[You have received charm resistance.]

The message flashed across Kael's eyes, and he immediately realized it. These naughty succubuses were trying to charm him to get what they wanted. And it made him slightly furious.

He then extended his hand, and with a loud slam.

PLAC!

He placed his hand hard on Sazhara's ass.

"KYAAAAAA!!!"

Sazhara was startled by the unexpected slap, her eyes widening in shock and pleasure. She could feel Kael's resistance growing, his hold on him shattering. But she hadn't given up hope yet. She smiled provocatively, her body reacting with an excited tremor at the start.

"Well, well... Looks like we have a little fight in you after all," she purred, her voice seductive like honey on steel. "That just makes things more interesting."

Sazhara struggled to free herself from his grip, her tense muscles contracting and stretching in an almost mesmerizing way. She writhed to free herself, resulting in her ass being exposed again. This time, Kael grabbed her waist and pulled her closer to him, slapping her bare ass hard.

The succubus let out a high-pitched cry of pleasure mixed with pain, her hips automatically bucking in response. She struggled against his grip, but her efforts were more of a seductive invitation than genuine resistance.

"Aaaahhhh... I love it when you force me to stay still," she moaned, her voice mischievous as ever. "You're so strong... I don't know what's more exciting: being forced by you or by my tormentor... Oooohhh..."

Sazhara managed to free herself with a sudden jerk, spinning to face Kael with a mischievous smile on her lips. She ran her hand over her sore ass, pinching herself lightly. "This hurts... But it's a good pain. Do you want to hurt me more, Kael? Do you want to see me cry out in pain and beg for mercy?"

She leaned into him, her body pressed against his in an erotic dance. "I can take it. I can take anything you want to give me... Do you want to hurt me? Hurt me until I beg for your mercy? Make me scream your name and praise your name with every cruel touch? Go ahead... I won't resist."

[You have received resistance to enchantment.]

[You have received resistance to enchantment.]

Kael shoved her hard against the wall, the impact of the shock echoing through the room. She threw her head back with a cry of mingled pleasure and pain, her eyes shining with savage hunger.

"Yes!" she screamed, the sound thick and guttural. "Hurt me! Make me feel! Make me beg you!"

There was something undeniably arousing about it, about her desire for pain and submission. Kael could have lost himself in it, could have plunged deep into the abyss of perversity with her.

But there was a voice in his head, a small but persistent voice that warned him that he was crossing a dangerous threshold. Once he crossed that line, there would be no turning back.

Sazhara was a temptation, a shining lure in the dark water. But he couldn't let himself drown in her temptation. He couldn't give in to his desire for control, for domination. He had to resist, he had to...

A loud blow hit the wall behind Sazhara, right next to her head. She cried out in surprise, her eyes widening as she spun to face the new threat. It was a sharp dagger, buried deep in the wood, the blade vibrating with the impact.

"What...?" Sazhara began, but was cut off by Kael's fluid, swift movement. He grabbed her wrist in a relentless grip, twisting until she cried out in pain, and knelt beside her.

"Fuck... What the hell was that?" she hissed, her voice hoarse and pained.

Kael was silent, his gaze fixed on hers. There was an intensity in him, a controlled fury she'd never seen before. It was almost frightening.

"If you want me so much, so much that you're willing to fuck your own executioner," he finally said, his voice low and menacing, "then fight for me."

Sazhara blinked, her brain struggling to keep up with the sudden change. "Fight for you?"

"That's right. Fight for me. Show me how much you want me. Show me how much you're willing to do to have me. Show me how much you love me."

There was a long pause, a moment when the world seemed to hold its breath. And then Sazhara smiled, a slow, teasing smile.

"With pleasure," she purred.

[You have received charm resistance.]

Sazhara began to shake uncontrollably, panic flooding her veins. She could feel the crushing weight of Kael's resistance building inside her, suffocating her ability to control herself. It was too much for her to bear. Her body buckled forward, her knees digging into the wooden floor as she fought to keep from falling.

"No... No... Please..." Sazhara begged, her voice thin and broken. "Don't resist me... Don't stop me... I need... I need to have you..."

