By The Blood

The lost quivered for a moment. Perhaps he was one of the few who had bedded with Blue. "She still remains. I will make the request and return shortly." He bowed deeply and walked off with quick strides.

Jean folded her arms, waiting. It had been a long time since she had spoken to Mistress Cornelia, who bore one of the three colors: Blue. She was one of the three mistresses beneath the Matriarch, and rumors suggested she was beyond the desolation class. Of course, Jean suspected this might be true, as the Mistresses oversaw the pavilion and reported only to the Matriarch herself. As for the Matriarch, Jean had only ever heard one word associated with her: Wings.

Jean found a pillar and leaned against it, watching as men and women exited the building. She glanced at the floor, which was covered in long red rugs. The material served two purposes: to add uniqueness to the building and to hide the dust that had been tracked in. No one knew exactly when the dust started falling. Some said it began during the Unification Era, when the Sovereign and the 11 gods fought back the other races, reclaiming the continent for humanity. Not that she was particularly interested in history.

"Vyrelen?" a voice asked.

Jean turned to see that the lost had returned.

"This way, Vyrelen."

Jean debated whether to offer him a charming smile. For someone as deeply entrenched in pleasure as he was, even a small gesture could send waves of bliss through him. They walked down a narrower hallway, entering corridors that took them farther from the main passage. Finally, the lost stopped at a corner, bowing low and gesturing for Jean to continue. Faint moans could be heard from the chamber to the right.

Jean hesitated. Even she wouldn’t appreciate being interrupted while giving pleasure, so would Mistress Cornelia be all right with it? She decided to wait for a few moments, bidding the lost farewell and flashing him that smile. The lost quivered, his legs shaking, and soon, his robes revealed a dark wet spot between his legs. The man bowed and quickly departed, likely to indulge himself with her image fresh in his mind. Jean found that unsettling.

She waited a while longer. Mistress Cornelia was a high-class vixen with monstrous endurance—so much so that no single man, except perhaps a powerful sanguine above the special class, could satisfy her. After some time, the moans faded, and Jean smiled before striding into the chamber.

The room was vast. Tall pillars supported the ceiling, and a bed that spanned the width of seven men stood in the center. A red sheet lay crumpled over it, scattered across numerous men who were all passed out. To the left of the room were desks adorned with various jewels, perfumes, and makeup. The scent of pleasure filled the air, causing Jean’s head to spin for a moment. She regained control, but her resolve almost faltered when her eyes fell upon the Mistress.

Standing in the corner of the room, drinking water from a glass jar, was the tall figure of Cornelia. Jean had always known the Mistress was stunningly beautiful, but it seemed that since their last encounter, the woman had ascended to an even higher level of beauty.

It was an intoxicating, entrancing allure—one that made the heart long to forsake everything in pursuit of it. A beauty capable of compelling a man to do something as reckless as warring against the empire. Jean realized once again that beauty could always surpass expectations and become more intense.

Cornelia was tall and slender, her skin clear, radiant, and smooth. She had narrow, sharply defined eyebrows and curly blue hair, which cascaded down her back like a waterfall, reaching past the middle. Her face was triangular with a narrow jawline, and her inviting, slightly dazed red eyes were captivating. She wore a simple, faint pink dress that revealed parts of her legs with a front slit. Jean’s heart raced. She wanted nothing more than to run and kiss those feet. In fact, she desired every inch of that body, but her will restrained her. Jean loved giving pleasure, not receiving it.

Jean entered the room, doing her best to focus on the chandelier and wall-mounted lamps. She preferred looking at them rather than the Mistress, whose very presence stirred her desire.

Jean watched Cornelia drink water. Even that simple action was so overwhelming that for a moment, Jean abandoned all reason. Just then, Cornelia gestured for her to approach.

Jean hurried over. "Mistress," she said, "I've returned from my mission." She reached into a side pouch—a squarish brown bag attached to her side—and pulled out a glass-like ring, handing it to her.

"In just a week?" Cornelia asked with an entrancing smile. "You work quickly, like a succubus."

Jean felt a jolt. Did this mean what she thought it did? Would she finally be allowed to fuse?

"I'm impressed with you," Cornelia continued, holding the ring up to her eyes, and inspecting it. "I have something for you."

A gift?

Cornelia smiled, placed the ring on the desk, and reached for a small brown box. She clicked it open and took out a tiny black spider.

Jean’s heart raced. Is that Susan?

Cornelia’s gaze fixed on her. "It’s Susan. She’s evolved into a demonic black widow spider." She brought the small, stiff creature close to her lips and blew on it. A faint bluish mist swirled from her mouth, curling around the spider and seeping into its body.

Physical mana! Mana wasn’t typically a physical force; it came from a being's spirit. To manifest it so clearly meant it was potent. A perk of desolation? Jean watched as Susan’s legs began to twitch.

A demonic black widow spider? Susan was previously an infected widow spider, so does that mean she’s fused? But fusion requires intelligence, right? Fusing was a conscious choice a being had to make for themselves, so Susan’s ability to do so puzzled Jean.

