A Single Drop of Salvation (The Bitch Bites the Bait)
The despairing blue light swallowed the massive cavern of the abandoned mine.
“Kuaaaaagh!”
“Your Grace! Please, please regain control—urk!”
In the heart of hell, screams never lasted long.
The northern knight who had opened his mouth to beg for his life had frost forming on the tip of his tongue. In a single second his vocal cords froze solid and his alveoli ruptured.
Crack—! Craaaack—!!
The gruesome sound of flesh and bone failing to contain the expanding ice echoed from every direction.
Ayla von Valerius, ruler of the North, had finally surpassed the limit of her Mana Depletion Syndrome. The ‘ice mana’ erupting from her dantian was no longer mere magic. It was a living catastrophe unleashed by a top-tier predator whose reason had completely collapsed.
Whiiiiiir—!!
A blade-like gale of freezing wind tore through the cavern. Tens of thousands of ice shards materialized in midair and shot outward like bullets.
The elite northern knights deployed their aura shields, but the barriers were shredded like paper. The men were skewered like hedgehogs and slammed into the ground.
“……”
At the center of that horrific slaughter, only one figure remained strangely calm.
The lowest, most disposable living battery—slave Kyle, marked 145—watched the heart of the rampage with eerily composed eyes.
Temperature has dropped below minus forty. Anything organic within a fifty-meter radius will die of hypothermia in under three seconds.
Kyle glanced down at his own forearm. White frost clung to the exposed skin between the rags of his slave uniform, yet he did not freeze.
Deep in his dantian, the Essence of the Creator—an existence that defied the laws of this world—spun violently, radiating infinite heat, infinite mana. It was as if a lone sun burned at the center of absolute zero.
Even in cold that could split skin, Kyle’s heartbeat remained perfectly steady.
Observation complete.
His gaze locked onto the eye of the storm—Ayla, writhing in agony as she floated in midair.
“Haaah…! Krrgh!”
She clawed at her own throat, howling like a beast. Her silver hair, sharp as frost, whipped wildly. The ascetic blue uniform she always kept buttoned to the neck had been savagely torn open by her own frenzied struggles.
Her heaving breasts strained against the shredded fabric with every ragged breath. Veins bulged grotesquely across her deathly pale skin.
The phantom pain of a brain starved of mana had dragged the proud duchess’s mind down to the level of a mere animal.
A top-tier powerhouse on the verge of total madness.
The corner of Kyle’s mouth curled in a cold smirk.
The perfect test subject.
He did not run. Instead, he took one deliberate step toward the center of the raging ice storm.
His mind operated with terrifying clarity.
I need to see what effect the infinite mana stored in my dantian will have on her horrific thirst.
But he could not simply drop his pants and drive his cock into the rampaging duchess’s cunt. She was a superhuman in full berserk state. A clumsy approach would end with his lower half crushed by an ice pillar long before any penetration.
Bodily fluids.
Kyle’s eyes flashed.
It wasn’t only his semen. His blood, his bone marrow, even his saliva—all of it was saturated with the absolute mana of the Creator.
A single drop of blood will suffice.
He tracked the trajectories of the countless ice shards slicing through the air. His dynamic vision, enhanced by his awakening as the Creator’s vessel, read the paths of the bullet-like icicles in slow motion.
With a minute tilt of his head, he opened his left shoulder.
Not to defend—precisely to be cut.
The sharpest, most transparent ice blade grazed between his cheek and throat.
Riiip—!
Skin tore. Crimson blood sprayed into the freezing air.
Kyle swallowed the pain and used the storm’s own momentum, twisting his body to fling the droplets.
Splatter!
The hot red beads launched from his neck rode the violent whirlwind, tracing a perfect arc toward the floating duchess’s face.
In a cavern frozen solid, these were the only droplets still boiling with life—pure, untainted Essence of the Creator contained in a single drop of blood.
That absolute droplet landed on Ayla’s trembling, pale lips.
Plop.
For an instant, time itself seemed to stop inside the enormous mine.
Ayla’s body stiffened midair.
A lightning bolt of shock slammed into her mind.
The single drop of blood on her lips was not mere organic matter that smelled of iron.
It was holy life-water pouring like a waterfall into her dantian, which had been cracked and parched beyond repair.
This… this sweetness… what is it…?
The thick, explosive male pheromone she had never once smelled in her entire life flooded her nostrils. Acting on pure instinct, Ayla extended her tongue and licked the blood from her lips.
Slurp.
The instant the droplet mixed with her saliva and slid down her throat—
BOOM—!!!
A big bang erupted inside Ayla’s body.
“Ah, aaaaaah…!!?”
Instead of a scream of agony, a sticky, vulgar moan she had never uttered in her life burst from her throat.
The moment the Creator’s mana invaded her bloodstream through that single drop, the phantom pain of Mana Depletion Syndrome that had been incinerating her body melted away like snow.
No—‘healing’ was far too shallow a word.
This was complete remodeling and brainwashing.
“Hngh! Haaaaang…! Kk, ah, aah!”
Her body plummeted like a puppet with its strings cut, crashing onto the hard stone floor.
Boom!
The duchess who had been spewing ice mana now writhed uncontrollably, her body convulsing as the overwhelming mana waves from Kyle’s blood forcibly shut down her higher reasoning and awakened only the primal female instinct.
