I lay flat on my back in the center of the massive canopy bed, staring up at the vaulted stone ceiling. The room was cool, lit only by the dying embers in the hearth and the faint, rhythmic pulse of the violet runes carved into the walls. I tried to close my eyes, to let the exhaustion of the day take me, but sleep was a ghost I couldn't catch.
Everything was moving too fast. One day I was a guy from the countryside, and the next, I was the "Lord of Convergence." I had been bathed and worshipped by a sisterhood of gorgeous mages, bonded with Deborah in a ritual that still made my skin tingle, and then—the crown jewel of my afternoon—I had summoned a literal apocalypse in high-heels and black plate armor.
"Zeraphis D. Umbriel," I whispered to the empty room.
The name felt heavy on my tongue. Four centuries ago, she had been a scourge, a shadow that moved across the four continents leaving nothing but ash and silenced mages in her wake. And now? Now she was bound to my very soul. I hadn't just made a contract; I had claimed "Internal Ownership." I owned a monster.
Am I the hero here, or am I just the biggest threat this world has ever seen? I wondered. If I'm supposed to save people from the Black Emperor, why does my primary weapon look like a woman who would enjoy watching the world burn?
I sat up, the silk sheets sliding off my chest. "Fuck me," I muttered into the dark. "I might actually be cooked."
The air in the room suddenly grew colder. A faint, metallic clatter echoed from the corner where the shadows were darkest. I didn't need to see her to know she was there. The bond was hummimg, a low-frequency vibration in my gut that told me exactly where my "shadow" was standing.
"Zeraphis," I commanded, my voice steadier than I felt. "Come out of the dark."
She stepped into the amber glow of the firelight. She had discarded her heavy armor, wearing only the thin, sleeveless black tunic. The silver scar on her face caught the light, making her look both fragile and incredibly lethal. She stood at the foot of my bed, her arms crossed, watching me with those haunting violet eyes.
"You call for me even in your dreams, Master?" she purred, her voice a low rasp that filled the quiet room. "Or are you finally realizing that you've tethered yourself to a hurricane?"
I smiled, the sheer absurdity of the situation finally settling in. "Zeraphis D. Umbriel. A literal monster from the ages."
She was a marvel of dark design. Up close, without the chaos of the battlefield, she was breathtakingly beautiful and utterly terrifying. My eyes roamed over her silhouette. Under that jagged black armor, she was built like a goddess of war—broad shoulders, a narrow waist, and a chest that clearly promised more than Deborah's. I found myself wondering about the logistics of a villainess. Did she even have a history with men, or did she simply execute anyone who dared to look her in the eye?
The thought of sex with a summoned spirit—especially one as legendary as her—sent a jolt of heat through me. She was a far cry from the minor succubus I'd failed to summon earlier. She was the real thing.
I reached out, my fingers tracing the silver scar on her cheek. Surprisingly, she didn't recoil. Her eyes fluttered shut for a heartbeat, a strange, silent moment of vulnerability before I slid my hands down to the cold, dark metal of her breastplate.
"It seems my new master is a pervert," Zeraphis rasped, her voice dripping with dry amusement.
I blinked, caught off guard. "Wait—what? Come on, it's not what you think. I'm just... familiarizing myself with my summon. Tactile research."
"Hmm. I have served masters with similar 'research' interests before," Zeraphis said, her violet eyes snapping open. "They generally didn't live long enough to touch me the rest of the way."
A chill ran down my spine, but I didn't move my hand. "Is that a threat? Will you kill me, Zeraphis?"
She looked down at my hand on her armor, then back at my face, her lips curling into a snarl of pure frustration. "As much as I wish to gut you and every other weakling in this tower, I cannot. The bond you've forged is... unnatural. I am tethered to your heartbeat. To kill you would be to vanish back into the void, and I find I quite like the smell of fresh air."
She was exactly what the legends said: a spirit fueled by hate, pride, and centuries of slaughter. But the "Internal Ownership" Deborah mentioned was real. She was a tiger on a very short, very strong leash.
