"Oh..."
A faint, flippant note of admiration lingered in the air before being carried away by the drifting wind.
*Swish!*
Lucian's figure vanished like a phantom at the exact instant before Kafka's sweeping kick could reach him, leaving behind nothing but a fleeting afterimage that quickly dissolved into emptiness.
'Gone...'
Kafka's incomparably sharp spinning back kick struck nothing but empty air, and the force it carried stirred the thin curtains by the window, causing them to ripple softly as a gust swept through the room.
Her heart abruptly sank.
Before her body had even fully steadied from the motion, an overwhelming and irresistible force had already pressed against the side of her slender waist without the slightest warning—the sudden contact sent a jolt through her nerves.
She had not seen him move.
She had not sensed him approach.
It was as though he had simply appeared there.
"Nice move, just a bit underhanded."
Lucian's calm voice sounded beside Kafka's ear.
If he had been even a fraction slower, that kick aimed directly at his balls would have ended his lineage on the spot.
He had to admit that this woman was far too ruthless.
Every movement she made was clean, decisive, and aimed straight at a vital point, as though she had no interest whatsoever in probing or testing whether the other person was an enemy.
Clearly, she needed to be taught a lesson.
In the next moment, the hand Lucian had placed against Kafka's waist, which had not been intended to strike, gave only a light push, yet hidden within that seemingly gentle motion was a precise and subtle guiding force.
Kafka instantly felt her balance collapse as the center of gravity she had maintained through years of combat experience was disrupted in an instant, causing her body to involuntarily follow the trajectory Lucian dictated.
Her figure spun through half a rotation before she was firmly drawn into an embrace around the waist.
"It's you..."
Only then did Kafka clearly see that the one who had countered her so effortlessly was none other than her target—Lucian.
"You came into my room—who else could it be? And who taught you to pull a sneak attack like that?"
Lucian looked down at her with a faintly amused expression.
With one hand wrapped around Kafka's slender waist and the other gripping her wrist, their bodies aligned in a posture that resembled a waltz, as though the clash between them had somehow transformed into a strange and silent dance. Anyone seeing the scene from a distance would have found it difficult to believe they were in the middle of a fight.
Kafka's pupils contracted slightly as shock flickered through her mind.
'Too insidious...'
Just now, she had not sensed even the faintest fluctuation of presence, not even the slightest trace—the moment Lucian disappeared from her sight, he had seemingly ceased to exist within reality altogether.
If this had been a true life-and-death encounter, she would have died without ever seeing his face.
Evidently, it had to be the same teleportation ability he had used on her and Silver Wolf before.
"I'm sorry, but I never show mercy to someone with bad intentions appearing behind me without making a sound."
Kafka smiled faintly, her tone calm and unhurried.
Truthfully, her reasoning was understandable.
For someone who lived on the edge of a blade every single day, holding back was no different from courting death.
Every battle could be her last.
Every hesitation could become a fatal mistake.
Suddenly, the moment her lips curved upward, before Lucian could respond, Kafka exerted force through her lower body and twisted sharply. Her movements were fluid and flexible as she slipped free from his hold like a water snake, her body bending in ways that seemed almost impossible.
At the same time, fine purple threads materialized around him.
Formed from a special kind of condensed energy, they spread silently through the air. Although their appearance was delicate and almost beautiful beneath the room's lighting, they possessed extraordinary toughness, enough to restrain even powerful opponents.
"I don't even have any bad intentions, and you're still coming at me?"
Lucian asked calmly, his voice steady as he noticed that the source of the purple threads lay in Kafka's hands.
Only after she skillfully manipulated them to bind him in place did Kafka respond.
"You've stirred my desire, so you'll have to take responsibility and let me enjoy myself for a while. Let me see your strength."
A faint smile lingered on her lips as she spoke.
Kafka was someone who enjoyed toying with her prey, and she enjoyed playing with her opponents just as much.
