Thalion stepped through the doors of the Crimson Lounge, his expression cold and unyielding. The establishment was one of the infamous dens Maike had warned him about, and it oozed decadence from every corner. A hush fell over the room as he entered, every gaze snapping toward him.

The air was thick with perfume and tension, and half-clothed women flitted about, their calculated allure evident in every gesture. He suppressed a grimace. This was not his kind of place. But for now, the only thing on his mind was completing his body-tempering regimen before the undead horde arrived.

“Where’s the owner of this place?” he asked, his voice cutting through the silence like a blade. He approached the bar, his movements sharp, deliberate. The murmur of subdued conversations ceased entirely, leaving a heavy, expectant quiet.

One of the women behind the bar stepped forward, her lips curling into a practiced smile as she bowed low, revealing an exaggerated view of her cleavage. “She’ll be here any moment,” she purred, her voice dripping with false sweetness. “How can we assist you, Thalion?”

The moment she moved closer, he felt it—a mental assault, subtle but familiar, like the termite attacks he had endured before. His defenses held firm; most of the invasive energy couldn’t breach his soulbody, and the few traces that slipped through were swiftly expelled. His eyes narrowed, and his hand shot out, grasping the woman by the throat.

Her eyes widened in shock and fear as he lifted her effortlessly off the ground. She clawed at his arm, desperately trying to infuse more of that strange energy into him, but his enchanted armor absorbed most of the attack, leaving her efforts pitifully ineffective. His grip tightened, and the room collectively held its breath.

“Since your boss is on her way,” Thalion said coldly, his voice as sharp as an icy wind, “I’ll make this clear: I don’t tolerate attacks on my mind. Not from anyone.”

The woman’s struggles slowed, her lips trembling as she choked out a response. “The stronger ones… they’re all at Amalia’s place,” she stammered, barely able to force out the words through his iron grip.

Thalion tilted his head slightly, weighing his options. He had a vague idea where Amalia’s base was. The question was what to do with this vermin infesting the Crimson Lounge. Should he cleanse the place entirely? These people were parasites, feeding off humanity in more ways than one. His hand flexed slightly, loosening his grip just enough for the woman to gasp in a ragged breath.

But she knew too much. If she warned Amalia about his resistance to mental attacks, she’d jeopardize his advantage. The decision was easy. With a swift, brutal twist, he snapped her neck and tossed the lifeless body aside. Gasps and screams erupted around the room as her corpse crumpled to the ground.

“Monster!” someone shouted. A man charged at Thalion, a hammer gripped tightly in his hands. His movements were jerky, almost unnatural, as though the mental influence hadn’t dissipated with the woman’s death. Thalion raised an eyebrow, intrigued by this peculiarity even as he responded with cold efficiency.

Raising his hand, he unleashed a concentrated jet of fire. The man barely had time to scream before his body was consumed in flames, collapsing into a smoldering heap at Thalion’s feet. Without sparing the onlookers another glance, Thalion turned and dissolved into mist, his form shifting as he began his journey to Amalia’s stronghold.

He reformed just outside the ornate double doors of her establishment, his mind racing through contingencies. They couldn’t have had much time to prepare for his arrival, and his armor’s active enchantments would disrupt any spells directed at him.

It was unlikely they could mount a coordinated defense in time. If the fight turned against him, he could always retreat to the skies and rain bloodthorns upon them until nothing remained.

Two women stood guard by the door, their faces pale with terror as his presence washed over them. Before they could act, a pulse of mana exploded from his body, hurling them backward.

The heavy doors splintered inward with a deafening crash, the two women landing in a heap just inside. One had passed out from the impact; the other lay sobbing, her foot twisted at an unnatural angle.

The room beyond was lavish, a stark contrast to the carnage he’d just unleashed. Over a hundred people filled the enormous hall, their stunned silence as loud as a scream.

Their wide-eyed shock quickly turned to fear as Thalion strode forward, his gaze locking onto the injured guard. He knelt, grabbing her by the throat and lifting her to eye level. Her tears streaked her face, her terror almost palpable.

“Where are those insufferable blessed women?” Thalion demanded, his voice taut with restrained fury. Though his gritted teeth were hidden behind his mask, the venom in his tone made his disdain clear.

Before the trembling woman in his grip could respond, a voice echoed from above, smooth and commanding, yet laced with a subtle, insidious power. “There is no need for violence. We will fully cooperate with you.”

