The bomb vest was already beeping when Marcus Drake spotted it.
Shit.
Three seconds. Maybe four if the terrorist was using a cheap Chinese timer. The crowded marketplace around him—families, kids, street vendors—they had no idea. Just another Tuesday afternoon in Kabul.
Marcus's legs moved before his brain caught up. Military training. Sixteen years of it, drilled into muscle memory so deep he couldn't not react.
He tackled the suicide bomber. Hard. They both went down in a tangle of limbs and the guy's finger was already on the trigger—
BOOM.
Pain. White-hot, all-consuming, everything-is-fire pain.
Then nothing.
Then... something.
Awareness crept back slowly. Like surfacing from deep water. Everything felt wrong. Too warm. Too soft. His body—
Not his body.
Marcus's eyes snapped open.
Stone ceiling. Rough-hewn beams. A chandelier with actual fucking candles instead of bulbs. The bed beneath him was too big, too soft, piled with furs that smelled like... he didn't even know what. Something musky and expensive.
"What the fuck?"
The voice wasn't his either. Too young. Higher pitched. He sat up—moved wrong, this body was taller, leaner—and looked down at his hands.
Not his hands.
Smooth skin. No scars from the knife fight in Yemen. No burn marks from the Kandahar op. Long fingers, almost elegant. The hands of someone who'd never worked a day in his life.
Panic tried to claw its way up his throat. Marcus shoved it down through sheer force of will. Assess. Analyze. Adapt.
He swung his legs off the bed. Stood. The room spun for a second before his—this—body's equilibrium caught up. He moved to the mirror mounted on the far wall, and—
"Jesus Christ."
The face staring back wasn't Marcus Drake.
Eighteen, maybe nineteen years old. Sharp features, aristocratic. Black hair with a weird silver streak running through it. Dark grey eyes that looked almost black in the candlelight. Tall—he had to be six-two now. Lean muscle, the kind you got from training but not from real combat.
And he was wearing some kind of silk robe that probably cost more than Marcus's entire military salary.
"Okay," he said aloud, just to hear the voice again. "Either I'm dead and this is the weirdest afterlife ever, or—"
Memories hit him like a freight train.
Not his memories. Someone else's. Flooding in, overlapping with his own, a cascade of images and sensations and knowing that shouldn't be there—
Lucian Ashveil. That's this body's name.
Eighteen years old. Bastard son of Duke Theron Ashveil, one of the most powerful nobles in the Aetherium Empire. Mother: Elira, a fallen princess from a conquered kingdom, kept as the Duke's concubine.
Childhood memories: being mocked by his legitimate half-brothers. Training in secret because the Duke wouldn't pay for proper instructors. Watching his mother suffer in elegant captivity, powerless to help her.
And underneath it all, a burning sense of inadequacy. Of rage. Of being less in a world that valued power above all else.
Marcus—no, Lucian now—gripped the edge of the desk. The wood creaked under his fingers.
"Reincarnation," he muttered. "Transmigration. Whatever. I'm in someone else's body."
The bomb had killed him. He remembered the explosion. Remembered dying. And somehow, impossibly, he'd woken up here.
In a fantasy world.
With magic.
With—
More memories flooded in. Mana. Cultivation. The Mana Core system where people absorbed energy from the environment to grow stronger, breaking through ranks and realms to become superhuman. Foundation Rank. Adept Rank. Master Rank. All the way up to godhood if you were talented and lucky enough.
Lucian Ashveil was Foundation Realm 3, Peak stage. On the verge of breaking through to Adept Rank. Decent for his age, but nothing special. Certainly nothing compared to the true geniuses who reached Adept by sixteen.
And then another memory surfaced. One that made Marcus's blood run cold.
He'd read this story.
Not lived it. Read it.
Back on Earth, during his last deployment. A web novel he'd binge-read on his phone during downtime. "Chains of the Celestial Throne." Some cultivation story about a slave gladiator named Kai Vex who escaped captivity, entered a prestigious academy, and eventually became strong enough to challenge the corrupt empire itself.
Marcus had thought it was decent. Good action. Interesting magic system. The harem was a bit much but whatever, it sold.
And Lucian Ashveil?
"Oh fuck."
Lucian was in that story. A minor antagonist. Some arrogant young master who bullied the protagonist Kai Vex at the academy, got humiliated in a duel, and then—
Died in Chapter 67.
Killed by Kai in a tournament arc. Just another stepping stone for the protagonist's growth. Forgotten immediately after.
Marcus—Lucian—whoever the fuck he was now—felt his stomach drop.
