Kaeltharion sat back in the hot pool, the water warm against his skin as he pulled Eve close. Her body pressed against his, trembling not just from the heat but from the storm of feelings swirling within her. Steam rose around them, thickening the air, wrapping them in a hazy cocoon that blurred the world beyond. His hands moved over her, firm and sure, tracing the curve of her back and hips. Each touch sent a jolt through her, and a quiet gasp slipped from her lips, her wings twitching as her eyes fluttered shut, overwhelmed by the intensity of his presence.
He shifted, lifting her chin with a gentle but commanding hand, his lips brushing her neck in a kiss that burned hotter than the water. Eve's breath hitched, her heart racing as she gripped his shoulders, anchoring herself against the tide of emotion he stirred in her. "Eve," he said, his voice low and steady, a tether in the chaos of her mind, "you belong to me." The words sank deep, a claim that both grounded and unraveled her. She nodded, her voice soft, fragile with devotion. "Yes, my lord… always." It was a vow she felt in her soul, a surrender she couldn't escape even if she wanted to.
He guided her with a hand on her hip, the water rippling around them as their rhythm built. Each thrust was steady, controlled, but for Eve, it was a wave crashing against the fragile walls she'd built around her heart. She arched against him, her cries sharp and unguarded, spilling into the steamy air as her emotions broke free—desire, fear, adoration all tangled together. His other hand slid up, cupping her breast, his thumb brushing over her with a tenderness that contrasted his strength, and it was too much. She tensed, her wings flaring in a fleeting burst of instinct before folding back, heavy with the weight of her surrender.
When the peak hit, Eve's moan tore through the air, raw and desperate, her body locking tight before melting into him. Tears stung her eyes, not from pain but from the overwhelming flood of everything she felt—love, loyalty, the ache of being so completely his. Kaeltharion's grip tightened, a rough sound rumbling from him as he finished, and she felt it like a brand on her heart. She slumped against him, breathing hard, her wings limp, her chest tight with the aftermath. He lifted her chin again, his gaze piercing through her haze. "You've done well, Eve. Rest now. I'll call if I need you." His words were a dismissal, but to her, they were a lifeline, a sign she'd pleased him.
"Thank you, my lord," she whispered, her voice barely a breath, thick with unshed tears and reverence. She stood slowly, her legs shaky not just from exertion but from the storm still raging in her chest. Gathering her dress and accessories felt like gathering the pieces of herself, each movement deliberate as she fought to steady her trembling hands. With a small bow, she turned to leave, her wings trailing behind her, heavy with the weight of her devotion and the quiet ache of longing she couldn't name.
Kaeltharion watched her go, his smirk lingering as he stepped out of the pool. He dried himself off with a wave of his hand, using a simple spell to rid himself of the water, wearing a bathrobe. His golden hair shimmered as he ran a hand through it, his towering figure radiating authority even in this relaxed state. He made his way to his private room, located on the same floor, the door opening silently as he approached.
The room was a masterpiece of opulence and comfort. The walls were adorned with intricate golden patterns, and the large bed in the center was draped in silken sheets of deep crimson and black. Kaeltharion approached the bed, running a hand over the soft fabric. He lay down, his massive frame sinking into the plush mattress. The bed was so comfortable that even someone like him, who didn't need sleep, felt a wave of drowsiness wash over him. The pillows were perfectly firm yet soft, and the sheets felt like a gentle embrace.
The room was filled with the subtle scent of a luxurious perfume, a blend of sandalwood, amber, and a hint of something floral. It was calming yet invigorating, a scent that seemed to enhance the tranquility of the room. Kaeltharion closed his eyes for a moment, savoring the comfort and the aroma.
After a few moments, he sat up, his crimson eyes scanning the room. He called out, his deep voice echoing through the space. "Aria."
The door opened almost immediately, and Aria, one of the Overlord Maids, stepped inside. She was a vision of elegance, her Black hair cascading down her back like a waterfall, her violet-purple eyes glowing with quiet devotion. She wore a sleek black and gold maid uniform, her movements graceful as she bowed deeply. "You called, my lord?"
Kaeltharion leaned back against the headboard, his golden hair shimmering in the soft light of the room. "Prepare a feast for me," he said, his tone casual but commanding.
Aria nodded, her voice soft and melodic. "Of course, my lord. What would you like to eat?"
Kaeltharion thought for a moment, then smirked. "Five steaks, medium rare, with mashed potatoes. And bring a bottle of wine. Something strong."
Aria bowed again, her black hair swaying slightly. "It will be done, my lord." She turned and exited the room, her footsteps silent against the marble floor.
As he waited, Kaeltharion leaned back against the pillows, his crimson eyes gazing up at the ornate ceiling. He let out a contented sigh, his mind drifting to the life he now led. This world, with its fresh air, its beauty, and its endless possibilities, was a far cry from the desolate, polluted wasteland of his previous one. He remembered the struggle to breathe, the constant fight for survival, the scarcity of resources. Here, he had everything he could ever want—power, loyalty, comfort, and a world ripe for the taking.
"I won't let this world become like that," he murmured to himself, his voice firm with resolve. "I'll make sure it stays perfect. No matter what it takes."
