Priest Of Corruption Chapter 1 นิยาย & เรื่องราว

It's just my body, I shouldn't be swayed away again. I watched him leave, staring at him with full hate. Does he not care if I hate him for the rest of his life? I thought Mafia leaders are still humans and could have a heart. I guess I was wrong about this guy. He is nothing like he looks. He has no heart, no shame and no morals. He thinks the world revolves around him. I am very sure, karma will deal with him one day. "Good day miss. I am butler James. Miss, please come with me." The butler said leading me up the stairs.

The priest looked around before he closed the heavy door with a loud thud and locked it behind her. At first the corridor was dark until her vision adjusted gradually. Dim light came in through the thin slits of windows that were barred off. There was a thick smell of sweat and musk as the priest escorted her past residents quarters. Painful groans and soft maniacal cackling filled her ears the deeper into the building they went. "As I had stated previously," the priest began, "his behavior has only worsened over the past few weeks. Our own exorcist couldn't free him from this entity."

The air in the forgotten chapel tasted of dust and despair, thick enough to choke on. Moonlight, pale and unforgiving, sliced through the shattered stained glass, painting fractured saints across the cold stone floor. In the centre of that desecrated sanctity, he knelt. Cassian. Once Bishop of the Crimson Spire, now the Ashen Bishop. His fine clerical robes, centuries out of fashion, hung loose on a frame honed by predatory hunger and endless remorse. The scent of old incense clung to him, warring with the metallic tang of the blood he no longer drank. His head was bowed, not in prayer, but in the crushing weight of damnation.

As he spilled inside her, hot and claiming, Marcus whispered the truth she already knew: “You’re ruined now. And you’ll crave it again.” _______ Lord Valerius knew. He smelled the sin on her when she returned, her dress stained, her walk altered. Instead of anger, his smile was a slow curl of satisfaction. “Now you understand the appetite,” he said, leading her to a room she’d never seen, a chamber draped in crimson velvet, dominated by a large bed hung with chains. “But Marcus was only a primer. Real corruption requires… curriculum.”

But deep in my chest, beneath the burning hatred, a tiny seed of unease had taken root. Why did his touch feel both repulsive and… familiar? Why did those emerald eyes make something ancient stir inside my sealed powers? I shoved the thought away violently. This was only the beginning. I would escape this place. I would regain my divinity. And when I did, Caelum Nikolaus would be the first to fall. As they pulled me down the corridor, I caught a snippet of nervous whispering between two maids watching from a doorway. “…east wing again. The master said no one is allowed near that room…”

The realization dawned upon me that the priests were not mere pawns in this deadly game but were here with a singular purpose—to claim me. As I stealthily navigated the labyrinthine corridors of the keep, a chilling sight greeted my eyes—a gaunt priest, his dark eyes fixed on me with a predatory gleam, stood before a sinister symbol etched on the wall, his staff pulsating with a crimson glow. The realization that their aim was not to breach the keep's defenses but to undermine it from within sent a shiver down my spine, steeling my resolve for the impending confrontation.

attempted to sell out information to the adversaries and give critical information to a rival group in the virtual underworld. In my world, being loyal was an unbreakable oath not a suggestion. Additionally once sworn oaths were upheld with unwavering absolute finality. I looked down at the scene. It was a predictable choreography of consequence down to the mans choked gasps the sickening thud of impact and my mens raw guttural grunts as their fists made contact with flesh. I looked on passively my thoughts disengaged evaluating the effectiveness of their strikes. This was a matter of principle rather than personal preference. a corrupt variable that needs to be cleaned. The man writhed on t

The others followed, one after another, every Erased knelt. Not to Garrick. To something older. Something inside the shrine. For the first time... The corruption beneath my skin recoiled. Not from fear, but from recognition. My smile faded. I stepped inside. The altar stood cracked but unbroken. The air itself felt clean. Too clean. Like corruption had never been welcome here. I reached out anyway. The moment my fingers touched the stone— Pain exploded through my arm. Black veins erupted under my skin. But instead of spreading...

I smiled even though he couldn’t see it, sliding my fingers a little higher until they brushed against my soaked pussy lips, not touching my clit yet, just teasing myself while I talked to the priest. The thrill made my cheeks burn. “Maybe all of it. I want to feel clean again, Father. But I also want to keep feeling this heat. The way my body aches for it. Tell me, do you ever get tempted? You’re a man under those robes. You must know what it’s like to want something you shouldn’t.” The silence stretched. I could almost feel the air thicken between us. “Everyone faces temptation,” he answered slowly. His voice had dropped lower, sending a shiver straight to my core. “But we fight it with pr

"No one can. Once the corruption takes root that deeply, the person you knew is gone. Only the puppet remains." "I don't believe that," I said. But my voice sounded uncertain even to my own ears. "Believe what you want," Vesper slumped back. "Doesn't change reality. The High Priestess is coming. She'll offer you a deal. Surrender yourself. Let her have the Tear. And maybe—maybe—she'll let the rest of your pack live." "And if I refuse?" "Everyone dies." Simple. "She has the warriors. The magic. The resources. And now, thanks to Leighton, she has perfect intelligence in her defense. You can't win."