Primordial Lust System

Elsewhere under the cover of the moonlight, a youth lay in a dimly lit room, his eyes shut, his body still, almost giving the illusion he was dead. Until he wasn't.

Shhhhhhh! Inhaling deeply, the youth rose, his breath ragged as he looked across the room. His face creased into a frown before breaking into full-blown hysterical laughter.

"…It worked… After billions of years… I have mastered the Supreme Extraction Art… hahahaha… hahahaha… hahahaha!"

His laughter echoed, but was soon cut short as he coughed multiple times, blood lacing each cough.

Calming himself, he looked around. The shack was made of wood, with wide gaps that allowed the wind to stream in, rattling the walls.

Getting to his feet, he picked up a shard of mirror from a broken table beside him. Staring back was a youth with black hair and pale, sunken black eyes. 'Skinny' didn't even begin to describe how starved he looked.

"Who?" he growled. He, Azrael Chaos, master of the Nine Eternal Realms of Chaos, was now a frail youth?

Still, he wasn't disturbed in the least. Sending his fractured soul across dimensions to possess a mortal body was the easy part.

But mastering the Supreme Extraction Art had taken billions of years. And when he learned he had to be newly awakened to practice it, destroying his body and everything he had cultivated to that point was the least of his concerns. If anything, he was glad to do it.

Tapping into the boy's memories, a smile cracked his lips as everything pertaining to this world flashed into his mind.

[Eren Greyson, orphaned at birth after the city was invaded by beasts. Taken in by his mother's sister and integrated into the Greyson family as a poor relative's child. Treated like a slave. Awakened with no talent. Discarded into this shack.]

"So, I, the almighty Azrael Chaos, master of the nine eternal realms, have taken on the body of a weak farmer's boy enslaved by his own family?"

"Hahahaha, great!" the youth burst out maniacally. The woes of the boy were the least of his concerns. Which galaxy, reality, planet, or realm was this? He was as clueless as could be, and the youth he possessed couldn't be blamed for that.

"Looks like I'll have to find out myself then."

Just as the words slipped out, the door burst open. A figure wearing an assassin's mask, holding twin blades that glinted under the moonlight, came into view. Her body was drenched with water from the storm outside.

His eyes pierced into hers, a question forming at the back of his mind before he voiced it, amused: "An assassin?"

As if in confirmation, the figure sprang into action. Her form blinked before his eyes, and before he could react, his body was sent flying. Part of his ribs cracked as he collided with the wall.

"Weak," the youth growled. This body was far weaker than expected.

His emotionless eyes stared back at her. Countless techniques surfaced in his mind, but the body he wielded would be atomized to dust if he even spoke their names. His mind raced before finally clicking, a technique came to him, all accomplished in the span of a second.

While his body was frail, his mind was quite the opposite. Another second passed before a plan came together. When the figure flicked again, he put it into motion.

"Who… who are you… and why are you hurting me?" he asked, his body trembling. A mock look of fear ingrained itself on his face as though he had been born with it.

Silence answered him, followed by another brutal kick to the belly. He was sent flying again, his innards twisting under the sheer force of the blow. Still, not a whisper escaped his lips. He continued his facade, yelling at the top of his lungs, no different from a pig being slaughtered.

"Please… no more! Whatever you were promised… I'll double it!" he pleaded, sliding across the cold floor.

A cold click of the tongue answered him. That was enough as a thought surfaced at the back of his mind. A woman?

He smirked inwardly. His hand reached to the back of his head, where the impact had flared the sharpest pain.

Retracting it, he found it smeared with blood before pressing his palm against the floor.

Another kick slammed into his chin, sending him flying again. Yet, if one looked closely, the bloodied youth's handprint on the ground wasn't random, it formed a complicated rune. The same was true for the places he'd touched before. And soon, as he was thrown around like a ragdoll, a pattern emerged. It grew clearer, transforming into a formation.

The youth finally lay still, bruises covering his entire body. The assassin stopped before him. This time, instead of kicking, one twin blade rested at his neck while the other followed.

"Your suffering was demanded by those who seek your death. Now that you've endured it, I'll give you a quick one. Any last words?"

The youth's face lit up faintly. Struggling, his lips parted, and to the assassin's surprise, a wicked smile graced his face. The facade of weakness shattered.

A cold feeling washed over her body. Just as she raised her blade to slash his throat, the youth's voice rang out: "Activate!"

Chains of crimson suddenly rose from the bloody marks, painting the room a sinister red. They coiled around the woman, binding her completely, chaining her in place.

Streams of red energy flowed into the youth's body. In an entrancing display, his wounds closed, his pale face regaining color.

As his body recovered, his eyes regained their sharpness. Rising to his feet, he smirked at the chained assassin.

"What have you done to me?! Release me this instant or—"

"Or what?!" the youth snapped, stepping closer, irritation breaking through for the first time.

He halted before her and, in one swift motion, knocked the mask from her face.

"Oooh, a pretty face?" he snickered, staring deep into her blue eyes. Her jade-like skin glistened under the light, her short dark hair framing her delicate features.

"You'll do for now," he muttered, circling behind her.

With a wicked grin, his hand slammed down on her ass, eliciting a surprised yelp.

"You've been a bad, bad girl. Time for punishment," he whispered, the Supreme Extraction Art coming to mind.

An embarrassed shriek followed. "Release me, peasant! I'd rather die than submit!"

The youth smiled coldly, his hand still on her ass. "Oh, I never asked for your permission."

With that, his fingers tore through the fabric covering her rear.