Brita struggled for a brief moment in Alaric’s grasp, but it wasn’t a desperate struggle—rather, it was carefully controlled. She didn’t want to hurt him. No, she couldn’t afford to hurt him.
Her master’s orders were clear.
She had to stay close to Alaric Steele.
She had to earn his trust.
She had to discover the secrets of that damnable communication artifact—the so-called Phone.
So, despite the deep disgust bubbling inside her, she kept her expression controlled. She didn’t lash out, didn’t strike him, didn’t let her fingers twitch with the desire to shove him away with all her strength.
With a huff and a mock pout, she twisted her body slightly, slipping from his arms with a little more effort than necessary.
"You’re too eager," she murmured, brushing down her dress as if his touch had contaminated it. Then, tilting her head slightly, she added in a soft, teasing voice, "I’m not ready yet."
Alaric chuckled. "Oh? Then take your time."
His smirk was entirely too amused, entirely too comfortable—as if he already knew she wouldn’t actually push him away for good.
Brita gritted her teeth behind her soft, shy smile.
She had only ever wanted one man’s touch—her master, Lord Vortan. She was saving her body, her purity, her everything for him.
And now, this… this filthy commoner had held her like she was some tavern wench?
She nearly shuddered at the thought.
She couldn’t afford to let that disgust slip.
So instead, she just offered him a demure glance, feigning coyness, feigning bashfulness, as if she were some innocent maiden overwhelmed by his boldness.
But even as she did so—
A different sensation assaulted her memory.
A sensation she wished she could erase from existence.
She could still remember it—
His hands on her body.
That disgusting, humiliating moment when she had been pinned down, when she had felt his touch where no man but her master was ever supposed to.
Her fingers clenched for just a second before she forced them to relax.
The memory was too vivid, too infuriating.
Her thoughts turned dark.
’No matter what it takes, I will find that masked bastard and I will carve him apart, piece by piece.’
But now was not the time to dwell on that.
She took a slow breath, regaining her composure.
Alaric, in the meantime, had gotten up, stretching his arms with an easy grin.
"Don’t worry about me," he said, his voice far too casual. "A tool is just a tool. What matters is how it’s used and who is using it."
Brita watched him carefully.
"But," he added, his smirk turning sharper, "I haven’t even finished putting in all the real features I wanted to."
For a brief second—just a second—Brita felt a chill slither down her spine.
Her entire body tensed, but she kept her face smooth.
She knew that look on his face.
That genuine excitement.
It wasn’t the excitement of a man who was bragging.
It wasn’t the arrogance of some fool who thought too highly of himself.
It was the expression of someone who was simply stating a fact.
Brita had been around Alaric long enough now to recognize that look.
And that was terrifying.
Because what he was implying—what he was outright saying—
Was that the Phone as it existed now… was just a prototype.
That it wasn’t even close to what he had truly envisioned.
Brita’s heartbeat quickened.
The Phone had already caused a revolution.
It had already sent shockwaves through the world.
It had already turned the tides of war.
Alaric was telling her, with that relaxed, confident smile, that this was just the beginning.
She swallowed, feeling an unfamiliar emotion creep into her chest.
For the greatest dark mage in the world.
The man who had reached the heights of Rank 7, an Archmage who could reshape entire landscapes with a single spell, a man who could almost glimpse the laws that governed reality itself.
Even he might not be able to surpass this man.
Brita clenched her fists subtly, her nails pressing into her palms.
’I must grow closer to him.’
There was no other choice.
A talent like Alaric Steele…
He was too dangerous to be left untethered.
If she could earn his trust, truly win his confidence—then she could use him.
She could guide him, control him, manipulate him.
And if he ever—ever—became a threat to Lord Vortan…
She would be the first to end him.
Brita exhaled softly, her face regaining its flirtatious, easygoing mask.
She knew one thing for sure.
She had to make sure Alaric never saw her for what she truly was.
A high-ranking member of the Phantom Assembly.
And an unwaveringly devoted servant of the Dark Mage, Lord Vortan.
"Alaric," she said, her voice honeyed, her expression soft. "You really are something else, aren’t you?"
He turned to her, raising an eyebrow.
Like she wasn’t already planning exactly how she would use him.
Alaric strolled leisurely back to his dorm, feeling thoroughly refreshed after teasing Brita to his heart’s content. That flustered expression of hers, the way she tried to escape his grip but still hesitated enough that he could tell she didn’t really mind—it was all too entertaining.
’She probably thinks she’s playing me.’
He smirked to himself as he reached his door, pushing it open and stepping inside.
The moment he entered, he sighed contentedly, stretching his arms with a deep groan.
