Roselle's POV
The screen shook. Even from here—across realms, anchored by divine threads—I could feel the shockwave of his strike.
"Hah…" I exhaled, chest rising.
Samuel's form had become something beyond mortal, beyond myth. He wasn't a man anymore.
He was a storm made flesh.
Clad in voidlight, wrapped in screaming flame, his fists radiated a primal desire to break anything that dared defy him. Watching him go blow-for-blow with Xir'Zul—an ancient, god-killer warden born of nightmare—and win…
Gods.
My thighs pressed tighter together.
"Mmm… My dark monster," I whispered, dragging a finger along my collarbone, down my chest, my skin glowing faintly with Goddess Heat. "That fury... that rhythm… That's not just battle."
It was seduction.
The way he moved, each punch a symphony of destruction. The way his arms flexed, blood and flame coating him like war-paint. I could practically feel the pressure of those fists gripping my waist, the heat of that body pinning me down like I was another battlefield he meant to conquer.
"Damn it, Samuel," I murmured, biting my lower lip, crimson eyes glowing. "You've turned war into foreplay."
The Gauntlets of the Demon King, primal and hungry—how I envied them.
Every time he smashed Xir'Zul across the bone-paved floor, I imagined my back on satin sheets, his fists slamming the mattress beside my head, lips burning with bloodlust and lust together.
"That same power," I moaned softly, slipping a hand between my thighs, eyes never leaving the screen, "I want it inside me—not just your essence, Samuel... your chaos, your hate, your rage…"
The screen flared again—he'd landed a blow that cracked the coliseum's core. The Labyrinth screamed. Samuel stood there, breathing heavy, arms bloodstained, teeth bared like a wolf on fire.
And I—Roselle, Goddess of Darkness, ruler of the Abyss—trembled.
Not from fear.
From want.
"When you return to me," I whispered with a trembling smile, trailing sweat down my chest, "I will make war with your body. No talking. No crowns. Just bruises, bites, and screams until the system itself learns what it means to be devoured."
I threw my head back against the throne, panting.
"Hurry, my Dark Knight. Come back stronger... and I'll make sure you never forget whose realm truly owns you."
________________________________________
Abigail's POV – Shadow Dungeon, Chains of Nullstone
The walls wept shadow.
Cold stone. No light. Only the hum of cursed energy crawling over the air like a parasite.
I was chained, wrists pulled above me, body suspended by hooks of nullstone, a metal forged to suppress divine and human potential alike. The cell reeked of misery. I hadn't eaten in days. The only thing that fed me anymore was regret—and the cruel whisper of Roselle's words.
"You humiliated your husband."
"You made him feel pathetic."
"Now you'll rot—and maybe, if you're lucky, be the nanny to his child."
Tears no longer came. I had wept them all when Bardot Industries crumbled. When my father's legacy burned. When every lover I clung to abandoned me after Samuel vanished from my life.
But now, something worse tormented me.
The screen.
Roselle made sure I could see it—every moment of Samuel's rise through the Crimson Labyrinth. Every punch. Every kill. Every time his white-silver hair whipped like a comet, every time those violet eyes flared with divine fury.
I watched him become the Dark Knight.
And my heart—
It shattered all over again.
"No… no, no, he… he was supposed to be broken," I whispered hoarsely, my voice barely audible. "He was supposed to be nothing without me…"
But he wasn't.
He was more. He was a god-slayer now. An abyss-born titan who looked like vengeance itself. The way he moved, the way he fought—
It was as if he'd never even loved me.
"Samuel…"
I clung to his name like a curse and a prayer all at once. My body trembled not from cold—but from that sickening twist in my chest. Jealousy. Shame. Loss.
And fear.
Because I saw the way Roselle looked at him now.
It wasn't conquest anymore.
It was obsession. Divine. Carnal. Eternal.
She didn't just want him as a weapon.
She wanted him as her equal.
"He's not yours!" I screamed into the empty shadows, tugging on my chains, wrists bleeding, throat cracked. "He's mine!"
But there was no reply.
Just laughter—Roselle's echo, distant and mocking.
"He was never yours, Abigail," it whispered.
"You threw him away."
And deep inside, I knew the truth.
No matter what I said…
No matter how I cried…
Samuel would never look back.
He wasn't just beyond my reach—
He was beyond the stars now.