"It's a good thing you can't kill me, then," I said, regaining my confidence. I stepped closer, closing the gap until our chests were almost touching. "So, will you obey every command I give you? Without hesitation?"
"My purpose is to serve," she said, her voice dropping to a low, mocking hiss. "Lord Pervert."
"Lord Pervert? That's a new one," I said, raising an eyebrow. I could feel the power of the bond vibrating between us. I had absolute authority over the woman who had nearly ended civilization. It was time to see just how deep that authority went.
I leaned in, my voice dropping to a whisper. "Then let's start with something simple. Take off the armor, Zeraphis. All of it."
Zeraphis froze. A flash of genuine, murderous rage crossed her face, followed immediately by the dull, glazed look of the bond enforcing my will. Her hands moved to the leather straps of her pauldrons, her fingers trembling with the effort of trying to resist a command she was physically incapable of ignoring.
"As you wish... Master," she spat, the word sounding like a curse as the first piece of black steel clattered to the floor.
Zeraphis moved with a slow, agonizing precision, her eyes locked onto mine with a look that was half-murderous and half-mesmerized.
As the heavy breastplate fell away, it revealed a tattered black linen tunic that she peeled off with a frustrated hiss. The reveal was breathtaking. Her skin was the color of cream, flawlessly smooth except for the silver battle-scars that traced patterns across her ribs like lightning bolts.
Her breasts were magnificent—heavy and firm, larger even than Deborah's, with deep violet-tinted nipples that peaked against the cool air of the chamber. As she breathed, they swayed slightly, the weight of them apparent with every movement.
She reached for the clasps of her tattered breeches, her fingers trembling under the weight of my command. As the fabric pooled at her ankles, she stepped out of it, standing before me in nothing but her pride.
Her waist was narrow and athletic, tapering down into wide, powerful hips that spoke of her heritage as a warrior queen. Below, her thighs were thick and muscular, capable of crushing a man's ribs, leading down to long, elegant legs. Nestled between those thighs was a dense, neatly trimmed triangle of white hair, matching the brilliant shock of her mane.
She stood there, a masterpiece of violence and beauty, her body glistening faintly in the firelight. Despite her anger, I could see her pulse jumping in the hollow of her throat—the physical manifestation of the bond forcing her body to react to my gaze.
"Is this... research... to your satisfaction, Master?" she rasped, her chest heaving as she struggled to maintain her dignity while completely exposed. The silver scar on her face seemed to glow in the dim light, making her look like a dark goddess of the moon.
"Can I touch those huge tits of yours?" I asked, though it wasn't really a question. My hands were already moving, my palms connecting with the heavy, warm weight of her breasts.
She didn't answer, but she didn't pull away. Her body was a paradox—solid as a statue but soft as silk. As I cupped her, the sheer scale of her was incredible; they filled my hands completely. I gave them a firm, possessive squeeze, and the legendary Dark Knight let out a sharp, involuntary gasp, her back arching slightly.
"So, summoned spirits can feel pleasure too?" I murmured, more to myself than her.
I let my hands wander, tracing the firm, athletic line of her stomach down toward the white bush between her powerful thighs. When my fingers brushed against her center, I felt the unmistakable slickness of her heat. She was already dripping.
"Summoned spirits can also get wet?" I smiled, looking up at her.
Zeraphis bit her lip, her head lolling back as a soft, helpless moan escaped her throat. The "Internal Ownership" was doing more than just making her obey; it was synchronizing our desires. Her body was betraying her pride in real-time.
"Let's try this," I said, positioning my fingers to slide inside her, eager to see just how deep this "research" could go.
CLACK.
The heavy iron door swung open on its hinges.
"My Lord, we need to discuss the mana stabilization for tomorrow's—"
Deborah froze mid-sentence. She stood in the doorway, her eyes wide as dinner plates, taking in the scene: the "Lord of Convergence" standing over the naked, glistening, and very much aroused villainess who had nearly wiped out her ancestors.