She touched the altar with trembling fingers.
Not in prayer, not in faith—but in desperation.
The sacred gold was warm beneath her palms, humming faintly with divine resonance, but it felt distant now. Duller. As if the shrine itself recoiled from her touch.
Or recognized what she'd become.
Saint Mirana, Voice of Purity, Second Flame of the Celestial Seven, dropped to her knees.
And wept.
Her silver hair clung to her damp face. Her ceremonial robes clung to her thighs, the linen damp between her legs where the holy oils could not cleanse the shame anymore. It soaked through the silk, marking her skin, making her tremble with guilt and memory and something worse:
Longing.
Her dreams had not stopped.
If anything, they'd become more vivid. More carnal.
And more frequent.
Each night, he returned to her—not as a man she remembered, but as something greater, darker. A creature of heat and shadow and lips that whispered things no saint should crave.
Kael.
Her curse.
Her obsession.
The man she watched die at the hands of her order.
Now he haunted her thoughts like a ghost made of desire.
"I don't understand what's happening to me," she whispered aloud, barely able to hear her own voice over the pounding of her pulse. "I am holy. I am His servant. I cannot be..."
Wet.
The word burned her throat, but she couldn't deny the truth between her thighs. Her body pulsed with hunger, slick with a need no prayer had erased.
"Please," she begged—not to him, but to the heavens. "Make it stop. Cleanse me. Free me..."
But the silence that followed was heavy. Thick. Smothering.
And then a voice did answer.
Just not the one she wanted.
"You prayed to them every night to be delivered from me," Kael whispered in her mind, his voice velvet and sin. "And yet here you are… soaking the altar I used to kneel before."
"No," she gasped, pressing her palms over her ears. "You're not real. You're just a dream—just a punishment for my failure—"
"Then why does your pussy ache when I speak your name?"
Her knees buckled.
The words hit like lightning.
Because it was true. Every syllable echoed through her like a kiss down her spine. Her nipples stiffened. Her back arched involuntarily.
And her lips parted.
"Kael…"
The whisper fell from her like prayer.
She slammed her hand into the floor, trying to silence herself, but the damage was done.
The shrine flared—once gold, now tinted faintly crimson. A petal drifted down from the ceiling. A single silver bloom, wilting before it touched the floor.
Something had changed.
She had changed.
Above her, the statue of the goddess Isamira—the Virgin Flame—seemed to cry. Only this time, it wasn't tears.
It was blood.
Far below the Citadel, I stood at the center of the ruined chapel, smiling as her voice echoed in the depths of my mind. The soul-bond was strengthening. Every whispered confession, every unspoken desire etched itself deeper into the astral link.
[Soul-Sync: 36% Stable]
[Saint Mirana's Resistance: 47% → 39%]
[Milestone Achieved: Real-World Shrine Contamination | Divine Relic Disrupted]
Her temple was bleeding.
And it would only get worse.
I opened the system menu. The corrupted altar throbbed with power. Chains slithered across the broken floor, responding to my will. The Veil had absorbed more of her essence than I'd hoped. Every orgasm, every dream visitation had seeded my corruption into her world.
Now she was vulnerable—even in waking hours.
Time to escalate.
[Unlocking Seduction Skill: Echo Pulse Lv.1]
Project desire-triggering sensations into the target's waking mind. Limited to moments of emotional distress or heightened arousal.Risk of full-body collapse or spontaneous climax. Use with care.
I grinned.
Care?
No.
I wanted her to break in the light of day.
Back at the altar, Mirana pressed her thighs together tightly as she prayed again.
But the words kept slipping.
Each syllable of her chant stuttered as a phantom sensation began to build between her legs. Gentle. Hypnotic. As if fingers—ghostly and precise—traced the outline of her clit.
Her mouth opened in a sharp gasp.
"No… no, not now… not here—"
The pressure increased.
She fell forward, grabbing the altar for support.
She could feel him again.
Not in a dream.
Now.
Inside her.
Moving as if she were already open. Wet. Ready.
Her breath hitched. Her fingers dug into the golden cloth.
And when the phantom sensation curled—slow and hot—against her entrance, she cried out.
Loudly.
Her moan echoed through the sanctum, so unholy it cracked the silence like a whip.
"Stop… stop this… someone will hear—"
But she didn't stop.
Her hips bucked gently.
Her toes curled against the marble.
She was trembling, drenched, undone.
And she was alone.
Except for me.
The system flared.
[Echo Pulse Successful – Orgasm Threshold Approaching]
[Sin Points +45 | Physical Feedback Loop Established]
[Holy Ground Corruption: 23%]
I knelt before the ruined statue of her likeness and placed a single finger against its breast.
The stone turned warm.
Then pulsed.
Her shrine wasn't the only place leaking now.
Mirana collapsed sideways on the altar, breathing raggedly. Her thighs were soaked. Her inner garments ruined. She'd just climaxed.
She knew it.
The shame was unbearable.
So why was she crying in relief?
She lay there a long time.
Whimpering.
Until the pain of guilt began to rise again.
Until the voice returned.