"Ahhh, what a nice night," he muttered to himself before flopping onto his bed without a second thought.
He pulled out his Phone from his pocket, spinning it lazily between his fingers before finally deciding to call her.
The soft chime of the connection sounded before the call was picked up.
A gentle, slightly drowsy voice answered, "Young Master..."
Alaric grinned. "Hey, Iridelle. Did you hear the news?"
On the other side of the line, Iridelle was still in the Steele Family’s mansion, curled up in her personal workshop. She had been working on a few artifact designs she had long wanted to experiment with, but now that it was late at night, she had finally allowed herself to rest.
When she heard Alaric’s voice, her expression immediately softened, and a warmth spread in her chest.
"I did hear it," she admitted, her voice quiet, almost hesitant. "Young Master… did I make a mistake in crafting the Phone? Was there an issue in its design that caused the military to lose?"
Alaric could hear the concern in her voice, that slight trembling of guilt, as if she had somehow failed him.
She was always —always wanting to perfect her craft, always striving for something beyond perfection.
Alaric exhaled sharply and shook his head, even though she couldn’t see him.
"Calm down, Iridelle," he said with a chuckle. "There’s nothing wrong with the Phone. The artifact is perfectly fine."
"No buts," Alaric interrupted smoothly. "This sort of thing is expected. A tool will always be limited by the individual using it. That’s just how the world works."
There was a brief pause.
Then, softly, Iridelle whispered, "But still... I should have—" ᴛʜɪs ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ ɪs ᴜᴘᴅᴀᴛᴇ ʙʏ 𝓷𝓸𝓿𝓮𝓵※𝓯𝓲𝓻𝓮※𝓷𝓮𝓽
"Iridelle," Alaric said, his voice turning gentle but firm, "I didn’t make this artifact so the Eloriath Kingdom’s military could go on some grand conquest and dominate the battlefield. I made it so every person in the world could talk to the ones they care about, no matter how far apart they are."
He let that sink in for a moment before adding, "And that purpose? It’s being fulfilled perfectly by what you’ve created."
A soft, almost breathless giggle.
"Young Master..." Iridelle murmured, her voice filled with warmth.
Alaric smirked, leaning back on his bed, satisfied with her reaction.
Of course, he wasn’t going to let this moment stay too serious for too long.
So, with his usual cheeky tone, he added, "Although, I do have one major complaint."
Iridelle blinked. "Huh?"
Alaric sighed dramatically. "I miss your body quite a bit. I think I might just have to develop something that lets me visit you faster."
Iridelle burst into a giggle, her drowsiness momentarily forgotten. "Young Master..." she scolded lightly, though her tone was far from displeased.
Alaric grinned. "What? I’m just saying it like it is. Don’t you miss me?"
"...I do," she admitted softly, her voice carrying a shyness that made Alaric’s grin widen.
Then, as if suddenly gathering her courage, she continued, "Actually... I’ve been thinking of applying for a position at Verdant Dawn Academy."
Alaric’s brows raised in interest. "Oh?"
"As an instructor," Iridelle clarified. "I want to teach crafting magic artifacts."
Alaric leaned back on his pillow, humming in thought. "Not a bad idea. I’d say you have a pretty damn good chance. With Professor Amelia Lyon backing you, they’d be fools not to take you in."
"Right?" Iridelle sounded pleased by his response, but then—
Alaric’s smirk deepened.
"But, you know… I know the real reason you’re doing this."
Iridelle blinked. "Huh?"
"Oh, come on," Alaric drawled, his tone playful, "you just wanna be closer to me so you can have more excuses to be intimate with me regularly."
A quiet, almost embarrassed whisper.
"I... I just want to use my body to please you..."
Alaric let out a deep, pleased chuckle.
"Now that," he murmured, his voice carrying a satisfied purr, "is something I definitely approve of."
Iridelle let out a soft, bashful giggle.
"I’ll be waiting for you here," Alaric continued, his voice dropping into a low promise.
"And I’ll be there soon," she whispered back, her voice dripping with longing.
Kenneth was currently deep inside a dungeon, leading a group of his noble friends and comrades as they ventured into the depths of one of the lesser-explored underground ruins near Verdant Dawn Academy. The air was thick with the damp, musty scent of ancient stone, and the occasional growls of unseen creatures echoed through the cavernous passages. Despite the eerie atmosphere, Kenneth felt rather excited.
’Finally, a good chance to gain some real experience and level up.’
Of course, he hadn’t told his comrades that this was his true motivation. No, he had told them something far more… palatable.
"It’s all about the money, boys," Kenneth had declared before they set off. "There’s no harm in slaying a few magical beasts and looting their bodies for valuable materials. The trade unions will pay good gold for rare monster parts!"
