Lust System: Rise of the Primordial Demon

Caelen simply watched him, a faint, knowing glint in his crimson eyes. He didn't need to posture or threaten. His very existence was the threat, and the command.

Silas, the arrogant prince, had been instantly reduced to a trembling supplicant by the simple, unconscious aura of the demon standing before him.

The hall was silent except for Silas's ragged breathing. Elunara and Seralyth observed, their expressions unreadable but intensely focused. This was a shift in the fundamental power dynamic, and they were witnessing its birth.

"You wanted answers," Caelen said, his voice calm, almost conversational, yet it carried the weight of his [Primordial Authority]. It wasn't a question.

Silas managed a jerky nod, his eyes still wide with a terror he couldn't control.

"You will have them," Caelen continued. "When I decide you need them. Not before." He took a slow step forward, and Silas flinched as if struck. "Your desire for secrets about your sister and mother, about us... that is your price for cooperation. I understand. But here are my terms."

He stopped directly in front of Silas, looking down at the kneeling dark elf. "You will train Evelyn. You will pour every bit of knowledge you have about combat, about dark elf magic, into her. You will treat her as your most prized student."

He leaned in slightly, his voice dropping to a whisper that slithered into Silas's mind. [Abyssal Charm] and [Primordial Authority] fused into a single, irresistible command. "And you will harbor no ill intent toward her. No tricks, no schemes, no hidden agendas. Your purpose, for as long as I deem it, is to make her strong. Is that understood?"

The compulsion washed over Silas. It wasn't a suggestion; it was a law being written into his very soul. The part of him that wanted to rebel, to use this as an opportunity for his own ends, was smothered under the absolute weight of Caelen's will. The fear was still there, but it was now channeled into a desperate need to obey.

"Y-Yes," Silas choked out, the word tasting like ash. "I understand."

"Good," Caelen said straightening up. The pressure lessened slightly, allowing Silas to breathe. "Then we have an agreement. You train Evelyn. In return, you get to stay close to the most interesting thing that has ever happened to this kingdom. That should satisfy your curiosity for now."

He turned his back on Silas, a clear dismissal. The interaction was over. The deal was struck not through negotiation, but by decree.

He looked at Elunara and Seralyth. "The immediate problems are handled. The angel is contained. Evelyn has a trainer." His gaze then fell on Lucy. "And you," he said, a different, less commanding but equally intense note entering his voice. "You're with me. We have our own training to do."

A faint, knowing smile touched Seralyth's lips. "You need not trouble yourself with that, young primordial," she interjected smoothly. "I have already begun. Her demon power is... unique. It requires a specific touch. I am tailoring her training."

She glanced at Lucy, who met her gaze with a wary but curious look. "And I have an associate, a master of Ice magic. Ice can temper her and give her focus and form. She will be well looked after."

Caelen studied Seralyth for a moment, then gave a single, short nod. He trusted her ruthless efficiency, if not her motives. "Good." That left one piece: himself.

He turned to Elunara. "Which leaves me. I nearly died in that realm because I didn't understand what I was fighting. And thanks to that, I know what I am, but I don't know what other demons are. I need to know everything. Every strength, every weakness, every history. Where is your library?"

Elunara's brow furrowed slightly. "The royal archives are extensive, and...You would have been perfectly safe if you had left my mother's...treasure... alone."

Caelen's eyes narrowed. "You don't know that," he disagreed, a flash of the arrogance he'd shown Velantra returning. "You sent me in blind. I'm rectifying that. Where is it?"

Seeing his resolve, Elunara gestured with a hand toward a different corridor than the one he'd been heading down. "Through the western wing. The doors are marked with the crest of the first queen. A servant can guide you."

She then looked toward Velantra's still form, being watched over by two stoic guards. "I will see to our... guest. Ensure she remains secure."

As Caelen turned to leave, Evelyn stepped forward timidly. "Caelen? Before you go... would it be alright if I... if I saw Silver? It's been a while since we've talked, and with everything..." Her voice trailed off, seeking permission in this new, frightening dynamic.

Caelen paused, considering. "Fine. Don't wander far." His concern was less for her safety and more for keeping his assets contained.

With a nod from Elunara, a maid who had been standing unobtrusively by the wall stepped forward. "This way, sir," she said softly, bowing her head.

Caelen fell into step behind her, his mind already turning from political maneuvering to the task of acquiring knowledge.

As they walked away, the tension in the grand hallway slowly began to dissipate, leaving behind a web of new alliances, forced obedience, and silence.

The maid led him through a series of increasingly quiet corridors, away from the throne room's grandeur. The air grew cooler, smelling of old parchment and polished wood.

Finally, they stopped before massive, intricately carved doors. In the center was a crest he didn't recognize—likely the first queen Elunara had mentioned.

"The royal archives, sir," the maid said, pulling one of the heavy doors open just enough for him to enter. "Is there anything else you require?"

Caelen shook his head, his crimson eyes already scanning the vast, shadowy interior, where towering shelves stretched up into darkness. "No. That will be all."

He stepped inside, and the door thudded shut behind him, sealing him in a fortress of knowledge. The war outside would continue, but for now, the Primordial Demon of Lust had become a student.

The door thudded shut behind Caelen, sealing him in a silence so profound it felt like a physical substance. The Royal Archives were vast, a cavernous space where towering shelves of dark, polished wood stretched up into a shadowy vaulted ceiling.

The air was cool and carried the dense, comforting scent of aged parchment, leather bindings, and a faint, magical ozone.

Light drifted down from floating orbs of soft white energy, illuminating endless rows of spines etched with runes and languages he could now instinctively understand.

