The air shifted as Sarzi Uno arrived—like a hush falling over a rowdy tavern. Clad in tightly-fitted leather garments that accentuated her curves, she strode into the hall with a quiet grace only a woman who had spent her life in spiritual purity could carry. Her long braid swung behind her, and her eyes—cool, sharp, unreadable—scanned the room with detachment.
Despite her celibacy, or perhaps because of it, there was something dangerously magnetic about her. A fire untouched. A mystery unsolved.
The Emperor—still flushed from his recent conquest—stared at her as if he had seen a vision from the heavens. His usually fierce gaze softened, lips parting slightly in awe. His robe, loosely wrapped, barely concealed the lingering signs of arousal. A twitch below. A bulge that no one dared mention but all eyes noticed.
Sarzi caught the look. That unmistakable undressing-you-with-my-eyes look. But she assumed it was misdirected—perhaps a leftover lust from the concubine, Ariel, still lounging by the throne, her eyes glazed in post-ecstasy stupor, her lips curved in a lazy, satisfied smile.
Across the hall, Empress Vashti—the first of the emperor's eight queens and eight concubines—watched the scene unfold like a tired play. Her face was a mask of royal disdain, but beneath it, a knowing smirk tugged at her lips. After all, her bedroom had long gone cold. She had taken on lovers of her own, lithe dancers and quiet-faced soldiers who never spoke unless asked to moan.
It was no secret. Not in this palace. Whispers of lust and midnight affairs were as common as the scent of incense. Everyone played a role. Everyone sinned.
Adolph Li stood to the side, arms folded, expression stoic. But even he could feel the heat crawling into the air. He wanted no part in it. Only his mission mattered.
"My Lord Emperor," Sarzi bowed, her voice cool and respectful, "you summoned me?"
The Emperor cleared his throat, blinking himself back into authority. "Reagent Adolph reports a new rising power in Region 32. The people call him the Dragon. I want to know... is this man a threat to my reign? Or a gift?"
Sarzi blinked. The name rang like a bell in her mind. She had seen this figure before... It was similar to the case of the vision of the return of Josh Aratat. The vision returned—the king, the army, the sword.
The same trio.
She knew it was him. She also knew the Emperor wouldn't want the truth.
She closed her eyes and summoned the vision again, holding up a white cloth. The world behind her lids shimmered. Images surged—a crown burning, thunder rolling, blood flowing like river, a lone man standing atop a mountain, blood on his blade.
She opened her eyes slowly.
"My Emperor," she said carefully, "I see nothing but a short-lived ruler. A flicker in the wind. No threat to you."
It was a lie. But it was a safe lie.
The Emperor sighed in relief, his shoulders relaxing. Then, he waved his hand with mock casualness.
"You are all dismissed. Priestess Sarzi... stay. I must speak with you privately."
The room stilled. Eyes flicked between them. Ariel smirked knowingly, brushing her thigh lazily. Vashti rolled her eyes. Adolph didn't need to be told twice—he vanished like smoke in wind.
Sarzi hesitated, but nodded. "Yes, my lord."
Her priestesses bowed and left as well. She followed the Emperor down a gold-lit corridor, deeper into the palace, past red curtains and scented halls, until they reached a private chamber—one of the Emperor's infamous pleasure rooms.
The guards exchanged glances as they passed, one biting his lip, the other struggling to hide a rising bulge. Lust was in the air, thick like perfume.
Inside the chamber, the door closed with a heavy thud. The Emperor turned.
"Priestess..." he said, voice thick, "I never realized how beautiful you were... not until today."
Sarzi's stomach turned. She took a step back.
"My Lord—please. I am sworn to the gods. If you touch me, I will lose my gift. My visions will end. I will be cast out. Another will take my place."
"You'll be my Empress. The ninth. Not some fleeting concubine." He stepped closer, already undoing his robe. "I'll make you mother to a child of divine blood. The gods will rejoice, not scorn us."
Sarzi's heart pounded in her chest. "Please. I will select a maiden from among my followers. She will serve you gladly. But do not take this from me. I beg of you."
The Emperor's face darkened.
"Will you obey… or must I take what I desire?"
His voice now carried the weight of threat. His eyes were no longer dazed—they were burning. Hungry.
Sarzi looked at the door. There was no escape. Not from Emperor Groa. Not in his palace. Not in this empire.