His comrades had readily agreed, nodding along eagerly. After all, to them, this was a purely financial endeavor. The corpses of magical beasts, their fangs, claws, hides, and even their innards—all could be harvested and sold for a hefty sum.
The dungeon they were exploring wasn’t exactly an unknown one. It had been entered by students and adventurers numerous times in the past. However, not many had dared to explore its deeper layers, as it was rumored to have unpredictable dangers. Most simply cleared out the easier monsters near the entrance and then left with their haul.
But Kenneth? He wanted more.
As they cut through another wave of snarling, fanged beasts, Kenneth suddenly felt a strange tug in his mind. It was his system—guiding him.
He subtly glanced around to make sure none of his comrades had noticed his momentary distraction before he turned towards a seemingly ordinary section of the dungeon wall. To any normal eye, it looked like just another crumbling stone surface. But to Kenneth, it was something else.
Following the system’s prompting, he reached out and pressed against a particularly worn-out stone. At first, nothing happened—his comrades were already looting the corpses of the fallen monsters behind him—but then, with a deep, grinding sound, the wall before him shifted.
"Whoa," one of his friends, a noble named Gareth, whistled. "What the hell did you do, Kenneth?"
Kenneth smirked but played it off casually. "Eh, just had a feeling something was off about this wall."
"Feeling, huh?" Gareth raised a brow, unconvinced, but the others were too excited to question it further.
The stone wall fully retracted, revealing a hidden passageway. A faint, ancient air flowed out from within, thick with dust and the scent of old magic. With cautious steps, they ventured inside.
What they found made them freeze in their tracks.
The hidden chamber was massive—far larger than it had any right to be. It stretched outward into the darkness, so vast that it almost felt bigger than the dungeon itself. The high ceiling loomed above them like the sky, supported by towering stone pillars covered in unreadable runes.
But that wasn’t the most shocking part.
Tens of thousands of massive statues lined the chamber, standing in rigid, almost militant formation. Their bodies were humanoid, yet inhuman. Their features were sharp and menacing, with exaggerated fangs and clawed fingers. They were too beastly to be human, yet too human to be mere beasts. Their eyes, carved with eerie precision, seemed almost alive.
One of Kenneth’s companions, a young noblewoman named Celia, shuddered. "What are these things?"
"No idea," Kenneth muttered, his eyes scanning the room. ’They don’t look like anything I’ve seen before...’
More unsettling was the arrangement of the statues. They were positioned in a strange, almost ritualistic formation, as if waiting for something. And at the center of it all was a much larger statue—easily three times the size of the others. Unlike the rest, this one wore exquisite robes, its arms crossed in a regal yet menacing pose.
Kenneth narrowed his eyes. ’This one... it’s different.’
However, while the statues were unnerving, there was something else in the chamber that quickly grabbed everyone’s attention.
Scattered around the room were golden chests, intricate artifacts, and shimmering gemstones. Ancient weapons, covered in dust but still gleaming with latent power, were placed upon stone pedestals.
"Jackpot!" Gareth whooped, rushing toward a pile of gleaming loot.
The rest of the group didn’t need any encouragement—they immediately started stuffing their bags with anything that looked remotely valuable. Coins, gems, enchanted armor—if it shined, they took it.
Kenneth, however, felt his system calling him toward something else.
At the base of the largest statue, half-buried in dust and surrounded by complex runes, was an orb. A glowing, pulsating sphere filled with an intense, almost primal energy. It radiated raw power, making the air around it hum with potential.
His system spoke directly into his mind.
[This is the most important treasure in this chamber. Take it.]
Kenneth didn’t hesitate. He reached down and grasped the orb. The moment his fingers touched its surface, a surge of ancient power rushed through him. It was overwhelming, almost too much for his body to handle—but then, it settled, like a beast recognizing its master.
The system chimed again.
Kenneth’s lips curled into a grin. ’I don’t know what you are… but you’re mine now.’
With their bags full of loot, Kenneth and his group eventually made their way out of the hidden chamber. Their excitement was palpable—this was, without a doubt, the most profitable dungeon run they had ever had.
As they stepped back into the dungeon’s main corridors, laughing and boasting about their haul, none of them noticed the change happening behind them.
The thousands of statues that had stood so eerily still…
Their stone bodies were beginning to shift.
Cracks spread across their surfaces like veins. Beneath the stone, something else emerged. Flesh. Skin. Muscle.
The massive, regal statue at the center—the one Kenneth had looted the orb from—shuddered. Its once-still fingers twitched.
Then, ever so slowly…