His thoughts were interrupted by the sound of the door opening. Aria entered, carrying a large silver tray. The aroma of the steaks filled the room, rich and savory, mingling with the buttery scent of the mashed potatoes. She set the tray down on a small table beside the bed, then uncorked the wine bottle and poured a glass, the deep red liquid glinting in the light.
"Your meal, my lord," Aria said, her voice soft and reverent. She stepped back, bowing slightly, her violet eyes glowing with quiet admiration.
Kaeltharion nodded, his smirk returning. "You may leave."
Aria bowed again and exited the room, closing the door softly behind her. Kaeltharion picked up the fork and knife, cutting into the steak. The first bite was perfection—juicy, flavorful, and cooked exactly to his liking. The mashed potatoes were creamy and rich, a perfect complement to the steak. He took a sip of the wine, the bold flavor warming his throat.
As he ate, he couldn't help but marvel at how amazing this life was. The comfort, the luxury, the loyalty of his guardians and maids—it was everything he had ever wanted and more. And he was determined to keep it that way. This world would not fall into ruin. Not while he was here to rule it.
With that thought, Kaeltharion leaned back, savoring the meal and the moment, his crimson eyes gleaming with a mix of satisfaction.
After finishing his meal, Kaeltharion rose from the bed, his golden armor materializing around him with a thought. The intricate plates gleamed under the ambient light, each segment crafted with divine precision, radiating an aura of absolute authority. With a flick of his wrist, he teleported to the surface level of Babylon, where the sprawling fortress-city stretched under the open sky.
As soon as he appeared, every soldier, maid, and knights in sight immediately dropped to one knee, bowing deeply in reverence. Their voices rang out in unison:
"Glory to the Supreme One!"
Kaeltharion's crimson eyes swept over them, his expression unreadable. While he appreciated their loyalty, a faint discomfort gnawed at him. They worship me as if I were a god… but I didn't create them. I don't deserve such devotion. Still, he said nothing, knowing that correcting them now would only confuse them. Instead, he strode forward, his armored boots clicking against the polished stone as he made his way toward the training grounds.
The training area was alive with the sounds of clashing steel and shouted commands. Knights sparred against one another while Hamsuke—now clad in a custom-fitted training harness—engaged in a fierce duel against three warriors at once. His movements were surprisingly refined, his massive hamster-like body twisting and striking with martial precision.
Nearby, Drakthar, Azazel, and Valdrak stood observing, their postures relaxed but their eyes sharp. The moment they sensed Kaeltharion's presence, they snapped to attention, rushing toward him before dropping to one knee in perfect synchronization.
Kaeltharion waved a hand. "Stand."
They obeyed instantly.
"Drakthar," Kaeltharion began, his voice deep and commanding. "Report on Hamsuke's progress."
Drakthar, the Iron Custodian, crossed his arms, his amber eyes flicking toward the still-sparring Hamsuke. "He has potential in martial arts, my lord. With time, he could become a master. However…" His tone darkened slightly. "He lacks any notable talent in magic. His resistance to spells is nearly nonexistent. Against a competent mage, he would be at a severe disadvantage."
Kaeltharion nodded. "Understood."
He then called out, "Hamsuke."
The giant hamster immediately halted his training, his ears perking up before he scurried over and bowed deeply. "Master! I am honored by your presence!"
Kaeltharion smirked. "Let's continue from where we left off."
Then, without warning, his form shimmered. His towering golden-armored figure melted away, replaced by the lean, silver-haired visage of Kael the Witcher—his human disguise.
A ripple of shock spread through the gathered guardians and warriors. Even the usually unshakable Azazel and Valdrak stiffened, their eyes widening slightly.
"M-My lord?!" Drakthar blurted, his composure slipping for the first time in centuries.
Kaeltharion—now in his Kael form—chuckled. "This is the guise I use to blend in among the humans. I've been gathering intelligence under this identity. Do not let it trouble you."
He turned to Azazel and Valdrak, his piercing amber eyes narrowing slightly. "And don't get any foolish ideas. This is merely a tool. Understood?"
They both bowed immediately. "Of course, my lord!"
Kaeltharion gave Selene one final mental command through their telepathic link before departing.
"Selene." His mental voice was firm, yet carried the weight of absolute authority.
"My lord!" Her response was immediate, laced with fiery devotion.
"I'll be in E-Rantel briefly. On my throne, you'll find a map of this world. Distribute it among the guardians—Drakthar included. Study it thoroughly. If even a whisper of danger arises, contact me without delay."
"Understood, my lord!" Then, after the briefest hesitation, "But… the administrative documents? The garrison reports?"
"Belphegor will handle them."
"Belphegor? But my lord, he's—"
"The most capable mind among the guardians, save those on the Ninth Floor. If he complains, remind him I said so."
A flicker of amusement danced through the connection before Selene bowed mentally. "As you command."
The link severed.
IN E-RANTEL
Kaeltharion—now in his Kael the Witcher guise—stepped out of the inn, Hamsuke trotting obediently behind him. The streets of E-Rantel were bustling as usual, merchants hawking their wares, commoners going about their daily lives, and adventurers clad in armor moving with purpose.
