The System's voice insinuated itself into Aric's mind, chill and unrelenting.
[A special opportunity is offered to you.]
[Do you wish to absorb more power?]
Aric didn't hesitate. "Tell me the price."
A moment's pause.
Then, the System replied:
[Your humanity.]
Aric sat in his private quarters, alone, the candlelight dancing off the polished steel of his gauntlets.
The System's words echoed in his mind, repeatedly.
[Your dominance over lesser minds.]
Power such as he had never known before—but at what price?
He balled his fists.
"Explain," he commanded.
And the System explained.
[Sovereign's Brand: A forbidden art.]
[It grants complete mastery of those you have already mastered—binding them to your will.]
[Once branded, they are incapable of betraying you. They are incapable of disobedience.]
[Their minds belong to you to mold.]
Aric's breathing was controlled. The possibilities were enormous.
With which, he could make enemies puppets.
Break even the strongest of wills.
Forge an empire in his name.
But then came the warning.
[With each use, you lose a part of yourself.]
[Compassion, warmth, empathy—they will all fade.]
[Until only dominance is left.]
Aric drew a sharp breath, his fingers drumming against the arm of his chair.
Did he even care about losing something like compassion?
He had already lost so much.
His conscience was already blemished—what did it matter?
And yet.
Something within him murmured a warning.
A ghost of the man he once was.
Was he truly prepared to become a heartless tyrant?
Then he thought of Verrin.
The Scarlet Pact.
The Duke's growing suspicions.
If he slipped now, he would be ruined.
The System's voice echoed in his mind.
[Make your decision, Aric.]
He pushed his chair back from the desk, walking towards the window.
The city lay out before him—a kingdom of fools, swindlers, and frauds.
He didn't need weakness.
No need for hesitation.
His gold eyes flared like embers in the dark.
"I accept."
The System reacted with alacrity.
[Sovereign's Brand unlocked.]
Searing pain coursed through his chest—as if something had been burned into the very essence of his soul.
He clenched his teeth, his fingers clinching tighter around the windowsill.
Done.
And now it was time to use it.