The iron-bound door creaked open, admitting a sliver of natural light that looked alien in the violet gloom of my halls. Sarah stepped inside, her hand white-knuckled around the hilt of a standard-issue shortsword. She was a blonde swordswoman, likely a scout for one of the smaller guilds in the Capital. Her armor was practical—leather boiled in oil, reinforced at the joints—but it did nothing to hide the athletic curve of her hips or the frantic rise and fall of her chest.
"Is... is anyone here?" she called out. Her voice echoed, sounding small and frail against the heavy silence of the stone.
The moment she stepped over the threshold of the first corridor, I activated the Wife-Stealing Rod's passive aura. It didn't strike like a physical blow; it moved like a scent, a heavy, cloying pheromone that bypassed the senses and went straight to the primal brain.
Sarah froze. I watched from the shadows as her pupils dilated. Her skin, previously pale with fear, began to flush a deep, feverish pink.
"A trap?" she whimpered, her sword arm trembling. "My body... it feels... so heavy. Why is it so hot in here?"
She tried to take another step, but her knees buckled. The Rod's aura was finding the "Marriage Bond" she carried—the mental and spiritual connection to her husband, Marcus. It was twisting that bond, turning the security of her marriage into a source of agonizing, internal heat. She let out a soft, confused gasp, her free hand moving instinctively to the collar of her tunic, tugging at the leather to let in the cool, damp air of the dungeon.
"Marcus... help me..." she whispered, but the name sounded hollow even to her.
That was the signal. I commanded the Slimes to drop.
The three acidic blobs fell from the ceiling with a wet thud. Two landed on her shoulders, their cool, gelatinous bodies immediately adhering to her skin. The third coiled around her ankles. Sarah let out a scream, but it was cut short as the Slimes began to secrete a mild paralytic.
She collapsed onto the stone floor. The Slimes moved over her with a mindless, rhythmic undulation, their translucent bodies sliding over her heated skin, heightening the sensory overload she was already experiencing from the Rod. She wasn't being eaten; she was being overwhelmed.
I stepped out of the shadows, my boots clicking rhythmically on the obsidian. I stood over her, looking down at the "heroine" who was now shivering in the dirt. Her blonde hair was a mess, splayed out like a halo of straw, and her eyes were hazy with a mixture of terror and a desperate, chemically induced hunger.
"Who... who are you?" she gasped, her voice a wet rasp.
"I am the Master of this dungeon, Sarah," I replied. I reached down, my fingers grazing the line of her jaw. She flinched, but she didn't pull away. In fact, she leaned into the touch, a small, shameful moan escaping her lips.
[Intruder Neutralized]
[Reward: 500 DP]
[Bonus: First Captive Multiplier Active]
"Please..." she pleaded, her eyes welling with tears. "My husband... Marcus... he's waiting for me at the gates. He'll come for me. He's a warrior... he'll..."
"Let him come," I said, my voice dropping to a predatory whisper. I leaned closer, the violet light of the Core reflecting in my eyes. "In fact, I'm counting on it. But by the time he finds you, Sarah, you won't remember why you ever loved a man so weak."
I spent 100 DP on the spot to manifest a cell. It wasn't a cage of rusted bars; it was a room of smooth stone and enchanted iron, designed to keep her alive and receptive. I reached down and scooped her up. Her body was light, shivering with a fever that only I could break. As I carried her into the depths of the dungeon, I could feel the corruption taking root. It felt like a dark, heavy vine wrapping around her soul, slowly tightening its grip.