Primordial Lust System

Elsewhere across Maelstrom City, inside a dimly lit room.

A young woman sporting short chestnut hair flowing to her shoulders, draped in an intricately woven blue robe, lay sprawled on the floor. Her brows were furrowed, her eyes clenched, when suddenly they flickered. Inhaling sharply, her eyes snapped open as she regained consciousness.

"Huh? My head hurts." she breathed softly as she sat up, squinting as she looked around almost automatically, then froze. Questions crowded her mind. Why was she lying on the floor instead of her bed? Why was the room dark and small? A realization slammed into her like a goddamn warhammer: this was not the Suncrest family residence.

Her eyes widened in shock, a groan escaping her lips, drawing the attention of the two figures in the room.

"You're awake… I was starting to think you were going to sleep forever." A mildly handsome youth in a red robe crouched beside her, staring intently. A faint smile stretched across his face.

"Y-you… who are you… what do you want from me?" she whispered, the words barely leaving her throat as she backed up against the wall.

A sickening dread washed over her. Her power… it all seemed to have been locked; she couldn't channel it. Power had never been her greatest pursuit, but she had at least broken through to E rank. That had been enough to protect her, and now that it was gone, it did nothing to ease her fear.

"Hmm, you already forgot about me." the youth muttered, a mock disappointment clouding his face as his pale black eyes seared into hers. "Guess… I'll just have to jog your memory." His smile turned dark. His fingers curled into a fist and he slammed it into her face.

"Uhhhhh." A shriek echoed as his fist connected with her jaw, sending her reeling back and smashing into the room's wall.

"Why are you hurting me? What wrong have I done to you?" Lyra screamed, hands flying to her face as tears burst from her eyes, the pain rocking her features, terror burning deep.

"Screaming is pointless." The youth smirked devilishly when he heard her raise her voice—she must have hoped someone would come to save her. "I have layered the room with runes that negate sonic transmissions. It's just you and me." He let the words drag out slowly as his fists curled once more.

"I am the wife of the Suncrest patriarch's son. If you hurt me..." Lyra began, only to be cut off as another punch struck true to the face, sending her rolling again.

"Hmm, I don't like threats." the youth muttered, staring down at her. An emotionless glint settled across his eyes. "But… I… do… like… punching you." He paused between each word, his fist hovering above her face.

"Wait!" Lyra shrieked, trembling as she rubbed her sore cheek, tears streaking her face.

A calculating light flared in her eyes. "Please don't kill me… I'll do anything you want me to… just don't punch me…" she whispered, staring at him hopefully.

"Anything?" the youth repeated, brows arching, a thoughtful look on his face as if he were considering the offer.

"Anything…" Lyra mumbled repeatedly. A cold light flashed across her eyes as she waited for the moment he would drop his guard, waiting for an opening to kill him. Nobody had humiliated her like this before. She tried to force a smile but failed; her face was swollen.

"Good!" the youth said, nodding. The smile on his face turned darker. "Then stay still while I punch you some more." Before she could process the words, his fists crashed into her again, this time harder, sending her flying into the wall. She slid down, spitting blood and a couple of teeth.

"WHY…? I… don't understand." Lyra muttered raggedly, lifting her head. Why was he doing this? What had she done to deserve it?

"It's getting a little boring." the youth muttered. "Why… don't you come out and enlighten her?" His voice echoed across the room. Lyra's brows rose. Who was he speaking to? She scanned the room and found no one.

From a dark corner, a woman stepped out, unfamiliar at first, but as she drew closer, a prickling familiarity struck Lyra. Her mouth gaped. "Tara? What are you doing here? Quick, help me… this maniacal bastard is trying to kill me!"

Her words froze. Tara stopped beside the youth, then sputtered, pointing at Lyra. "It was her that sent me to assassinate you."

"Huh?" Lyra breathed. Her face contorted as she stared at Tara, then recognition flared. The slave from Crimson Spire City. She remembered ordering an assassination in a moment of spite at an event—a stupid hobby of hers: randomly commissioning hits on nobodies, imagining their agony. A sadistic pleasure. But now, up close, the resemblance was undeniable. Nothing made sense. How had that assassin ended up here? How had the youth managed to take a D-rank killer as an ally?

"Honestly, I don't care why you ordered my assassination. But those who wish for my death… end up dead." Azrael muttered, unfazed. A faint crimson sheen spread across his body, the air around him thrumming as he prepared to reveal his true strength for the first time.

"Wait... I know something that might be useful to you." She breathed desperately, the youth's aura pressing down on her like a blade hanging over her head. "Embers of Red Origin," she whispered. "If you let me go, I can tell you where to find them."

Azrael snickered, brows lifting; her words had piqued his interest. The aura around him eased a fraction.

"Speak," he growled. The name dragged up old memories. If she told the truth, the treasure would be extremely useful to him at his current state. He could already pictured a thousand ways to use it.

"You'll kill me... immediately after I tell you," Lyra muttered, caution flaring in her eyes.

"Smart," he said, "but you're in no position to negotiate. I know more than enough ways to extract the information from you. None of them pleasant, I can assure you."

Lyra swallowed. "If I tell you, do you promise to give me a quick death?" she groaned.

"I can do that." Azrael nodded, amusement in his voice. Then, leaning forward, he listened to her sore whisper.

A moment later he straightened, a smile spreading across his lips. Without another word, his hand shot to her throat before he snapped it, watching her collapse, lifeless.

"Raging Boar Dungeon, huh?" he murmured.