For her, combat was not merely a means of survival, but also a form of entertainment and a source of excitement. Once she engaged in battle, there were only two possible outcomes—either her opponent knocked her down, or they satisfied her completely.
Persuasion?
Gentle negotiation?
All of that could wait.
Unfortunately for her, Lucian was no easy target, and he chose neither option.
Not only had she sneaked into his place and attacked his balls, but she was now even trying to bind him afterward.
Clearly, this woman could not be indulged.
"You like bondage that much, huh? Perfect. I happen to know a thing or two about the 'art' of bondage myself—thanks to my cat."
As soon as Lucian finished speaking, the threads wrapped around his body snapped apart in an instant.
*Snap!* *Snap!* *Snap!* *Snap!*
One after another, the glowing purple threads shattered like fragile glass, as though they had never possessed any restraining power to begin with.
Immediately afterward, Lucian raised his hand and clenched it into a fist.
*Whoosh!*
Suddenly, without any visible source, a mass of rootless vines abruptly manifested throughout the room. As if bursting forth from empty space itself, they twisted and writhed like living creatures before surging toward Kafka with the obvious intent of capturing her.
Kafka's reactions were swift and precise, as in that instant, she already evaded through a series of high-difficulty movements, her body bending and twisting through impossibly narrow gaps between the approaching vines.
At times, she seemed less like a warrior and more like a dancer performing an intricate routine upon a grand stage.
Every step was elegant.
Every turn was graceful.
Every dodge flowed seamlessly into the next.
Seeing this scene, Lucian showed no sign of urgency.
Instead, he stood at ease with his hands relaxed at his sides, quietly watching and appreciating Kafka's 'dance' as though it were a performance arranged solely for his amusement.
Her legs were full and shapely, yet perfectly proportioned.
Her striking chest swayed subtly with each movement, presenting a captivating sight.
Her splits.
Her flexibility.
Her balance.
Every motion was clean, graceful, and controlled, showcasing the extraordinary physical conditioning hidden beneath her elegant appearance.
Lucian found himself almost involuntarily thinking of Cipher, and for a brief moment, he could not help but compare the two women.
"Is that all you've got? Are you even a man?"
Kafka seized the opportunity to tease Lucian, her tone light yet deliberately provocative. Even while dodging dozens of pursuing vines, she appeared remarkably relaxed, as though the relentless assault posed no real threat to her at all.
"Who taught you to ask a guy whether he's a man?"
Lucian's brows drew together slightly as he responded, his patience visibly beginning to wear thin.
Seeing his reaction, the teasing smile on Kafka's face only grew more obvious—and that was when Lucian's foot suddenly slammed heavily into the floor without warning.
*BOOM!*
With a single stomp, an overwhelming surge of vines erupted into existence.
At the same moment, the entire room seemed to tremble as countless vines burst forth like a tidal wave, flooding every available space and surging toward Kafka from all directions at once.
*Rumble—*
Amid the trembling room, the floor, the walls, and even the ceiling erupted simultaneously as countless tender green vines burst forth like living serpents. Twisting, intertwining, and weaving over one another, they surged forward in a relentless tide toward Kafka from every possible direction.
Unable to react in time, Kafka was ultimately engulfed completely.
In that instant, the elegance she had only just regained vanished beneath the overwhelming sea of greenery as the vines wrapped around her body layer after layer, forming a dense, verdant cocoon that left only her head and a small portion of her pale neck exposed to the outside world.
No matter how agile she was, faced with such an all-encompassing assault, there was simply nowhere left for her to evade.
"Ugh!"
Kafka only had time to release a brief, muffled sound before the vines tightened sharply around her body, constricting with sudden force.
An invisible power followed immediately afterward, lifting her upward and drawing her entire body out of the cocoon.
Yet this was no release.
Instead, the vines rearranged themselves according to Lucian's own understanding of bondage, binding and suspending her nearly three meters above the ground as they wove themselves into a display of deliberate 'artistry,' each strand positioned with meticulous precision as though every detail had been carefully planned beforehand.
