The landscape around Ivan remained harsh, jagged cliffs casting long shadows over rivers of molten fire. His body still buzzed with the lingering energy from the demonic pact, a power that felt both intoxicating and dangerous. The creature he had just slain lay in charred pieces nearby, black blood hissing where it touched the stone.
The silver-haired woman stepped closer, her katana sheathed but eyes still alert.
"You survived… the first test," she said, her voice softening, yet carrying authority. "Few can do what you just did. But survival is only the beginning."
Ivan's throat was dry, and his chest burned with adrenaline. "I… don't even know what's happening. Who are you?"
"Name's Akari," she replied. "Exorcist. I've been tracking these demons for months. You… are not from this world, are you?"
Before Ivan could answer, the ground shook violently, a tremor that made the molten rivers ripple and the cliffs groan. From the distant shadows, silhouettes appeared—human soldiers, but heavily armored, their banners marked with a crimson sigil of a rival faction.
"Looks like trouble," Ivan muttered, instinctively reaching for the shadow tendrils that still coiled around his arms.
"You have no idea," Akari said grimly. "These are not ordinary soldiers—they're mercenaries working for the Red Sigil Dominion. They take orders from the demon lords who seek to dominate this region. If they see you… they will kill you."
The first wave of soldiers charged, weapons glinting in the molten light. Their movements were precise, coordinated—well-trained, and deadly. Ivan and Akari exchanged a quick glance. "Together," she said, and they sprang into action.
Shadows surged from Ivan's body, wrapping around the closest attackers, crushing bones and tossing bodies aside. Akari moved like a phantom, her katana slicing through armor and flesh with fluid precision. Blood sprayed, the metallic tang mixing with the sulfurous air. The battle was chaotic, brutal, and fast. Ivan felt the raw thrill of combat—a mix of danger, power, and undeniable excitement.
Amid the fight, he noticed a strange phenomenon. The female soldiers who were close enough to see him seemed… distracted. Their attacks faltered, their eyes lingering a fraction too long. A strange heat rose in Ivan's chest. The demon said they would desire me… he thought, a shiver running down his spine.
One of the female mercenaries lunged at him directly. He caught her wrist with one hand, shadow tendrils latching like iron chains. She struggled, and as he forced her to the ground, their faces inches apart, he could feel the mix of fear and attraction radiating from her. His own pulse quickened.
"Stay… away…" she hissed, breath uneven.
Ivan released her gently but firmly, watching as she scrambled back, dazed. He realized, with a mix of dread and exhilaration, that the demon's warning was already coming true. Women would fight, desire, and compete for him—and it would only become more intense.
Akari had cleared a path for him. Together, they dispatched the remaining soldiers with a combination of power and precision. The last mercenary fell, screaming, leaving only charred footprints in the molten rock.
"This… is going to be complicated," Ivan muttered, wiping blood from his hands.
Akari's gaze softened for a brief moment. "You're stronger than you realize… but power alone won't keep you alive. You need allies, strategy… and awareness. And you'll find, in this world, desire is often more dangerous than swords."
Ivan's eyes flicked toward the horizon, where dark clouds swirled unnaturally. He felt a pull, a magnetic tug toward a distant fortress where unknown enemies—human and demon alike—were plotting their next move.
A soft voice whispered at the edge of his mind—a feminine tone, sultry and commanding, pulling him forward: "Ivan…"
He turned sharply, but no one was there. Yet he knew, instinctively, that this was only the beginning. His harem was already beginning to form—not just Akari, but others whose intentions and desires would intertwine with danger, politics, and passion.
As night fell over the jagged cliffs, Ivan realized he had a choice: fight alone, relying on raw power, or embrace the twisted path laid out before him—building alliances, surviving the political minefield, and accepting the seductive, dangerous attention of those drawn to him.
He clenched his fists, shadow energy swirling around his palms. "Then I'll do both."
The molten rivers reflected the fire in his eyes, and in that moment, Ivan understood something fundamental: in this world, survival, power, and desire were inseparable. And he intended to master all three.