I watched from the observation balcony as Marcus finally collapsed. He was on his knees, his broadsword clattering onto the obsidian floor with a hollow ring. He was gasping for air, but every breath only pulled more of the aphrodisiac mist into his system. His plate armor was a wreck, hanging off him in useless shards, exposing the trembling, sweat-slicked man beneath.
He was a Level 5 Warrior, a man who could likely kill me in a fair fight, but here, in the throat of the Wife-Stealer, he was a child.
I stepped out of the shadows, my boots clicking rhythmically on the stone. The sound was like a hammer on a nail. Marcus looked up, his eyes bloodshot and watery, his pupils dilated to the point of madness.
"You fought well, Marcus," I said, my voice smooth and pitiless. "You crossed the forest. You braved the dark. All for a woman who has already forgotten your name."
"Give her... back..." he wheezed, his hand reaching feebly for his sword. He couldn't even close his fingers around the hilt; his fine motor skills had been incinerated by the mist.
"I think I'll give you a front-row seat instead," I smiled.
I accessed the system menu, the violet glow reflecting in my eyes. I had been saving my DP for this exact moment.
[Dungeon Point Expenditure: 250 DP]
[Item Manifested: Cursed Shackles of the Voyeur]
Dark purple chains, thick as a man's wrist and cold as the void, surged from the cracks in the floor. They didn't just bind him; they hunted him. They wrapped around his wrists and ankles, dragging him spread-eagle against the wall.
These weren't ordinary restraints. I had enchanted them to keep the wearer in a state of permanent, agonizing sensitivity. The shackles acted as a magical conductor, vibrating in sync with the Wife-Stealing Rod. He would feel every heartbeat, every breath, and every sound with a hundred times the intensity of a normal man.
"No... kill me... please..." Marcus sobbed, his head lolling against the stone.
"Not yet," I said, leaning down to whisper in his ear. "The show hasn't even started. I want you to see what 'love' looks like when the vows are stripped away."
I signaled the Imps. They grabbed the chains, cackling as they dragged the shackled, shivering warrior toward the heavy oak door of Sarah's quarters. Marcus tried to resist, his heels scraping uselessly against the obsidian, but he was a passenger in his own nightmare now.
I followed behind them, the Rod pulsing in my hand. I could feel Sarah on the other side of that door. She was waiting. She was hungry. And Marcus was about to find out that the greatest pain isn't the edge of a sword, but the sound of a loved one's betrayal.
[Julian Level: 5]
[Marcus Status: Broken Observer / Mental Health: 35%]
[DP Balance: 150]