His initial goal was straightforward: find bestiaries, historical accounts, anything on demonology. He needed to know what he had fought in that realm, what he might face again. He moved through the aisles, his footsteps echoing softly.

The texts were meticulously organized. He found sections on Elven Flora, Celestial History, and finally, tucked away in a corner that felt intentionally secluded, a section marked "Abyssal Studies."

The books here were different. Their bindings were often made of strange, tough hides, and the metals clasping them were tarnished black.

He pulled a heavy tome from the shelf. Its title was stamped in silver that had dulled with age: "On the Origin of Shadows: A Treatise."

He opened it, and the words, written in an archaic demonic script, flowed into his understanding.

"Before angels of virtue sang in the light, some shadows stirred in silence. No one knows whether they were born from the void itself or as rejected fragments when the Light Goddess created her daughters. What is certain is this: the Seven Brothers of Sin existed first among demons, each embodying the darkest inversion of the Virtues."

Caelen's breath caught. This was not a simple bestiary. This was a creation myth. He leaned against the shelf, his crimson eyes scanning the pages with rapt attention.

"They were not born as a race. They were concepts given form, raw embodiments of desire, hunger, and ruin. Their presence warped the world, their power corrupted other beings. From them, the first demons were made."

The text detailed the terrifying process of transformation. Any being—mortal, beast, or spirit—could be remade into a demon by falling to a Sin's influence.

A beast became a feral demonkin; a mortal became a horned humanoid with affinities tied to the corrupting Sin. The concept of "Fallen Angels"—angels twisted into cursed forms—sent a particular chill down his spine, given his current predicament with Velantra and what she might become.

But it was the next part that truly captivated him. The rigid, unbreakable hierarchy enforced by the "Primordial Blood of Sin." Those directly touched by a Sin became Noble Houses. Lower demons could never overthrow their superiors; their very essence enforced obedience. "At best, they could rise as generals or enforcers under a Noble House."

He was not just a demon. He was a Primordial demon. According to this, his very presence should command absolute obedience from any demon of Lust's lineage.

The [Primordial Authority] he had felt was not just a skill; it was his birthright. This explained Silas's reaction with terrifying clarity. The dark elf's demonic blood, however diluted, recognized its king.

Feverishly, he searched for more, finding a fragmented scroll titled "The Seven Thrones of Shadow."

It listed the brothers, their domains, and their feared names, though many entries were incomplete.

Pride – Azaelion, The Black Sovereign. "King of Kings... his gaze alone can force lesser demons to kneel." Caelen understood that power intimately now.

Greed – Zerathos, The Devouring Vault. A hoarder of power. The description of "absorption" felt unnervingly close to what he had done in Seralyth's realm.

Wrath – Ravethor, The Crimson Butcher. "Fury incarnate — his strength grows endlessly the longer he fights." He thought of Lucy, her raw, explosive power. Was that a spark of this?

Envy – Xerathil, The Hollow Twin. A mimic, a thief of power. A dangerous, insidious foe.

Lust – Draziel, The Crimson Whisper. The entry was brief, but the title sent a jolt through him. "Weaver of desire, corrupter of flesh and will... births endless succubi and incubi." This was his progenitor. The source of his [Abyssal Charm], his [Primordial Birth] skill. The text was a mirror held up to his own soul.

Gluttony – Ghorathos, The Black Gulch. A being of endless consumption. The description of a land of "monstrous maws" reminded him of the centipede-like horror he'd witnessed.

Sloth – Melthazar, The Silent Tyrant. The most cryptic. "His stillness hides infinite schemes... time dilation and parasitic control." A warning that the most dangerous enemy might be the one who never seemed to move.

He read for what felt like hours, the pieces of a terrifying cosmic puzzle falling into place. The Demon Evasion Era wasn't just a war; it was a purge against these fundamental forces of reality.

And he was the first new Primordial to emerge since that time. He wasn't just a player in a game between queens and angels; he was a walking, talking declaration of war on the cosmic order the Goddess of Light had established.

The scope of it was dizzying. Thalyss hadn't just given him power to save Emma. She had reignited a conflict that spanned eons.

His ambition to corrupt Velantra now seemed like a small, logical first step. If the Goddess had her Seven Virtues, why shouldn't the abyss have its Sins?

A soft sound broke his concentration—the gentle clearing of a throat. He looked up to see the same maid standing a respectful distance away, a tray in her hands holding a goblet of water and a small plate of fruit.

"Pardon the intrusion, sir," she said, her eyes carefully averted from the open demonic text in his hands. "The Queen thought you might require refreshment."

She placed the tray on a nearby reading desk. "She also asked me to inform you that the... guest... in the hall has been moved to a more secure chamber. And the dark elf, Evelyn, is with her maid Silver in the eastern gardens."

Caelen nodded, closing the heavy book with a definitive thud. The knowledge he had gained was a weapon sharper than any blade. "Thank you."

The maid bowed and retreated silently.

He stood there in the quiet gloom of the archives, no longer just a young man caught in a nightmare, but the inheritor of a dark and magnificent legacy.

The path forward was fraught with peril he could now fully appreciate. But for the first time, he felt not fear, but a sense of terrifying purpose. He had a library of knowledge to consume, a Virtue to corrupt, and a bloodline to live up to.

The game was indeed much, much larger than he had thought. And he was no longer a pawn.

He can come back next time to see how the power system for demons works, after digesting all of this.

_

["If you're enjoying the story, don't forget to drop a power stone or add it to your library—it really helps me keep writing!"]