Chapter 17 - 16 : Echoes of Possessive Wrath
POV: Lucas
Stepping through the grand gates of the academy, Lucas felt the familiar, intoxicating rush of absolute adoration. Everywhere he looked, students turned to stare; women openly flaunted themselves as he passed, their eyes practically drooling at the mere sight of him, whispering in breathless awe of his radiant presence. This was where he belonged at the absolute peak. These peasants and lesser nobles might sometimes act like annoying pests, but they knew true greatness when they saw it. With a charming, practiced smile, Lucas paused to greet a cluster of noble girls who hurried over to catch his attention. Lady Clarissa fluttered her eyelashes, leaning in close and flirting shamelessly, soaking in every word he spoke.
Just as he was basking in the warm adulation, a flustered servant pushed through the crowd, breathless, bearing an urgent message from Lord Varos. Clearing his throat with a heroic demeanor, Lucas flashed the adoring girls a regretful, dazzling grin. "Forgive me, ladies," he murmured smoothly, "duty calls. A hero’s work for the safety of the empire is never done."
Leaving behind a chorus of swooning sighs, he strode briskly back to his private chambers and locked the heavy door. He approached the ornate communication orb resting on his desk, channeling a spark of mana to activate it. Instantly, a glowing blue hologram flickered to life, projecting the stern, towering figure of Bishop Varos looking down at him with cold authority.
Without a word of greeting, the Bishop commanded, "Kneel."
Jaw tightening, Lucas suppressed a surge of bitter humiliation and slowly dropped to one knee on the cold floor. After a suffocating moment of heavy silence, the Bishop’s piercing gaze locked onto him. "I hope you haven’t bothered yourself with Victor yet," Varos demanded, his voice chillingly absolute. "Now is not the time."
Suppressing the white-hot rage burning in his chest, Lucas forced his voice to remain steady as he lied, answering that he hadn’t.
The Bishop gave a sharp nod. "We have received a vital oracle concerning the upcoming consecration. A saintess must be chosen. You are tasked with discreetly investigating the academy find anyone bearing exceptionally high holy affinity, a suitable candidate for the mantle of the saintess." Without waiting for a response, the projection flickered violently and cut out, leaving the room in abrupt, echoing silence.
The moment the hologram vanished, Lucas slammed his fist against the desk, his face contorting in pure fury and suppressed humiliation. Letting out a sharp, ragged sigh, he collapsed heavily into his chair, his hands trembling with a toxic mix of wounded pride and burning resentment.
After the bitter humiliation at the duel and being struck by the Archbishop, Lucas could no longer bear the weight of such disgrace. Victor a fallen, wretched heretic had stolen what Lucas believed was his by divine right: his woman.
Yet, as Lucas rationalized it to himself, twisting his own delusions, the God of Light must have sent this hurdle merely as a test. "A chosen one always wins,he never loses,"he repeated internally like a mantra. He would first make Victor and that woman pay dearly, and then he would make Archbishop Varos kneel as well.
Lost deep within his own fevered thoughts, a sudden knock broke the silence of his quarters.
"Enter," Lucas snapped.
It was Julian, stepping inside with an important piece of intelligence. Julian reported that Victor had been seen moving in the lower slums, associating with a commoner woman.
Hearing this, a malicious curiosity sparked in Lucas’s mind. Even though the Church had ordered him to stay away from Victor and lie low, Lucas chuckled darkly to himself. He planned to go and see if this commoner girl held any value or at least, if she could warm his bed. After all, commoner girls dreamed of being embraced by the hero of light.
Lost once again in his arrogant daydreams, Lucas smiled.
POV: Victor
Victor entered the gates of the Vance residence after the day at the academy, with Aria walking quietly behind him. The moment he pushed open the heavy oak doors, he found he was not alone. Standing at the edge of the room was Lyra, her usual composure utterly shattered, her silver hair disheveled, her breath coming in ragged, trembling gasps. Her crystalline blue eyes were bloodshot and overflowing with hot, uncontrollable tears of absolute rage and betrayal, her entire body shaking with a suffocating, feverish intensity.
"Where were you today?" she choked out, her voice trembling violently, cracking open with a toxic, agonizing mix of consuming jealousy and deep, searing fury. "I heard... I heard you were getting chummy with a commoner!"
She clutched at her chest as if trying to physically tear out the pain inside her. "I can accept Aria since she is your servant, but that commoner what on earth is she to you?!"
Tears spilled over her cheeks in a hot flood as she sobbed in pure, possessive agony. "I gave you my core, I gave you my body, my loyalty, and my very soul! I burned every bridge and left my entire family behind for you, and you’re already out there chasing other women?! Am I not good enough for you? Tell me... what is she to you?!"
I didn’t flinch. I didn’t offer a soothing word or take a step back.
Instead, a cold, dangerous amusement flickered in my eyes as I closed the distance between us in a single stride.
"You forget your place, Lyra," I murmured, my voice dropping into a low, absolute command that cut through her hysterics like a blade.
Before she could react, I reached out and caught her by the waist, yanking her body violently against mine. The sudden impact knocked the breath from her lungs. She gasped, her icy mana flaring in a panic, but my [True Sovereign Core] instantly crushed her energy, suppressing her core into total, helpless submission.
"You think you have the right to question my movements? To scream and weep in my bedroom like a neglected child?" I whispered harshly, my gaze locking onto hers, forcing her to look straight into the dark, overwhelming dominance of my aura.
Lyra’s breath hitched. The furious, raging fire in her eyes flickered, instantly overridden by the deep, primal conditioning of her absolute binding. Her body began to tremble not with anger anymore, but with a terrifying, addictive wave of submission and awe.
"V-Victor..." she whimpered, her hands instantly flying up to grip the lapels of my coat, clutching at me as her knees went weak. The fierce noble heir dissolved completely, replaced by a desperate, submissive devotion that begged for my approval.
"You belong to me, body and soul, Lyra," I whispered against her ear, my fingers gripping her chin and forcing her gaze upward. "Every breath you take, every thought in your head, and every inch of that frozen pride it all belongs to Victor Vance. You do not question my will. You obey it."
"I... I am yours..." Lyra sobbed softly, her tears wetting my collar as she completely surrendered, pressing her forehead against my chest with a shuddering sigh of utter devotion. "Forgive me... please, Master... punish me..."
"Indeed," I murmured, a dark edge slipping into my tone. "You do need to be punished tonight."
Without warning, I swept her off her feet, carrying her toward the grand bed and pushing her down against the mattress. I looked down at her with a dark, triumphant smile as she gazed up at me, completely helpless and entirely mine.