"He who controls others may be powerful, but he who has mastered himself is mightier still."
— Lao Tzu
Weeks passed, and I felt the old guilt weaken like a dying flame.
The first stab of conscience had dulled into a methodical curiosity.
Lilith had taught me how to harness remorse — not erase it, but sculpt it.
Every fleeting pang of guilt became a tool — a reminder that I was human enough to recognize wrong, but cold enough to act regardless.
Our crimes became bolder — financial collapses, social sabotage, calculated intimidation.
Every act sharpened my mind, honed my patience, and tested the limits of Lilith's power over me.
And she had it — absolute, undeniable.
Not through force, but subtle suggestion, shared philosophy, and the intoxicating intimacy of knowing a man's darkest thoughts better than he did.
I looked into my reflection one night — not the man who killed Elias, not the one who manipulated Martin, but someone sharper, colder, and elegantly remorseless.
A philosopher who had weaponized conscience.
A predator who calculated like a mathematician, loved like a chemist, and plotted like a god.
Lilith's hand found mine, her touch electric in the dark.
"You are ready," she whispered.
"Now, Kael… we are unstoppable."
And in that moment, I realized: I had crossed the final threshold.
I was no longer a man who feared sin.
I was a man who understood it — and could wield it beautifully.