“Haa, haah…! It’s… it’s so hot… my body, my womb feels strange…!”
Her eyes rolled back, losing focus. The silver hair that had been as cold as frost now clung to her forehead in sweat. Her once-pale cheeks burned crimson with unbearable pleasure.
The change was direct and obscene.
The instant that single drop of blood reached her uterus, the secret place of the Iron-blooded Duchess—who had only ever known swords and aura—began to throb madly, entering full heat.
Squelch. Squish.
Thick love juices gushed from inside her heavy uniform pants. Her cunt swelled obscenely, the inner walls convulsing in uncontrollable spasms of contraction and release.
“No, hngh…! Someone, please, shove it in… fuck meee!”
Vulgar obscenities no noblewoman should ever speak dribbled from Ayla’s red lips.
She lay face-down on the floor, twisting her trembling thighs and grinding her crotch desperately against the stone.
With every buck of her hips, the blue ice mana that had been freezing hundreds of knights to death shattered and scattered.
The ferocious rampage that had slaughtered so many warriors had been reduced to a whimpering submission before the pleasure granted by a single drop of a lowly slave’s blood.
“Haah, haaah…! More… I need to drink more… that sweet thing from before… pour it down my throat, fill my cunt with it…!”
Tears, snot, and drool ran down Ayla’s ruined face. She began crawling on all fours like a beast toward the direction where Kyle’s scent lingered.
Her thick uniform pants were already soaked through with the flood of her juices, leaving a glistening snail-trail across the floor with every movement.
It was total surrender.
And the utter downfall of absolute power.
“……”
The blizzard that had been raging inside the mine stopped as if it had never existed. The few surviving knights stared in stunned silence at the scene before them, jaws slack.
Their revered liege was crawling across the floor in torn clothes like a bitch in heat, heading straight for a slave’s feet.
Plop.
Ayla collapsed at Kyle’s blood-stained boots. Breathing hot gasps, she grabbed the filthy hem of his slave trousers with both trembling hands.
Her unfocused eyes fixed on the small wound on his face—the source of the blood.
“P-please give it to me… just one more taste…”
The ruler of the North rubbed her face against the lowest slave’s foot and wagged her hips like a dog.
Her nostrils flared as she desperately inhaled the thick male scent rising from his lower body.
Completely unaware that her pride had been ground into the mud, she existed in a state of perfect cognitive dissonance—nothing existed except her craving for his fluids.
Looking down at the panting beast at his feet, Kyle casually wiped the blood from his neck with the back of his hand.
A cold, chilling sense of conquest played at the corner of his mouth.
Ding—.
Scanning target 'Ayla von Valerius' status.
Mana Depletion Syndrome: Temporarily Alleviated
Current Withdrawal Symptoms: 99% (In Heat)
Target Corruption Level: 1% (Forced Engraving in Progress)
Corruption level at one percent.
Kyle let out a silent chuckle.
Just one drop of blood had reduced her to this state of convulsions. He wondered what would happen if he dropped his pants and pumped his ‘cum’ straight into the deepest part of this bitch’s womb.
If he slammed the infinite Essence of the Creator boiling in his dantian directly against her mucous membranes.
Her brain would probably melt completely. She’d never walk on two legs again—nothing but a slave.
He grabbed a fistful of Ayla’s silver hair as she rubbed her face against his thigh, dripping juices onto the floor.
“Ahng…!”
Her head yanked back, mouth falling open. A long silver strand of saliva dripped from her lips.
The perfect, prideful duchess was gone. Only the face of a lewd female begging for mana and pleasure remained.
“Thirsty, Duchess?”
Kyle’s voice was icy.
It was the crude, informal speech of a lowly slave, yet Ayla’s mana-addled brain could not even register the disrespect. Instead, that arrogant tone struck her erogenous zones like a switch, making her lower belly clench even harder.
“Y-yes…! I’m thirsty… that hot thing from before… please fill me up inside…”
A plea stripped of all pride and reason.
The uniform panties she wore were already heavy and soaked, drenched in the mucus running down her thighs.
Kyle watched coldly as she tried to spread her legs for him.
No need to rush.
Giving in to her desires immediately was what a lesser man would do. To brand himself as absolute superior, he had to intensify this maddening thirst until she willingly put the collar on herself.
He released her hair without a word.
Thud.
Ayla looked up at him with miserable, confused eyes—resentment and desperate craving mixed together.
Kyle adjusted the torn collar of his slave uniform and looked down at her as she sat pathetically in the frozen puddle of her own juices.
“Wait.”
“……!”
“Your attitude is still far too arrogant to receive this expensive ‘medicine’ so carelessly.”
His cold sneer sliced through the frozen air of the mine.
It was not merely a slave mocking his master.
It was a declaration of war—a promise of the long, horrific training that would turn the noble ruler of the North into a living toilet who could not survive a single day without him.
Ayla clutched her lower belly with trembling hands. The unquenched thirst and lingering pleasure cruelly stirred inside her cunt.
Yet she could not defy him. Her body and mana core had already been completely captured by the pheromones he emitted.
That day, the cold ice wall that had terrified the North crumbled pathetically before a single drop of blood.
The food chain of a perishing world had been utterly overturned by the hand of the lowest slave.
The grand overture had begun.
