Vexion smiled in delight as she watched Sheva endure the vilest of treatments. The proud warrior was broken in both body and spirit, and the true spectacle was not the suffering itself, but rather the expression of the one forced to watch.
Lexa and Lexi , mostly Lexa.
Vexion had no particular love for suffering itself. She had witnessed it, orchestrated it, used it as a means to an end. But Lexa's expression—ah, that expression was one she would cherish.
Horror twisted into disbelief. Disbelief cracked into despair. Despair gave birth to a seething, poisonous hatred that spread like rot through every fiber of her being. Lexa's whole world had crumbled, and in that wreckage, only hatred remained. Hatred for her captors. Hatred for her own people, who had abandoned her to this fate. Hatred for the world, for allowing such cruelty to exist. But most of all, hatred for herself.
Hatred for her own weakness.
Vexion had known this moment would come. The Lexa of before had been naive. Even after everything she had endured, her worldview had still clung to a childish belief in fairness, and stubborn righteousness.
But reality was not so kind.
True cruelty was not something one could argue against, not something one could argue with or rationalize away. It was not an anomaly, nor a mistake. It was the very foundation of this world.
True despicable and evil men did not always act out of necessity, nor did they require a reason beyond their own pleasure. The strong dictated the rules, and the weak simply existed at their mercy.
That was the world her master understood. That was the world he ruled. And now, Lexa would finally see it for what it was.
Vexion did not consider herself a particularly wicked woman, not compared to him. No, her master stood above all others in depravity. He was not cruel out of malice, nor ruthless out of necessity. He inflicted suffering because he could. Because it simply did not matter to him. And that indifference, that absolute disregard, was what fascinated her the most.
She still remembered the day she first asked him about morality, expecting some longwinded philosophy or a justification for his actions. Instead, Dante had merely shrugged, his mouth full of food, and replied in that casual tone of his:
"Huh? Why would I care? What does the suffering of others have to do with me?"
It had been so blunt, so brutally honest, that she had broken into laughter on the spot.
Not because she found it amusing, but because it was the purest expression of who he was.
Even after that moment, he looked at her in confusion wondering why she was laughing. To him what he said was simply the truth in its most unfiltered state. He simply didn't care.
Her master was not simply cruel; he was beyond concepts of good and evil. He did as he pleased, and the world bent to accommodate him.
No regrets, no remorse, no hesitation.
And that was why she loved him.
Lexa, still paralyzed by the weight of Vexion's aura, trembled violently as she watched her subordinates limp body be carelessly clothed once more. She could barely see through her tears, but she did not need her eyes to know the truth. It was over The defilement had ended, but the damage was absolute.
Vexion turned, prepared to speak, when she suddenly felt a force tap her shoulder.
Instantly, she knew who it was.
Her master.
Without hesitation, Vexion swapped places with her mirage, allowing the illusion to maintain its presence while she vanished. The mercenaries below, still swollen with arrogance as they pulled up their pants, were left unaware that their orchestrator had already departed.
The stage had been set.
Now it was time to claim the rewards.
...….
Minutes earlier, in the space between layers of existence, Dante observed the grotesque spectacle with a nod.
Vexion had done well.
It was a simple crude and cliche method, yet undeniably effective. There were countless ways to break a person, but few worked as quickly and efficiently as this. And according to the system's appraisal, the results were undeniable.
[Moral Alignment: "Morally grey --- Dark, Morally Corrupt]
Dante chuckled. It was amusing, really. Lexa had already been teetering on the edge. All she needed was a push, and Vexion had given it to her beautifully. But his amusement was not shared by the one watching beside him.
Jost was furious. His body trembled with unrestrained fury, his eyes bloodshot with rage. He could do nothing but watch, trapped within Dante's domain, as his daughters were forced to watch his own loyal subordinate subjected to unimaginable horrors. Every fiber of his being screamed for vengeance, but he was powerless.
His fury was almost refreshing.
Jost couldn't help but bite his bottom lip, blood flowing as he asked "Why"
Jost's glare burned with pure hatred. " Such , such merciless crude and disgusting evil all to train your evil subordinate? You're vile. Both of you. You created this tragedy just to shape her into a weapon? What for? Is she not cruel enough already?"
Dante chuckled, slipping his hands into his pockets. Finally, the foundation was laid, time to build the house of lies "Mm, that's one reason, sure. But not the main one."
Jost remained silent, his body shaking.
Dante continued, his tone light, almost casual. "You see, my little cousin will be coming to collect Lexa—or Lexi, depending on which one catches his interest. And I wanted to leave him a reminder that life doesn't always go as planned. He's strong, about as strong as me, but he's naive. So I'm giving him a little... motivation."
Jost's breathing was ragged, his fists clenched so tightly his nails dug into his palms.
Dante smirked. "But, if I'm being completely honest? I mostly did it because your country disgusts me. Your so-called dark elves are a stain on this world. Even calling yourselves elves pisses me off. If not for my cousin's involvement, I would've razed your entire empire to the ground myself. But I'm not stupid. You still have your Sovereigns and Mythical Beings. And I have better things to do than to piss them of all at once."
Jost's vision blurred with rage, his entire body trembling with helpless fury. "You... you..."
"Mm?" Dante tilted his head. "Something wrong?"
Before Jost could find the words, he suddenly found himself elsewhere. The suffocating presence of Dante's power vanished, replaced by the open air of the capital's barrier. His wife stood before him, her eyes wide with horror and confusion.
"Jost?" she whispered, her voice shaking. "Where... where were you and our daughters they… subjected her to...they defiled Sheva .."
Jost could only hold her as she collapsed into his arms, sobbing uncontrollably. He wanted to comfort her, to tell her that everything would be okay. But he knew better.
Dante had torn their empire embarrassed them and subjected them to being treated as worth nothing all over some twisted personal grudge? Some meaningless family rivalry. And there was nothing—nothing—he could do to change that.
No matter how much he raged, no matter how much he cursed that white-haired devil, he knew the truth. At the level of a True Sage and beyond, power was the only law. And Dante was beyond him.
All he could do now was pick up the shattered pieces of what remained and pray that, one day, he would have his revenge.