Victor's first act of villainy came veiled in valor.
The four knights, Sir Jurel, Sir Bastian, Sir Emric, and Sir Damos, were hailed as part of Duke Aaron’s personal guard. Victor had memorized their faces from that night, seared them into memory with every clench of his jaw. He smiled at them during the Emperor's audience. Nodded politely. Even praised their swordsmanship.But behind his gaze was a plan so precise it felt mechanical.A week after the celebration, the Emperor issued a clean-up mission to retake a corrupted village near the eastern border. The four knights were among the team sent. Victor volunteered for a separate detour to investigate a supposed bandit camp not far from the mission route.It was too convenient. Perfect, even.He infiltrated the bandits two days prior, wearing a common raider's mask, fighting alongside them under a false name. With his strength suppressed and his magic cloaked, no one suspected him.<Victor's first act of villainy came veiled in valor.The four knights, Sir Jurel, Sir Bastian, Sir Emric, and Sir Damos, were hailed as part of Duke Aaron’s personal guard. Victor had memorized their faces from that night, seared them into memory with every clench of his jaw. He smiled at them during the Emperor's audience. Nodded politely. Even praised their swordsmanship.But behind his gaze was a plan so precise it felt mechanical.A week after the celebration, the Emperor issued a clean-up mission to retake a corrupted village near the eastern border. The four knights were among the team sent. Victor volunteered for a separate detour to investigate a supposed bandit camp not far from the mission route.It was too convenient. Perfect, even.He infiltrated the bandits two days prior, wearing a common raider's mask, fighting alongside them under a false name. With his strength suppressed and his magic cloaked, no one suspected him.
Victor knelt before the emperor, head bowed low, yet his gaze was hollow.He felt nothing.Not the cheers echoing in the golden hall. Not the weight of the crown-shaped medal pressed onto his shoulder. Not even the roar of his own name across the marbled pillars of court.He had won the war.He had reclaimed five lost territories and crushed the enemy’s northern vanguard.He had become a legend.And he couldn’t bring himself to care.When the emperor declared a banquet in his honor, Victor bowed only out of duty. His face remained unreadable. Cold.Aaron watched from the side. The hero he had helped train, who once followed him with the eagerness of a loyal hound, no longer looked his way.Victor didn’t seek his gaze.Didn’t glance in his direction.Not even once.At the banquet, noblewomen and war officials raised their goblets for the brave hero. Servants hovered around him.
Victor dismounted the wyvern, his boots landing hard against the stone courtyard. Blood clung to his armor, not his own. Another mission. Another victory. Another massacre. His fingers flexed around the hilt of his blade, still warm. The garrison guard bowed as he passed, but he ignored them, eyes already lifting toward the manor perched on the hill.Aaron’s home.Victor didn’t ask for a feast or applause. He just wanted to see him, Duke Aaron, his reason. His anchor.But the doors didn’t open for him. No one waited.Instead, from the shadows of the archway, he saw Aaron step out in his formal black cloak. And behind him… four knights followed.Victor froze.The laughter of one knight echoed faintly as the door shut behind them all.His hand clenched so tightly around his blade, the leather grip groaned. He forced his gaze away, retreating into the barracks without a word. Cold water. No food. He washed the blood off, th
Victor’s legs still ached from the sealing ritual when he was yanked out of bed.No breakfast. No aftercare. No kiss on the forehead.Just Duke Aaron’s gloved hand gripping his arm, dragging him into the morning fog like what they shared back at dawn never happened.“Training field. Now.”Victor stumbled after him, barely dressed, simple tunic, boots, and his pride slowly peeling off with every step.“Good morning to you too,” he muttered under his breath. “I guess after bonding through orgasmic fireworks, we’re back to ignoring me.”Aaron didn’t glance back. “You’re the Empire’s weapon now. Weapons don’t need sweet words.”Victor rolled his eyes. “And people wonder why I grow fangs at night.”They reached the open sparring yard behind the main citadel. It was massive, framed by walls of dark ivy and stone, with several knights already circling like wolves. As soon as Aaron appeared, they straightened in fear. O
The air inside the summoning chamber shimmered. Dawn had barely cracked the horizon, yet the spell circle underfoot pulsed with a glow as if the sun itself had descended. Silvery runes spiraled out across the polished marble floor, circling both Victor and the Duke, naked and standing within the central glyph. Zaphis stood just outside the ring, his robes lifted slightly as his hands moved with graceful, ancient precision.“Remember,” Zaphis said calmly, though his voice carried weight. “The bond must be sealed through pleasure. At climax, your spirits must align, or the magic will break and never take root again.”Victor’s mouth twitched. “You could’ve at least offered wine first.”Aaron didn’t smile, though something in his eyes flickered. “You asked for duty, Hero. This is the price. Shall I take it easy on you?”Victor glanced at the man, his Duke, standing proud, broad shoulders relaxed, but a storm restrained behind his pale eyes. That voice
Victor’s knees pressed against cold marble, his skin still damp with sweat and magic residue. He didn’t even register the velvet texture of the navy cape wrapped hastily around his shoulders, only that it smelled faintly of leather, steel, and cold wind.The throne room was massive, carved from pale stone and lit by arched windows that poured golden sunlight across the polished floors. Rich crimson drapes hung like bloodied banners, and silver torches crackled on gilded sconces. It looked like a cathedral made for war.Above him, three voices echoed.“…The summoning was a success,” said a calm, proud baritone.Victor glanced up, eyes squinting at the figure seated on the high throne. Emperor Melikor.He was older than Victor expected, gray at the temples, a short beard tracing the edges of a strong jaw, but gods, he wore age like power. Shoulders broad, arms resting on the throne like he was carved from it. His robe was gold-trimmed navy,