Like Kafka's threads, they were formed from condensed energy rather than physical matter, allowing them to maintain both flexibility and extraordinary strength.
Just like that, her body now hung suspended in midair, forming a posture that resembled a carefully sculpted work of art while simultaneously carrying an unmistakable sense of humiliation.
Every curve of her figure was outlined with striking clarity beneath the pressure of the bindings. It conveyed both the fragile beauty of helpless struggle and an undeniable, provocative allure that was difficult to ignore.
Kafka fell silent and instinctively attempted to struggle, testing the restraints with both strength and technique, but the vines, though appearing soft and pliable, possessed a terrifying firmness that could not be shaken.
No matter how she moved, they did not loosen in the slightest.
"Now this is what you call bondage—what you call art... Kafka, do you like it?"
Lucian observed his own creation with open satisfaction.
Kafka's figure had already been striking and seductive to begin with, but under the compression of the vines, every contour of her curves became even more pronounced. The visual impact was far too difficult to overlook.
Even Lucian felt a faint stir of instability in his otherwise calm composure.
"Lucian!"
Kafka lowered her gaze to look at herself, and the sight immediately caused her expression to stiffen with humiliation.
In this situation, while she did not feel fear, since fear was an emotion she fundamentally lacked, her sense of shame remained perfectly intact.
And right now, that sense of shame was being attacked with ruthless precision.
"Let me go. You can't do this... or... could you at least change the way you tied me?"
Kafka's violet eyes fixed themselves on Lucian below, who stood there completely at ease, while her gaze was filled with accusation, restrained anger, and a trace of helpless frustration that she rarely revealed.
Honestly, her current posture felt worse than death.
Lucian tilted his head slightly upward, examining her with obvious interest as his gaze lingered along the striking curves defined by the bindings for several long seconds, showing no intention of looking away.
"Nah, I think... this looks better..." Lucian said unhurriedly. "Kafka, has anyone ever told you that you look very beautiful like this?"
Kafka nearly lost her breath from anger.
'Beautiful? You pervert...'
He had such a flawless face, yet he was utterly shameless and lecherous.
"Listen to me... Let me go, and then tie yourself up."
With little choice remaining, Kafka ultimately activated Spirit Whisper and directed it toward Lucian, wanting to see whether it would produce any effect at all.
Unfortunately, it did not—not even the slightest reaction appeared on his face.
"Don't use Spirit Whisper on me. It'll only get you punished for longer."
Lucian walked over and sat down on the nearby sofa, crossing one leg over the other as he spoke with calm composure.
"Talk properly, chat with me for a bit, and I'll let you go. And don't worry, I won't do anything improper to you. I generally don't use force unless you make me really angry, of course."
He paused briefly before continuing.
"Oh, and by the way, I'm not angry right now, so you're safe."
Hearing his words, Kafka suppressed the overwhelming urge to condemn him on the spot.
Truth be told, she had not expected that one day she would fail, and she certainly had not expected to fail this badly.
At this moment, she would rather die than be humiliated like this.
Kafka was someone who neither feared death nor torture, as her emotions were inherently incomplete and she lacked the concept of fear itself. Unfortunately, her sense of shame remained, and Lucian had somehow found the most effective way to exploit it.
Clearly, he now held absolute control over everything, while she was completely at his mercy.
Realizing that neither force nor words would change the outcome, Kafka could only accept reality for the time being.
In the next moment, she slowly closed her eyes and took a long, steady breath.
When she opened them again, the embarrassment and frustration had largely disappeared beneath the familiar elegance and composure she normally displayed. Even while suspended in such a humiliating position, she gradually regained control over her emotions.
"Mr. Lucian."
Kafka's voice steadied, measured, and controlled, carrying once again the calm grace that seemed to define her.
"I came here to persuade you not to interfere with Elio's script any further because this concerns the survival of the universe."
===
[A bonus chapter for every 300 Power Stones.]
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