The skyline of Arclight glowed like the jaws of a neon beast—razor-sharp towers piercing the night sky, pulsing with magic-infused tech and shadows that slithered between alleys. On the 99th floor of the Valeheart Spire, a new kind of silence reigned.
Lucien Valeheart stood barefoot on the edge of his private balcony, the city far below his feet. He wore nothing but black slacks and a loose shirt that whispered against his skin as the wind moved. Behind him, kneeling in the shadows of luxury, was Vespera Nyx—once Vampire Queen, now his personal, collared pet.
The crimson silk of her maid dress clung tightly to her skin, her cleavage spilling out like an offering. Her pale thighs rested perfectly apart, her eyes glazed with a blend of longing and shame.
She was silent.
Because he hadn't spoken to her.
Because his silence was law.
Lucien raised a hand and snapped his fingers once.
The collar around her neck pulsed with a dull red glow. Vespera's breath hitched. Her back arched involuntarily. The orgasm seal still held, and every jolt of stimulation became an exquisite torment.
She moaned softly—hands clenched at her sides, tongue twitching behind trembling lips.
[Stimulation Surge: Orgasm Lock Engaged][Target Reaction: Ahegao Response – Triggered]
Lucien finally turned and walked back inside.
"You may crawl behind me."
Vespera obeyed instantly, her heel-clad steps echoing with quiet shame. Her once-proud aura was shattered glass—sharp, beautiful, and broken under his heel.
Meanwhile...
Far below the tower, in the undercity where neon burned and blood paid the rent, a hidden crowd roared beneath a metallic dome.
The Black Fangs Arena—a place where supernatural beings tested their strength for fame, vengeance, or cash. Tonight, though, the crowd had gone silent.
Because she had arrived.
She moved through the ring like a shadow—taller than most men, her body sculpted from brutal discipline. A black combat bodysuit clung to every tight curve. Her silver hair was bound in a high tail that whipped behind her with every strike. Her eyes, cold violet, scanned the arena with a predator's precision.
They called her many names.
But in truth, she was Selene Caelis, ranked third among the Eclipse Huntresses—a guild of rogue enforcers trained to eliminate dominators, slavers, and anyone who tried to claim control over ancient bloodlines.
She had been watching.
Watching the fall of Vespera. Watching the rumors swirl about Lucien Valeheart.
Her orders were clear.
"Break his control. Kill the dominator. Recover the Queen—dead or alive."
But Selene had her own rulebook.
And it didn't include mercy.
Back in the Valeheart penthouse, Lucien sat upon a throne built from silverwood and dark crystal. His eyes stared into a map of the city projected mid-air. Energy signatures lit up across districts, and one pulse in particular drew his attention.
A perfect line of heat, power, and purpose.
"She's here," he said, lips curling into a smile. "The Huntress finally moves."
Vespera dared to raise her voice, her cheek still pressed to the floor beside him.
"She'll try to kill you. She's… not like me. She won't break."
Lucien looked down, not angry—amused.
"They always say that. But everything breaks, pet. It's just a matter of knowing where to press."
He leaned back, voice a whisper to the night.
"And I've never failed to find the cracks."