visit to your brother as do Luxuria, Ira and your father. In fact, even without your ‘message’,” her hand clenched painfully in his hair and then relaxed, continuing to stroke it soothingly, “I was coming to you to Dominate you. I along with Ira, Luxuria and the palace-trained concubines of the major characters in our family are part of the Spiare, the espionage branch of the Clan. This is generally only known by the clan head but as my subordinate you have a right to know.”

Rheas’ voice was hoarse from his tears, “Does brother know?”

She replied, “He figured it out himself.”

After a long time he spoke, his voice laden with defeat, “I see.”

“I do not blame you Rheas. Envy is a powerful emotion.” Her fist clenched again, “I know… When I laid eyes on that maid, I was filled with an irrational desire to rip her from limb to limb.” Her fist relaxed, “Yet, unlike you, I did not lose myself in emotion. She has been promoted in exchange for a Vow of Silence. Tomorrow, you will kneel and beg for her forgiveness. Clear?!”

Rheas nodded into her hair, “Yes.”

Gloria’s austere voice softened, her voice filled with a strange charm, “Have faith in me, my love. With out abilities combined, we will rise to the peak. Not only of this small stretch of land but of the Regiis Kingdom itself. As your abilities expand with the use of your dagger, as your Superior, mine will too. While your brother expands his influence in the Academy, we shall spread our wings in the Army. The time has come for the peacock to shatter its cage and spread its tail over the kingdom.”

Rheas’ eyes seemed to grow heavier as her voice seeped deep into his moral nature. Her tone imperious, her words seemed to shake space itself as she crushed Invidia in her fist and it returned to his body. His body collapsed on top of her as he sank into dreams of bloodshed and glory, his Envy given form as an emerald python that swallowed enemy after enemy till the world trembled at its name and that of its masters.

…

Luxuria entered the bath and found both of them tangled together, asleep on the cold stone floor. They both looked utterly exhausted, specially Gloria, who had developed a strand of white in her chestnut tresses. Her eyes were warm as she wrapped both of them in blankets and carried them, one in each arm. As she walked towards their bedroom to settle them for the night, she felt proud of how far her protégé had progressed.

Gloria had managed to comprehend her Pledge of Lust and at her young age, managed to modify it into the more overbearing Domino. Enslavement magic was an extremely high-level branch of magic. Unlike its close cousin, contract magic, it did not require the agreement of the victim, hence, it was exponentially harder to pull off. Typically, only those at the level of power of an Earl (leader of a zone, i.e. a group of districts) or above could use it without the amplification of Precepts. Even then, they were limited in the quantity or quality they could control.

Gloria as an A rank mercenary, had the power level of a Baronet (leader of a village) and yet, she had managed to enslave Rheas, who was at a similar level. She was a monster. Luxuria’s grin widened as she remembered another monster who was recuperating in the infirmary. She couldn’t help but be excited for what the future held.

…

Cyn sat in his bed in the infirmary ward and watched the sun rise. The sunlight seeming to disappear in the abyss of his pupils. He had slept well the last night, the dreamless sleep doing wonders for his injured soul. His soul had grown slightly larger, congealing further into reality, the cracks having faded into traces that enhanced the beauty of its plumage. He had come to the realization that the young Pavone’s soul wasn’t one which had the highest conjunction with the Chief’s, it was one diametrically opposite to his.

This was the root of their frequent conflict. Their conflicting values rubbed against each other till they reached a comfortable mean, polishing and enhancing their soul in the process. It was a tribulation that he had to cross. After all, coming back from the dead couldn’t be that easy now, could it?

The nightmares he suffered from were actually by-products of the subconscious conflict in his soul. When awake, he could pacify his soul but asleep, this control was lost. In its injured state, any conflict would have shattered his soul. He had been incredibly lucky to have slept as deeply as he had last night.

He welcomed this tribulation for he knew he would be strengthened by its temperance and for his vengeance, he needed strength.

Reclaiming his vision from the window, he pondered over his combined knowledge from both lives. His analytical capability had been greatly enhanced from merging with the young researcher and although, the details of how mages caused the mutation in their Aura were unknown to him, he could guess their approximate power level from his experience fighting General Leon and the chiefs of the other nomadic barbarian tribes in the Southern wilderness.

He was stronger than the Chiefs of the smaller tribes having 200 to 400 people and on par with the Chiefs of the tribal agglomerates which could get as large as 10,000 to 20,000 people despite being the leader of a tribe with only 300 people. This was probably due to the same peculiarity of his tribe which allowed them to use the community curse technique. Due to this, they were both feared and shunned by the other tribes.

