CHAPTER 100: AN ACT OF LUST BEFORE THE NIHIL PREPARATION

While waiting for the estimated arrival of the Monochara bastion, the night pressed quietly against the chambers of Vaingall as Kivas and Samael lay upon the ceremonial bed.

The ceremonial canopy above them draped soft linen scented of incense and wood oils, woven with sigils that glowed faintly in the lamplight.

Kivas traced light patterns across Samael’s shoulders, her fingertips dancing along the edge of divine plate and woven cadence.

Her lips curved into a grin half-served in teasing warmth, half carved by fatigue and clarity.

"You look formidable," Kivas whispered from above, her tone laced with playful authority. "All power, authority, and forbodding pressure—yet shy, reserved, conservative when someone is on top of you."

Kivas brushed a fingertip beneath Samael’s jaw, amused by how the tension softened in the other’s features.

Samael’s face shifted, lips twisting into an expression rare to Kivas, an innocent surprise. The faintest flush stained her cheeks.

"How adorable," Kivas murmured, thrill sparking at the realization that she had drawn so much reaction to her time together in bed.

She leaned in close. Samael’s breath stilled beneath her.

Samael reached for Kivas with deliberate motion. "I have allowed you too much leeway," she said. Her voice was tense under softness, nearly surrendering.

Kivas arched an eyebrow. "What do you mean?"

Before she could think further, Samael shifted, her body rolling Kivas gently beneath her weight.

Kivas felt the bed dip and followed, her own grin widening in wild delight.

Samael’s eyes, usually cool and reserved, had been degenerated to an almost feral intensity as she moved atop Kivas, caging her within her arms.

She leaned down, her voice a low, dangerous purr against Kivas’ ear. "Honestly, it is a cute attempt, but I’m still not satisfied."

Kivas’ heart pounded in her chest, adrenaline surging.

She didn’t answer, her breath hitching as Samael’s hands began to rove, asserting dominance like she was claiming a spot to never be snatched away.

There was no gentleness in Samael now, only monstrously precise, unhindered need. She showcased her side of all authority, all power, all consummation.

Samael’s mouth found Kivas’ neck. Gently yet mind-numbing, her teeth sinking into the soft flesh, marking a bloodless but tingling mark.

A gasp escaped Kivas, her back arching as pleasure and pain fused, sparks exploding behind her eyes.

"That—that!" But before she could say anything, hand grasped at her mouth, preventing her from uttering anything.

"Shhh," Samael retracted her fangs from Kivas’ neck, slowly creeping toward Kivas’ ears. "Learn to enjoy the ride~"

One hand slipped between Kivas’ legs, fingers confident, demanding.

Kivas gasped, shock coursing through her at the sudden, intense sensation. She was wet, ready, but Samael didn’t hesitate, didn’t ease in—she plunged in, deep, her fingers long and insistent.

"Mmmph—!"

Kivas cried out, her body trembling. Samael kept on progressing, her thumb finding that sweet spot, rubbing with merciless pressure.

Her fingers moved in time with her thumb, her pinky, while also putting the right pressure and gyration.

She was in complete control, and Kivas could do nothing but feel, could nothing but drown in sensation.

Samael then stopped from silencing before her mouth found Kivas’ wet and soft lips—her tongue invading, ramming, and locking as they exchanged their boldly liquid.

Kivas could barely draw breath, her body taut as a bowstring, coiling, coiling, ready to snap.

In a sense, Samael’s movements were inhuman, relentless. She showed no mercy, no quarter.

At this point, Kivas was lost, her world reduced to Samael’s touch, Samael’s taste, Samael’s control. She felt a wave building, massive, overwhelming. She tried to pull back, needing a moment to breathe, but Samael wouldn’t let her.

Kivas closed her eyes, drowning, as the wave crested and crashed, sending her spiraling into blissful oblivion.

Kivas climaxed, her body convulsing from an erupting spark all over nerves.

But Samael didn’t stop, didn’t slow, like an unstoppable monster on her path of targeted destruction.

She flipped Kivas onto her stomach, pulling her hips up. Her hand came down, hard, on Kivas’ behind.

Kivas could only gasp, the sting sharp, but before she could process it, Samael was inside her again, fingers pounding, unyielding.

Kivas’ hands fisted in the sheets, her body tensing, coiling again. Samael was everywhere, her breath hot on Kivas’ back, her fingers claiming, her other hand harsh on Kivas’ hip.

Kivas couldn’t move, could barely breathe. She was completely at Samael’s mercy, and it was both terrifying and exhilarating.

Another wave built, stronger than the last. Kivas’ body felt alive, every nerve ending raw, every muscle taut. She cried out as the wave crested, her body shattering into a million pieces.

Kivas collapsed onto the bed, boneless, her body still shivering with aftershocks from the multiple orgasm that was added onto another again and again until she was overwhelmed from the sensation.

Before she knew it, only five minutes had passed.

"Can we take a break...?" Kivas wryly laughed.

"Did I plead to take a break when you’re the one on the leash for an hour back then?" Samael smiled, sinisterly.

"Ahaha..."

Three hours had passed since.