"I'm a cannon fodder villain," he said to his reflection. "In a story I already read. And I die in Chapter 67."
The absurdity of it might have been funny if it wasn't so fucked.
He didn't know how far into the story he was. Lucian's memories didn't include any encounters with Kai Vex yet, which meant the academy arc hadn't started. But that could be months away. Weeks. Days.
"Okay. Okay. Think."
Marcus's training kicked in. Threat assessment. Resource evaluation. Strategic planning.
Assets:
Lucian's body (Foundation Realm 3, decent combat training)
Knowledge of the future (sort of)
Duke's bastard status (access to resources, if limited)
His own tactical mind from Earth (modern military strategy in a medieval fantasy world)
Liabilities:
Doomed to die in Chapter 67
Weak social position (bastard, looked down on)
Duke Theron is a piece of shit (Lucian's memories were very clear on that)
Mother Elira is essentially a prisoner
No idea when the plot actually starts
Objectives:
Survive Chapter 67
Gain power quickly
Protect his mother
Maybe kill the Duke (that was definitely on the to-do list)
Figure out why the hell he transmigrated in the first place
Marcus was still running through scenarios when the air in front of him... rippled.
He tensed, hand going instinctively for a weapon he didn't have. But instead of an enemy appearing, golden text materialized in the air like some kind of holographic display.
[SYSTEM INITIALIZATION COMPLETE]
[DOMINATION SYSTEM ACTIVATED]
[SCANNING HOST...]
[SCAN COMPLETE]
Welcome, Marcus Drake.
Or should I say... Lucian Ashveil? ♡
Marcus stared.
"What the—"
[SYSTEM INTERFACE ONLINE]
I am Aria, your Domination System.
Congratulations on your transmigration, Master~
Let's make you a God, shall we? ♡
The voice—and there was a voice now, sultry and feminine and definitely not coming from anywhere in the room—laughed. It echoed inside his skull, warm and teasing.
"Surprised? You should see your face right now. Adorable."
"Who the hell are you?" Marcus demanded. "What is this?"
"I just told you, didn't I? I'm Aria. Your System. Your partner in crime. Your ticket to unlimited power. Also, I can read your thoughts, so maybe calm down on the internal panic? It's very loud."
"You can—" Marcus cut himself off. "Explain. Now."
"Demanding already. I like that." The voice practically purred. "Fine. Short version: You died. Heroically, I might add—saving all those people from the bombing. Very selfless. Gold star for you."
"Get to the point."
"You were pulled into this world because you have... let's call it 'potential.' Your soul is strong. Resilient. Exactly what I needed for a host. So I grabbed you during the moment of death and shoved you into Lucian Ashveil's body."
"Why?"
"Because I need a champion. Someone who can rise to the top of this world. Someone who won't flinch at doing what's necessary. And you, Marcus Drake, are perfect." A pause. "Also because you're fun. I've been watching you for a while."
That should have been creepier than it was. Marcus filed it away as a problem for later.
"What do you want from me?"
"I want you to dominate this world. Build power. Conquer your enemies. Gather strength. And..." The voice turned playful. "Build a harem of beautiful, powerful women who will follow you to the ends of the earth. Domination in every sense of the word, Master."
"A harem." Marcus's voice was flat.
"Oh yes. This is a cultivation world, darling. Dual cultivation is a thing. Sexual energy can be converted to mana and power. And I reward you very, very generously for adding women to your harem." She giggled. "Trust me, you'll enjoy it."
Marcus pinched the bridge of his nose. "You're a sex System."
"I'm a DOMINATION System. Sex is just one part of it. I reward conquest. Victory. Subjugation. Breaking your enemies. Claiming what's yours. Becoming the strongest. Sex just happens to be the most fun part~"
"And if I refuse?"
The temperature in the room dropped. The playful tone vanished.
"Then you die in Chapter 67, exactly as scripted. Kai Vex cuts you down in front of thousands. Your mother watches helplessly. Your death means nothing. You're forgotten in the very next chapter."
The warmth returned as quickly as it had left.
"Or... you work with me. Gain power. Survive. Thrive. Fuck beautiful women. Become a God. Your choice, really."
Marcus hated that she had a point.
"What do you get out of this?"
"Entertainment. Power. A chance to see how far you can go. Think of me as a very invested spectator with the ability to give you cheat codes." A pause. "Also, I'm a fragment of something ancient and powerful that's been bored for a very long time. You're interesting. Don't disappoint me."
Well. That was ominous.
But Marcus had always been pragmatic. If this 'Aria' could give him the power to survive and change his fate, he'd use her. Figure out the catch later.
