CHAPTER 131: CHAPTER 131- ARRIVAK AT ATELAN

Outside, the huge citadel-like black architecture—appearing to be carved from a single mountain into delicate, intricate designs with symbols stretching across the walls—loomed before Ytrisia, forcing her to tilt her head back in discomfort just to glimpse the endless spire touching the clouds.

"How can something like this exist here?" she muttered, clear bewilderment in her voice. The sheer presence of such architecture, unnoticed by the government or any media, unsettled her.

It stood in the middle of nowhere, in a location that should’ve been clearly marked on maps—yet it was hidden from all eyes.

She glanced around, first toward Cruxius, then to Lira. And then... her eyes landed on the woman standing before them—silver-haired, blood-red eyes locking with hers for a brief moment.

"In particular, humans don’t have the power to see things concealed by Blood Art," Evangeline spoke, her voice as sharp as her gaze, which now rested on Cruxius. "Especially if they lack special eyes—like the Awakened—meant to perceive energy on that frequency."

She seemed to expect a reaction from him—shock, awe, confusion. Yet Cruxius remained impassive. As if this place were familiar. As if he had been here before. As if he belonged here.

Intrigued, Evangeline watched him move forward of his own accord, bending down to pick up something from the ground. A faint glint—gold, maybe.

"Never expected the man I chose as consort to be a ragpicker," Evangeline scoffed, folding her arms, disappointment flickering in her crimson eyes as she watched him lift the piece of gold. It spoke volumes about his supposed materialism. And she, who had chosen him as her consort, now stood watching this... peculiar act.

"!"

"C-Consort!?" Ytrisia blinked, her voice cracking. She had initially dismissed the woman’s words as a ploy—a dramatic act to lure them in. But hearing it again made her falter, truly shaken. She couldn’t understand why every woman around them seemed drawn to him.

Overwhelmed, she watched the silver-haired woman gaze at Cruxius as if he were some rare prize. And for a brief, shameful moment, Ytrisia followed suit.

Under the moonlight, his sharp jawline, unblemished skin, those deep black eyes like the midnight void, and the raven hair dancing in the breeze—he was mesmerizing. Her heart tightened. She looked away, suddenly self-conscious, feeling something strange—something uninvited. Jealousy.

It confused her. Especially considering what he had done. How he’d broken her trust. Her heart had once vowed never to love, never even to look at this man again. But now... now, something in her was shifting.

From the moment he leapt to save her life in that hospital... to now.

There was something unresolved inside her—something she couldn’t name. A stirring, soft but persistent.

Maybe it was that invisible wall of dignity she had long carried, the one that refused to allow her to see him with another woman. But tonight, that wall cracked. And with it, her first principle began to crumble.

The one where she had sworn never to share her man.

And funnily enough, she could guess that it was his presence that was making her feel like this, though she just folded her hands, averting her gaze as if uncaring about that rifler as consort.

Ding

[Kino Control: Rank C ⇒ B+]

"I will hate you, Miss Evangeline, if you call me that again," Cruxius replied, his eyes just looking at her for a moment, shrugging his shoulder as he approached before placing the gold stone he had found in his pocket, eyes looking toward Ytrisia, given he just got the notification of her attachment increasing a bit for him.

"Hate? What a childish thing to say, and all because I called a ragpicker... ragpicker?" Evangeline just shook her head as she moved towards the front. The huge metal gates started to slowly slide open, revealing two individuals standing in black armor. The sound of the doors swinging open was far too loud to ignore due to their size, and it also revealed the weight of the metals they were composed of.

"Nah, because by calling me a ragpicker, you’re pointing a finger at yourself—who chose this ragpicker as a consort...." Cruxius just said, much calmer, shaking his head. He could observe that right now the condition seemed much more peaceful than he had thought, at least here. Given his awakening or the reversal of the curse, it should have been Blood Moons who approached them—and they did. But Evangeline’s arrival was a clear signal that she was interested in him, especially after declaring how she wanted him as a consort. It was clear that she was going to support him in the flag bearer battle, which she wasn’t initially interested in. Further adding, "So I will hate you if you hate my wife’s choices."

