Finally, Valentina broke the silence, her voice steady though her heart was not.
"Dorian Axe," she said slowly, tasting the name like it was something foreign.
"You requested to see me. May I ask what business a man such as yourself has with the Light Clan?"
"Business? Perhaps you could call it that," Dorian said with a faint, knowing smile, his deep voice rolling through the grand hall like thunder over still water.
"I can see myself investing in your Light Clan. You and I could become exceptional partners—our influence extending across Azure Cloud City and far beyond. Trade, commerce, sect politics… the world offers many fields where two strong forces might stand side by side."
He paused. The air shifted.
"But in truth," he continued, his tone softening yet carrying something far more dangerous beneath it, "what I've come for is something more… personal."
The firelight danced across his face, casting sharp shadows that made his expression unreadable.
Valentina's golden eyes narrowed, suspicion mingled with curiosity.
"Personal?" she repeated quietly, her voice firm yet cautious. "You speak as though we share a past, and yet I have never heard your name before, Dorian Axe."
Dorian's smile deepened, slow and deliberate. "That will change, my lady."
He began walking forward, unhurried.
His every step echoed across the vast marble floor, measured and purposeful, each one seeming to close more than just distance—it closed the space between power and vulnerability, between command and submission.
Valentina remained seated on her throne, watching him.
Her crimson silk robes shimmered like living fire, clinging to her with regal grace.
Her crown, heavy with red gemstones, gleamed in the magical lanterns, a reminder of her status as the Fire Empress of the Light Clan—the woman whose influence once shook entire provinces.
But the man approaching her was unlike anyone she had ever faced.
Dorian's aura was quiet but immense, not the blustering might of a warrior but the calm, inevitable presence of something ancient—something that did not need to announce its power because the world itself seemed to yield before it.
His long black hair swayed gently as he moved, his eyes deep and unrelenting, fixed solely on her.
Ten steps away.
Valentina could feel it now—the weight in the air, pressing down upon her shoulders.
Her instincts screamed at her to act, but she did not rise. She would not show weakness before any man.
Seven steps.
Her breath grew shallow. It was not fear—no, Valentina Light had not feared in decades—but rather a strange, disquieting awareness.
Her spirit energy stirred restlessly, reacting to him in ways she did not understand.
Five steps.
That was when realization dawned.
"This is—" she began, but the words caught in her throat. Her limbs felt heavy, her spirit sluggish.
He's suppressing me,she thought in disbelief. Without even lifting a hand…
Her body refused to move.
A cold, invisible weight had settled over her, pressing her down, locking her in place.
Her jaw clenched.
She bit her lower lip until the sharp sting of pain brought a flicker of focus back.
Blood touched her tongue, metallic and warm. That tiny spark of pain reignited her will.
"Whoosh!"
The hall exploded in light.
A vast ocean of flame surged outward from her throne, crimson and gold, filling every corner of the chamber.
The heat was so fierce that the marble cracked underfoot, the air itself warping under the pressure.
This was the power that made her legend—the flame of an empress who once commanded entire armies.
The fire roared toward Dorian, its fury absolute—
And then stopped.
Just an inch away from him, the inferno froze in place, suspended in midair. Not a single spark dared to touch him.
Valentina's eyes widened. The flames she had summoned—her flames—refused to harm him.
They trembled, shuddered, and then began to part, bending away from his figure like loyal beasts bowing to their master.
Her heart pounded.
"Impossible…" she whispered.
Dorian's expression never changed.
Calm, composed, he walked forward through the parted fire as if strolling through a garden.
His gaze never left hers.
Step by step, he closed the remaining distance until he stood directly before her throne.
Valentina tried to summon more power, but it was futile. Her spirit energy would not answer.
Her fire bent to him. The realization was both infuriating and—deep within—a little terrifying.
She lifted her chin defiantly, even as her body trembled from the pressure of his presence.
If this was to be her end, she would face it with the pride befitting her title.
But the strike she expected never came.
Instead, Dorian stopped, standing close enough that she could feel the warmth radiating from his body.
His expression softened, the faintest trace of admiration flickering in his dark eyes.
"You're truly beautiful, Valentina," he said quietly.
His hand rose—not with aggression, but with a deliberate tenderness that caught her off guard.
His fingers brushed against her cheek, the touch impossibly gentle, romantic even.
Valentina froze. Her body screamed at her to recoil, to strike, to do something—and yet she did nothing.
His hand was warm. Not the warmth of fire, but something deeper, older, and strangely human.
"What exactly do you want?" Valentina hissed, her voice sharp as a blade drawn in warning. Her golden eyes burned with fury, their brilliance like molten metal in the torchlight.
She could not remember the last time she had felt so powerless—so completely restrained. The sensation was alien and infuriating.
Dorian only smiled. "Oh… I think it's not that difficult to guess what I want."
His eyes traveled slowly, deliberately, taking in the sight of her seated form.
The crimson silk of her robes clung to every graceful curve of her body, emphasizing the maturity and allure that time had only deepened rather than diminished. Her poise was regal, but her presence—her femininity—was undeniable.
Valentina caught the direction of his gaze and felt her chest tighten. "You…" she breathed, a mix of disbelief and anger slipping into her voice.
It had been centuries since anyone had dared look at her that way—with unmasked desire.
She had lived more than five hundred years in this world, and through most of them, the men who once gazed at her with longing eventually learned to avert their eyes in fear.
Power had that effect—it turned admiration into reverence, and lust into trembling awe.
But Dorian was different.
The way he looked at her carried none of that timid hesitation.
His gaze was not the gaze of a man worshipping an untouchable goddess—it was the gaze of a man who saw a woman he wanted, and fully believed he could have her.
Her pulse quickened against her will. "You dare," she said coldly, her tone that of an empress reprimanding insolence.
Dorian's lips curved slightly. "I dare many things, Valentina," he murmured, his voice low and smooth as velvet. "And I always get what I dare to claim."
Valentina's nails dug into the armrest of her throne. "Do not mistake me for a common courtesan, Dorian Axe," she said through clenched teeth. "You may have power—but you know nothing of who you provoke."
"On the contrary," Dorian replied, stepping closer, his dark eyes locking onto hers. "I know exactly who you are—and the true power that lies behind you."
Valentina's breath caught.
The confidence in his voice, the certainty in his gaze… it was almost impossible to challenge.
"Want to go on a trip with me?" Dorian asked, his tone casual yet infused with undeniable authority.
He didn't wait for her answer. Before she could even react, his hand reached for hers.
The moment their fingers touched, a strange warmth surged through her entire body, and the world around her seemed to blur.
In the blink of an eye, they vanished from the grand hall.
When the hall reappeared moments later in her mind's eye, it was as if no time had passed.
The flames that had erupted, the scorching heat, and the cracks in the marble—everything had vanished.
The room looked untouched, pristine, as though the inferno had never existed.