Han spent hours with The Dark Cauldron Art. He wanted to read everything before attempting a single spell. When the maids announced dinner, he waved them off; he was hungrier for knowledge than food and told them to keep a al ready at all tis.
By nightfall, he had finished the book. It wasn’t short, but he read quickly; comprehension had never been his weakness. The forr Han had given up too quickly because he’d lacked mana and dragon traits. Now Han poured both lives into practice and felt a new confidence in the Dark Cauldron Art.
His stomach grumbled after all that ntal work.
About ti I eat sothing.
He stood and looked out the window. The small mansion lay hidden in the forest, so he saw only tall trees wrapped in darkness. Above them hung a full moon. Sothing drew him to the sill. He stood there and took in the calm.
By now, my parents on Earth must have learned about my death. It feels terrible—but what can I do? I don’t even know why I crossed to this world as Han to begin with. Stay strong, Mom, Dad. I’m sorry I didn’t spend enough ti with you.
Han smiled faintly. He had studied dark arts, killed wyverns, and kicked a woman in the stomach, yet when he thought of his past life, compassion surfaced. His parents deserved it, and he was glad he hadn’t turned completely dark. He believed only a dark path lay ahead, so he chose to cling to those feelings, to keep from crossing lines even a villain shouldn’t.
He treasured those minutes of reflection before his expression hardened. No one could see that side of him. Yet when he left his room, he gave a curt—almost pleasant—nod to the maid on duty.
She looked up and returned it with a low bow.
The call had already gone out to prepare wyvern dishes. Soon the elder maids served tray after tray: rich broth and other at courses. The sll was so appetizing that Han devoured the dishes one by one. His black wing flared and snapped the chair’s backrest, but he didn’t care.
This is so good. Is it because I’m a dragon now? Or because I killed those bastards myself? Must be both. I’m going hunting soon.
After eating more than he should, Han sank into his chair. He nearly fell because of the broken backrest, so he straightened and leaned on the table.
"It was delicious. Good job. We’ll have more for days to co, yes?" Han asked.
"Of course, Young Master Han."
"Good. Where did you lock the woman?"
"In the guest room on the second floor," a maid replied.
Once his stomach settled, Han headed straight to his present.
He entered the room alone and found her naked, handcuffed to the bed, her ankles shackled. She yanked at the restraints when she saw him; the motion set her breasts jostling. The maids had cleaned the blood and tended her wounds. As he ca to the bedside, his gaze snagged on a tattoo just above her clitoris.
"Weird place for a tattoo," he said.
"It’s your mother’s handiwork!" the woman barked back.
Han tilted his head. "So she prepared more than this collar? I’ll have to thank her. What does the tattoo do?"
Bound by the collar’s enchantnt, which recognized Han as Master, the woman could not lie. That compulsion was why she had spoken so boldly in the courtyard; now it trapped her.
"After defiling , you will extract my mana and essence. I doubt trash like you could completely cripple !" she snapped.
For her to still call him trash, she had to be a true talent. It had taken his mother to catch her; he didn’t doubt it. He dragged a chair to the bedside and sat.
"That would be a waste. Extraction varies with circumstances. I can feel dark mana in you, so my mother must have believed you were perfect for . But yes, wasteful. I have a better option. I’ll make you my cauldron," Han said.
Fear cracked her composure. Her pupils dilated, and her ashen skin seed to pale even more.
"Tenaxis... Cauldron?" she asked.
Han nodded.
In an instant, she thrashed against the cuffs. "Just... just take ! Take my mana! Do whatever you want! Don’t use that cursed art on !"
Han kept his face impassive, though the reaction surprised him. So the art is even worse than I thought. She’s handing herself to on a silver platter.
The truth was she knew she could survive being violated; given ti, she could return to her peak if he allowed it. But the Cauldron would kill her. The technique was too advanced; she would never shake it without paying a ruinous price, even if Han were trash.
Han smiled. "Weren’t you the one who said you’d never submit to ?"
"Everyone knows your mother has a child; no one knows who, probably because he’s trash. When I saw you, I was sure you were that trash and couldn’t use the Tenaxis Cauldron. But you can, so it’s different. I’m yours!" she shouted.
She’d rather sell herself to than beco my cauldron. That’s how infamous the Tenaxis Cauldron Art is in the underworld. Too bad; you should never have crossed paths with my mother and . I can’t give up a source of dark mana for a moral code that won’t keep alive.
Han decided.
"Nah. You’ll fucking suffer."
"You... you fucking piece of shit!"
"You looked at the way those twins did. The way my uncles, aunts, brothers, sisters, and the rest of this family did. You will suffer, and I will profit from your suffering," Han said, voice cold.
Eyes closed, he concentrated on shaping mana in front of him. As he channeled dark mana, his dragon bloodline howled. Dark flas coalesced before his chest, whirling into a ring; within it, an image of the Obsidian Cauldron ford.
At the sight of the sigil, the light left her crimson eyes.
"He can really summon the Tenaxis Cauldron," she whispered, hopeless.
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