Battle after battle, baring ferocious fangs of murderous intent at the usurper. Exhausted, Danan pressed forward, climbing stairs, his eyes reflecting an ostentatious golden corridor.

  A crimson carpet, old-world Western armor, shimmering electric chandeliers, transparent glass windows overlooking the pleasure district… The corridor, far beyond nouveau riche taste, ill-suited to the undercity, was steeped in a pungent rot that stung the nostrils and threatened to steal his thoughts.

  It was like maggots feasting on a decayed golden fruit, a fetus adrift in corroded amniotic fluid—a place no human should tread. The horror of being cradled in the arms of a mad saint. The unease of a fetus drawing drug-tainted blood through an umbilical cord… Stifling screams and a frenzied mind, Danan approached the gold-ornamented double doors at the corridor’s end, retching at the stench seeping through the gap.

  “—!?”

  Blood and yellow bile mixed in his vomit, gelatinous food scraps teeming with maggots that grew rapidly, transforming into black flies. Newborn flies buzzed at his ears, clinging to his cheeks, peeling skin, burrowing into flesh. Half-mad, Danan clawed at them with his mechanical arm, but as pustules swelled, white grains—maggot eggs—burst.

  Blood flowed, he scratched until his eyes were gouged, fluid leaking from his lenses, tears and blood mingling in a strange hue down his jaw. Yet, heedless, Danan drove steel claws into his skin, vomiting again before gasping.

  Nothing. No flies, no eggs, no scattered flesh. Only his blood-tinged tears and vomit remained. White nematodes—Lumina bugs—swarmed his cheeks, weaving lost skin and flesh anew.

  A dream? A hallucination? No, the disgust, the horror—it was real. The sensation of flies clinging, eggs being laid—it wasn’t an illusion. But why…?

  Shaking his head, spitting out residual bile, Danan took deep breaths and flung the doors open.

  “Oh… you came quicker than I expected, Black Man. Not that I was waiting,” Aeshma purred.

  Consecutive gunshots, a roar shaking the air. Twin rifles blazed, piercing Aeshma’s heart as she lounged on an opulent sofa, obliterating her head. Brain matter splattered the gold-trimmed edges, crushed eyeballs mingling with shattered teeth, sticking to the leather.

  “…”

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  Such… fervent passion you unleash. Her blasted flesh bulged, covered in black nematodes. Expelling the bullet from her chest, her spilled blood turned to dust, dissolving into the air before recirculating within her.

  “Nephthys,” Danan said.

  “Yes?” she replied.

  “Is that Lumina? Or a relic’s legacy? What’s your call?”

  “Inferior Lumina,” Nephthys declared.

  “Inferior Lumina?”

  “Yes. Analysis of the admin code confirms it’s a degraded copy, transplanted by Canaan. It’s several grades below the Lumina in you, Eve, and Canaan.”

  But… After a pause, uncharacteristic for an AI, Nephthys continued, “Regeneration, repair, and physical enhancement match genuine Lumina. Features absent in inferior Lumina include code application and combat AI support like me. Don’t let your guard down, Danan.” She boosted the output of the Lumina writhing in his heart.

  “Muttering to yourself, huh? Fine, I’ll listen,” Aeshma said.

  “Eavesdropping? Bad taste, Empress of Lust,” Danan retorted.

  “Empress of Lust… That’s what they call me, I know. Doesn’t matter much.”

  Puffing on a pipe, exhaling faint purple smoke, Aeshma lounged as if Danan posed no threat, lighting an incense burner.

  Where’s Hakara… No, find the Deck first. Scanning the room, Danan spotted a monitor-display-integrated Deck with connection terminals and a headset beside a king-size bed behind Aeshma. Keeping his distance from the motionless empress, he edged toward the bed.

  “What? Want the Hakara Deck?” she asked.

  “…”

  “Take it.”

  “…What?”

  “It’s useless to me. Even with Hakara, I can’t get what I want. So it’s yours, Black Man. Think of it as… a favor, in outsider terms. Or in mid-city speak, the haves giving to the have-nots. Simple, right?”

  Clear as day. Aeshma’s seductive smile and gleaming eyes met Danan’s silence, her golden gaze swallowing and melting starlight into her own radiance. Shedding her black-and-white dress, revealing porcelain skin, she stepped toward him, writhing with each bullet that struck her, reveling in the pain.

  Bullets pierced her flesh, overloading her nerves—pain no human could endure. Even Danan, battle-hardened, groaned at bullets tearing his skin, vomiting blood when shot in the gut. A sane mind wouldn’t bare itself to a gun or smile ecstatically while being shot. Aeshma’s ample chest, flawless skin, and smooth, ceramic-like curves suggested she was furthest from combat. Yet why did she advance? Why no fear?

  No time to deal with a lunatic. Rushing to the Deck, Danan plugged his mechanical arm’s hack cable into the socket, searching for Hakara. The creeping chill, her madness… Scanning the Deck’s data, he glanced back, his eyes meeting Aeshma’s golden gaze.

  “Melt, crumble, dissolve… I’ll accept you, so accept me. Escaping pain, avoiding suffering—it’s not wrong. So… touch me. Feel my flesh, my heat, Black Man.”

  Before he could shout to let go, her lips sealed his, a warm tongue twisting inside. Soft flesh slid between his legs, toppling his balance. Danan fell onto the bed with Aeshma, feeling her warmth through his armor.

  Sweet rot, mind-warping floral scents, marijuana mixed with her aroma. His mechanical arm rejected his brain’s signals, his flesh left hand trembling, fingers twitching, entwining with hers. Like snakes mating. Her hair brushing his cheek, the thick kiss exchanging fluids—it ground his sanity to dust, luring him into a chasm of intense pleasure.

  His head spun. Thoughts wouldn’t form. What to do, how to resist, how to escape—he lost the answers. But… maybe being swallowed by this vortex of lust was fine. Bidding farewell to a harsh, painful life—no one would blame him…

  “Yes… let me take it all. You don’t have to fight anymore. No need to throw yourself into conflict. Even if no one forgives you, I’ll accept you. So… let’s feel good together. Forget everything… even living.”

  Forget living…? In that instant, Danan drove his sword *Heres* into Aeshma’s temple, his mechanical arm’s high-frequency blade bisecting her torso.

  “Forget… living? You decide my life and death? Don’t screw with me!” he roared.

  Furious, shaking off her temptation, Danan staggered to his feet.

  “My life is mine! Don’t think you can toy with it, you whore!”

  He stomped on her pristine face.