The Invincible Supernatural System: I Can Assimilate All Ghosts

Inside a pompous bed chamber, where the scent of almonds hung in the musky air.

It was already late in the night.

Moonlight seeped through the floor-to-ceiling window, painting silvery lines across the rumpled silk sheets. The moon was unusually bright tonight, rendering the chandeliers and lamps unnecessary, which made the chamber drenched in a deep, comfortable gloom.

Its corners pooled with soft, inviting shadow.

Being in darkness was particularly more comfortable after such a tiring day.

Young Master Callen lay still on the bed; his back was against the headboard, and one hand on the back of his head. His breathing was slightly elevated, like he had been doing something taxing. In his hand was a smoking pipe.

His face was flushed red, and his eyes were half-lidded, as if it was hard for him to keep them open.

On the table beside the bed were two glasses and a bottle of wine.

It was the remnants of what happened earlier.

Slurp…

He stared at the ceiling in relaxation, lazily tracing the intricate lines of the cornice.

Callen drew deeply on the pipe, then exhaled a slow, deliberate plume of smoke toward the ceiling.

"Emmhh… Right there," A moan escaped his lips as he looked down to his crotch, seeing a breathtaking blonde woman pleasuring with big emerald eyes, pleasuring his erect cock, licking from the very base all the way to the crown. "You're getting mighty good at this."

"Lies," She replied while still sucking on the tip. "If that's true, you'd not neglect me this long."

A chuckle escaped Callen's lips.

His hand reached down, fingers threading through her golden hair before closing into a grip at the nape of her neck.

She let out a muffled gasp as he pulled her head back, forcing her mouth away from his manhood.

"I'm busy, you know this," Callen said. "And besides, I'm telling the truth."

Even though his words sounded hollow, another blatant lie, the woman felt her heart flutter as such a word from Young Master Callen was rare. Her excitement couldn't be hidden as her hand never stopped stroking his cock lovingly.

"Another lie. Your heart is on Victoria," the woman whispered regretfully. "I also know that you were stressed lately."

"Stressed…?"

"Yes. Your brother… He's making you worried, isn't he?"

Callen's hand effortlessly moved from grabbing her hair to choking her neck.

He squeezed hard, staring at the woman with cold eyes.

"How do you know about that?" he asked, his voice low and sharp, the mere mention of Deklan sending a cold rush through his blood. "Answer truthfully. Or I will ruin your life."

"No need for threats," the woman said, taking his hand in both of hers. She smiled—one eye closing in a teasing squint, making no move to push him away. Her grip was soft, almost placating. "You know I like you rough. Roland… well, Roland has a very big mouth."

Upon hearing this, Callen leaned back again and sighed.

"I got to do something about him, but he's a masochist. If I punish him, that'll only make him happy."

"He's a lost cause. But it's your fault for taking him in along with Agnar."

"Well, that's because he's damn strong and loyal."

Callen pulled the woman's head again, gesturing for her to continue on what she was doing.

"What are you going to do about him?" the woman asked while stroking his cock and licking the tip.

"Arghh…" Callen groaned, pressing his head against the headboard as he was nearing climax. "I don't need to worry about him anymore. Agnar is dealing with him. If anything, I trusted Agnar would do his instructions well."

"Really? Are yo—?"

"I'm cumming!"

Callen grabbed the woman's head with both hands and shoved the entire length of his cock deep into her throat. The muscles in his arms bulged as he pressed her head to his crotch, and kept her there as he released his pent-up stress straight into her throat.

Her right hand tapped on his thigh, desperate for air as she choked.

But Callen didn't care.

The tight, rhythmic clenching of her throat made him reluctant to pull his cock out.

Only when he was fully satisfied did he drop back and let the woman go.

*Cough* *Cough*

"I should've talked about Young Master Deklan often had I known you were going to be like this," The woman said, still coughing as tears drizzled down her cheeks. "You never use your strength on me, but look at you now."

"Stop saying his name," Callen draped an arm over his face. "I don't want his name out of your mouth."

The woman giggled, then plopped onto Callen's body.

She inhaled his scent and drew a circle on Callen's chest with her clawed index finger.

"What if Agnar failed?"

"Still talking about this?"

"I'm asking what you'll do if Agnar fails," the woman pressed, tilting her head up to look at Callen's face. "You do know that I'm only going to be close with the heir, right? If Agnar lost, and he raised to become heir, I'll have no choice but to abandon this body and be with him."

Callen looked down at her; fury could be seen clearly on his face.

Just hearing that alone made him angry.

But the sight of her—the flawless porcelain skin, the delicate arch of her cheek, the quiet depth of her eyes, dissolved his anger like mist in morning light.

He wanted to strangle her a second ago.

Now? Not anymore.

