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Outside, only two days had slipped by. But within Tenra's bedchamber, more than two months had passed—time bent and stretched by his power.
With Carmilla's domination ability now his to command, Tenra held the entire vampire race in the palm of his hand. But he wouldn't repeat her mistakes. Mere control wasn't enough; he wanted absolute submission—from flesh to soul.
He seeded Queen Carmilla and the elders with [Faith Seeds], and for two long months inside the [Time Domain], he worked them relentlessly, reshaping mind and body, breaking them down and building them anew.
Humiliation and resistance ran deep, but under the domination ability, neither Carmilla nor her elders could defy Tenra. Their souls might rage and struggle, but their bodies obeyed—flawlessly, every time.
They pleased him. They learned to accept his training, and let themselves be tamed.
Of course, while the queen and her elders could only submit by force, Ampusa—the traitor—threw herself into Tenra's hands with wild enthusiasm, eager for every lesson, every twist of his will.
Watching Ampusa writhe on the jade bed, laughing madly as she surrendered, even Tenra had to admit:
Never, ever underestimate a woman's fury. When she loses herself, even she's afraid of what she'll do.
From the first days of struggle and shame, through slow descent into depravity, and finally to wild, desperate devotion—the queen and her elders had changed. They'd been broken, remade, and reborn.
The bedchamber was a wasteland of beauty.
Bodies lay scattered across the jade bed, limp and lovely as broken dolls. In the center, Tenra held Lamia Hilde—Elmenhilde's mother—in a passionate embrace.
Lamia's features mirrored her daughter's: the same gentle smile, the same air of noble grace. She looked every bit the refined lady, a rare gem among vampires.
But looks deceived. Ampusa had told him: when Lamia wanted a child, she chose a prime male vampire, took what she needed, and killed him the moment she'd secured his bloodline.
Beneath the velvet smile was a heart as cold and ruthless as any.
Her past didn't matter now. From this day forward, she was Tenra's tool—his to command, his to use.
A fit of coughing broke the silence—Carmilla, clutching her throat, trying to catch her breath.
Tenra stroked her flawless face, voice low and approving.
"You're improving, Akasha."
"Master…"
She swallowed the last drops of life essence, gazing up at Tenra with feverish devotion and surrender.
Naked, on all fours atop the jade bed, Carmilla was breathtaking—a vision that would have shocked her subjects into silence. Their once-majestic queen, now tamed and obedient as a prized hound.
No, not just "like" a hound—she truly was one now.
Carmilla lowered her head, ready to serve her master again, but Tenra caught her chin, halting her.
Tempting as it was to continue, he knew this couldn't go on forever. The queen and her elders had been thoroughly broken; it was time to turn to business.
"That's enough for now. Your territory—there are quite a few half-bloods with Sacred Gears, aren't there?"
"Yes, Master."
Carmilla answered without hesitation, unsure why Tenra asked but unwilling to question him.
"Summon them. I need their Sacred Gears."
Tenra released the [Time Domain] and gave his orders.
Like Gasper and Valerie, many vampire-human hybrids possessed Sacred Gears. Back in Tepes, Tenra had sent Yubelluna and the others to gather intel, but Rizevim and Marius had hidden all their Sacred Gear wielders away. He'd missed his chance then; he wouldn't miss it now.
Carmilla, now completely devoted, didn't hesitate. She cleaned herself, donned her regal robes, and left the bedchamber.
Though only two days had passed outside, inside she'd been schooled and claimed by her master for two months. As she opened the doors and stepped into daylight, Akasha felt as if she'd crossed into another life.
She had fallen from her throne—once the proud queen of vampires, now a beauty-hound utterly loyal to the Red Emperor. By all rights, she should have felt misery. Instead, she felt honored.
Akasha knew her soul had shattered and sunk into darkness.
And yet, somehow, she didn't mind at all.
"Your Majesty."
Two female vampire guards, stationed outside, bowed as Akasha appeared.
Maybe it was their imagination, but something about her felt different—a shift in her aura, a power that seemed deeper, colder.
"Bring me the half-bloods with Sacred Gears."
Akasha's voice was cold, regal—her queenly mask restored.
"Your Majesty, those mongrels are lowborn. Is it… proper to bring them here?"
One guard hesitated, confused by the order.
Akasha's eyes flashed, her tone icy.
"Are you questioning my command?"
The guards flinched, hearts pounding.
"We wouldn't dare!"
"Then go."
"Yes!"
Seeing the queen's anger, the two guards didn't dare say another word. They hurried to obey, leaving Akasha alone in the corridor—her new life, her new loyalty, carved into her very soul.
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