{Chapter: 217: The Weaklings Who Follow the Flow}
And it didn't.
What followed was less an act of passion and more a claiming—a clash of predator and predator, both hungry for more than flesh, tangled in moonlight and breathless moans.
---
The Next Evening: The Chamber of Commerce Banquet
The night air shimmered with magical glamour as the prestigious banquet hall lit up with crystal chandeliers that hovered like starlight, casting an ethereal glow on everything below.
Dex, dressed in a dark formal suit lined with silver trim and enchanted buttons that repelled dust and infernal residue, stepped down from the carriage like a shadow cut from velvet. Beside him, Valeera clung to his arm like an exquisite ornament—and yet, she was anything but.
Her gown tonight was nothing short of a scandal. Woven from whisper-thin enchanted silk and shadow-dyed lace, the dress danced between elegance and provocation. Slits up both sides revealed mile-long legs clad in sheer stockings threaded with golden veins. The back dipped so low that the gentle curve of her hips teased the air. And the front—oh, the front—dared the world to imagine what lay beneath, form-hugging fabric.
Her movements were slow, deliberate, sensual. A living performance.
She smirked at the stares they attracted—envy from noblewomen, hunger from noblemen, and admiration from those too clever to voice either. Valeera thrived under attention. She drank it like wine.
But standing beside Dex? She made sure it was clear she belonged to him... even if just for tonight.
As they approached the entrance, a servant in white-and-gold livery stepped forward, bowing deeply.
"Sir, your invitation, if you please. I shall personally escort you to your seat."
Dex didn't say a word. He simply flicked his fingers, and a luxurious invitation embedded with tiny sparkling gems appeared in his hand. He passed it to the servant like one might offer a coin to a beggar—gracious, but uninterested.
The moment the servant saw the design, his eyes widened. His hands trembled slightly as he read the seat number. He had only seen this tier of invitation once before—and it belonged to someone with the power to destroy entire districts with a breath.
He bowed lower.
"Th-this way, honored guest. Your seat is among the Prime Ten."
Valeera chuckled, her voice low and sultry as she leaned in and whispered into Dex's ear, her breath tickling his skin. "You do enjoy making people nervous, don't you?"
Dex glanced at her sidelong, his smirk widening. "It's not my fault they're so easily shaken."
Inside the hall, a hundred nobles, merchants, warlords, and adventurers mingled beneath floating chandeliers and illusionary waterfalls. Music drifted from the far end, where enchanted instruments played themselves.
But all eyes turned when he walked in.
It wasn't just his presence—it was the way Valeera walked beside him like a serpent goddess in heels, their combined aura turning heads, commanding silence.
Before Dex could take in the grandeur, a sturdy old man with a weathered face and a beard of silvery grey approached. Despite the armor etched into his bearing, he moved with the ease of a master negotiator.
"Mr. Dex, Miss Golner," he said warmly. "What an honor. It's been some time."
Dex nodded. Valeera gave a knowing smile.
This man was the vice president of the largest merchant guild in the city of Mi. He and Valeera were long acquainted—both legends in their own fields, both accustomed to power and hidden dealings. As for Dex, he'd done business with the man many times, usually involving rare arcane materials, cursed artifacts, and volatile potions that normal trade networks wouldn't touch.
And always, Dex paid well. Very well.
"I trust your business continues to thrive," Dex said, voice casual yet edged with power.
"Thanks to clients like you, sir," the old man replied with a chuckle. "Your purchases alone have kept several ledgers happy and three competitors nervous."
Valeera laughed lightly and brushed a strand of hair from her shoulder, the movement innocent, the smile anything but.
"And here I thought you liked him for his charm," she teased.
The old man winked. "Charm's just the garnish. His coin is the meal."
---
After some polite greetings and pleasantries that barely scratched the surface, the old man didn't linger long with Dex and Valeera. Though clearly pleased to see them, he soon offered a courteous excuse, bowed respectfully, and made his way to greet another set of guests arriving nearby.
It was only natural.
In a gathering like this—populated by merchants, nobles, and predators dressed in silk and gold—the game was to make connections, shake hands with power, and smile at opportunity. Everyone in attendance had something to gain or lose. The more people you approached, the more fish you might catch.
In the eyes of the elite, parties were not for pleasure—they were for strategy.
It was an exhausting charade. Night after night of social dances, toothless smiles, and carefully measured words. The young and foolish believed these soirées to be glamorous. But to those who had climbed the ladder and seen the filth hidden behind painted masks, it was little more than ritualized combat—conducted with etiquette, but no less ruthless.