"You're mine now," I whispered. "You screamed my name inside your shrine. You flooded your altar. You begged me to stop—while your hips kept moving."
She covered her mouth.
Tears streamed down her face.
"But I'm still a maiden," she whispered. "Still… technically…"
"Not for long," I replied.
And she believed me.
Because part of her wanted it to be true.
The scent of incense couldn't hide her arousal anymore.
Hours later, Mirana stood in the Hall of Light, where the other Maidens knelt in meditation before a beam of sun-drenched crystal. It was supposed to be a place of serenity. A chamber untouched by mortal urges.
But her thighs were slick beneath her robes.
And the voice still haunted her.
"You'll feel my hands in broad daylight," Kael whispered inside her mind. "Your sisters will pray beside you while your body remembers the way I made you scream."
She clenched her teeth, digging her nails into her palm hard enough to draw blood.
"Be still, Saint Mirana," said High Sister Laevis, seated just beside her. "Your aura is… fluctuating."
"I—I'm fine," she lied.
But she wasn't. Her inner garments were soaked. Her breath was shallow. She could barely concentrate on the sacred mantra being chanted by the other Virgins. Each syllable sounded distorted—warped by phantom echoes of Kael's voice in her mind.
"Let me inside again. You want to feel it. You want me to ruin you."
Her legs trembled. Her knees nearly gave out.
She had to leave.
Mirana staggered out of the Hall and locked herself inside her private sanctum, panting like she'd run a battlefield. Her reflection in the tall silver mirror showed a flushed, trembling woman—hair matted, lips red, eyes darkened with unshed lust.
She didn't look holy anymore.
She looked… needy.
And when she stripped off her robes and pressed her hands to the mirror, she whispered the name again.
"Kael…"
The mirror trembled.
She gasped.
At first she thought it was just her guilt, her madness. But then she felt it—faint, undeniable. Warmth.
The mirror pulsed.
And her skin responded.
She fell to her knees. The mirror flickered—and for the briefest second, she saw him. Not fully. Just a shadow. A silhouette of muscle and eyes that glowed like embers. Behind the glass. Reaching for her.
She touched the glass.
He touched back.
And her body ignited.
I grinned as the system activated the mirror-link function I had poured Sin into.
[Reflection Link Engaged]
[Saint Mirana's Virgin Aura: Flickering][Resistance: 39% → 27%]
Now I could reach her even when she was awake.
Even when she was fully aware.
She had called my name willingly. Touched herself with her own hands. Fallen to her knees not in prayer—but in anticipation.
The altar. The sanctum. Her mind.
They were mine.
And she would be too.
Her legs spread before the mirror.
She didn't think.
She didn't fight.
Her fingers slid across her glistening folds, breath shuddering as Kael's presence curled around her from the other side of the glass.
Her moan echoed like a hymn in reverse—dark and sacred and utterly profane.
"I can't… stop," she whimpered.
"Don't," Kael said, pressing closer through the link. "Let it happen."
Her fingers moved faster. Her eyes glazed over.
The light in the sanctum dimmed.
The silver in the mirror bled red.
She screamed his name again as she came—harder than ever before, body shaking violently. Light flared behind her eyes, and her soul fractured at the edges.
[Orgasm Milestone Achieved: Waking Communion Event]
[Sin Points +65 | Divine Rank Integrity: 82% → 59%]
[Trait Unlocked: Craving Touch – Target will experience physical longing in Kael's absence]
She collapsed beside the mirror, twitching, panting, one hand still between her thighs.
She'd never felt anything like that.
And part of her feared she never would again—unless she surrendered completely.
She turned her head toward the mirror's faintly glowing surface.
"Please… come to me."
Her voice cracked.
And something in the mirror responded.
A pulse.
A tremor.
A promise.
Back in the chapel, I watched the Veil tremble. The chains rose like snakes. The ruined statue of her likeness dripped silver from its breasts.
The portal was nearly open.
The time of dreams was ending.
The time of possession had begun.
One last push… and I would be able to enter her chamber physically, through the astral bleed.
But not yet.
No.
I wanted her to invite me in.
That night, Mirana did not dream.
She waited.
Naked in bed, silk sheets twisted beneath her as she stared at the ceiling, body hot and aching. Her thighs refused to stay closed. Her fingers trembled on her stomach. She had touched herself six times already.
And none of them compared to when Kael touched her.
Even if it was only in her mind.
"Why are you doing this to me?" she whispered.
And then, finally… he answered.
His shadow emerged from the corner of her room—not through a dream, but through the Veil that now flickered between realms. His body shimmered with heat. His horns curled back like a crown of blasphemy. His voice rolled across her skin like oil and sin.
"To set you free."
"You'll destroy me," she whispered, breath catching.
"I'll remake you."
She should've run.
She should've screamed.
Instead, she spread her legs beneath the covers, cheeks flushed, lips parted.
"Then do it."
And I stepped forward.
[Final Phase Unlocked: First Real-World Contact]
[System Alert: Consent Registered – Target Yearns for Initiation]
[Next Chapter Objective: Claim the Body, Bind the Soul]