Damon gulped as he took a good look at the black lacy outfit Ellora was now casually flaunting. It was bold, clingy in all the wrong ways, and definitely not the kind of thing one would expect a follower to wear while on duty.
Damon groaned and looked away, trying to ignore the damned woman. While he enjoyed a good show, currently, there were plenty of won in his life whom he actually cared for. He really did not have the ntal space right now for this.
"Get dressed and stop this nonsense. I won’t tell you this twice."
Ellora pouted and turned away. For a second, Damon worried if he had screwed and lost her favorability, but the next second, the woman only revealed an even more cunning grin. "Can’t say that I do not love a strict master. Mmmm. Yes, my Lord. I am here to obey all your whims and wishes."
Her attire changed to her old revealing one, which only had a little more clothing than the lingerie she was wearing. Not to ntion, her attitude was still the sa. Damon decided to give up on this for now. It was not like he hated looking at beautiful won. Well, whatever worked for her.
"First, teleport us both to the blood hall." He gave the first order.
Ellora gave a theatrical bow, the shimring red veins glowing faintly along her arms as she activated her magic. "As you command, my stern Lord."
She snapped her fingers with a smirk, and a swirling crimson vortex opened at their feet. The magic pulsed with the familiar scent of aged blood and runes—the unique signature of the Blood Hall.
Damon didn’t bother replying. He stepped into the portal, forcing himself to stay focused on his real objective: his soul. His body was still a ss, his mana circuits felt like tangled thorns, and every breath reminded him he was running on fus. Now wasn’t the ti to get distracted by flirtatious witches.
The portal whisked them away, and within seconds, they erged into the core chamber of the Blood Hall. Ellora erged beside him, stretching dramatically like she had just done sothing extrely difficult. Damon didn’t give her the chance to open her mouth or start any drama. "Lead to the prison cells."
She gave a mock salute and spun on her heels, her voice lilting. "To the prison cells it is. Why, my lord? Are you going to give a good spanking for being such a naughty, naughty follower?"
She made a really cute face as opposed to her usual seductive face, and it made Damon laugh a little. "Ya, I just might spank you until you beg for rcy."
Ellora gasped in mock horror, putting a hand to her chest like he’d just offended her delicate sensibilities. "Oh no, how terrifying. Please punish , Master. Punish hard," she whispered dramatically with the sa mischievous glint in her eyes.
Damon rolled his eyes and waved his hand. "Enough. Walk."
She obeyed, hips swaying far more than necessary as she led the way down a side corridor lined with red torches.
Damon followed behind, keeping his mind anchored to what mattered. Kaelthorn. He was going to et the man face to face now, and no amount of Ellora’s playful teasing was going to change how serious this visit was.
As they walked deeper into the Blood Hall’s underground levels, the air grew colder and heavier. The enchantnts changed too. Runes of suppression and control were inscribed on the walls. These weren’t decorative. These were ant to keep monsters locked down.
Ellora finally stopped in front of a dark iron gate covered in crimson runes. She looked over her shoulder with an oddly thoughtful expression. "You really sure about this, my Lord? He’s... not exactly the friendly type."
Damon stepped forward, eyes sharp. "Neither am I."
Ellora gave a small smile at that but said nothing more. With a wave of her hand, the crimson runes on the gate pulsed and receded, unlocking the heavy iron door with a deep tallic groan. The scent of old blood and stale air drifted out like a warning.
Damon stepped through without hesitation.
The cell inside was simple but reinforced with enough enchantnts to imprison a dozen monsters. In the center sat a man chained to a stone chair, his long silver hair dull and unkempt, his bare chest covered in faded tattoos and scars.
His eyes were closed, as if asleep, but Damon knew better. The mont he entered, Kaelthorn’s lips twitched into a slow, crooked smile.
"So... the Blood Hall finally found soone stupid enough to let out?" the man rasped.
Damon stared at him for a mont, letting the silence stretch. "Yes," he said flatly. "I’m the one crazy enough to put you to use."
Kaelthorn opened his eyes, deep red, sharp as blades, and looked at Damon for a minute. He then grinned. "You are an interesting one. If I had sacrificed soone like you, I wouldn’t be in this condition in the first place."
His eyes road over Damon, not with fear or respect, but with curiosity, the way a predator might eye sothing unfamiliar just before deciding if it’s worth attacking.
"And what makes you think you can control , little Lord?" he asked, the grin on his face slowly widening. "Do you think these chains an anything? That the system’s little leash will hold forever?"
"I don’t need to control you," Damon said calmly. "I just need you pointed in the right direction. You are a mad, crazy bloodhound, aren’t you? Don’t you want to co out and play?"
Kaelthorn laughed. It was dry and humorless, echoing off the stone walls. "You sound just like the last one. Thought he could use . Thought he was clever." He leaned forward, and for the first ti, Damon felt the sheer pressure behind those crimson eyes. "And now his bones are dust."
"I’m not him," Damon said simply.
For a second, the room went quiet.
Then Kaelthorn leaned back with a low chuckle, sothing dark flickering in his gaze. "Fine. I’ll play your little ga, Lord Blood God. Just don’t cry when you realize what you’ve unleashed."
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