It took time. It took coin. It took cunning. One wrong phrase in the wrong ear could invite a lifetime of ruin.
Dex watched it unfold around him with a half-smile and half-scorn. As a demon, he didn't need eyes to see the truth—he could smell it in the air.
Lust, envy, gluttony, blood, deception, resentment, jealousy, hatred… hunger for power... It clung to the bodies of these highborn men and women like expensive perfume. A handful of them were practically reeking with guilt so heavy it had turned to rot. One particularly well-dressed woman had such deep layers of blood karma bound to her soul that Dex suspected she had used a literal child's bones in her beauty cream.
Innocents tied to their suffering by invisible threads. Malevolent thoughts like weeds in a rotting garden. It was intoxicating.
And among them, several individuals caught Dex's attention.
Seedlings.
He spotted them immediately—people with a touch of promise. Ones already walking the razor's edge, some dabbling in forbidden rituals, others whispering secrets to shadows in their sleep. One of them stood out more than the rest. Dex could sense the Abyss on him not from a creature's influence, but from something more… self-made.
He had chosen the darkness on his own. The corruption was subtle, like ink seeping through parchment, but unmistakable. The young man had studied forbidden lore without a mentor, and judging from the faint aura swirling around him, he'd already tasted the rewards. Blood sacrifice, summoning, gateway theory—all likely being explored behind sealed doors.
Dex couldn't help but grin.
A self-taught warlock. A child feeding himself with broken knowledge. These were the most dangerous of all—the most delicious.
He gave the boy a sly nod across the crowd, a look that roughly translated to, "Keep walking this path, little devil. I'm watching with pride."
Naturally, the young man blinked in confusion, utterly clueless as to why a stranger with a dangerous presence was looking at him like a proud parent at a murder trial.
Valeera, standing close beside Dex with her hand lazily looped around his arm, noticed the exchange. The corner of her deep emerald lips curved upward in amusement.
Her voice was as smooth as aged wine when she leaned in, close enough that the heat of her breath tickled his earlobe. "What's wrong, my darling? You've been giving that boy the kind of look a wolf gives a fattened lamb. Don't tell me you've developed… unusual tastes?"
Dex arched a brow, resisting the urge to smirk. "Unusual?"
With a sultry chuckle, Valeera pressed a little closer, her body brushing against his side with feline grace. "You know," she whispered, her voice honeyed and mocking, "I always suspected your standards were flexible. But I didn't think you'd start eyeing boys half your age. Should I be jealous? Or intrigued?"
Dex rolled his eyes, though the ghost of a grin betrayed him. "He's a walking tragedy in the making. I couldn't help but admire the commitment."
Valeera raised an eyebrow and tilted her head just slightly, crimson strands of hair cascading down her shoulder. Her long lashes half-lowered over gleaming golden eyes, she looked up at him with an impish smirk. "Hmm… so it's his potential for doom you find attractive. Now that sounds like you."
"Exactly," Dex replied dryly, his gaze still following the young warlock. "He's already gone down the staircase. All that's left is the sound of the door slamming shut behind him."
Valeera licked her lips thoughtfully, her tongue slow and deliberate as she trailed her fingers up Dex's arm.
"Delicious. Maybe we should invite him for drinks. Then again, I suppose you're more into watching your prey spiral on their own, aren't you?" she said with a soft laugh that dripped with decadent wickedness.
She had the poise of a courtesan but the instincts of a predator—Valeera through and through. Behind her playful words and teasing touch was the iron certainty of someone who'd cut a man's throat before her first kiss and beheaded her first noble before her second.
The gown she wore tonight shimmered like the surface of dark wine, clinging to her curves as if sewn by shadow. Slits down both legs revealed supple thigh-high leather boots strapped with daggers. She didn't just wear danger—she was it.
"I'll admit," she added, curling a lock of red hair around her finger, "he has that sweet look of someone who thinks he's in control of the darkness. Those ones always scream the loudest when they realize it's the other way around."
Dex didn't answer right away. His thoughts wandered—wondering how many of tonight's hopeful guests would survive the next decade. How many would thrive? How many would rot from the inside out? How many could be turned?
It was tempting.
But then again, he wasn't here tonight to start a cult or awaken a coven. No, for now, he was just watching.
Just playing.
"I suppose," Dex said at last, sipping the fine wine from a servant's tray, "I'm simply in the mood to observe chaos, not cause it."
Valeera gave a sultry purr of approval and leaned against his side like a pampered cat basking in the heat of its chosen master.
"Then let's enjoy the show," she whispered. "And maybe afterward, you can tear this dress too."