Inside the VIP suite, suffocating arcs of dark-violet lightning danced wildly through the dim air.
The unimaginably expensive, hand-woven Persian rug was already drenched with Victoria's agonizing, euphoric tears and sweat. Her flawless body—a physique that could drive every man in Sancta Lodo to madness—was currently pinned mercilessly against the armrest of the leather sofa. She shook violently, like a fragile leaf caught in a Category 5 hurricane, on the verge of complete disintegration.
Caspian remained fully clothed in his bespoke black suit. He didn't lower his head to kiss her snow-white shoulder blades even once. His gaze was as detached and frigid as a mechanic monitoring an overloaded industrial waste pump.
Every merciless, savage thrust drove the boiling [Destruction Toxin], catalyzed by the aphrodisiac, directly into Victoria's core without an ounce of pity.
"Ah... Supreme Lord... it's too hot... my soul is burning through..."
Victoria threw her head back, her long, pale neck arching into a fragile, near-death curve. High-dimensional laws rampaged through her nervous system. The sensory overload—a terrifying collision of agonizing pain and cosmic, mind-melting pleasure—utterly annihilated the aristocratic pride she had harbored as a billionaire heiress.
When she tried to seduce this man, she thought she would be the one in control. Now, she felt like a lowly insect nailed to a cross, forcibly stripped of even her right to breathe. But what terrified her the most was her own body. Bathed in the Temple's secret potions for years, her flesh was developing a sick, pathological addiction to this apocalyptic, brutal violation!
Just as her brain was on the brink of being entirely scorched into a mindless husk.
BANG! BANG! BANG!
A sudden, violent, and frantic pounding erupted against the heavy solid oak door of the suite.
Although the soundproofing barrier was top-tier, the hysterical hammering and hoarse shouting still managed to faintly pierce the thick wood, reaching the sofa.
"Victoria! Are you in there?! Open the door!"
It was Tyler.
The fiancé who had pissed his pants and lost all face downstairs had finally recovered from his paralyzing terror. When he realized his fiancée hadn't come to comfort him, but had instead followed the very demon who ruined his life up to the top floor, his laughable male ego finally exploded.
"You bastard! Are you in there?! Open the fucking door! Victoria, answer me!" Tyler roared hysterically from the hallway. His voice was laced with the desperate, maddening rage of a man being actively cuckolded. He even began throwing his entire body weight against the door.
Hearing her fiancé's voice, Victoria's chaotic mind regained a split second of terrifying clarity.
Her entire body went rigid. An unprecedented, overwhelmingly intense wave of immorality and profound shame crashed over her. Her fiancé—the man who was supposed to be her stepping stone to the pinnacle of high society—was standing less than ten meters away, right behind that door! And here she was, in the most degraded, undignified posture imaginable, splayed over a sofa, being ruthlessly ravaged by another man!
Sensing the sudden stiffness of the 'vessel' beneath him, Caspian stopped his movements.
A flash of absolute, wicked mockery glinted in his abyssal purple eyes. He leaned down slightly, his freezing breath brushing against Victoria's flushed, burning earlobe.
"What's wrong? Hearing your fiancé's voice making you feel guilty?" Caspian's voice was a low, gravelly whisper, dripping with demonic temptation. "Do you need me to stop, so you can go open the door for him?"
"N-No... please, no!"
Victoria shrieked almost reflexively.
The exact second Caspian stopped moving, the dark, intoxicating energy that had been sending her to heaven abruptly withdrew. An unbearable, agonizing emptiness instantly swallowed her whole.
Driven by sheer panic and withdrawal, she abandoned every last shred of her dignity. She twisted around and desperately hugged Caspian's thigh, pressing her sweat-drenched, tear-stained face hard against the expensive fabric of his suit trousers.
"Please... please don't stop..." Victoria sobbed, her exquisite makeup entirely ruined. She begged like a starving, tail-wagging dog. "Don't pay attention to that worthless trash outside! He's just a piece of garbage who pisses his pants! He's not even worthy of a single strand of your hair! Please continue... fill me with your power... I'm just your bitch... please!"
Hearing his fiancée use the most vulgar words to degrade him while begging another man for sex—if Tyler could hear her through the door, he would likely drop dead from a ruptured aneurysm on the spot.
"Very good. That is the awareness a disposable container should have."
Caspian's eyes turned glacial, abandoning all restraint. He grabbed a fistful of Victoria's hair, slamming her face back down into the sofa as he initiated the final, most apocalyptic purge.
"GAAAHHHHH—!"
With one final, exceptionally brutal thrust, the remaining aphrodisiac in Caspian's system, along with the violent aftershocks of the Destruction Toxin, flooded into Victoria's spiritual sea like a bursting dam.
Just as Victoria's mental defenses were completely obliterated by the high-dimensional force, sending her into a blank, absolute climax...
Caspian's eyes suddenly erupted with a blinding violet light.
[Omega Exchange: Forced Extraction Protocol Initiated.]
He didn't need to torture this woman for answers. In this exact, vulnerable moment—when the 'Red Tea's' soul was completely blown wide open and defenseless—Caspian's high-dimensional consciousness sliced into the deepest recesses of her brain like a surgical scalpel.
