The dining room of the Lockwood Estate was a picture of aristocratic elegance. Sunlight streamed through the crystal windows, illuminating the long mahogany table and the portraits of stern ancestors.
But the scene at the table shattered any illusion of nobility.
Kael sat at the head of the table—the seat that had belonged to Arthur, and before him, generations of Lockwood patriarchs. He was dressed in a crisp black shirt, the sleeves rolled up to reveal the faint, reddish scales on his forearms. He ate his breakfast with a casual, predatory grace, spearing slices of steak and eggs with a silver fork.
On his left, Lyra knelt on the floor. She wore nothing but a thin, transparent negligee that left nothing to the imagination. Her collar—a simple black band of leather with a small, silver tag—rested against her throat. Her hands were folded in her lap, her eyes fixed adoringly on Kael, awaiting his slightest command.
On his right, Silas stood.
The former Matriarch of the Lockwood family was dressed in her business attire—charcoal suit skirt, silk blouse—but the dignity of the outfit was ruined by the state of her face. Her mascara was slightly smudged, and her neck was hidden by a high collar intended to conceal the bruises and bite marks. A discreet earpiece sat in her ear, but her attention was not on business.
It was on Kael.
"More coffee, Master?" Silas asked. Her voice was flat, stripped of its former coldness, replaced by a wooden obedience.
Kael didn't look up. He held out his cup.
Silas took it with trembling hands. As she poured, her eyes darted to the empty chair where Arthur used to sit. The silence there was heavy. He was gone. Fled like a beaten dog.
"Stop staring at the empty chair," Kael said, his voice slicing through her thoughts. "He was dead weight. A parasite on your success. I did you a favor."
"Yes, Master," Silas whispered, placing the cup down.
"Coffee isn't enough," Kael said, pushing his plate back. He wiped his mouth with a napkin and looked at her. "I need information. The Hart family. Sarae. What is his next move after the dungeon?"
Silas stiffened. "He... he took the Heart of the Dragon God. The Hart family has been silent for the last 24 hours, but my contacts in the Guild say they are mobilizing. They're preparing for a 'Royal Announcement' at the Central Tower next week."
"A Royal Announcement," Kael repeated, testing the words. "He's going to announce his ascension. Or perhaps... a marriage alliance?"
Silas hesitated. "There are rumors... that he seeks to merge the Hart and Whitmore interests. A union of the Ageless Physique and the Whitmore's biotech empire."
Kael laughed. It was a harsh sound. "Morgan Whitmore. That woman has been trying to breed immortality into her line for decades. She'd sell her soul to get her hands on Sarae."
He stood up, walking around the table. He stopped behind Silas. He placed a hand on her shoulder, feeling the tension in her muscles.
"You're going to call her," Kael said.
Silas froze. "Morgan? Now?"
"Now," Kael confirmed. "You're going to tell her you have a lead on the 'Ageless' research. Tell her you found a specimen... a boy who survived the Whitmore experiments. Tell her you have the key to unlocking the physique without Sarae."
Silas turned pale. "That's suicide. She'll send an army. Or she'll come herself."
"Let her come," Kael growled, his hand sliding down to grip the back of her neck. "I'm not ready for the Harts yet. Sarae is too strong. But Morgan? She is a snake with no fangs, protected only by money and hired guns. She is the appetizer."
He squeezed.
"Make the call, Silas. Put it on speaker."
Silas nodded shakily. She pulled a secure phone from her pocket. Her fingers trembled as she dialed the private line of the Whitmore heiress.
The phone rang once. Twice.
"Silas?" Morgan Whitmore's voice was sharp, impatient. "It's early. This better be about the Dungeon collapse. The stocks are tanking because of the Hart family's silence."
"Ms. Whitmore," Silas said, forcing her voice to remain steady. She glanced at Kael, who was watching her with a cold, predatory smile. "I have news. Regarding the... project we discussed years ago. The Ageless lineage."
There was a pause on the line. The sound of a chair scraping back.
"Go on."
"I found him," Silas lied, following Kael's script. "The boy. The one who escaped your facility. He didn't die."
"The incinerator logs said—"
"The logs were faked," Silas interrupted. "He survived. He... he has it, Morgan. A mutation of the physique. He absorbs vitality. He heals instantly. And his blood... it's pure."
Kael watched Silas closely. She was a good liar when she needed to be. The desperation in her voice wasn't entirely acting—it was fear of him.
"Where is he?" Morgan demanded, her voice dropping to a whisper.
"He is here," Silas said. "At my estate. I have him... contained."
Another pause. Kael could hear the greed dripping through the speaker.
"Don't move him," Morgan commanded. "I'm sending a retrieval team. My personal squad. If this is a trap, Silas, I will burn your lineage to the ground."
"It's not a trap," Silas said, her eyes meeting Kael's. "I want a seat on the board. That was our deal."
"You'll get your seat. Secure the asset. I'll be there in two hours."
Click.
The line went dead.
Kael smiled. "Perfect."
He walked back to his seat, sitting down. He looked at Lyra, who was staring up at him with wide, wet eyes.
"Two hours," Kael mused. "That gives us time to prepare the welcome mat."
He looked at Silas.
"Go to your study. Open the hidden safe. I know you have one behind the painting. Bring me the contents."
Silas blinked. "How did you—"
"I ate the memories of the gardener," Kael said dismissively. "My memory devour ability hardly triggers but unlucky for you. He knew where you hid the 'rainy day' cash and artifacts. Move."
Silas hurried out of the room.
Kael turned his attention to Lyra. He reached down, tilting her chin up.
"Are you happy, Lyra?"
"Yes, Master," Lyra breathed, leaning into his touch. "I love serving you. I love being yours."
"Good," Kael said. "Because today, you're going to help me kill a very bad woman. And then... we're going to start building an empire."
SYSTEM NOTIFICATION
New Quest Generated: [The Spider's Feast]
Objective: Eliminate Morgan Whitmore.
Sub-objective: Devour the Whitmore Heiress.
Reward: 5000 XP, Potential Bloodline Evolution, Whitmore Family Assets.
Warning: Target is protected by S-Rank mercenaries.
Kael dismissed the notification. S-Rank mercenaries. He was only C-Rank. But in his domain, with the element of surprise and the slaves he had cultivated...
They are just food.
SYSTEM STATUS
HOST: KAEL
LEVEL: 65 (C-RANK)
MANA: 6000/6000
HUMANITY INDEX: 38% (Declining)
SYSTEM SHOP NOTIFICATION
New Item Available: [Slave Brand - Tier 2]
Cost: 1000 XP
Effect: Permanently binds a target's soul to the Host. Prevents betrayal. Enhances sensory link. Note: Works best on those with low mental resistance.
Kael purchased two. Small, intricate tattoos of a dragon eating its own tail.
He looked at the empty chairs around the table. The Lockwood family was dead. In its place was a nest of vipers. And he was the King Cobra.
"Lyra," Kael said.
"Yes, Master?"
"Go to the wardrobe. Put on the maid outfit. The one with the short skirt."
Lyra beamed. "Yes!"
As she scampered off, Kael leaned back, tapping his fingers on the table.
The Whitmores. Then the Harts. Then the World.
"System," Kael thought. "Open the Galactic Map."
A holographic projection appeared in his mind, provided by the System's database. It showed Earth, glowing red with Dungeon activity. Around it, satellites and colonies on Mars and the Moon. And further out, the territories of the Elves and Dwarves in the nearby solar systems.
One day, he would devour them all. But for now, he had a funeral to plan.
Morgan Whitmore's.