[BL]Hunted by the God of Destruction Chapter 214: The father

The manor was a place that didn’t need to impress anyone; it simply existed, unapologetically vast and alive in its own silence. The air inside humd faintly with static, the residue of old divine energy, the kind that made the hairs on the back of Elias’s neck stand up. The scent of ozone lingered, familiar and disquieting, and sowhere deep within the walls, gears turned with the force of sothing ancient.

Victor walked as if he’d never left. Every step was asured, quiet, the gait of soone who belonged here even if he’d rather be anywhere else. His hand brushed the small of Elias’s back once, just once, before he moved ahead.

Elias followed, eyes darting over the interior like a man trying not to stare but failing miserably. The foyer opened into a hall so wide it felt like a challenge. Every inch of it glead: black marble floors veined with gold, portraits that shifted when he looked too long, and chandeliers suspended from invisible threads. The air slled faintly of smoke, old rain, and sothing colder... pride, maybe.

"You’re frowning," Victor murmured.

"I’m trying to figure out if I’m in a house or a cathedral," Elias said under his breath. "If your father starts chanting, I’m leaving."

Victor didn’t have ti to respond.

A door opened near the grand staircase, and the pressure in the air changed. Not dramatically, but just enough that Elias’s pulse jumped before he even saw the man.

Ego Nun didn’t enter the room so much as claim it. He moved with the sa calm inevitability Victor did, only slower, heavier, like the world itself adjusted to accommodate him.

He looked barely forty, though Elias knew better. Dark hair combed back with almost military precision, a tailored black suit that fit like intent, and crimson eyes, sharp and cold enough to asure worth in a glance. When those eyes found Victor, sothing like amusent flickered across his face.

"Son," Ego said, his voice low and even, a voice that could pass judgnt or offer rcy with the sa syllable. "You rember how to co ho after all."

Victor didn’t flinch, though Elias could almost feel the restraint in his stillness. "You make it sound like I ever forgot the way."

Ego smiled faintly. "You did." His gaze slid past him, landing squarely on Elias. "And you brought a guest."

Elias’s stomach dropped. He’d stood in front of professors, scientists, and once even a malfunctioning reactor, but nothing compared to being looked at by the man who had apparently invented both Victor and intimidation.

"Elias Clarke," Victor said, tone clipped and formal. "My mate."

Sothing flickered in Ego’s expression, briefly, like static behind glass Elias wasn’t sure which rumors those were, but he decided not to ask.

From the edge of the hall, a familiar voice cut in, dripping with amusent. "He ans the one where you actually found soone willing to tolerate you."

Samael. Leaning lazily against one of the marble columns, dark suit impeccable, expression halfway between mockery and mild entertainnt. His black hair was slicked back in that effortless way only people born to rule could manage.

Elias didn’t have ti to form a reply before Connor appeared beside him because, of course, he was there, holding a glass of sothing that definitely wasn’t water and wearing the grin of soone who’d paid good money for front-row seats.

"I told you this was going to be fun," Connor said to Samael.

Samael smirked. "Fun isn’t the word I’d use."

Ego’s eyes flicked toward them, just once, and both n straightened slightly. Then, satisfied, Ego looked back to Victor.

"So," he said mildly, "you’ve brought your oga."

Victor’s jaw tightened. "My mate."

The correction hung in the air like a blade.

Ego smiled again, the sa smile Elias had seen on Victor’s face when he was having fun with his victim. "Of course. My mistake."

Elias could feel Victor’s pheromones shift, that low, smoke-and-electric hum coiling tighter in the air, controlled but not calm.

Samael gave a quiet, knowing hum. "Well, this is going well."

Connor leaned closer to Elias and murmured, "This is him being polite."

Elias didn’t doubt it.

Ego’s gaze returned to him, assessing, not cruel but disassembling. "You’re the one who’s managed to make him stay still and... make him walk again."

Victor’s expression didn’t change, but the temperature in the hall did. A subtle drop, not enough for mortals to notice, but enough that the air itself seed to hold its breath.

Elias straightened, resisting the urge to step closer to Victor even as every instinct scread to. "That’s not my doing," he said evenly. "He did that himself."

Ego tilted his head slightly, studying him like one might study a phenonon, not a person, but a variable that didn’t belong to the equation yet refused to disappear. "No," he said, almost to himself. "You’re the catalyst. The impossible one."

"Ego," Victor said, voice smooth but carrying warning beneath every syllable. "You’re not interrogating him."

"Interrogating?" Ego echoed, smiling faintly. "I’m complinting him. It’s not every century that sothing or soone restores what even divinity can’t." His gaze cut to Victor, sharp enough to pierce through centuries of silence. "You used to burn your body to stand. Now you burn with it again. He stabilized you."

Victor’s eyes darkened. "He grounded ," he corrected quietly.

Ego’s laugh was soft, genuine, but not kind. "Grounded. Yes, that’s what humans do best. Remind gods that gravity still applies."

Samael let out a quiet snort of amusent. "And here we were all wondering what kind of mortal would bring the great Victor Nun to heel. Turns out he’s polite and suicidal."

Connor smirked over the rim of his glass. "I liked him from the start."

Elias exhaled slowly. "I’m starting to see why Ruo said ’hell together.’"

That earned him a sharp, amused glance from Ego, the one that could have been dangerous if Elias didn’t already feel too tired to care. "Ruo likes dramatic phrasing," Ego said. "She inherited that from ."

Elias arched a brow. "And the god complex?"

For a heartbeat, the entire room froze. Samael made a quiet choking sound that might’ve been a laugh. Connor, to his credit, turned away, shoulders shaking.

Victor’s head turned toward him, that tiny look of disbelief that said, ’You didn’t just say that.’