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Ampusa, wild with triumph, dragged the broken Carmilla back onto the jade bed. She looked down at her former queen—now a defeated, hollow shell, like a dog cast out in disgrace.
To witness Lady Akasha's grand scheme—using her own body to ensnare the Red Emperor—only to watch her tumble headlong into the pit she'd dug herself… Ampusa hadn't felt this much satisfaction in centuries.
So, Lady Akasha, you loved to dominate. You reveled in making others your slaves. From now on, savor what it means to be ruled and owned.
Ampusa planted her heel on Lamia Hilde's back.
"What should we do with them?"
Lamia and the six other vampire elders lay sprawled, powerless. Ampusa's poison had robbed them of their strength—now they were weaker than mortals.
Vampires, for all their terrifying gifts, were creatures of extremes. In some ways, they outmatched demons and angels; in others, they were fragile, vulnerable to the smallest flaw. All it took was someone clever enough to exploit those weaknesses—and Ampusa had proved herself very clever indeed.
Of course, Lamia and the elders never suspected betrayal. That was their real mistake.
Tenra's lips curled into a sly smile.
"Bring them over."
Whether Lamia or the others, each was a rare beauty, a powerhouse who had long guarded Carmilla's rule. If Tenra meant to claim the vampire race as his own, these women would not escape his grasp.
Ampusa understood perfectly. She flashed a sultry grin, then dragged Lamia and the elders onto the bed.
"Ampusa—you're a disgrace to our kind!"
Lamia's voice shook with fury and despair. The elders glared, hatred burning in their eyes.
All because of Ampusa, this wretched traitor—the entire vampire race would now be enslaved by the Red Emperor, reduced to his lapdogs.
Ampusa laughed, the sound cold and sharp.
"A disgrace? Lamia, you still don't get it, do you?"
"I won't be a traitor. I'll be a hero—celebrated in song and story. Isn't that right, my master?"
Tenra's eyes glinted.
"Exactly."
History, after all, is written by those who win. Truth itself bends to the will of the victor.
Lamia and the elders seethed, nearly grinding their teeth to dust. Yes, Lady Akasha's rule had been harsh, even cold-blooded at times. They'd nursed their own grievances. But at least she was their queen. Ampusa, on the other hand, had handed their entire race to a demon.
They longed to tear Ampusa apart, but powerless as they were, all they could do was watch—watch as their queen was humiliated, as their world was dragged into darkness.
Tenra ignored their rage. He cupped Carmilla's flawless face, his voice almost gentle.
"Your Majesty, any last words?"
Carmilla closed her eyes, her heart sinking into ice.
"You've won, Red Emperor…"
Resistance was pointless. She was finished. Her race was finished.
There was something intoxicating about that look—pride shattered, hope extinguished. Tenra's smile turned wicked.
"Since you've accepted your fate, prepare yourself, Your Majesty."
"Training begins now."
As Carmilla's desperate cry echoed through the chamber, Tenra pressed her down onto the jade bed once more.
Akasha Carmilla, Queen of the Vampires, wielded the power to enslave. Any creature whose blood she drank—so long as they were weaker than her—became her puppet, her slave, unable to defy her commands.
With this fearsome gift, she united the strongest female vampires, bent them to her will, and built a kingdom where women ruled. Her domain was iron-clad, her authority absolute.
But even such power had its flaws.
Those enslaved could not disobey her orders, but beyond that, they remained free—spirits and wills untouched. Loyalty was never guaranteed.
And for those stronger than Akasha, she could only strike when they let their guard down. If she failed, her power would turn on her, making her the slave instead.
That was the cruel law of domination: only one master could hold the chains. If Akasha fell, all her rights—and all her slaves—would pass to her conqueror.
Now, Akasha had tried to enslave Tenra. She failed. The backlash made her his slave. Her power remained, but the authority was gone; anyone she tried to enslave would answer to Tenra, not to her.
She had poured her soul into freeing her race from Tepes rule, forging a kingdom where women reigned supreme. To secure her throne, she had enslaved the elders and her key lieutenants, molding Carmilla into an unbreakable fortress.
No one could resist her. No one could defy her. If fate had not intervened, she might have ruled forever.
But fate did intervene. Now, everything she built belonged to Tenra. Even her own body was his to command.
A tragic end for a proud queen—her era was over.
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