"Fine," he said. "Show me what you've got."
"Now we're talking!"
Golden text exploded across his vision.
[STATUS WINDOW]
Name: Lucian Ashveil (Marcus Drake)
Age: 18
Rank: Foundation Realm 3 (Peak) - 87% to Adept Realm 1
Core Stats:
Strength: 42 [4x normal human]
Agility: 38 [Enhanced reflexes]
Endurance: 40 [Can fight for 2 hours]
Mana: 180/180
Mana Recovery: 5/minute
Bloodline: Duke's Bastard (Awakening... Something Strange Detected)
Affinities: Fire (Medium), Shadow (Low)
Combat Skills:
- [Ashveil Sword Art] (Intermediate)
- [Basic Mana Enhancement] (Intermediate)
- [Ember Strike] (Novice)
Special:
[Soul of Two Worlds] - Unique trait from transmigration. Mental resistance increased. Foreign knowledge accessible.
Harem Members: 0
Domination Points: 0
System Shop: LOCKED (Complete first mission to unlock)
Current Missions: ...Loading...
Marcus read through it all. The stats made sense based on Lucian's memories. Foundation Realm 3 meant he was stronger and faster than normal humans, but nowhere near the superhuman bullshit that higher realms could pull off.
The bloodline thing was interesting though. "Awakening" and "Something Strange Detected." That... wasn't in Lucian's memories.
"Oh, that's fun," Aria said. "Your bloodline is mutating. Probably because of your transmigration. It's going to evolve into something unique. We'll find out together~"
"And the missions?"
"Those are how you grow. Complete missions, earn Domination Points. Spend points in the shop for skills, resources, power-ups. Simple. Effective. Profitable for both of us."
[MISSION UNLOCKED]
PRIMARY MISSION: "Breaking Through"
Objective: Breakthrough to Adept Realm 1 within 7 days
Reward: 500 Domination Points, +5 to all stats, [System Shop] unlocked
Failure: Stagnation (No penalty, but you stay weak)
SECONDARY MISSION: "First Steps to Power"
Objective: Defeat the Foundation Realm 3 guard who mocks you daily
Reward: 200 Domination Points, +2 Strength, [Intimidation Aura] skill
Failure: None (But seriously, are you going to let that slide?)
SPECIAL MISSION: "The Fallen Princess"
Objective: Speak privately with your mother Elira. Begin understanding her pain.
Reward: 300 Domination Points, [Elira Affection +10], unlock [Harem Management] interface
Failure: Distance grows (Relationship harder to develop later)
Note: More missions will appear as you progress. Some will be... intimate in nature. You've been warned~ ♡
Marcus stared at the third mission. "You want me to seduce my mother."
"I want you to talk to her first," Aria corrected. "She's lonely. Broken. Desperate for connection. You're her son, yes, but you're also a grown man now. And she's a woman who's been denied affection for eighteen years." A pause. "Besides, she's not technically your mother. You're Marcus. Different soul. The taboo is only as real as you make it."
That was... a hell of a rationalization.
But Marcus looked at the mission rewards. The Harem Management interface was probably essential if this System was serious about the whole harem thing. And 300 points wasn't nothing.
More than that, Lucian's memories surged forward. His love for Elira. His rage at how she'd been treated. His desire to free her, protect her, give her the life she deserved.
Marcus felt those emotions now. They were his, in a way that was hard to explain. He WAS Lucian, in this body. Those memories, those feelings—they mattered.
"Fine," he said. "I'll talk to her. But I'm doing this my way."
"I wouldn't have it any other way, Master~"
The System interface minimized. Marcus turned back to the mirror, studying his—Lucian's—face.
He had a week to break through to Adept Rank. That would require intense cultivation and probably some combat experience. The guard mission could help with that.
But first...
He needed to see Elira.
Lucian's—Marcus still couldn't quite think of himself as Lucian yet—chambers were in the eastern wing of the Duke's estate. Not the main family wing where his legitimate half-brothers lived. Not the servant quarters either. Somewhere in between. A lovely metaphor for his entire existence.
He dressed quickly. The clothes were all silk and expensive materials, but simpler than what nobility usually wore. A black tunic with silver embroidery, practical pants, boots. He strapped on a sword—not because he thought he'd need it, but because Lucian never went anywhere unarmed.
The halls of the estate were stone and luxury. Tapestries on the walls. Marble floors. Servants scurrying about with their heads down, avoiding eye contact.
Marcus noted everything. Exit points. Guard positions. Potential threats. Old habits.
