Spark Nighthawk sat in his study. In his massive hand, he held the open Slave Grimoire. Its pages were faintly pulsing with dim glow.
He looked at the data...
=====STATUS PANEL=====
[Name: Jasmine River]
[Gender: Female]
[Age: 27]
[Class: Technomancer]
[Level: Fortified (3rd Tier)]
[Loyalty: 100%]
[Soul Power: Fortified Level (3rd Tier)]
[Mind Power: Fortified Level (3rd Tier)]
[Body Power: Awakened Level (1st Tier)]
[Talent: Shadow Soul]
[Talent: Versatile Mind]
[Personalities: Submissive, Adaptive]
[Personalities: Playful, Organized]
[Modifier Currency: Mystic Silver]
[Technomind Gear...]
[Soulcraft Fairy...]
His eyes were dark and assessing. They scanned the two entries he had focused on. Etched in shimmering script that didn't require much explanation.
[Loyalty: 100%]
Complete. Absolute. Unbreakable. A true bond purchased the unfathomable equal exchange concept. And enforced by the Grimoire's mystical effect.
Betrayal was a concept Spark Nighthawk had known. And hated to the extreme. Both from his past life and from the cold, calculating reality of this world.
He built walls higher than mountains around his trust. But this… this was different. This wasn't exactly trust. It was ownership. It was guaranteed compliance. Something he valued very highly.
[Personalities: Submissive, Adaptive]
[Personalities: Playful, Organized]
This was the truly interesting part. He had practically erased the core that drove her as Jasmine River. Lady Mist. The infamous Blood Circles operative.
He had created someone with relatively new personality traits. Three new traits out of four.
Specifically designed traits. Submissive ensure obedience. Adaptive meant flexibility to handle any situation he threw her into. Organized would make her an efficient assistant.
...
A silent summoning command formed in his mind. The air in the study shimmered. Coalescing into a humanoid shape. Energy flowed. Light solidified.
And a figure appeared before him. One that was... not exactly the same with her previous looks. Spark hadn't hesitated to spend more mystic silver to adjust her physical appearance.
She was younger. Only in early twenties by the look of her. Long, dark blonde wavy hair flowed down her back. Catching the lamplight like spun gold. No longer black and straight.
Her eyes were once cold and calculating black orbs. They were now a bright, clear blue. Holding a warmth that hadn't been there before.
Her nose was smaller and more delicate. Her lips were full. The sharp angles of her face had softened subtly. Her jawline was less severe. Her cheekbones were slightly less prominent.
Her build was still athletic and capable looking. But they seemed less overtly predatory. More graceful.
She stood tall. Clad in simple, dark fabric that contoured to her form. Her hands were clasped loosely in front of her.
She looked different. Not dramatically. Not like a complete stranger. But enough. Enough to throw off anyone who knew the old Jasmine River. The changes were subtle, a tweak here, a curve there, but the overall effect was profound.
But the biggest change wasn't physical. It was the air about her. The seductive danger, the underlying threat, and the deadly aura of the assassin were gone.
Replaced by a quiet devotion, a poise of competence, and a readiness to serve. She stood confidently. And the expression on her face was one of mild curiosity and attentive expectation.
She no longer looked like a deadly temptress or a sexy killer. She looked like a highly competent assistant. Waiting for instructions.
"Step forward." Spark's voice was low. Fitting his size. He was seated behind his large desk. Leaning back slightly. Observing his creation.
She took two steps forward. Stopping just on the other side of the desk. Her eyes met his without fear or defiance. Only that bright, expectant blue.
"Do you remember who you were?" He asked. The question was simple. Direct.
"Yes, Master." She replied. Her voice clear and even. "I remember. I was Jasmine River of the Blood Circles."
Spark grunted. "Good. Now, who gave you the order to kill me?"
Her answer was immediate. Delivered without hesitation or malice. Simply stating fact as she knew it. "Elfate Alecrane and his son, Elcrown Alecrane."
Spark's eyelids twitched slightly. He had assumed as much. Those two clowns. His uncle and cousin. Ever since his parents died and he became the inheritor of the family fortune and title, he'd known they were circling like vultures.
They'd probably been preparing a celebration party when the sky ship went down. Only to be utterly disappointed when he survived.
Then the six years of protective law. Due to him being underage. The frustration they must have felt as he was building his own wealth in secret. While it seemed that he wasted his inheritance money for pointless things.