Kivas was beneath, breath ragged, cheeks warm with the aftermath of tension. Her hair spilled around her shoulders in disarray.

Samael lay atop her, composed and unbowed, arms resting parallel on either side of Kivas’s torso. Her expression was touched with satisfaction. Something about how she hovered made her seem like a satisfied artist with her own creation.

She drew a slow breath, eyes warm, a smirk playing on her lips.

Oizys lounged on a nearby bench, legs crossed, chin cupped in palm. Her expression studied, curiosity stitched with amusement.

Kivas’s gaze flicked to her. "I’m surprised that you’re still there... Enjoying the show much...?" Kivas asked faintly, voice tickling at the edge of exhaustion and defeat.

Oizys smiled faintly. "You gave up your drive entirely once Samael took control." She leaned forward, eyebrows raised. "But Samael can think about being less... rough, if she likes." A grin formed then. "Though I’m sensing that maybe you enjoy being handled roughly."

Kivas spat a sharp breath out. "No. That is not—don’t say that—" She coughed, "Why don’t you try being in my position instead!"

"I don’t think Samael would even bother to do the same to me," Oizys said with a smile.

"I won’t even try pleasuring you even if Kivas commanded me." Samael looked at Oizys and folded her arms. "And to think that Kivas attempted to take the reign in this so-called lustful act." Her voice was crisp, but there was amusement behind it. "I found her smug and prideful expression adorable, but I rather quite prefer the fumbling and defeated looks of her when I went on my way with her sensitive spots."

"I apologize, I felt too cocky," Kivas said as she hid her eyes with her arms, still breathing raggedly.

"I also stopped the moment I noticed that you’re trying to use your Hemo Psyche to invigorate yourself," Samael casually pointed. "Don’t want to have our sovereign divinity run out of HP the moment the Nihil arrives at the Monochara’s entrance."

"Still, it is a good attempt made by Kivas at the start." Oizys cackled.

Kivas stared at Oizys with half-lidded eyes, lips lightly frowning from shyness. "As much as I want to accept that you’re complementing me on that part, I couldn’t help but feel some kind of sarcasm."

Oizys nodded with a smile. "Your attempt is so adorable that it made Samael look like a beast."

"So it is sarcasm, and a backhanded compliment...!"

After the private time was over, garments were replaced, and dignity was worn once more.

Kivas felt her legs were still slightly weak. Samael stood behind, adjusting a clasp at Kivas’s collar. Distant laughter from Oizys and soft commentary drifted before fading as things had to continue.

Darkness remained pressed outside the windows. Vaingall’s night rules held sway until morning’s promise.

They found themselves soon outside, at the edge of the consortial territory. Distant lights from Vaingall shimmered behind them, marking borders with certainty. Ahead lay open plains, unbroken beyond the horizon.

Kivas, Samael, Oizys, Blanchette, Uhr’tarukh, and the Bastion of the Harvest assembled at the perimeter.

The Bastion of the Harvest hummed and stood in living silence—the familiar five meters tall of bark and stone wrapped in knotted vines, eight rooted legs rooted in earth, and a hollow reliquary chest shaped just above where a heart might reside.

It was still, prepared, poised for a frontline unspoken yet understood.

While not finding much action throughout its presence in the creation of the New Vaingall Consortium’s foundation, the Bastion of the Harvest was a gentle and likeable presence amongst the citizens, making it a local idol.

"I’m surprised that you didn’t bring more," Blanchette teased with her permanent smile and mocking gaze.

"I’ve done a preliminary check on the Nihil we’re about to face," Samael answered with a casual tone and expression, seemingly not slighted a bit at the usual tomfoolery. "Considering that we will be working together with the governing body of the Monochara, it might even be an overkill.:

Fifty Limbo Tier Divine Constructs formed behind Samael like angels of solid will. Their frames shimmered in quiet readiness. One Lust Tier Divine Construct held position centrally.

Kivas felt a hush within her. Her anxiety was still gone, but there was another feeling—fierce anticipation stripped of trembling.

She inhaled with confidence.

They waited in stillness. The distortion shift would come in twelve hours—or less—and would relocate Monochara bastion itself to this site.

Blanchette leaned into a murmured conversation with Oizys. Both of them were as hostile as usual, but not as violent as the one they did before the second Apotheosis incident.

In a way, Oizys had softened after that incident, giving her a much more humane and soft reaction toward everything instead of using her usual mask of ruse.

Uhr’tarukh stood silent as ever but focused—muscles coiled for distance and action. The Bastion of the Harvest pulsed faintly in the dark, wanting to be known amongst its new people like an excited puppy.

The ground shifted beneath them. Not visible, but perceptible. The air thickened. Reality flexed softly across the land.

And then—in a single heartbeat—the distortion flashed.

A sweep of light, a ripple through space, and the horizon cracked open. The gothic silhouette of Monochara bastion emerged at once from nothingness. Massive towers and spires rose on a plateau beneath storm-lit skies. Runes glittered along battlements, walls carved with sigiled ironwork and hexagonal plates tuned to ward energies.

Their meeting place had arrived.