He found Elira's chambers on the third floor of the western wing. The "concubine's quarters," which was a fancy way of saying "gilded cage."
Two guards stood outside her door. They straightened when they saw him approach.
"Young master," one said. His tone was respectful enough, but Marcus heard the undercurrent. Bastard. Half-breed. Not real nobility.
"I'm here to see my mother," Marcus said flatly.
The guards exchanged a glance. "The Duke hasn't given permission—"
"I don't need his permission to visit my own mother." Marcus let his voice drop. Cold. Dangerous. The voice he'd used on insurgents who thought they could negotiate. "Open the door. Now."
Something in his tone must have clicked. Or maybe it was the look in his eyes. The guard swallowed and knocked.
"Lady Elira, your son is here to see you."
A pause. Then a voice from inside, clear and commanding despite the circumstances:
"Let him in."
The door opened.
Marcus stepped through—and the breath caught in his throat.
Elira Ashveil sat by the window, silhouetted by afternoon sunlight. She was reading a book, and when she looked up, Marcus felt Lucian's memories crash into him like a tidal wave.
Beautiful.
That was the first thought. Elira was thirty-eight, but she looked ten years younger. Long crimson hair that fell past her shoulders, usually bound in a practical braid. Golden amber eyes that reminded him of fire and fury. High cheekbones, full lips, a face that was both elegant and fierce.
She wore a simple dress—green silk that hugged a body that was clearly built for combat. Toned arms. Strong shoulders. The kind of physique you got from years of warrior training. She moved with predatory grace as she set the book aside and stood.
But more than her beauty, Marcus saw the weight she carried. The way her shoulders were held too tight. The shadows under her eyes that makeup couldn't quite hide. The suppression collar around her neck—dull iron that hummed with enchantments, keeping her Mana Core limited.
Eighteen years of captivity in all but name.
"Lucian," she said. Her voice was warm, but there was caution there too. "This is unexpected."
Marcus closed the door behind him. The guards would be listening, but there were ways around that.
He activated [Basic Mana Enhancement] and channeled a thread of mana into the air. A trick Lucian had learned from an old book—creating a subtle sound barrier. The guards would hear murmurs but not words.
Elira's eyes widened slightly. She hadn't known he could do that.
"We need to talk," Marcus said quietly. "Privately."
She studied him for a long moment. Those golden eyes were sharp, assessing. Looking for... something.
"You're different," she finally said. "Since this morning. Something changed."
Shit. She was perceptive.
Marcus—no, he needed to commit—Lucian made a decision. Partial truth. Always easier to maintain than full lies.
"I had a breakthrough," he said. "Not in cultivation. In understanding. I've been thinking about our situation. About you. About what the Duke has done to us." He met her eyes. "I'm tired of being powerless, Mother. I'm tired of watching you suffer."
Something flickered across her face. Pain. Hope. Suspicion.
"Lucian, we've had this conversation before. The Duke is Grandmaster Realm 2. His guards are all Master Rank. Even if I didn't have this collar—" She touched the iron band at her throat with barely concealed hatred. "—we couldn't fight him."
"Not yet," Lucian agreed. "But I'm eighteen now. Old enough to enter Sovereign Academy. Once I'm there, I'll have access to resources the Duke can't control. I can grow stronger. Build connections. And when I'm strong enough..." He let the sentence hang.
"You'll what? Challenge your father?" Elira's laugh was bitter. "You'll die. Just like my brothers died. Just like my father died."
"Your father was fighting an army," Lucian countered. "I'm smarter than that. I'll use strategy. Politics. Leverage. I'll make him bleed from a thousand cuts before I ever face him directly."
Elira moved closer. She was tall for a woman—five-nine—and she looked him dead in the eye.
"Who are you?" she whispered.
Lucian's heart skipped. "What?"
"My son has always been headstrong. Brave. Foolish, sometimes. But this..." She gestured at him. "This tactical thinking. This cold calculation. This isn't the boy I raised."
Fuck. She was reading him like a book.
Lucian made another decision. Go with it.
"Maybe I grew up," he said quietly. "Maybe I got tired of being the Duke's embarrassment. His proof that even a conqueror's blood can produce weakness." He took her hand. It was warm, calloused from old sword practice. "Or maybe I just finally stopped being scared."
Elira's breath caught. She looked down at their joined hands.
"I've been alone for so long," she said, so quietly he almost didn't hear. "Eighteen years. Watching you grow. Being unable to protect you. Unable to even protect myself." Her golden eyes met his again. "Don't give me hope if you're going to fail, Lucian. I can't... I can't lose you too."