Now he was an adult. The legal protection had gone. And their first thought wasn't to try and negotiate, or even scheme subtly. But to send a hired killer? From Blood Circles? It was almost insultingly stupid.
Even if they had succeeded, they wouldn't live long enough to enjoy his inheritance.
He had no respect for them. None. Spark had frankly been long embarrassed to share a bloodline with them. This clumsy assassination attempt only solidified his opinion.
"Jasmine River is now dead." Spark stated. His voice flat and final. The girl standing before him didn't flinch.
"She existed, she took orders, she failed. She is gone." He paused. Letting the statement sink in. Though he knew she already accepted it on a fundamental level.
"You are no longer her. You are mine now. My secretary." He paused again. And continued with a tone that conveyed both a promise and a command. "And... my woman."
Her bright blue eyes held his. And a faint blush touched her cheeks. Not from embarrassment or fear. But something akin to pleasure, acceptance.
"Yes, Master. I understand."
He smiled then. A wide, friendly-looking smile that didn't quite reach the ruthless calculation in his eyes. "Your name is Lilith Lunaire."
"Lilith Lunaire," She repeated. Testing the syllables. It sounded natural on her tongue. "Yes, Master Nighthawk. I am Lilith Lunaire."
Spark pushed his chair back. The heavy wood scraped slightly on the polished floor. He reached into the drawer of his desk. Removing a thick file bound in dark leather, out of many other similar files.
This file contained years of compiled information on the Alecrane family. Dirt gathered through various channels. Waiting for the right moment. He knew better than to act without preparation.
He flipped through the pages. Stopping at a photograph. It wasn't a formal portrait. It was grainy. Taken perhaps with a hidden gearcore device. It showed a man and a woman locked in a passionate embrace in a dimly lit room.
The man was undeniably Elcrown Alecrane. His face slackened with illicit pleasure.
The woman was a little older. Fair-skinned. With elaborate jewelry adorning her neck and wrists.
It was his step-mother. Elfate Alecrane's fifth wife. Only a few years older than Elcrown himself.
He tapped the photo with a thick finger. "This is Elcrown and his step-mother."
He looked up at Lilith. The friendly smile was gone, replaced by cold intent. "Elfate is proud of his lineage, his honor, his control. He values family reputation above almost all else. This… this would shatter him. And he would turn his fury on his son."
He slid the photograph across the desk. Lilith picked it up. Her expression was impassive as she took in the incriminating image.
"Your task is simple, Lilith." Spark continued. "Go to the Alecrane manor tonight. Use your skills. You are a Technomancer still, aren't you?"
"Yes, Master," she confirmed. Her affinity remained.
"Good. Use them. Find both Elfate and Elcrown. Ensure they are alone together at some point. Secretly show them that." He gestured to the photograph. "Use whatever trick you can. Make them die. Frame it as a ridiculous duel to the death born of the rage of betrayal."
He leaned forward slightly. "Leave the crumpled photograph near the bodies. Make the scene messy. The goal is to make it look like the father discovered the son's affair with his wife. And they tore each other apart due to fury and shame."
He checked the grand clock ticking in the corner of the study. "It is nearing sunset. Their manor is less than an hour away on foot. You have until midnight to complete the task and report back here. Can you do that?"
Lilith nodded once. A sharp, efficient movement. "Yes, Master. I understand the task. Elfate Alecrane and Elcrown Alecrane will be dead by midnight. The scene will be staged as ordered."
"Good girl." Spark said. The smile returned briefly. "Now go."
She vanished as silently as she had appeared. The air rippling for a moment before settling back into its undisturbed state.
Spark watching the spot where she had stood for a moment. A sense of quiet satisfaction settling over him. Problem solved. Resources utilized efficiently.
He trusted Lilith completely. Not because he believed her. But because he trusted the power of the Grimoire binding her.
It was the power that came from his own meticulous designs after all. It was the only kind of trust he allowed himself. Trust in his own control.
He closed the Slave Grimoire. The pulsed light fading.
He then looked at the hazard-like tribal tattoo on the back of his left arm. It was a magic crest. The residing place of his contracted fairy. He focused his Soulcraft energy and tapped it.
A moment later... A shimmering baby girl no bigger than his thumb appeared. Fluttering on her energy wings. It was his Arcane Fairy. Honey.
"Hello, Honey!" Spark said. His voice softening slightly.
He picked up a small, crystal vial. Containing a rich, golden liquid. It was pure honey. The Sky-Blossom pure honey. The required growth item for his fairy.
