Chapter 108: ¹⁰⁸Beneath The Altar

​Night was still unwilling to release its grip on the Zenithar sky. Freezing mist hung lazily in the academy courtyard, swallowing the bases of the stone towers in a frozen silence. There was no sign of dawn yet.

​Inside the VIP Room, illuminated only by pale moonlight, Valera Voss opened her eyes. Her head felt extraordinarily heavy.

​Every single joint in the female knight’s body creaked stiffly. It felt as though her bones had just been shattered and forcibly reassembled. The demon claw mark on her right arm—wrapped in black bandages—throbbed in rhythm with her heartbeat. At the same time, Sorin’s sword stab wound on her right side near her collarbone radiated a stinging heat.

​With a suppressed groan, Valera shifted her body and turned to the side of the bed.

​Ethan Valen was already there. Sitting like a statue atop a velvet-upholstered wooden chair.

​She had no idea how long the young man had been staring at her. His back was perfectly straight. His pair of dark brown eyes drilled straight into her. His long-sleeved black shirt was neatly put on without a single wrinkle, in stark contrast to his hair, which was left messy, obscuring his forehead.

​Valera pushed herself up with her left elbow, leaning slowly against the headboard. She tested the pain threshold in her arm, then returned Ethan’s gaze. Her golden eyes were still droopy.

​Seeing his property had awakened, Ethan stood up.

​"We are going down to the lower floor. Now," he said in a flat tone.

​Valera frowned. What kind of order was this in the dead of night?

​"There is an area in the academy’s underground dungeon that you need to experience for yourself," Ethan continued, as if reading the knight’s mind.

​"Hah..." Valera smirked, attempting to tease in a challenging tone. "My Lord can’t wait until sunrise, huh?"

​There was no returning smile. Ethan stared at her with a coldness that pierced to the bone. "That place demands a much higher price of completion. It cannot be delayed."

​"Tch." Valera snorted softly. That dominant tone left no room for protest.

​With great effort, she forced herself up. She grabbed the black leather armor on the table, putting it on deftly even though her left shoulder throbbed with pain every time the straps were pulled tight. Finally, with the help of one hand, her giant Zweihander was slung back onto her back.

​They stepped out, traversing the darkness of the tower in silence.

​The corridor of the Main Tower was like a graveyard. Quiet. No servants or instructors were passing by yet. Only a row of dim magical torches reflected their distorted shadows against the stone walls. They continued down the spiral staircase, moving deeper into the bowels of Zenithar.

​The footsteps of Ethan’s boots ahead sounded so calm. Steady. As if he could navigate this place with his eyes closed.

​Exactly half a step behind him, Valera scanned her surroundings vigilantly. Pre-dawn in Zenithar felt foreign and oppressive. The temperature plummeted drastically. The smell of wet earth blending with rust and sulfur began to sting her nose.

​Valera’s left hand occasionally lowered, feeling the hilt of the Zweihander on her back every time they passed a blind alleyway. Ahead of her, Ethan kept walking without bothering to turn back or offer explanations, acting as if he knew every trap there by heart.

​Their steps came to a halt at the end of a dead-end corridor.

​There was only a massive basalt stone wall. Damp, mossy, with neither a crack nor a doorknob.

​Ethan raised his right hand, pressing his palm flat against the center of that dead stone surface.

​WWOOOSH!

​A flash of reddish-black light exploded from between his fingers. His Sin Mana seeped in. The wall vibrated violently, then slid open to both sides accompanied by the heavy grinding sound of stone.

​The path to the pitch-black darkness opened up. An unnatural cold air immediately hit Valera’s face.

​"Ugh... this place. Its aura is truly suffocating," Valera muttered softly.

​"This is an altar of worship that has long been forgotten," Ethan replied briefly.

​Valera’s instincts screamed danger, but her feet kept stepping forward, following her master who had already pierced the darkness without hesitation.

​The room behind the wall proved to be extraordinarily vast and silent.

​The walls were made of polished black obsidian. A thick reddish-black miasma hung in the air like a poisonous fog. Right in the center stood a giant altar.

