The summons arrived not in the daylight, but in a blackened scroll pressed to Elian's chamber door—sealed with a kiss of wax shaped like a coiled serpent devouring its own tail.
Neressa read the message aloud as Elian lounged shirtless on the velvet divan, his thoughts still tasting of Lysandra's grief-stricken submission.
"To the Flamebearer and his bound blade:The time has come. The Labyrinth stirs beneath flesh and stone.Bring no army, no banners. Bring only your will to endure.—Signed, Her Eminence, Crimson Sister Caela."
Elian's fingers tapped the scroll, igniting the wax into ash. "So, the Crimson Parliament finally dares to make a move."
Neressa, dressed in a tight silk tunic that clung to her toned body like water, arched an eyebrow. "You think this is about trust? They send us to the one place no one returns from. This is either a test—""—or an execution," Elian finished. He stood, fastening the Lust Sigil to his inner wrist with a dagger-like clasp. "Either way, we leave tonight."
Beneath the City, Beneath the Skin
The entrance to the Labyrinth was not marked on any map. It existed in whispers, old moans echoing through tombs no one dared open. Elian and Neressa followed Caela's envoy through sewers lined in bone and murals of debauchery faded by centuries of shame.
They reached a sealed obsidian door. No handle. No key. Just a sigil shaped like two bodies locked in an impossible embrace.
"Present your truth," whispered the envoy.
Elian stepped forward, his voice steady. "I am Elian Flamebearer. Chosen by the Lust System. I seek power not for power's sake—but to remake this world through pleasure and fire."
The door breathed.
And then it opened.
Beyond it lay a staircase carved of living flesh, pulsating beneath every step like the throat of a slumbering god.
The Flesh Welcomes
The first chamber of the Labyrinth was a cathedral of want. Pillars shaped like entwined bodies. Tapestries that shifted with the eye—depicting every fantasy the viewer had ever denied themselves.
"Where the hell are we?" Neressa muttered, her crimson eyes flashing.
"This," Elian whispered, "is desire incarnate."
A soft laugh echoed from above.
They turned to find her seated on a high-borne couch of silken roots.
Lady Virelle Umbra. Her face was hidden behind a translucent mask that shimmered with her viewer's deepest temptations. For Elian, the mask revealed Lysandra, moaning with need and mourning in equal measure.
"I am the Guide," she said, rising with a sinuous grace that turned air to velvet. "And you, Flamebearer, are trespassing in a place where the heart is peeled before the flesh."
She approached, heels clicking against stone that quivered.
"I was told to expect a conqueror. But I see only a man with too many leashes dragging behind him."
Elian met her gaze without flinching. "And yet I'm still walking."
Virelle's laugh was like honey on iron. "Then let me offer you the first riddle: Every door in the Labyrinth opens with a key. But the keys are buried in souls—yours, or others'. How far will you reach in to turn the lock?"
Without waiting, she vanished into the veiled shadows. The labyrinth responded with a groan.
Paths unfolded before them—corridors lined with mirrored bodies locked in eternal climax. Every step forward was a dare.
First Trial: The Hall of Fractured Flesh
They entered a chamber filled with floating shards of glass—each reflecting a twisted version of Elian.
One showed him drenched in blood and glory, crowned in the moans of a thousand conquered souls.
Another, broken and alone, his harem gone, his fire snuffed out by betrayal.
The shards began to speak, each reflecting a different part of his psyche: wrath, lust, guilt, ambition, loneliness.
Neressa grunted. "This place wants us to break."
"No," Elian said. "It wants us to understand."
He walked forward. Each step bled sex points from his body like sweat. The Lust System groaned with pressure.
"Choose your shard," a voice whispered. "Accept the self you most fear."
Elian reached for the one where he burned alone—a pyre without passion.
His hand touched the glass—
—and pain lanced through his soul.
But the system surged. He unlocked a new Lust Skill:
Mirrorbrand — A psychic link that allows Elian to reflect an opponent's deepest desire back onto them in combat or seduction, weaponizing shame and hunger alike.
The shard melted into his palm. The door ahead opened.
Second Trial: Thorn's Embrace
They entered a blood-lit garden where moans hung like mist.
There, leaning lazily against a tree that bled honeyed ichor, was Thorn.
Muscular, shirtless, his body etched in scars that glowed with forbidden runes. His eyes locked with Elian's—and narrowed.
"You're the one they send? Flameboy?"
Neressa stepped forward, blade half-drawn, but Thorn raised a hand.
"I serve the Labyrinth. I protect its core. But I can be… convinced… to let you pass."
Elian met his gaze. "And what would convince you?"
Thorn smirked. "Conquer me. Not in battle. In bliss."
The Lust System pulsed violently.
[New Challenge: Carnal Duel Initiated]
Opponent: Thorn, Lustbound WardenWin Condition: Dominate through Seduction or Submission.Reward: Access to the Deep Spiral and Thorn's loyalty.