The morning sun filtered through the high windows of the dining hall, casting long beams of light across the mahogany table.
For the first time in years, the air in the villa didn't feel heavy.
I sat at my usual spot. To my right, Pearl was happily devouring a plate of grilled fish, her mana replenished from our nightly "sessions." To my left, Rose—the formerly terrifying Head Maid—poured my tea.
Her hand didn't shake. Her posture was still perfect, her uniform starched. But as she leaned in to fill my cup, her hip brushed against my shoulder.
Brush.
It was deliberate. A subtle, lingering touch that only I would notice.
"Is the temperature to your liking, Priest-sama?" she asked, her voice professional, but her eyes darting to mine with a submissive, glassy reverence.
"Perfect, Rose," I said, taking a sip. "You seem... lighter today."
"I slept well," she replied, a faint flush creeping up her neck as she remembered exactly how she fell asleep—bound to her bed, covered in my scent.
At the head of the table, Lady Julienne watched us. She knows about what happened last night in Rose's room. In fact she knows how I left Rose's room after all the baptism.
"You two seem to be getting along," Julienne noted, poking at her salad. "Rose usually threatens to poison guests by the third day."
"Priest-sama has a way of... easing burdens," Rose said smoothly, stepping back to stand by the wall.
I hid a smirk behind my teacup. The household was secure. The maids were mine. The Head Maid was mine. Now, we just needed to—
SLAM.
The double doors of the dining hall burst open.
Gaston, the old gardener, stumbled in. He was out of breath, clutching a muddy riding cap in his hands. He looked pale.
"My Lady!" he gasped. "A rider! From the front lines!"
The temperature in the room plummeted. Julienne dropped her fork. It clattered loudly against the china.
Clang.
"From... him?" she whispered.
A moment later, a soldier stomped in. He wasn't one of the village guards. He wore the crimson and black armor of the King's Legion, crusted with dried mud and road dust. He didn't bow. He didn't salute.
He simply marched up to the table and threw a scroll onto Julienne's plate.
Thwack.
"Orders from Colonel Legatus," the soldier grunted. "He demands an immediate response."
Julienne stared at the scroll as if it were a viper coiled to strike. Her hands trembled violently as she reached out, breaking the wax seal.
Crack.
She unrolled the parchment. Her eyes scanned the lines.
One second. Two seconds.
Her face turned grey.
"This..." she choked out. "This is impossible."
"Read it," I said, my voice cutting through the fear.
Julienne looked at me, tears welling in her eyes. "He... he demands the winter reserve. Five hundred sacks of grain. All the gold in the vault. And..."
She swallowed hard.
"He demands fifty able-bodied men from the slums. He says he heard rumors of a 'miraculous recovery' among the cripples."
I narrowed my eyes. So, the news travels fast. The War God doesn't waste time. I heal them, and he tries to harvest them immediately.
"If we give him the winter reserve," Rose stepped forward, her voice sharp with alarm, "the village will starve before spring. And the gold? We barely have enough to maintain the hospice."
"And the men," I added, standing up. "Those men in the slums are recovering from years of malnutrition and injury. Sending them to the front lines now is a death sentence."
"It doesn't matter!the god of war will grant them strength" the soldier barked, his hand resting on the hilt of his sword. "Your husband's orders are absolute. The God of War demands tribute. Victory requires sacrifice!"
He sneered at Julienne. "Or perhaps the Lady would prefer to explain to her husband why she values beggar trash over his glory?"
Julienne shrank back into her chair.
And then, I saw it.
Fzzzt.
[Skill Activated: Soul Sight]
A black, oily miasma erupted from Julienne's chest. It wasn't visible to the soldier or the staff, but to me, it was blinding.
It looked like a chain. Thick, spiked chains made of shadow were wrapped around her heart and her womb, tightening, squeezing the life out of her.
It was the Corruption.
The influence of the War God. It wasn't just fear; it was a spiritual parasite fed by her husband's dominance. It was choking her will, draining her mana, and preventing her from thinking what is right and just.
"We... we have to obey," Julienne whispered, her eyes dead. "If we refuse... we don't know what will happen to my husband. And this village."
"My Lady, we cannot!" Rose argued, looking to me for support. "The people—"
"I SAID WE OBEY!" Julienne screamed, slamming her hands on the table, her eyes devoid of her will.
The outburst shocked everyone. She was hyperventilating, the black sludge around her aura pulsing violently.
"Gaston," she gasped, clutching her chest. "Prepare the grain. Rose... open the vault. Gather the men."
"No," I said.
My voice wasn't loud, but it carried the weight of the deep ocean.
I walked around the table. The soldier stepped in my path.
"Stay back, Priest," the soldier warned. "This is family business."
I didn't stop. I looked at him.
Flash.
I let my "Predator Aura" leak out—just for him.
For a split second, the soldier didn't see a man in robes. He saw a leviathan. He saw a thousand teeth in the dark.
He flinched, stumbling back, his hand falling away from his sword.
I walked past him and stood next to Julienne. She was shaking, the scroll crumpled in her fist.
"Julienne," I said softly.
"You don't understand," she wept, not looking at me. "You don't know him. He owns us. He owns this land. We are just... we are just waiting to be used."
I looked at the chains choking her soul.