"I really hate your spirit," Callen sighed and lay back again. "And for the answer to your question, no, Agnar will not lose. He's a silver-rank Exorcist—with a strong spirit. Killing Rock is plausible for him. But killing Agnar? That's impossible. Even if he does kill Agnar, I'll make sure he's dead with my own two hands after."

"Good," the woman kissed his chest. "That's what I want to hea—"

Swish—!

Just then, their conversation was interrupted by a flashing of light.

It came from inside the drawer of the bedside table.

Callen retrieved a hand mirror from the drawer, its surface shimmering with an incoming pulse of mana.

"Speaking of Agnar," he said, a smirk touching his lips. "Right on time."

The woman snuggled against his neck as he tapped the mirror's surface to accept the call.

Slowly, the mana within the hand mirror swirled, coalescing from the bottom up into the faint image of a person.

"Young Master," Agnar's voice filtered through—tinny and distant. "Can you hear my voice? Does this thing really work?"

"I hear you," Callen replied, his tone cool. "Is it done? Have you finished him off?"

"Of course, Young Master." In the mirror's frame, Agnar took a few steps back. It seemed the mirror was planted on the ground for some reason, so Callen and the woman saw Agnar from a low angle. "I've killed Young Master Deklan, exactly as you requested."

Hearing this put a smile on Callen's face.

In the last couple of days, he was more relaxed knowing that Agnar was the one handling Deklan.

One of his trusted guardians, who basically guarantees success.

Compared to when he sent Rock to deal with the matter, he was a lot more at ease right now.

No need to fret about his mother's words.

As long as Deklan was handled, then he should be completely fine.

Having the woman ask him in case Deklan survived earlier made him a little bit worried.

Fortunately, Agnar has accomplished what he wanted and erased that worry.

"Where's the proof of that claim, Agnar?"

"I was waiting for you to ask that, young master. Please wait a moment."

Agnar went out of frame.

Both Callen and the woman waited patiently, watching Ingver Town's light flickering in the distance.

Then, the two heard a long, slow exhalation of gravel and weight from out of frame. It wasn't a scrape, but a drag. And beneath it was the dreadful, wet murmur of something heavy being persuaded forward, inch by inch, until it reached the frame.

Callen's eyes lit up.

It was Deklan's corpse.

Agnar crouched, gripped Deklan's hair, and turned the lifeless face toward the hand mirror. He held it there, ensuring Callen had a clear, undeniable view. "He was stronger than anticipated," Agnar uttered, his voice flat. "Given time, he would've become a problem. But the matter is settled, Young Master."

"Good," Callen nodded, holding back excitement. "Very good… Come back safely. I'll certainly grant you anything you want for this."

"Agnar," the woman called, her eyes narrowing into a squint. "Are you okay?"

"Ah, Lady Monica," Agnar bowed his head a little, only now noticing that she was also watching. "I did not realize you were there. I apologize. Also, I'm fine. Just a few scratches here and there."

"Can you come closer?" She asked again. "I want to have a good look at you."

"Sorry?" Agnar tilted his head in confusion. "I apologize, Lady Monica. But I think I need to go. I've gathered quite some attention fighting with Young Master Deklan. There are others who have also heard the news about his rise."

"Let him be," Callen pushed her away. "What are you even asking?"

Monica snatched the hand mirror and turned away, "I'm telling you to come closer,"

"Hey! What are you up to now…?"

"Shush! I need to verify something."

Monica pulled the hand mirror closer, almost like she was scrutinizing something on Agnar.

It was only when she saw a spark in Agnar's eyes that her eyes widened.

"He's mind controlled…" Monica muttered, catching Callen completely off guard. "Hey, Deklan—you are not dead, aren't you? You need to work on your mind-control spell. There's a flaw that made it really obvious."

"Huh, really?" Deklan opened his eyes and stood up.

Seeing this, Callen's eyes bulged as he snatched the hand mirror again, "DEKLAN!!"

"Gods, you're loud, little brother," Deklan grinned, shoving Agnar aside. He grabbed the hand mirror and held it up to his face as if making a call. "Surprised? Did you really think I'd die that easily? If you want me dead, come do it yourself. Don't be a pussy and face me yourself. "

"You—?!"

"But no need to rush. I'm still building up my strength. Also, say hello to big mom, for me."

Before Callen could answer, Deklan let go of the hand mirror and stomped on it.

As the connection was cut off, Callen's hand dropped to the bed.

He snapped back to reality when Monica got out of bed and quickly got dressed.

"Where are you going…?"

"Deklan is alive, Callen. I can't stay with you."

Once she wore her tight-fitting black dress again, highlighting her curves, she headed to the door.

No hesitation in her steps.

She stopped by the door and looked at Callen, who was at a loss, one last time.

"I can't stay with you if you can't handle Deklan properly," Monica said as she opened the door. "Don't call for me again until you deal with your problems."

Brak—!

Callen flinched at the sound of the door slamming.

Now, suddenly, the bed felt colder than earlier.