Hailed as the Devotio, or the cursed ones, they were ostracised by tribal agglomerations and the smaller tribes avoided them like the plague. Even the Aural beasts seemed to have an instinctual aversion to them, hunting them with extreme prejudice when any tribesman was alone and avoiding them in fear of their curse when in groups.

The harsh conditions and low birth rates kept the swallow tribe from expanding. If his nascent theory about the correlation of magical strength and subordinate population was true, he was probably as strong as a Baron or a General when he was the Chief. Then whoever had sent that General was probably an existence unmatched in the outskirts of the wilderness and on the level of the Khans and Tsars that dominated its interior.

A perspective from the younger Pavone revealed the error in his thought process. His ideas were still locked in the pattern of the Barbarians where duels were the solutions of all conflicts. Individual strength wouldn’t matter as he would be facing the entirety of his influence if he made a move. Without a backer stronger than or as powerful as theirs, his hands were tied. Thus, he should focus on his awakening and then on the Academy.

Having cleared his mentality, he got out of bed and walked to the washroom for his morning routine. Feeling a slight drop in the coordination between his mind and body, he frowned. Chalking it up to the aftereffects of his injury, he meditated on his soul as he cleaned his teeth.

As the dark soul light illuminated his Aspects, he could feel them begin to mutate and evolve as they absorbed its brilliance.

---

Unknown to him, this mutation caused intangible ripples that radiated outwards, resonating with a mysterious force intrinsic to the very world.

Hundreds of miles away, in a grand palace of marble and gold, a robust middle-aged man sat on an opulent throne. He suddenly turned towards the Dragonspine mountains as he induced the change. The courtiers, guards and servants present in the castle immediately fell silent and kowtowed towards the throne as a huge pressure covered them. Scant of breath, they sweated profusely, shivering as they cursed the nine generations of whoever had incurred the ire of the King Regiis III, the Lord of the Regiis kingdom. The world drained of colour as the man seemed to become the focal point of the universe. Slowly, he opened his eyes. Devoid of an iris or pupil, the two orbs gleamed with a multicolour brilliance as his gaze penetrated the intervening miles in search of the source of the mutation.

To the North of the palace, in the attic of the Grand Cathedral of the Deus theocracy, a hunchbacked old woman in hemp robes spun a wooden loom, weaving undyed silk into cloth as she chanted the psalms. Behind her two young girls stood respectfully, accompanying her with harp and lute. Suddenly, the thread in her hand snapped as her head whipped towards the Dragonspine mountains. Her back slowly straightened and her wrinkles smoothened as she began to glow with youth. Her iron grey hair bleached further till it shone a pristine white. The two girls fainted under the pressure of the Virgin Mother as the inscriptions on the wall bloomed with a divine brilliance preventing her Aura from affecting others. Her milky white eyes shone as they too pierced the world in search of the perpetrator of the mutation.

At the same time, in the depths of the Earth in Daemonium, the strongest Demon only known by his title of Demon Lord, tempered his body with the heat from the molten rock that bubbled and swirled in the heart of Mount Vesuvius. His face was serene even as his skin burnt and sloughed off, revealing a freshly grown layer of skin underneath. Feeling the mutation, his eyes snapped open and he leapt upwards. The lava around him immediately solidified and crumbled under the shockwave of his ascent. He battered his way through layers of rock and magma as he made his way out of the volcano. Coming to a stop on the summit, he looked towards the Dragonspine, his pupils turning into snakelike slits as his sclera was dyed dark by demonic chi.

Shylock, the CEO of the National Company of Mercantor, put down the document he was reviewing and turned his enchanted monocle towards the Dragonspine, activating all his privacy warding rings and formations to suppress his Aura.

The Senator of the Republic was in the middle of a public speech when he suddenly pled indisposition and rushed back into the dressing room. Sitting cross-legged, the bald man chanted in a low voice with his fingers to his temples. The middle of his forehead grew brighter and brighter until the phantom of an eye appeared and glanced towards the Dragonspine.

In this moment, the gaze of the five people with the most power in the Mortal Continent focused on the Dragonspine and came closer and closer towards Peacock City.

Suddenly, with a shrill cry a gigantic black swallow appeared in the minds of the five and with a whip of its wings, expelled their gazes.

King Regiis III bled from his eyes as he spat blood. The Virgin Mother reverted to her aged form, her wrinkles increasing. The Demon Lord roared in defiance and tried to resist but it only enraged the swallow and with another whip of its wings, his eyes exploded and he was blown off the mountain due to the recoil. The monocle as well as several protective rings of Shylock shattered, leaving him unharmed and impoverished. The Senator’s phantom eye shattered without implicating him, leaving him the most undamaged in their five.

All five of them recovered and spat out a term as if it were a curse:

“The Emperor Reborn!”