Talk was cheap. Diplomacy was useless. She was spiritually compromised. As long as that corruption held her heart, she would never defy him. She would send those men to die, and she would let this village rot, all because the God of War had his claws in her.
I needed to break the chain.
I needed to replace the Fear of War with the Love of Lunaria.
"Rose," I commanded, not taking my eyes off the mistress.
"Yes, Priest-sama?" Rose answered instantly.
"Escort the soldier to the guest quarters. Give him food. Get him drunk."
"Hey!" the soldier protested. "I demand an answer—"
"You will have your answer in the morning," I said, my voice cold. "Now go. Before I decide to give you a 'blessing' you won't recover from."
Rose stepped forward, her face returning to the Iron Mask, but her eyes signaling obedience to me. She ushered the confused and slightly terrified soldier out of the room.
The doors closed.
We were alone. Me, Julienne, and the heavy silence of a house under siege.
"Why..." Julienne sobbed. "Why did you stop him? We have to send the supplies."
"Look at me," I said.
She refused. She stared at her lap, the black aura swirling around her like a storm.
I reached out. My hand—my human hand—cupped her chin and forced her to look up.
Her eyes were dull. The spark I had seen yesterday in the carriage was gone, smothered by the Husband's letter.
"You are drowning, Julienne," I whispered. "You are trying to breathe underwater, and it is killing you."
"I can't fight him," she whimpered. "I'm weak."
"You are not weak, Julienne. You are blocked," I said, my voice dropping to a hypnotic timbre. "Tell me... what is it you truly desire? To help the husband who chains you? Or to save the village that feeds you?"
I let my thumb brush her lower lip. To an outsider, it might have looked perverse—a Priest touching a Noblewoman. But I wasn't just touching her; I was pushing mana directly into her meridian, loosening the invisible chokehold the God of War had on her throat. The War God thrives on brute force; he doesn't know how to handle a slow, seductive tug-of-war.
"Sa... save the village," Julienne stammered, her eyes flickering with a desperate, terrified hope.
"I can help you with that," I promised. "I can give you the strength to burn that letter. But... you have to let me in."
"Let you... in?"
Beneath the heavy tablecloth, my robes shifted.
Slither.
Two slender tentacles crawled out, moving silently across the floor. They found her ankles, then slid up her calves, finding a path under the layers of her long skirt.
She froze. She felt the cold, rubbery texture against her skin. She knew exactly what I was doing. She had seen the regeneration process with Pearl. She had heard the wet sounds coming from Kara's room. She had seen the flushed glow on Rose's face this morning.
"Please... stop..." she whispered, a single tear rolling down her cheek. "This is wrong... I am married. It is a sin."
"Your marriage is a cage," I countered, stepping closer until our bodies almost touched. "And your husband is the jailer. Lunaria offers the key... and I am the Truth."
Touch.
The tentacles reached her thighs. She twitched, her knees knocking together, but she didn't run. She stood there, enduring the sensation, paralyzed by the conflict between her duty and her body's betrayal.
I leaned down, resting my forehead against hers. I could feel the heat radiating from her skin—the fever of a woman fighting a god.
"See him, Julienne," I commanded. "See what he truly is."
I kissed her.
It wasn't a soft kiss. It was a data transfer.
A flash—I assaulted her mind with the images I had extracted from Rose's diary, and the combined memories of Rose and Kara.
The amputated legs of the children. The slums being used as a livestock farm. Her husband laughing as he sold her dowry to fund his armory and raised ranks to the general of the land.
"Mmmph!"
Julienne's eyes flew open wide. It was too much. The pleasure from the tentacles teasing her femininity mixed with the horror of the truth.
Thump.
Her legs gave out. She dropped to her knees, weeping, her hands clutching my robes for support.
"How... how could he?" she wailed, her voice cracking with grief. "My people... my poor village..."
I knelt in front of her. My tentacles didn't stop; they brushed against her wetness, keeping her in a state of heightened sensitivity, while my human hand gently wiped the tears from her face.
"He does it for gold," I said softy. "He does it for power."
I reached into my robe (accessing the Inventory).
Thud.
I pulled out a heavy, ornate wooden box and set it on the floor between us. I flicked the latch open.
Clink.
Gold coins glittered in the dim light. A small fortune from the ocean continent.
"This is for the tax," I said, gesturing to the gold. "It will suffice for the soldier's demand. But the people he demands... the supplies... that choice is up to you. Are you willing to let them suffer more for the sake of a monster?"
I stood up, leaving the treasure—and the weeping woman—on the floor.
"If you choose to fight him... I can help you. You have already tasted and witnessed a fraction of my power. But to truly save them..."
I leaned down one last time, my lips brushing her ear.
"You have to let me inside you, Julienne. To break the lock, I need to be fully connected to you. You saw it, Rose, Pearl"
Her cheeks burned a deep, shameful crimson. She didn't say no.
"The choice is yours," I whispered. "Your people... or your husband."
I turned and walked away, my robes swishing softly against the stone floor.
As I left the hall, I pulled up the System interface.
[Target: Julienne] [Corruption Level: 85% (Critical)] [Status: Breaking Point]
Hopefully, she makes the right choice, I thought, suppressing the urge to turn back. The restraint I placed on her fear will only last for tonight. If I don't Seed her now, the War God will consume her completely.
And if that happens... this village is lost.