The raw vulnerability in her voice shattered something in Lucian's chest. This wasn't just about missions or power or surviving Chapter 67 anymore.
This was about a woman who'd lost everything. Her kingdom. Her family. Her freedom. Forced to watch her son be mistreated while she could do nothing.
She deserved better.
"I won't fail," Lucian said. And he meant it. "I'm going to break through to Adept Rank within the week. Enter the academy. Get stronger. And when I'm ready, I'm going to come back here, break that collar off your neck, and burn this estate to the ground."
Elira's eyes widened. "Lucian—"
"I'm going to give you back your freedom, Mother. Your power. Your pride." He squeezed her hand. "I'm going to give you back Solara Kingdom."
The last part was ambitious as hell. Rebuilding a destroyed kingdom? That was endgame territory. But Lucian saw the way Elira's breath hitched. The way hope—real, dangerous hope—lit up her face for the first time.
"You can't promise that," she whispered.
"Watch me."
They stood there for a moment, hands clasped, eyes locked. And Lucian felt something shift between them. Not romantic—not yet, the System's mission aside—but a bond. A partnership.
A promise.
[MISSION COMPLETE: "The Fallen Princess"]
Reward: 300 Domination Points earned
[Elira Affection: 0 → 15%] (Motherly Love + Growing Hope)
[Harem Management] Interface Unlocked
Aria: "Well done, Master~ You made her heart flutter just a little.
Keep this up and she'll be yours in every way~ ♡"
Lucian mentally told Aria to shut up.
Elira pulled her hand back slowly, composing herself. The moment of vulnerability passed, replaced by her usual controlled mask.
"If you're serious about this," she said, "then you need to be smart. The Duke has spies everywhere. He watches me constantly. If he suspects you're planning something..."
"I know. I'll be careful."
"And Lucian?" She touched his cheek. A gentle, motherly gesture. "Don't trust anyone at the academy. Especially not if they seem too interested in you. The Duke's legitimate sons will be there. They'll try to sabotage you."
"I can handle them."
"I know you can. But promise me you'll survive. Whatever happens. Whatever it takes." Her golden eyes burned with intensity. "Survive first. Revenge second."
"I promise."
Elira smiled. It was small and sad and beautiful.
"Go. Train. I'll... I'll wait here. Like always."
Lucian wanted to argue. To tell her she wouldn't have to wait much longer. But he just nodded and left.
The guards closed the door behind him with a heavy thunk.
Lucian made it back to his chambers before the implications of what he'd just done hit him.
He'd promised to free Elira. To give her back her kingdom. To burn down the Duke's estate.
Ambitious didn't begin to cover it.
But more than that, he'd felt something when he held her hand. When he looked into her eyes. It wasn't just Lucian's memories and feelings. It was his reaction too. Marcus's.
She was beautiful. Strong. Broken but not defeated. And the way she'd looked at him with that fragile hope—
"Getting attached already?" Aria's voice was smug in his head. "Good. You'll need that emotional investment for what comes later~"
"I'm not—" Lucian cut himself off. "Whatever. What's next?"
"Next? You train. You break through to Adept Rank. You complete missions. You get stronger." A pause. "Oh, and you should probably deal with that guard who mocks you tomorrow morning. The one who calls you 'half-blood bastard' when he thinks you can't hear."
Lucian's jaw tightened. He did remember that asshole from Lucian's memories. Some Foundation Realm 3 guard who thought he was hot shit.
"Tomorrow morning," Lucian said. "I'll handle it."
"That's my Master~ Dominate him. Break him. Show everyone that you're not someone to fuck with anymore."
Lucian looked out the window at the sprawling estate. At the training grounds in the distance. At the walls that trapped him just as much as they trapped Elira.
Chapter 67 was coming. He didn't know when, but it was out there. His scripted death.
But Marcus Drake hadn't survived sixteen years in military intelligence by following scripts.
He'd survived by being smarter. Faster. More ruthless.
And now he had magic. A System. Knowledge of the future.
"Kai Vex," Lucian said quietly. "If we meet, I wonder if I'll be an enemy or an ally."
"Does it matter?" Aria asked. "You're going to surpass him either way. This story isn't about him anymore. It's about you."
Maybe she was right.
Lucian walked to his desk and pulled out Lucian's cultivation manual. Time to figure out exactly how to break through to Adept Rank in seven days.
He had promises to keep. An empire to conquer. A mother to free.
And a death prophecy to completely fucking obliterate.
Let's see them try to make me a footnote now.