Time seemed to stop at that very moment.
At the instant when Chen Ming—or rather, his identity in this lifetime, Sword Saint Lyle—laid eyes on that Blood Clan progenitor in a flowing jet-black dress, her hair as silver as snow, Rosalia, the world stilled.
Tens of thousands of Crusade members lost all color in an instant, turning into shriveled corpses that tumbled to the ground. Within several li, only he and Rosalia remained alive.
Pleasure.
That was the difference in strength, so vast that Rosalia could easily crush him, one of humanity’s greatest Sword Saints, in an instant if she wished.
The Holy See had clearly said that Rosalia was still asleep.
The Holy See had clearly said that Rosalia’s strength was less than a tenth of its former self.
The Holy See had clearly said that if they all attacked Rosalia together, their chances of victory would be fifty percent.
But why, why was there still such a gap in strength between them?
And why, when everyone else was dead, was he—Lyle—the only one left alive here?
Because he was a transmigrator, with some bullshit plot armor?
Impossible…
He looked up and saw the playful look in Rosalia’s eyes.
It was the cruel expression a cat would show when playing with its toy. She didn’t care if the toy lived or died; she simply wanted a moment’s amusement.
When she grew bored, this kind of toy would be discarded without a thought—just like the tens of thousands of corpses by his side.
There was no hope for victory. The best option was actually to kill himself.
Lyle didn’t hesitate in the slightest. He immediately activated the Magic Array pre-set in his body, planning to go out in a blaze of glory.
But before he could complete the casting, an icy hand gripped his heart. The smooth flow of his mana was forcibly interrupted, and he froze where he stood.
“Trying to die?”
Rosalia’s smile was perfect—so perfect it shouldn’t exist in this world. Even the most skilled painter couldn’t capture that smile in this moment.
Joy, disdain, confidence, and…
Nostalgia.
If he looked a few more times, even his soul might get sucked right in.
“I’m sorry, but that’s impossible right now.”
Her hand left Lyle’s chest cavity. Her full lips parted slightly, revealing a pink tongue inside.
Lyle could no longer control his body; he stood frozen in place, in a ridiculous pose, watching as Rosalia hugged him to her chest with a gesture both intimate and seductive.
Her cold hand slid away from his chest, brushed past his ribs, and reached his broad back.
Rosalia leaned forward, pressing against Lyle’s chest, soft enough to make a man’s heart tremble. But even more intoxicating was that red mouth.
Her lips were only a centimeter from his skin; her warm breath brushed his neck, making his breathing quicken.
Rosalia’s figure was superb—better than any woman he’d ever seen. Curvaceous, shapely, and crowned by a stunningly beautiful face.
Such a woman was holding him now, her breath caressing his body.
“Do you want it?”
She hooked her lips and whispered beside Lyle’s ear, her words flirtatious, each syllable tinged with teasing allure.
The rational part of Lyle’s mind screamed that he must not fall into her trap, that he must do everything he could to escape.
But inside him, the thing called desire corrupted his reason, and he nodded.
“But… I don’t like men.”
Her words remained playful as ever, her fingers curling through Lyle’s longish short hair.
“Tell me, do you really want it?”
Her words were full of meaning.
Lyle struggled to suppress his desires and remain rational.
A Sword Saint of The Holy See should not have such thoughts—yet, facing Rosalia, all the desires that had lain dormant for over ten years surged back into his heart.
Desires absent for more than a decade erupted all at once—fiercer than ever.
Lyle was powerless to resist; all his efforts were like trying to douse a raging fire with a cup of water.
Pathetically, he nodded.
“Very good.”
Rosalia smiled even more beautifully.
“Then… from now on, you are no longer Lyle, but my pet. Your name is Liliya.”
Her terrifying fangs finally pierced Lyle’s skin, and his blood drained away at an impossible speed—along with it, a part of his soul.
Inside him.
The part that belonged to Lyle was torn to pieces, flowing out with his blood. At the same time, something else flooded in.
Blank, without any memory—shards of soul filling the pieces she had lost. Lyle’s part was replaced, transformed into a completely new, unfamiliar soul.
Liliya.
Rosalia’s… pet.
The moment she realized this, her tall frame began to shrink, stopping only when she reached a height of 1.6 meters.
At the same time, her chest blossomed with two full, perky mounds—so perfectly shaped that even men with wavering resolve… or even women, would be moved.
Her sharp lines softened; her skin, once a healthy wheat tone, grew pale and translucent, faint blue veins visible beneath.
Rosalia merely brushed her fingertips lightly across Liliya’s body, and wherever she touched, the skin would yield, then spring back naturally when she let go.
So delicate it seemed a breath would break it.
Finally, there was Liliya’s face.
Unlike Rosalia’s alluring features, this face was simply adorable. Downturned eyes held round, dewy pupils, making her look especially pitiable.
A small, delicate nose; cheeks that were soft and gently rounded, giving her a harmless, almost childlike air.
No one who saw her would ever believe she was a Sword Saint of The Holy See—they would only think she was a lost princess, a girl raised in some well-guarded castle, whose only worries each day were about which dress to wear.
A perfect masterpiece.
All that remained was to mold her soul.
But a blank soul is not enough.
If a former knight of The Holy See were to truly believe from her heart that she was the Blood Clan progenitor’s little pet, wouldn’t that be interesting?
Hmm… some measures would still be needed, to make sure she could awaken her memories.
When the time came that she remembered everything, only to find she could never leave her master again—her expression would surely be fascinating.
Perhaps that would be the moment when she truly submitted, body and soul.
This time, Rosalia didn’t sink her fangs into Liliya’s skin, but instead kissed the still-dazed Liliya on the lips.
For a brief instant, Liliya seemed about to regain her senses, but a flood of memories swept her back into a daze.
Liliya, a pitiful girl once abandoned by humans in the forest, saved by the loving Lady Rosalia, and from then on swore to serve her great mistress for all eternity, willingly becoming her pet for life.
And because she had lived in the forest so long, she had some odd habits, perhaps even some behaviors not fitting for a proper girl.
Whenever that happened, she would actively seek out her beloved Lady Rosalia and beg to be taught how to behave.
Once all this was done, Rosalia licked her lips, still unsatisfied.
What a pity—her masterpiece still wasn’t at its finest flavor. She would have to take her time and cultivate her pet well.
She spread her wings, cradled the girl in ill-fitting clothes, and carried her back to the Blood Clan territory—to the City of Eternal Night.
Training.