​Valera’s breath caught. This place felt alive. The obsidian walls seemed to possess thousands of eyes staring at her greedily. Her heart pumped blood faster.

​Ethan stopped near the altar. Without a word, he unbuttoned his black shirt and let it drop to the floor.

​The cold air immediately swept over the perfectly sculpted muscles of his upper body. The black Horned Crown tattoo with blood-red accents on his left chest was clearly exposed—pulsing in rhythm with the Demon King’s heartbeat.

​Valera instantly understood.

​With her left fingers, she unclasped her leather armor. Metal and leather guards tumbled to the stone floor, following her greatsword.

​Now, her exotic-skinned body was clad only in thin undergarments. The remnants of the brutal battles were clearly painted; bandages on her right arm, bruises and a stab wound on her right side near her collarbone.

​Ethan stepped closer. His hand extended, gripping Valera’s jaw tightly until the woman was forced to look up.

​"Are you ready to face what happens next?" Ethan’s voice was as cold as ice, piercing into Valera’s pupils.

​Instead of shrinking back, a feral smirk formed on Valera’s lips. "Heh... I won’t give up that easily, My Lord. Throw whatever you have at me. This body can take it."

​Without warning, Ethan jerked Valera’s waist and laid her down roughly atop the marble altar’s surface.

​"Hsssh!" Valera hissed. Her bare back touched the marble stone, which was as cold as ice.

​But that only lasted a matter of seconds. In the very next moment, an extraordinarily dense surge of Sin Mana exploded from Ethan’s palm, crawling into the pores of her skin.

​The Lust Brand tattoo on the left side of Valera’s neck suddenly ignited brightly. Glowing reddish-black, responding to Ethan’s pure magic and the resonance from the ancient altar. A wave of excruciatingly agonizing heat exploded from her neck, crawling ferociously through every single neural circuit.

​Valera bit her lower lip hard, holding back a moan that rebelled to escape.

​Ethan leaned down. His lips nearly brushed the knight’s earlobe.

​"Don’t hold it back," he whispered, his voice echoing with absolute authority inside Valera’s head. "Surrender everything to me."

​The ritual began.

​Ethan held absolute control. Every touch of his hand brought a surge of Sin Mana that stabbed into the core of Valera’s soul. Forcing the woman’s body to swallow both suffering and pleasure in a single breath.

​The marble altar began to vibrate softly, drinking the intake of sin. The black miasma descended, enveloping the two of them like a curtain of fog.

​Valera’s feral instincts rebelled. Her left arm pushed hard against Ethan’s shoulder, trying to reclaim her sanity.

​But with ease, Ethan brushed it aside. He locked her wrist tightly above her head, pressing it against the altar’s surface. There was no room to run. Ethan’s eyes stared straight into that pair of golden eyes that were beginning to tear up, affirming one thing: Your body and soul belong to me.

​The Lust Brand on Valera’s neck blazed even wilder, sucking away the remaining resistance in her brain.

​The heavily wounded body ran out of energy quickly. Sweat drenched her exotic skin, glistening under the dim red light. Valera’s breathing shattered into desperate whimpers. Her eyes lost focus, rolling back to endure the storm of sensations tearing apart her sanity.

​"Hah... ah... My Lord..." Valera whimpered hoarsely. "My body... can’t take... any more..."

​Ethan didn’t care. He instead pressed deeper.

​"You are a strong creature," Ethan hissed coldly. "And after tonight, you will be forced to become far beyond the limits of your humanity."

​Even though Valera’s body had gone completely limp and helpless, Ethan continued to pull her across the boundary of death and ecstasy. Sin Mana from the altar forcibly entered, compelling Valera’s cells and muscles to evolve.

​Just as Valera was about to lose consciousness completely, the throbbing of the Lust Brand stung like searing iron, forcibly pulling her back from the darkness just to stare at her master once more.

​The marble altar now vibrated brutally.

​The black miasma thickened, coiling around Valera’s convulsing body as it swallowed the pure energy. Her eyes opened wide, staring vacantly at the obsidian ceiling. Beneath the pain tearing her apart, she could feel it. Something new was starting to shift the blood in her veins. A power that was darker, denser, and extraordinarily feral.

​The magical reaction reached its peak.

