Dark Lord Seduction System: Taming Wives, Daughters, Aunts, and CEOs novel Chapter 852

Chapter 852: Seven Emissaries of Death

The compound had been invisible for eleven years.

Nestled three hundred miles from the nearest city, buried in mountain terrain so hostile that satellites couldn’t find it and search parties couldn’t survive it, it existed in the spaces between maps—a black site that had swallowed secrets and soldiers alike without leaving so much as a whisper.

Twenty miles of unmarked wilderness surrounded it. No roads. No flight paths. No breadcrumbs for the curious to follow.

The only way in was through forests that had claimed more lives than anyone bothered to count, across ridges where the wind could freeze a man solid in minutes, through valleys where the shadows seemed to move with intentions of their own.

Fifty soldiers called it home.

Fifty men and women who had traded their names for numbers, their identities for purpose, their humanity for something they believed was greater than any single life.

They ran patrols in rotating shifts, maintained weapon caches that could supply a small army, guarded information so valuable that the penalty for speaking it was a death no one would ever investigate.

They were professionals. Veterans. The best their organization could field.

Tonight, they were prey.

The watchman’s coffee was still warm when the tree line emptied.

Seven shapes exploded from the forest three hundred meters out—not running, streaking. Black figures tearing across cleared ground so fast they left afterimages burning against the night, covering distance that should have taken thirty seconds in less than three.

His mug shattered against concrete. His hand shot toward the alarm—

The watchtower door detonated inward.

Reinforced steel crumpled like foil, blown off its hinges. The door caught his partner in the chest, crushed him against the wall with a wet crunch of snapping ribs. Shrapnel sprayed—a chunk embedded in the thermal array, another tore through the .50 cal’s ammunition belt, a third spun past the watchman’s head close enough to part his hair.

A figure stood in the doorway. Black tactical gear so dark it drank light. Featureless mask reflecting his terrified face.

Lean, compact, curves suggesting female beneath the armor—but radiating nothing but death. The suit clung to her like liquid shadow—high breasts straining against reinforced plates, narrow waist flaring into hips that moved with lethal grace, thighs thick and powerful beneath matte black fabric that shimmered faintly with unnatural light.

His hand found his sidearm. Weapon clearing holster, thumb flicking safety, barrel rising—

The figure crossed the room in a single heartbeat. One moment in the doorway. Next moment there—directly in front of him, black-gloved hand closing around his gun wrist with a grip stronger than iron.

He threw everything into breaking free.

His arm didn’t move.

The figure’s other hand pressed flat against his sternum—palm warm through the glove, almost gentle.

Pushed.

The watchman rocketed backward through the bulletproof glass—three-inch reinforced polymer exploding outward in crystalline shards. Night air. Spinning compound. Three stories of empty space.

His scream lasted exactly as long as the fall. 𝑓𝘳𝘦𝑒𝑤𝑒𝘣𝘯ℴ𝘷𝘦𝓁.𝑐𝑜𝑚

The impact was wet. Final.

The figure stepped off the ledge, dropped thirty feet, landed in a crouch that absorbed the impact like gravity was a suggestion she’d politely declined. Straightened. Turned toward the compound.

Six more shapes materialized from darkness—each one moving with the same impossible speed, same predatory grace, same faint shimmer of otherworldly light beneath their armor.

Alarms wailed. Spotlights swept. Soldiers poured from barracks with rifles up.

The leader raised one gloved hand. Made a fist.

The Seven Emissaries scattered.

The armory sergeant heard the explosion three buildings away. Twelve years of combat experience—he was already moving. Rifle from rack, magazine home, charging handle racked.

The lights died.

Every bulb. Every screen. Every backup. Darkness crashed down absolute.

Something whispered past his left ear. Close. Fast. Gone before his brain registered movement.

He spun. Squeezed the trigger.

Muzzle flash strobed—weapon racks, ammunition crates, nothing else. Empty air where something had been.

A hand closed around his rifle barrel.

He wrenched backward with everything he had. Six-two, two-twenty pounds of muscle.

The suit hugged her body like a second skin—breasts rising and falling with calm breath, waist so narrow it looked impossible, hips and thighs carved for both speed and devastating power.

The command center had twelve soldiers when the ceiling exploded.

One was unmistakably female—lithe, deadly, breasts straining against tactical plates, hips rolling as she moved, thighs flexing with predatory power. The other matched her—same grace, same impossible speed, same aura of something that had never been entirely human.

The shorter figure went left. Twin blades cleared sheaths—curved, identical, hungry—edges shimmering with an unearthly glow, like they drank light and spat back void. The blades hummed faintly, vibrating with a low, demonic resonance that made the air around them ripple like heat off hellfire.

The blades crossed. A blur of motion so fast it warped space—leaving trails of shadowy afterimages that lingered like ghosts. His arms hit the floor. Both of them. Still holding the rifle. Still twitching, fingers spasming as if trying to fire from the grave.

Blood fountained in black arcs under red light. A blade took his head before he could scream—severing clean, the stump cauterizing with unnatural heat, flesh sizzling like meat on a infernal grill.

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