Divine Mask: I Have Numerous God Clones

Inside a lavish tent adorned with expensive silks and fine décor, the young master of the Emberhart family lounged in a large, overstuffed chair, his legs casually draped over the armrest.

A smug grin spread across his face as he swirled a goblet of wine in one hand. His laughter rang through the tent, a sound of self-satisfaction as he looked at the soldiers standing before him, fresh from their brutal raid.

"So," he drawled, his voice dripping with arrogance, "how many women did you gather for me today?"

One of the soldiers stepped forward, his armor smeared with dirt and blood, his face grim but eager to please. "Quite a lot, young master," he replied, his tone respectful yet full of pride for the day's work.

The young master's eyes gleamed with delight, his grin widening as he leaned forward slightly in his chair. "Good. Very good."

He took a leisurely sip from his goblet, savoring the taste of the wine and the moment. "Make sure the finest of them are brought directly to my chambers. I want the top beauties at my disposal tonight."

His words lingered in the air, heavy with depravity. The soldiers exchanged smirks, their faces lighting up at the suggestion.

"And the rest?" the young master continued, leaning back with a satisfied sigh. "Sell them off to the slave dealers. Get a good price."

His gaze flickered with amusement, and he raised an eyebrow. "Oh, and before you hand them over... feel free to enjoy them yourselves. Consider it a reward for a job well done."

The soldiers' eyes gleamed, wicked grins spreading across their faces. "Understood, young master," one of them said, his voice eager. They nodded, exchanging lecherous looks as they prepared to carry out his orders.

The young master chuckled softly, reclining in his chair and waving his hand dismissively. "Go on then. Don't keep me waiting. I want the finest delivered immediately." His tone was casual, as if he were ordering nothing more than a meal.

As the soldiers turned to leave, the young master's lips curled into a smug smile, his eyes half-lidded with anticipation. "Tonight will be entertaining," he murmured to himself, his voice filled with dark satisfaction.

But just as the soldiers were about to carry out the young master's vile orders, a figure suddenly appeared in their path—Roxana.

She stood tall before the group, her presence commanding, her expression cold and unreadable. The air around her seemed to shift, crackling with the unspoken threat of her power.

The soldiers froze, their hands instinctively reaching for their weapons as they sized her up. One of them, a gruff-looking man with a scar running across his cheek, stepped forward, his voice laced with suspicion. "Who the hell are you? And what are you doing here?"

Roxana's lips curled into a slow, mocking smirk, her eyes gleaming with an almost playful malice. "Me?" she said, her voice calm yet edged with danger. "I'm just someone who's about to kill a bunch of weaklings like you."

Her words hung in the air, cutting through the tension like a blade. The soldiers exchanged uneasy glances, some gripping their weapons a little tighter.
Experience tales at mvl

But the young master's eyes, instead of narrowing in concern, lit up with predatory interest. His gaze swept over Roxana's figure, lingering with an unmistakable hunger.

"What a fine woman," he murmured, his voice dripping with desire. He leaned back in his chair, his grin widening into something wicked. "Catch her," he ordered, his tone lazy but filled with authority. "Do what you want with her—she's insulted you. And after all, she looks like she could be… fun."

The soldiers chuckled darkly, their earlier unease vanishing under the young master's command. Emboldened by his words, they began to move toward Roxana, their eyes gleaming with anticipation.

Confidence surged through them—after all, they outnumbered her, and she was unarmed. To them, she was just another victim.

But Roxana remained unfazed, her smirk only deepening as they closed in. Her eyes sparkled with a mix of amusement and anticipation, as though this was all some sort of game.

"This could be interesting," she murmured under her breath, cracking her knuckles casually. "I haven't fought like this in a while."

One of the soldiers sneered, brandishing his sword. "You've got a death wish, lady."

Roxana glanced at him, her smirk widening. "Let's see what I can do... without using any mana or weapons. I'll just use my body."

She said it as if it were the simplest thing in the world, her voice calm, almost bored. But there was an undercurrent of excitement there, a thrill she couldn't quite hide. Her muscles tensed, ready for action, her hands loose and relaxed at her sides.

The soldiers, oblivious to the danger, continued their approach, their chuckles growing louder as they prepared to subdue her. To them, this was nothing more than a game—a simple task they would enjoy before returning to their more "entertaining" duties.

But Roxana's eyes glinted with a predatory edge. They had no idea what they were walking into.

Meanwhile, Lucas, watching the unfolding battle with mild interest, casually strolled around the burning village. His steps were unhurried, his expression calm as chaos reigned around him.

He glanced toward the soldiers being toyed with by Roxana, and a slow, almost sinister smile crept onto his face.

His mind drifted to the young master of the Emberhart family, lounging arrogantly in his tent. Lucas's eyes gleamed with a dangerous glint as he imagined what he might do once the pompous fool was in his grasp.

The system's voice, dripping with its usual arrogant tone, suddenly chimed in. [You look like you're enjoying yourself,] it mocked. [Thinking about all the fun you'll have once you catch that spoiled brat?]

Lucas's smirk widened slightly, not bothering to respond immediately. The thoughts of what he'd do to the young master danced in his mind, each more entertaining than the last.

[Oh, let me guess,] the system continued, its voice oozing with shameless glee. [Are you going to play with him? Maybe torment him for a while before finishing him off? That would be very much like you.]

Lucas chuckled softly under his breath, his gaze lazily scanning the carnage. "He'll deserve every second of it."

[Ah, there it is,] the system sneered. [That cold-blooded side of you. I'm sure you've already come up with a hundred different ways to break him.]

It paused, then added with a mocking edge, [Though, let's be honest—he's hardly worth the effort. A weakling like him? You could crush him without lifting a finger. But you enjoy the long game, don't you?]

Lucas's eyes darkened as he thought about the young master, the rage from his past lives stirring within him. "Oh, I'll make him suffer," he murmured, more to himself than to the system.

The system's laughter echoed in his mind, arrogant and self-satisfied. [Of course you will. You've always had a flair for the dramatic. Just don't forget—he's nothing. You've faced far worse.]

Lucas didn't answer, his smirk returning as he watched Roxana finish off the last of the soldiers. His time with the young master would come soon enough. And when it did, Lucas already knew exactly what he'd do.