​The Lust Brand tattoo expanded ferociously. Black and golden roots crawled out from the border of the tattoo, creeping across her shoulder and collarbone like the roots of a demon tree.

​Valera’s innate aura—the Golden Beast Aura that usually radiated a holy golden light—now mutated. That gold was polluted by a dense blood-red color. Creating a new aura that was wild, corrupt, and lethal.

​Valera took a deep breath. This crazy new power healed her shattered muscles. She stared at Ethan through her droopy eyelids, then smiled ever so weakly.

​"You really... are a true Demon... dragging me into the darkness just for this..."

​Ethan stared intently at his female knight. His breath came slightly rapid after releasing massive energy. "Making you into an invincible weapon was my goal from the very beginning."

​The harvest ritual was declared complete.

​Ding!

​The voice of the Asmodeus System echoed in Ethan’s head. A reddish-black notification screen appeared.

​[God-Tier Altar of Lust — Ritual Completed]

[Target: Valera Voss — Rank A (Peak)]

[Mutation Status: Half-Demon — Crimson Gold Beast Aura]

​Ethan closed his eyes, letting the points seep in and strengthen his mana circuits. When his eyes opened again, he stared down at the figure beneath him.

​Valera lay helplessly. Her body was drenched in magical residue. Her eyes were half-closed against brutal sleepiness, yet the golden glint in her irises was far sharper and darker. She had changed. Her physical form was immune, and her soul was now bound absolutely to the man before her.

​Ethan stood up, grabbed his shirt, and put it back on neatly.

​"Can you stand up on your own?" he asked flatly.

​"Give me... a moment, My Lord. Let my legs find their footing again..." Valera muttered weakly.

​But Ethan didn’t grant that leeway.

​With fluid movements, he slipped his hands beneath Valera’s knees and back, hoisting the woman up effortlessly. Valera’s head immediately rested in resignation on Ethan’s shoulder.

​"Hey... I’m not a weak woman..." Valera protested in a whispered voice.

​"Be quiet and rest," Ethan cut in softly, yet with absolute finality.

​Ethan carried her out of the altar room, leaving behind the fading remnants of miasma.

​The journey back to the VIP Room felt extremely brief. Ethan laid Valera down slowly on the soft mattress, then pulled the thick blanket up to her neck.

​"My Lord... where are you going this early in the morning?" Valera murmured, her eyes nearly fully shut.

​"There is one more matter to settle."

​Valera didn’t respond further. Her energy was completely drained. In a matter of seconds, her breathing turned steady. She fell fast asleep.

​Ethan stared at her for a moment from near the window, then turned to enter the bathroom. The cold shower washed away the remaining sweat and altar miasma from his skin. After cleaning himself up, he put on new clothes—a long-sleeved, high-collared black shirt. Neat and elegant.

​He stepped out of the VIP Room, treading down the stairs toward the study of Headmaster Sage Cornelius. His steps were so calm, his expression hardening back into an unreadable marble mask.

​Upon arriving at his destination, the intricately carved wooden door opened without a knock.

​Ethan stepped inside. Cornelius was sitting behind his desk, reading an ancient parchment scroll under the light of a crystal lamp. The old man’s right eye cast a glance upward.

​"The key to that secret dungeon..."

​"I didn’t come to discuss that mossy rock," Ethan cut in flatly. "We need to talk about the letter from the royal capital."

​Cornelius placed his parchment down slowly. His thin back rested against the wooden chair.

​"The summons letter we received the other day wasn’t just a friendly greeting, Ethan," Cornelius said gloomily. "The central noble faction feels humiliated by you. So, when you arrive in the Capital later, stay vigilant. Don’t let your guard down."

​Hearing that threat, Ethan merely smirked faintly. A smile that knew no fear whatsoever.

​"Hmm. We’ll see about that." Ethan’s voice sounded calm, yet lethal.

​Cornelius stared intently at his student. Searching for a crack of doubt in the young man’s eyes, but finding none. The Sage finally let out a resigned sigh. "I only hope you truly know what you’re doing, kid. Your life is on the line."

​"I always know my every move," Ethan affirmed in an absolute baritone tone.