Kael watched her plea emotionlessly, his expression hardened into a steely mask. There was no compassion in his eyes, no trace of pity. He watched her struggle and writhe, watching her strength being crushed bit by bit.

Sazhara choked and gasped, her lungs burning for air that wouldn't come. She clutched at her neck, clawing at her own skin as she tried to relieve the growing pressure in her mind. But there was no relief, only the suffocating terror of being strangled by an invisible force.

"Please... Don't make me... do this..." She sobbed, tears streaming down her face. "Don't force me... to hurt you..."

Kael remained silent, watching impassively as she struggled in vain against the invisible grip. The seconds dragged on like hours, each echoing with the muffled sound of her agony.

And then, as suddenly as it began, it was over. The pressure dissolved, and Sazhara fell to the ground, gasping and coughing for air. She lay there for a long time, her body shaking with the spasms of muffled sobs.

When she finally managed to catch her breath enough to lift her head, she found Kael still standing over her, staring down expressionlessly. His brown eyes seemed darkened by an emotion she couldn't identify. It was something dark and cold, like the darkness before dawn.

Sazhara flinched at his gaze, a trembling hand rising to cover her chest. She could feel the blood pounding in her veins, could hear the rapid rhythm of her heart hammering in her ears. It was a terrible feeling, knowing he had that kind of power over her.

"What do you want from me?" she whispered finally, her voice hoarse and damaged. "What do I have to do for you to forgive me?"

There was an implicit apology in her words, a tacit admission that she had done wrong. It was a brief moment of weakness, a glimpse of the vulnerability beneath her outward mask.

Kael remained silent for a long time, his eyes never leaving hers. And then, finally, he spoke.

"Get on all fours. You're going to get spanked for being a bad girl."

...

The black stone main hall was silent except for the soft crackle of flames in the hanging braziers. Smoke rose in lazy spirals, carrying the scent of rare herbs burning in the censers. The uneven orange light illuminated the columns carved with ancient runes, casting long shadows across the walls.

In the center, seated on a throne carved from a single block of obsidian, Eleanor, the Witch Queen, watched silently. Her eyes—two deep wells of gold and scarlet—roved over the figures before her, assessing every breath, every subtle shift in posture.

Irelia, standing to the left, held the curved blade resting on the floor. Her body was clad in light black plate armor, but it was her gaze that betrayed how much she had changed. There was no longer any hesitation, only a cold, absolute focus. The air around her seemed to vibrate with condensed energy, as if space were afraid to approach.

Beside her, Amelia maintained her characteristic calm, but it was impossible to ignore the aura of power emanating from her. The staff she held glowed in subtle patterns, blue and gold runes pulsing in rhythm almost identical to her heartbeat. The silver strands that mingled with her white hair caught the light, giving her an almost otherworldly presence.

Sylphie, the most impatient of the three, maintained a slight smile at the corner of her mouth, as if knowing that each passing second brought the moment she awaited closer. Her hands, covered in thin gloves, sparkled with unstable elemental energy, alternating between light and flowers. Her pupils held an almost feral glow—the look of someone ready to launch into combat.

Eleonor watched, and with each passing second, the smile on her lips grew more defined.

"You've grown," she said, her voice soft, but charged with that strange authority that made even the air in the hall tremble. "Faster than I anticipated."

Irelia was the first to respond, looking up. "We're on his level now." It wasn't a question, it was a statement.

Amelia kept her gaze fixed on the queen, without a trace of doubt in her voice.

"You said yourself that surpassing Kael would be impossible for any of us… until now."

Sylphie stepped forward, flames and ice dancing around her fingers. "So?" She tilted her head, like a predator waiting to strike. "Can we go now?"

Eleonor's smile widened, but her eyes remained hard, piercing, as if weighing every word. She leaned back in her throne, resting her chin lightly on her hand.

"Impatient, as always," she murmured, her tone laden with an almost maternal irony.

The three of them waited. None of them blinked.

Eleonor let the silence stretch to its limit, as if savoring the moment. She wanted them to feel the weight of the permission she was about to give.

Then, finally, she said, "He's in Arvalen."