Honey chirped happily. Letting out a sound like tiny bells. And landed on his finger. It began to drink the liquid offered to her greedily.
Spark watched it. A faint, almost imperceptible warmth appeared in his chest. Honey wasn't a friend, not in the conventional sense. It was a contracted entity, bound to him by the Soulcraft system.
But caring for it. Seeing it thrive… It felt like a different kind of connection. Much more fulfilling compared to the cold functional connection of the Technomind gearcore. Or the raw fusion of the Framepath.
He fed the fairy until the fairy stopped.
The fairy pulsed with gratitude and disappeared. Back to her Magic Crest form on the back of Spark's left arm.
...
Time passed in the study. The sun dipped below the horizon. Casting long shadows that danced with the lamplight. Spark remained at his desk. Not working, but reading.
The book was thick. Bound in sturdy leather. Its title emblazoned in gold: Anearth Exploration Records: Volume 17 - The Shifting Isles.
It chronicled the discovery of the expeditions into uncharted territories. Detailing strange lands, terrifying beasts, and the challenges faced by pioneers.
Spark read with focused intensity. Absorbing every necessary information. About currents. Atmospheric phenomena over floating islands. Monster migratory patterns. And the cultural notes on newly discovered sentient races.
This was the Age of Exploration. And knowledge was power. Understanding the world was crucial for navigating it.
The clock chimed the late hour. An hour before midnight. Spark didn't look up from his reading. His eyes were scanning the drawn map of a shifting island.
A soft shimmer vibrated in the air. Lilith Lunaire reappeared in his study. Looking no worse for wear. Not a single strand of hair was out of place on her dark blonde head.
"Master Spark." She said. Her voice was deferential but confident. "I have returned."
Spark closed the thick book with a soft thump. And looked up. Turning his chair to face her. His face was unreadable. But the light in his eyes was sharp. "Report."
"Task completed." She stated simply. "I entered the Alecrane manor without detection. Located Elfate and Elcrown in the master study, arguing about a business deal. I introduced the photograph discreetly. Allowing Elfate to discover it as if it had been accidentally dropped by Elcrown during their argument."
She continued, detailing the events with clinical precision. "Elfate's reaction was as anticipated. Rage. Disbelief. Directed entirely at his son. Elcrown reacted with defiance and counter-accusations. Blaming Elfate's neglect and his wife's seduction. The argument escalated rapidly."
"Both are now dead. Elfate suffered multiple stab wounds. Elcrown had several cuts and a fatal wound to the chest. The room was heavily damaged. I ensured the photograph was prominently displayed. Crumpled as instructed. The scene is consistent with a violent conflict over the discovered affair."
Lilith finished her report. Waiting for his response. There was no hint of remorse or hesitation in her demeanor. She had been given a command. And she had executed it efficiently and precisely.
Spark listened. His large frame was relaxed in the chair. But his mind was sharp. Her report was concise, thorough, and confirmed everything he needed to know. Clean, effective, and perfectly staged. Just as he planned.
A genuine smile spread across his face. One that held zero warmth for the deceased. But a distinct pleasure in a job well done.
"Excellent, Lilith. Utterly efficient. You handled it perfectly."
He stood up. His powerful muscles rippling under his clothes. He was enormous. Towering over her. The sheer physical presence was intimidating. Even when his expression was pleasant.
"You performed beyond expectation. You executed a complex task flawlessly and returned faster than expected."
He circled his desk slowly. His eyes holding hers. "You deserve a reward."
Before she could respond, before she could even anticipate the action, Spark reached her.
His large hands scooped her off her feet. They were surprisingly gentle despite their size and power. She was light in his arms. A natural fit against his massive chest.
Lilith made a soft sound of surprise. Her arms instinctively went around his neck. Her eyes were widening slightly. But there was no fear. Only that inherent submissiveness. And a growing expectation.
Spark held her securely. His smile was now a slow, predatory curve. This was the reward. Not gold, not trinkets. Ownership. Control. Absolute possession of the resource he had created and commanded.
He carried her like a prize. The soft curve of her body a pleasant weight against him.
He turned. Not to the door leading to the main house. But towards the private corridor. The one that led from his study directly to his personal chambers.
He walked with purpose. The book and grimoire were left neglected on his desk. His focus was singular.
Lilith Lunaire. His secretary. His woman. The weapon he had forged. She was coming to his bedroom.