Dark Lord Seduction System: Taming Wives, Daughters, Aunts, and CEOs novel Chapter 648

Chapter 648: Ava’s Web, God’s Fury

The cut fence gaped like a wound in reality, molten edges still crackling orange-hot, dripping viscous slag that hissed when it hit the ground. Steam rose in acrid curls, mixing with something else—something copper and thick that made the air taste like pennies.

I stepped through, and my boot squelched.

Not mud. Not dew.

I looked down. My sole had landed in something that used to be inside a human body. Dark blood, almost black under the floodlights, mixed with chunks of tissue I couldn’t identify and didn’t want to.

The EGs had been thorough.

Fifty-five bodies littered the grounds, and calling them bodies was generous. An ex-Delta operator lay three feet from the fence.

I could tell he’d been Delta from the tactical vest—the one part of him still intact. His face was gone, completely caved inward like someone had taken a sledgehammer to a watermelon. Gray-pink brain matter oozed out through the shattered skull, mixing with bone fragments that caught the light.

One eye had popped free during the impact, now dangling, staring at nothing with a glassy, dead expression.

I stepped over him, moved deeper into the killing field.

A Spetsnaz mountain lay sprawled near the mansion’s east wall.

His chest had imploded—sternum shattered into jagged spikes that had punched outward through his tactical gear and skin. The ribs spread like broken wings on either side of the massive wound. His heart was visible, or what was left of it—reduced to red jelly inside the cavity.

His intestines had uncoiled across the grass, glistening ropes of pink and purple that steamed slightly in the cool night air.

The EGs hadn’t just killed them. They’d unmade them with surgical precision and overwhelming force.

Ava stopped beside me, and I heard her breathing quicken through the comms. Her visor was fogging.

"Jesus fucking Christ," she whispered. "They didn’t just kill them. They—there’s pieces everywhere. Arms over there, legs—is that a spine?"

"It’s.. art, Ava. Art," I said quietly.

And then I let Eros stats fully detonate inside me.

Power surged through me in tidal waves—not just strength, but everything.

My senses exploded outward into hyperfocus. I could see individual droplets of blood arcing through the air in slow motion, track their trajectories, count them. I could hear heartbeats—dozens of them, rapid with fear and adrenaline, coming from inside the mansion.

I could smell fear-sweat mixing with cordite, could map the entire battlefield through scent alone.

I was ten times the god I’d been a moment ago.

And right on cue, someone inside noticed we were here.

The alarms shrieked to life—klaxons howling like mechanical banshees, the sound so loud it should’ve been painful but my enhanced hearing adjusted instantly. Floodlights erupted from the mansion’s facade, blazing into existence and turning night into day.

Doors burst open.

Windows shattered outward as men dove through them. The building vomited Volkov’s inner guard—fanatics in tactical black, faces hidden behind balaclavas, weapons already raised.

I counted them in the split-second before they opened fire. Thirty-seven. No, thirty-eight—one more coming through the side door.

Muzzle flashes strobed the night. I watched the bullets leave the barrels—could actually see them in my perception alone, copper jackets spinning, trajectories drawn in my mind like glowing lines before they’d traveled two feet.

They were aiming for center mass.

Professional.

Trained.

Useless. Hmmp!!

The bullets hit my shield and exploded into sparks, kinetic force rippling the air but not touching me. Tracers painted red lines through the darkness, beautiful and deadly and completely ineffective.

"Phase one," I said, and felt my lips pull into a smile. "Annihilation."

By my third step, I was among them.

I dropped the rifle, let it mag-lock to my back, and drew both vibro-knives.

Too slow.

I moved.

I felt no resistance—the monomolecular edge didn’t cut so much as it simply separated matter at the molecular level. Three heads detached cleanly, still wearing their balaclavas, expressions frozen in surprise. They tumbled through the air in perfect arcs while blood jetted from the stumps—arterial pressure sending crimson geysers six feet high.

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