The voice wasn’t just words—it carried a force that sought to infiltrate his soulbody. Thalion felt the intrusion immediately, his defenses crushing the invasive energy the moment it touched him. In retaliation, his fingers tightened around the woman’s throat, and with a sickening snap, he broke her neck and discarded her lifeless body like a broken doll. His gaze lifted, locking onto the source of the voice.

On the upper floors of the grand, opulent hall, a group of breathtakingly beautiful women stood in regal defiance, their beauty more disconcerting than enchanting. Each of them exuded an otherworldly allure, but Thalion’s eyes narrowed, seeing through the glamour to the manipulative predators beneath.

“Attack me again,” he warned, his voice ice-cold and final, “and none of you will leave here alive.”

His words carried a weight that silenced even the murmurs among their enthralled followers scattered below. Thalion’s resolve was as unyielding as steel—these women would either prove useful or perish. Mercy wasn’t on the table.

One of the women stepped forward slightly—a striking figure with raven-black hair and an aura that marked her as the strongest among them. For a brief moment, her composed mask faltered, surprise flickering in her eyes. Then she spoke again, her tone calculated but tinged with caution.

“Why have you come here?” she asked, her voice smoother now, yet carrying a wary edge.

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“Are you the leader of this… circle?” Thalion countered, his stance unrelenting. His eyes flickered briefly to the room’s occupants—men and women clearly under the thrall of these blessed predators. Their tense postures hinted at readiness to attack, but Thalion remained unfazed.

Perhaps these women could offer more value than he’d initially anticipated. He considered their potential—interrogators, spies, or tools for experimentation. Willing subjects, if properly controlled, could be invaluable for his plans.

“Come down. We have business to discuss,” he ordered, motioning to the black-haired woman with an impatient gesture.

Her movements were deliberate as she descended the grand staircase, her every step exuding an unnatural grace that even Thalion, who had little patience for theatrics, couldn’t entirely ignore.

He had always found pre-Integration figures like adult entertainers distasteful—not for their professions, but for the way they pushed their image into spaces meant for broader audiences and especially younger people.

Yet these women, with their blatant manipulation and mind control, had taken exploitation to an entirely new level. It disgusted him.

When she reached the ground floor, Thalion didn’t bother with further pleasantries. He simply turned and walked toward the shattered remains of the entrance, motioning for her to follow.

The woman hesitated for the briefest moment, tension rippling through her composed facade, but then complied, trailing after him with a confidence that belied the nervous energy radiating from her. His title made it easy to sense her unease, and he smirked beneath his mask. Good. Tension made negotiations far simpler.

“Follow me to my tower. We have much to discuss,” he said curtly. Without waiting for a reply, he transformed into an eagle and took flight, leaving her to keep up as best she could.

Thalion reached his tower in seconds, the imposing structure looming against the darkened sky. He landed with a flourish, shifting seamlessly back into his humanoid form, and held the heavy doors open as the woman arrived moments later. Her speed was impressive, her movement skill bearing traces of telekinetic energy. A mage before the blessing, he noted silently.

She paused just outside the doorway, her sharp eyes scanning the surroundings before stepping inside with a confidence that didn’t quite mask her apprehension.

“Take the first door on the left,” Thalion instructed, his voice brusque as he closed the towering double doors behind her. The room they entered was simple but commanding—a large circular space dominated by a grand round table surrounded by high-backed chairs. It was a remnant of the council meetings held there before, but its presence now served as an imposing reminder of his authority.

He gestured for her to sit, then took his place directly opposite, leaning back slightly as his gaze bore into her. The air between them was thick with unspoken tension.

“Let’s get to the point,” Thalion began, his voice low but heavy with menace. “I’m done tolerating you blessed and the chaos you bring.” He paused, watching her reaction. Her composed demeanor cracked ever so slightly, fear flickering in her widened eyes. He pressed on.

“You’re lucky. You seem to hold the strongest faction under your control. My terms are simple: you’ll provide me with detailed information on the other blessed in this city and keep them contained. If any of them interfere with me, I’ll consider it your failure—and I don’t tolerate failure.”

The woman’s lips parted, but no words came for a moment as she processed his ultimatum. Finally, she spoke, her voice cautious and probing.

“So you want us to manage the other blessed and ensure they don’t cause you any trouble. That’s it?”

Thalion’s gaze hardened. “That’s it. Succeed, and you live. Fail, and…” He let the sentence hang, the implication as sharp as the edge of his blade.