"She was fused using external means," Cornelia said, handing over the spider. "I did it."

Jean took the spider, watching as it crawled into her clothes. It tingled slightly and felt a bit itchy—a wonderful, nostalgic sensation. Jean smiled. "Thank you, Mistress." She bowed her head.

"Think of it as a gift from the Mother," Cornelia said softly. "She is pleased with you."

"Praise the Mother!" Jean exclaimed fervently.

Cornelia continued, "She has the power to spread a plague, a disease she has previously ingested. She can also create invisible spider webs that cannot be burned or cut by physical means. By feeding her your blood, she will develop a connection with you, allowing you to control her as if she were an extension of yourself, along with all of her abilities. Finally, by biting into you, Susan can render both you and herself invisible."

That's a lot of abilities. And Susan endured all that? Jean opened her hands, and the spider crawled out of her clothes and into her palms. She pulled out a dagger from her outfit, slit her finger, and let a drop of blood fall onto the spider. The pain was negligible—less than what she experienced when using mana.

As the blood dripped onto the spider, it moved excitedly, then lowered its head to drink. In that instant, Jean’s mind blurred. Sounds became faint and doubled, as though she were hearing them from two different sets of ears. No, it wasn’t hearing exactly—it was more like she was feeling the sounds. The vibrations of the ground, the pounding from distant forge factories—all of it merged into a sort of three-dimensional awareness. This lasted for several moments before fading.

"Oh, I forgot to mention the physical benefits," Cornelia added. "You also inherit her heightened senses."

I’ll never be caught off guard again! Jean realized the implications of this new power. It almost made her forget about her desire to fuse her components as a hex-bane and a vixen to become a succubus. Considering what she had just received, it seemed wise to bring that up another time.

"Thank you, Mistress!" Jean said gratefully.

"You're welcome," Cornelia replied with a wave of her hand. "Is there anything else?"

Jean’s expression grew serious. "I made contact with a vortex."

Cornelia hesitated. "Everything has a vortex, Jean," she said, walking over and sitting on the edge of her bed. "What exactly do you mean?"

Jean carefully organized her thoughts. "I teleported but ended up being pulled into the astra. There, in the center of a swirling mass of white light, I saw a boy." She hesitated before adding, "I was being drawn toward him."

"You already are," Cornelia said. "The fact that you saw it means you’ve been pulled into its events. That’s inevitable." A solemn expression crossed her face. "Everything has a vortex, but most aren’t strong enough to cause significant attraction. However, beings of importance or those above the advanced class have a certain pull. The higher one’s class, the stronger and more profound their vortex becomes. But if you encountered one that manifested physically, it means the pull was so strong that it defied logic."

Defied logic? Jean didn’t know much about vortices. In fact, no one at her level did. It was sheer luck that Cornelia had told her anything about them at all. Jean only knew the basics: that everything had a vortex, and it existed in the Astra in some form.

"What exactly is a vortex?" Jean asked, hoping that perhaps the Mistress would explain further now.

Cornelia studied her for a moment before responding. "A vortex is a fundamental law in this world. Some refer to it as the law of attraction, but it’s really a spiral of events that lead toward something. Imagine a man destined to meet the love of his life. The events that bring him to her can be attributed to the vortex that emanates from the woman. Everything has a vortex, and its purpose is to draw all living things toward its bearer. Usually, a vortex isn’t strong enough to override a person’s will or decisions, but as one’s class rises, so does the power of their vortex, making it impossible to resist. In time, illogical events may even unfold to pull others into it." She paused for a moment. "This is what you need to know for now, although there’s much more to it."

Jean’s thoughts jumbled as she tried to comprehend this "law." Events will be forced to happen to bring others closer to the vortex. An attraction that cannot be resisted. But what kinds of events?

"It’s also easier to imagine the imprint of a being in the astra as their vortex," Cornelia added.

An imprint in the astra? Jean thought. "What should I do about the boy?" she asked.

"Perhaps the Mother will tell you."

"The Mothe—" Jean suddenly buckled to her knees. A piercing voice reverberated through her skull, sending sharp jolts of pain through her body. The agony was far greater than anything she had experienced during her evolutions, and if she didn’t regain control, she felt she might break. The pain brought with it a strange but familiar sensation, like snakes slithering within her mind. It was excruciating. But soon, the pain subsided, leaving her head coated in a layer of itchy cold sweat. She panted heavily.

Why had the Mother spoken to her in front of Cornelia? Now the Mistress had witnessed this moment of weakness!

Jean stood up, brushing off her clothes and her emotions. She preferred not to address her reaction right now.

"Was that the Mother?" Cornelia asked, seemingly unfazed by Jean’s recent state.

"Yes," Jean admitted honestly. Why had the Mother spoken to her?

"What did She say?"

Hesitating for a moment. "She said I should stay with the boy. Follow, serve, and do anything he wants of me" A frown tugged on her brows.

"Then it's done," Cornelia said, passively.