His destination was nearby—the Adventurer's Guild.
As he pushed open the guild's heavy wooden doors, his sharp amber eyes immediately caught sight of something unusual.
A Doppelgänger.
Disguised as a female adventurer, she stood near the quest board, her posture relaxed but her presence unmistakable to someone of Kaeltharion's perception. What surprised him, however, was her level—close to 60.
Interesting he mused silently. A medium-tier shapeshifter, just casually standing around in a place like this?
But he didn't linger on her. Instead, he approached the reception desk, where a familiar woman greeted him with a polite smile.
"Ah, Kael! Welcome back."
"My rank?" he asked simply.
"Still Orichalcum," she replied. "But actually… you've been called for an important meeting. The guild master is discussing something urgent with the top adventurers upstairs. Second floor, last room."
Kael's eyebrow arched slightly. A meeting? Now?
He turned to Hamsuke. "Stay here."
The giant hamster nodded. "Understood, Master!"
Kael ascended the stairs, his footsteps silent, his presence unnoticed by the lower-ranked adventurers milling about. When he reached the designated room, he didn't bother knocking—he simply pushed the door open and stepped inside.
The room was dimly lit, a table at its center surrounded by chairs. Seated around it were several figures—Ainzach, the guild master, a few veteran adventurers, and…
Kael's gaze locked onto the dark-armored warrior sitting alone at the right side of the table.
Momonga.
Kaeltharion didn't need his system to confirm it—he could feel the unmistakable aura radiating from the man.
So that Doppelgänger downstairs is one of his servants he realized.
Ainzach looked up as Kael entered, a relieved smile crossing his face. "Ah! The White Wolf has arrived. Please, take a seat." He gestured to the empty chair left for him.
Kael nodded and sat down, his posture relaxed but his senses sharp. "So. What's this about?"
Ainzach cleared his throat. "There's a powerful vampire residing in the forest three miles north of E-Rantel. Reports suggest she's extremely dangerous. We were planning an all-out assault, but…" He glanced at Momonga. "Momon here insists on taking her down alone."
Momon's voice, deep and resonant, cut through the room. "I will handle it. Once completed, I expect to be promoted to Orichalcum."
One of the adventurers scoffed. "Orichalcum? My team will be joining too. We're not just going to trust a new adventurer like you with this."
Another adventurer, an old man with blond long hair, frowned. "Igvarge, stop it."
A third added, "What's wrong with you? This isn't the time for posturing."
Momon remained unfazed. "I don't mind if you come." His voice was calm, but there was an edge to it. "But if you do… you will surely die."
"..."
The moment Kael spoke up in the room, the atmosphere shifted.
"I'll observe and intervene only if necessary," he said, his voice calm but carrying an edge of steel. "No reward, no promotion—this is about neutralizing a potential threat to E-Rantel."
Momon's helmet tilted slightly, that dark visor locking onto Kael with eerie focus. "I don't mind you joining."
Ainzach, sensing the tension, clapped his hands together. "Then it's settled. Move out."
The group set out—Momon and his silent, shapeshifting servant (still disguised as an adventurer), Igvarge and his team of four, and Kael with Hamsuke trotting beside him.
Igvarge's men shot uneasy glances at the giant hamster.
"The hell is that thing?" one muttered.
"Tamed monster?" another whispered back.
Hamsuke puffed up proudly. "This one is Master's loyal companion!"
Igvarge sneered. "Freak."
Kael ignored them. His attention was on the forest ahead—and on Momon's unnatural, too-perfect strides.
IN THE NORTHERN FOREST OF E-RANTEL
The trees grew thicker, the air colder. Then—
A woman stood in the clearing.
Pale as moonlight, with a pair of black, curved horns on her head and jet-black angelic wings on her lower back. She has long, flowing black hair, golden slit-pupil eyes, and pale skin. She wears a pure white dress with gold accents. In her hands rested a massive black battle-axe.
Not a vampire. A succubus.
Igvarge's breath hitched. "W-What the hell—?!"
The succubus smiled, then she moved.
One of Igvarge's men died first—his head left his shoulders before his scream could. The second collapsed, his torso split diagonally. The third barely raised his sword before the axe buried itself in his skull.
"FALL BACK!" Igvarge shrieked, turning to run—only for the trees to twist around him. He staggered, eyes wild. "W-Where—?!"
Illusion magic. Kael's lips thinned. Amateur.
Then—
A blur of white. The succubus lunged at him, axe swinging in a deadly arc.
Kael's left hand snapped up—
CLANG.
The axe stopped, his fingers wrapped around the blade. The succubus's eyes widened.
"Wha—?"
With a twist, he yanked the weapon from her grip—then slammed his palm forward.
"Aard."
An invisible force smashed into her, sending her crashing through three trees before she skidded to a stop.
Silence.
Hamsuke gasped. "M-Master! That was incredible!"
Momon hadn't moved. But Kael could feel his gaze burning into him.
The succubus slowly stood, her dress torn, blood trickling from her lips. Her eyes glowed with fury—and something else.
Fear.
"Who… are you?" she hissed.