“Ah, and one more thing,” Thalion said, his voice cold and unyielding. “You are to leave the ordinary people alone. I don’t care if you start seducing troublemakers or outlaws, but stay away from those who just want to live their lives in peace.” His tone left no room for negotiation, every word sharp with authority.

Amalia tilted her head slightly, as though weighing his demand. Her response, however, was far from reassuring. “Well, the thing is… we can’t just release those we’ve influenced. The progress, as you’d call it, can’t be undone.

And honestly, I’m not sure how I can ensure that the others only target the blessed.” She paused, her voice carrying a note of hesitation as she studied Thalion’s reaction.

“Explain how your abilities work,” Thalion commanded, cutting through her excuses like a blade. Though irritation flickered across his face hidden under his mask .

This conversation wasn’t going as smoothly as he’d hoped, but it wasn’t a loss yet. As long as these women could keep the other blessed in check, their continued existence might still serve a purpose. He’d deal with their loyalty—or lack thereof—when the time came. If they ever tried to turn against him, he would simply wipe them out.

Amalia hesitated for a moment, then began describing their powers. Her explanation stretched over half an hour, delving into techniques that blurred the line between natural and supernatural.

She spoke of infusing parts of their souls into others, tethering their will to their own. Thalion listened intently, but his sharp instincts told him she wasn’t sharing the full truth. Even so, the concept of soul infusion was fascinating—and dangerous.

Mind control, even in limited applications, could provide a critical edge in interrogation or battle. His own build wasn’t designed for such methods, but learning this skill might offer an advantage in situations where brute force alone wouldn’t suffice.

He briefly considered the cost. Acquiring such abilities from the system shop, which would reopen tomorrow, would be expensive. Yet, with the credits he’d accumulated, it was well within reach. Another task to add to his already overwhelming list: Eagly’s transformation, cultivating the darkness elemental, and now this. Despite the burden, the potential benefits were undeniable.

Shaking himself from his thoughts, Thalion refocused on Amalia. The situation demanded decisive action. He had already relayed key information to Maike and Kaldrek, ensuring these women’s task of containing the other blessed would be far from simple.

They would need to struggle—and their struggle would keep them too occupied to challenge him. The higher stages would inevitably bring chaos, but for now, control was within his grasp.

“As long as you keep the other blessed under control and maintain your distance from ordinary people, I’ll tolerate your presence,” Thalion said firmly. His eyes narrowed, his words carrying a lethal edge. “But hear me well: if any of your women so much as look at Kaldrek, Maike, or any council member, there will be consequences.

Severe ones. I want the heads of those who killed the slaves, and I want the slave cuffs returned. You’ll also send daily progress reports to Maike or Kaldrek, detailing your efforts with the other factions and the information you gather.”

Amalia’s expression remained composed, but the tension in her posture betrayed her unease. “That’s… a lot to handle,” she said after a moment, her voice light but laced with defiance. “And for the record, we already have influence over some members of your council.” She added the last part with a laid-back air, though her watchful eyes studied his reaction.

Thalion’s gaze darkened. “You’re allowed to remain here—for now,” he said sharply. “I doubt your classes are particularly effective against monsters or the undead. Without my protection, you wouldn’t last long.” His dismissal of her veiled challenge was absolute. He would leave the matter of council influence to Kaldrek and Maike, trusting in their ability to handle it. Still, he could sense her displeasure. She attempted to negotiate for additional resources, but Thalion shut her down without hesitation.

In the end, Amalia left with a grim expression, her elegant composure barely concealing her frustration. Thalion watched her retreat, already strategizing. There would be no second chances. If she or her followers disobeyed him, he would eliminate them all without hesitation. For now, though, it seemed things were progressing as planned.

With the immediate crisis handled, Thalion turned his thoughts inward. It was time to focus on cultivation and on Eagly’s transformation. The eagle’s evolution into a wyvern required a stronger wind affinity and the integration of the storm crystal. The process would be grueling, but the rewards promised immense power.

Descending the spiral staircase to his cultivation chamber, Thalion felt a rare flicker of anticipation. His path forward was clear. The foundation for his next ascent was being laid, and with it, the promise of even greater strength. The women, the council, the blessed—these were distractions he would manage. Now it was time for some serious powerups before the carnage could begin.

Source: Webnovel.com, updated by NovelKeep