His voice was sharp but steady as he looked toward the woman, clearly angered, and also noticed that glint in her gaze as if he was serious. Though she knew he was acting, she still felt amused—realizing that at least this man had the gift of the tongue and knew how to please a woman.

"You’ve got a slick tongue there."

"It can do more than speak to impress you," Cruxius stated, entering the gate. All of them finally entered the hallway, his eyes roaming around, noting the number of guards, clearly enforcing his suspicion that all these arrangements were only for him—to be chosen as one of the candidates for the flag bearer—with Evangeline’s involvement showing her clear alignment to help him.

"...." Ytrisia and Lira were the ones more silent about it, just observing, giving him a glance before settling their eyes in front, finding his words slightly confusing as he appeared to even start flirting with this woman—so strange that it made them confused, not in a positive way at all.

They could clearly see what double-meaning sentence he meant. Yet they just looked toward the woman who wasn’t really taking his words to heart, more likely uncaring about his compliment.

She appeared more unbothered and uncaring, fueling confusion in both Ytrisia and Lira as to why he would pay attention to such a woman.

Swish, swish—

Two figures emerged from the mist, forming from strands of blood-colored vapor, robes rippling as if stitched from shadow. They did not speak. They merely knelt—heads lowered, their faces obscured beneath thin veils.

Their eyes, however, lingered—unnervingly—on the three humans. Pupils thinned like slits, gleaming silver beneath the veils, fixating too long. Their nostrils flared once, sniffing the air. But neither of them lifted their heads.

"They’ll escort the guests to their rooms," Evangeline said flatly, crimson eyes cold and unbothered.

Then, casually—almost like a knife slipped between ribs—she added without glancing, "... I’ll see you tomorrow. Alone."

The two figures dipped their heads slightly and shimmered out of place, reforming several feet ahead, silently waiting.

Cruxius didn’t respond, his expression passive. But inwardly, his thoughts stirred—

’Is this about the candidate announcement?’

The group was led down the narrow, hollowed corridor, carved from black stone and etched with red lines pulsing like veins. The silence between them wasn’t comfortable—it breathed, tense and watching.

Finally, they stopped before two doors facing each other.

The taller blood-clad guard turned. "Rooms prepared. You may rest now."

They stepped aside.

Ytrisia hesitated, as if about to say something. But Lira didn’t wait. She walked forward, stiff and wordless, ignoring everyone as she entered the room to the right. The door closed with a soft thud behind her.

Ytrisia’s fingers curled, her voice quieter than before.

"...Can we talk?" Cruxius met her eyes and nodded.

Ytrisia turned and stepped inside the left room. Cruxius followed.

She didn’t look back. She didn’t have to.

Because he was already watching her. Watching the way her waist tapered into hips, her walk calm but unguarded, the subtle sway of her curves outlined beneath her cloak—the soft rise of her ass, outlined cleanly as the torchlight inside the room framed her silhouette from behind.

He didn’t look away.

She didn’t notice.

’System, can you sense the presence of someone if they try to peek?’ Cruxius asked inwardly, eyes flicking to the corners of the ornate chamber—walls draped in thick velvet, flickering crystals casting moody purple glows.

[Negative.]

Cruxius exhaled through his nose, slow. He gave a subtle nod to himself.

Behind him, the door gave a faint thud as the lock sealed.

He turned just in time to see Ytrisia take a breath and step closer—arms folding just under her chest, pressing up the twin swells of her full, perky breasts against the tight latex-like uniform that clung to her skin like a second layer.

They shifted slightly with the motion, pushed together by her forearms, the fabric almost too tight to contain their heavy roundness—shaped like ripe melons, the kind that made men stutter mid-sentence.

Her purple eyes—shimmering with frustration, betrayal, maybe something more—locked onto him with steady intensity. She stood straight, chin lifted, lips parted slightly. Her voice was quiet but firm.

"Tell me."

Cruxius looked at her, unflinching. That stance of hers—defiant, proud, yet... vulnerable. She was trying to stay composed, but her posture spoke otherwise.

He didn’t answer right away.

Instead, a smirk curved one corner of his lips—slow, arrogant, and unapologetic.

"I’m sorry."