And so the chamber grew quiet, except for the heavy breathing of a man drunk on power and lust…
…and the silent prayer of a priestess cornered by fate.
After a long pause, with trembling fingers and a heart that beat like a war drum, Sarzi Uno slowly began to peel off her leather top. The tight material clung to her like second skin, hissing faintly as it slid from her smooth, unmarked flesh. Her curves shimmered in the candlelight, and despite the fear that bubbled in her chest, her grace was undeniable—like a moonlit goddess forced to undress under a predator's gaze.
The Emperor watched in growing hunger, his robe now fallen to reveal the full outline of his desire. His breaths grew deeper, heavier. Each movement she made, each step back she took, was like a drop of oil feeding the fire in his loins.
Down came the leather trousers—slowly, unwillingly—revealing her modest undergarment. Her thighs, shaped by years of ritual training, glistened with a faint sheen of sweat. She had been untouched her entire life, a vessel of purity and power. But now, that vessel was about to be shattered.
Emperor Groa could wait no longer.
With a sudden growl, he lunged at her like a wild beast loosed from its cage. She barely had time to scream before his powerful arms locked around her like iron bars. Her back hit the silken mattress of the pleasure chamber, and he pinned her there, snarling and panting like a tiger over its prey. His mouth found her neck, his hands roamed wildly, and she felt like a gazelle trapped beneath the jaws of death.
Then, without pause, he began to move. Ruthlessly. Viciously. Like a boxer unleashing a barrage of blows, he pounded into her again and again, grunting with each thrust. The room echoed with his savage cries of triumph, while Sarzi Uno turned her face to the side, eyes brimming with tears. Her sobs were muffled by the heavy pillows beneath her head, her pleas swallowed by the violence of his lust.
Outside the chamber, the guards stood frozen. Their spears firm, their postures tighter than stone—but their trousers betrayed them. They shifted uncomfortably, bulges pressing against the fabric as the sounds of the act inside slithered into their ears. Every moan and cry painted dirty pictures in their minds. A few maids hurried past, cheeks flushed and eyes averted, as the guards' stares clung to their backsides like shadows.
Inside, Sarzi Uno clutched at the sheets with white knuckles. She was a storm of pain, shame, and spiritual loss. Her very soul wept as the Emperor reached his peak, letting out a thunderous growl of pleasure that rattled the walls.
When it was finally over, he collapsed beside her, heaving and drenched in sweat, like a beast satisfied after a brutal feast. But Sarzi Uno lay still, her tears tracing quiet paths down her cheeks. She felt hollow. Empty. Broken.
…She sat up slowly, reaching beneath her garment for a tiny silver vial—an heirloom of the priestesses, carried for only the darkest hour. Her trembling fingers uncorked the poison as her eyes, red and puffy with tears, fixed on the sleeping emperor beside her.
Her voice broke through the thick silence, haunting and sharp, like a funeral dirge:
"I served you with all my heart, Emperor Groa. I offered you visions, guidance, loyalty... and this is how you repay me?"
Her eyes shimmered with fury now, not just sorrow.
"You've not only defiled me, Groa. You've defiled the gods themselves. You've torn down the veil between this world and the wrath beyond it."
The poison touched her lips, but before she drank, she lifted her head, and with a final breath filled with anguish and power, she spat out a curse that chilled the air:
"By the sacred light of Nualari and the shadows of the Eternal Flame...
Let your death be painful and slow and from one of your heirs.
Let your heirs war against each other in madness.
Let your nights be haunted by the cries of women you've broken.
Let your empire crumble—not with fire or sword, only, But also with betrayal, rot, and the slow blade of regret.
From this day forward, Groa, may every pleasure taste like ash in your mouth."
Her body began to convulse as the poison surged through her veins, lips foaming, fingers clawing at the sheets. But her eyes… her eyes glowed for a brief moment—unnaturally, eerily—before life fled from them.
She collapsed.
The room fell deathly still.
Groa, lost in slumber, didn't stir. But from the rafters above, a candle suddenly flickered and went out. A draft whispered across the chamber floor like an invisible messenger, cold and heavy with warning.
Outside the door, the guards stood straighter, shivering despite the warmth of the torches. They didn't know why. They couldn't explain it. But something had just changed.
Something ancient had just been unleashed.