With the girl bound and gagged behind the carriage and Anna off searching the the Legacy, he finally had a moment to think.
And it was a dangerous thought.
"Can I feel carnal pleasure?" he asked aloud, voice low.
The response came, though he never knew if it was from the system itself or the entity that resided behind it. Either way—it didn't matter.
What he needed was an answer.
[You have no motivation, as all emotions have been stripped from you. However, sexual pleasure is not emotion—it is sensation. Lust, on the other hand, is an emotion. If you engage in intercourse, your body will respond physically. And as a result, the emotion of lust will surface. If that happens…]
"I'll become a mindless pleasure addict," he muttered, piecing the rest together.
Now that was a problem.
If the physical craving outgrew his need for vengeance, he would lose focus. Lose purpose. He could see it already—hunting down women, not for blood, but to satisfy some growing need for variation. For novelty. And in his twisted, fading mind, he might even convince himself it was still revenge.
After all, wasn't stealing their purity, their pride, a form of retribution?
But no—he shook his head.
That path would only lead to death.
A man who thinks with his dick is bound to make mistakes. Bound to get caught. Especially in a world full of heroines and gods and cursed destinies. If lust took the reins, he'd die. Sooner or later.
Yet…
A dark thought slithered in.
Would that really be so bad?
Would mindless indulgence be the worst fate? Couldn't that be the ultimate revenge against the Goddess of Life—breaking her creations, corrupting them, turning her purest champions into nothing but moaning, mindless nymphomaniacs?
He closed his eyes.
Yes… it was an interesting thought.
But it couldn't rule him.
Not yet.
"Then that means I still possess the emotion of lust," he said aloud. "Is this true for the others?"
Silence.
That was answer enough.
He had a theory. Maybe the more slaves he took, the more emotions he lost. But then—what emotion had he given up to enslave Anna?
That question haunted him.
She wasn't ordinary. A child of destiny. A heroine. Whatever they called themselves. Surely the price had been steeper than usual.
"Was it… anger?" he guessed. "Happiness? Excitement?"
Maybe it was something she embodied. Something bright. Something human.
He sighed.
Maybe falling into lust wouldn't be so terrible after all. He didn't feel panic anymore. No fear. No adrenaline. He was hollow—barely a man now. A shadow in a human shape.
If sex could give him even a shred of excitement… maybe it was worth it.
"Is sex… a slave trigger?" he asked.
He'd been pondering it for a while now. What were the triggers? What had sealed Anna's fate? Could it happen again? Could he enslave someone else?
[Perhaps…]
Cryptic.
But suggestive.
Enough to give the idea weight—an 80% chance, at least.
If that were true… and if lust truly reawakened during intercourse… then yes, he would spiral. The more slaves he gained, the more pieces of himself he'd trade away. To fill the growing void, he'd chase greater pleasure. Greater novelty. Greater sin.
He'd become a monster.
A collector of heroines.
Of milf professors. Of strangers. Of anyone with wide hips and vacant eyes.
Of anything remotely seductive.
Anything with a pleasure hole.
And one day—only lust would remain.
And if he ever lost that…
He exhaled slowly, eyes growing heavy with the weight of it all.
It seemed, somewhere along the line, he'd made a deal with the devil.
And in the end?
He might get his revenge.
But he would lose his soul.