Aiden sat alone by the open window of his chamber, the cool wind brushing across his bare forearms, the faint scent of ink, parchment, and perfume mingling in the air.

The sunlight fell across the desk, silvering the scattered papers—the guild drafts, sigils, half-finished maps.

Tanya had already come to him earlier. She had told him everything.

Of course she would.

He leaned back in his chair, lips curling faintly at the thought. She belonged to him. In body, in mind, in spirit.

Yes, she might still wear the livery of the Leonidus household, still bow to the Duchesses, still obey the etiquette of nobility—but deep down, her devotion was carved in the shape of him.

He could still feel her trembling hands from earlier that evening, the warmth of her confession—whispered not in fear, but in longing.

She had fallen to her knees, words tumbling out of her like prayers before the altar of his will.

She had told him about Sabrina's summons, about the her suspicion, about the meeting with Catherine and what Illyana said, everything.

He had listened without a word, his golden eyes unmoving, like molten metal cooling into judgment.

When she finished, he had only touched her cheek—gently, almost kindly. "Good girl," he had said. And that was enough to make her eyes soften, her breath catch.

Now, as the sun sunk lower, Aiden thought back to what she had told him.

In truth, he hadn't planned to reveal anything to Sabrina or Catherine yet. They were pieces meant to move later—after his foundation was solid, after the guild had taken form and his influence had spread far beyond the reach of mid level powers.

Then, and only then, would he bring the two noblewomen into his fold. Their mana reserves, their political leverage, their lust for relevance—all of it would fuel his ascent.

But now, the Duchess had guessed.

"How?" he murmured to himself, tapping the desk rhythmically with a finger.

Tanya's words replayed in his head—the shock in Sabrina's tone, the interest in Catherine's, Illyana's cryptic calm.

Perhaps he shouldn't be surprised. Sabrina was clever, far more than her reputation as a sensual Duchess suggested.

Her instincts were sharp, her curiosity even sharper. She had seen that hunger in his eyes before—not just for pleasure, but for power.

He sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose. The air was cool, but his mind burned.

There was one explanation—a simple one. Ambition.

She had always known his ambition. It radiated off him like heat. He never hid it. And when he had mentioned he was occupying a few nuns… well, that had been the spark.

Sabrina's mind would have begun weaving threads of her own, connecting words, moments, possibilities.

Aiden smiled faintly to himself, the curve of his lips shadowed by candlelight. "So you think you've figured me out, my slutty Sabrina?"

He leaned back, watching the flame dance in the lamp beside him.

Its movement reminded him of her red hair—wild, burning, unyielding. A symbol of temptation and rebellion.

But like any fire, it could be contained. He would make her tell him what she suspected—force her to, if necessary. Pounding her senseless until his cum Brew in her womb fully. And then her arrogance would snuff away.

His thoughts drifted then—to another ally, or rather, another weapon.

Aros.

Half-dragon. Half-elf. Whole abomination.

A creature born of two incompatible worlds, despised by both, yet loyal to none but him. For now of course.

Aiden still remembered the look in Aros's slit-pupiled eyes when fixed their contract. Aiden leveraged his greed and ambition and he leveraged Aros's hate for Elven people.

And now, the crystals had arrived—three small, perfect prisms pulsing faintly with otherworldly light. They sat on the table before him now, catching the moonlight in strange hues. He reached out, brushing a finger over one.

The first—a crystal that absorbed aura. It shimmered like liquid smoke, its core dark yet alive, like a black hole contained in glass.

Used for draining an enemy of their aura and energy—or capturing the residue of powerful mana users.

The second—a crystal of change. Its color shifted constantly, from blue to gold to crimson, as if mimicking the will of whoever touched it.

It could alter the signature of an aura, conceal identity, even deceive divine perception.

And the third—perhaps the most dangerous—a crystal that siphons out stored aura. It glowed faintly red, beating like a heart. It didn't just lace out aura; it could channel it elsewhere, feed it to another.

His hand lingered above it.

"With these," he whispered, "I can sith into the church.....be one of them."

The church and its saints—the so-called guardians of divine order. They hoarded power under the guise of holiness, feeding the empire's control.

But Aiden knew better. Their faith was just another system, another form of bondage. And he was building the tool that would unravel it. Corrupt it and making it his.

He smiled again, faintly. Not the smile of joy—but of inevitability.

But then, a sound pulled him back to the present.

Footsteps.

Soft, careful, and uneven—five sets of them.

He looked at the side as the door opened, and there they were.

The nuns.

Five this time, not two.

Their white habits fluttered in the lamplight, their faces shadowed beneath their veils. Their covered faced, unraveled.

Amber came forward " my sister's, this is the place where your faith will be tested. And again. You are not allowed to share anything about this...for your own good and mine.." she ordered.

Everyone nodded, following their abbess Amber. As they looked at Aiden. Their virgin body quaking just by seeing Aiden's godly gorgeous face.

Their eyes—oh, those eyes—some fearful, some dazed, some gleaming with a strange, trembling devotion.

He could feel it, his blood inside them, rumbling their faith.

They gradually came to him, stood in a half-circle before him, and he could feel the heavy presence of mana in the air. Their pure holiness.

'Amber has been busy,' he thought.

And not just busy—effective.

He studied them silently for a long moment, his gaze moving from one to another. Five women. Five vessels of faith. Each with a spark of divine energy locked within her soul.

Perfect.

"Indeed, your faith will be tested, like what your abbess said, and I will be the conduit. The Lord's holy sword." he said at last, his tone calm, almost gentle.

They obeyed.

The scent of incense and lavender filled the room as they stepped closer, the sound of their robes brushing the floor like the whisper of wings.

Aiden leaned forward, the crystals glinting beside him on the table.

"Let's begin," he said softly.

Inside, however, it wasn't prayer that filled the air.

It was the sound of sin unfolding.

The chamber door clicked shut behind the last arrival—six nuns, cloaks shed, habits rumpled from hurried journeys through shadowed cloisters.

Amber stood at the bed's foot, her own robe loose and open, yellow hair wild from the day's schemes.

Her green eyes burned with that new fire—Aiden's incubus blood still humming in her veins, turning piety to power.

His cum still dripping from her thighs, a remnant of yesterdays rough pounding.

She was the lead again, the Abbess reborn as high priestess of sin, her soft heart hardened into a craving that demanded worship.

" Sisters," Amber said, voice low and commanding, a husky edge that made the air thick. "You've tasted the gift. Felt the 'hunger' your god never named. Tonight, we give it .....form."

If you find any errors ( broken links, non-standard content, etc.. ), Please let us know < report chapter > so we can fix it as soon as possible.