Countless memory fragments flashed frantically across Caspian's vision. He saw the hypocritical face of the Temple's Archbishop. He saw Victoria kneeling before a deity's statue, accepting her "harvester" mission.
Finally, the imagery locked onto an abandoned industrial zone on the outskirts of Sancta Lodo—an outer blood-sacrifice transit station disguised as a warehouse. The memories revealed that the perimeter of this outer base was covered in dense, triple-layered biological barriers and an incredibly strict soul-recognition system.
Just an outer transit hub?
Caspian frowned slightly, then sneered. The coordinates and visuals had already been engraved into the Exchange.
It seemed this arrogant woman was nothing but a low-level fringe asset in the eyes of the Temple. She didn't possess the clearance to know the location of the true core altar where the [Apex-Tier] Saintess was imprisoned.
However, this confirmed the Temple's cunning. If he simply used brute force to shatter the barriers of that outer base now, he would alert the snake in the grass. The Temple's high echelons would instantly relocate the true 'sacrifice.' He needed a legitimate "physical key" to infiltrate silently.
And that "key" was the Temple brand embedded inside the woman beneath him.
The Toxin was purged; the intel was secured. The residual value of this disposable container had been entirely drained. Caspian withdrew without a single ounce of lingering attachment.
Victoria slid off the edge of the sofa like a puddle of melted mud, collapsing softly onto the rug. Her eyes stared blankly at the ceiling as she gasped for air. Her body continued to violently, uncontrollably convulse, looking exactly like a thoroughly broken doll.
Caspian took his time buckling the metal clasp of his Hermes belt. He adjusted his suit cuffs. From beginning to end, there wasn't a single visible wrinkle on his midnight-black bespoke suit.
He didn't spare the woman on the floor another glance. He turned and walked toward the door with an unhurried, leisurely stride.
Click.
The electronic deadbolt disengaged, and the heavy solid oak door was violently yanked open from the inside.
Tyler, who had been bracing himself to slam his shoulder into the wood again, was caught completely off guard. He lost his balance and stumbled pathetically into the suite's entryway.
He raised his bloodshot eyes, staring at the impeccably dressed, god-like Caspian towering over him. Then, his gaze bypassed Caspian's legs and fell upon the depths of the suite... landing on his barely-clothed, paralyzed fiancée, who was radiating a heavy, unmistakable scent of debauchery.
Victoria presented a twisted, thoroughly broken posture. Her exquisite body, usually deemed untouchable by Sancta Lodo's elite, was splayed out in an undignified, wide 'X' on the dark Persian rug. Her meticulously styled golden curls were soaked with sweat and tears, plastered like wet straw against her unnaturally flushed cheeks.
The hundred-thousand-dollar haute couture gown had been reduced to black rags, dangling loosely from her trembling ankles and elbows. Her provocative lace lingerie was violently torn, the frayed edges biting into the skin of her hips and thighs, leaving deep red welts. But what drove Tyler to absolute despair was the sight of her snow-white skin, now littered with shocking, dark-purple bruises and brutal fingerprints—the permanent brands of Caspian's violation.
Even more terrifying was the faint, dark-purple mist of residual Destruction Toxin steaming off her ravaged body. Under the evaporation of that mist, her every pore seemed to exude a sickeningly sweet, primal musk. A viscous mixture of her own fluids and Caspian's dark energy trailed down her quivering, uncloseable thighs, leaving a dark, wet stain on the expensive rug.
Victoria's eyes were vacant, her pupils entirely dilated. Her body occasionally convulsed as residual high-dimensional currents arced through her nervous system. Even hearing Tyler's agonizing presence, her eyeballs didn't so much as twitch in his direction. Only a series of weak, mindless, satisfied whimpers slipped from her throat.
Tyler's brain exploded with a deafening buzz. He felt his very soul being ripped apart. Letting out a desperate, feral roar, he raised his fist, lunging at Caspian: "I'LL FUCKING KILL YOU, YOU ANIMAL!!!"
Yet, Caspian didn't even look at him. Acting as if he were stepping over a foul-smelling bag of garbage, Caspian simply walked right past him.
Accompanying his stride was a high-dimensional spatial pressure. Tyler didn't even brush against the hem of Caspian's suit before that terrifying, invisible weight slammed him face-down into the carpet. He couldn't move a single finger. He could only watch helplessly as that noble, broad back walked toward the elevator, mixing his humiliated tears with the snot running down his face.
"Elena."
Caspian stepped into the elevator, pressing the button for the underground garage. He tapped his earpiece, his voice returning to its chilling, absolutely cold, and rational cadence.
"I have the coordinates for the outer blood-sacrifice transit hub. Scrub the security footage for this entire building."
As the elevator doors slowly closed before him, the violet glow in Caspian's eyes flickered with the calculating, deadly light of a predator.
The Temple's defense network was tight, but he had infinite patience. Now, all he needed to do was wait in the underground garage for a few minutes. A certain "guide dog," thoroughly broken and domesticated, would soon crawl down to him on her own, wagging her tail to offer him the key.