Awakening Domination System: But I'm a Slave?-Chapter 346: Oh NO!

Somewhere in the depths of his own mind, Alaric floated in darkness.

That was amazing.

He could see everything.

But he couldn’t move. Couldn’t speak. Could only observe as another consciousness piloted his body.

If I could fight like that—

Then the world lurched.

Like being grabbed by the scruff of the neck and yanked forward. Alaric’s awareness slammed back into his body.

His eyes snapped open.

Stone wall pressed against his spine. Blood tacky on his palms, drying in the creases of his fingers.

The creature’s corpse sprawled a few feet away, one eye still open and staring at nothing.

Every muscle in his body screamed protest. His essence channels felt raw, scraped clean, like nerve endings rubbed with sandpaper.

"Rest for a while here."

The voice came from inside his mind.

"Don’t go running off anywhere. You need recovery time."

Alaric nodded before he could stop himself. Then froze, awareness catching up to instinct.

"Wait." His throat was rough. "How can you talk to me now? Before you couldn’t—"

"Because that bastard’s seal is weakened." Brandon’s mental voice carried edges like broken glass.

"So I can temporarily move. Won’t last long before the seal reasserts itself."

Alaric’s mind raced. Questions piled up, each one spawning three more. The seal. Who put it there. What Brandon meant by "that bastard."

Just as he parted his lips.

"Shut your mouth and just rest."

The words cut through his thoughts even before he’d spoken a word.

"If more of those crawlers come back, you won’t survive. So recover. And when you’ve got enough strength back, head northwest. You can exit from there."

Alaric’s eyebrow rose despite his exhaustion. "How do you know about—"

"Just do what I say, you moron... I can lend you my power one more time, before that bastard realizes. So don’t waste it."

"Wait, what bastard? Who?"

Silence.

Brandon’s consciousness had vanished, leaving Alaric alone with the echo of unfinished questions.

He sighed.

"Of course. Can’t just explain things properly."

He shook his head and turned his gaze towards the creature sprawled several feet away.

In death it looked almost pitiful. All that size and strength, reduced to cooling meat on stone.

What even was that thing?

"Scan," he muttered.

The blue panel flickered into existence, edges wavering like heat shimmer. Still unstable.

[SCAN COMPLETE]

[Target: Deceased]

[Species: Dreadmaw Alpha]

[Classification: Terror-Class Beast]

The panel guttered like a candle in wind, then vanished.

Alaric stared at the corpse. At the charred patches on its torso. At the throat torn open. Then down at his own hands, still painted with drying blood. Dark lines traced his lifeline, pooled under his fingernails.

Terror-Class.

He’d killed a Terror-Class beast. Or rather, Brandon had.

His head tipped back until it met stone. The cold seeped through his hair, against his scalp. He crossed his arms behind his head, fingers lacing together. His eyes slid closed.

The comparison sat in his chest. The gap between what he could do and what Brandon had just done.

He really is on a completely different level.

The thought didn’t come with jealousy this time. Just acknowledgment. Simple and stark and impossible to deny. Like comparing a candle flame to a forest fire and pretending they were the same thing.

Alaric’s breathing slowed. The cavern settled into stillness around him, broken only by the occasional drip of water somewhere in the darkness. His body ached. His mind spun with questions that had no answers.

But for now, he rested.

******

Selene sat at her desk, reviewing documents with practiced efficiency.

Tax records. Trade agreements. The mundane administrative work that kept a barony functional despite the personal chaos consuming her life.

Her green eyes tracked across numbers that meant nothing as her mind was elsewhere.

Knock! Knock!

Someone knocked the door, but she didn’t respond.

Then a maid entered after brief pause.

"My lady. Guests are here."

Selene’s hand paused mid-notation. She didn’t look up. "Him again?"

The maid nodded. "Yes, my lady. Lord Lucius’s steward."

Of course.

Because Lucius Glimor didn’t take "no" for an answer.

He just sent representatives. Until resistance crumbled through sheer attrition.

"Send him to the guest room," Selene said quietly. "I’ll be there in a moment."

The maid bowed and retreated. The door closed softly.

Selene set down her pen. Leaned back in her chair. Stared at the ceiling with eyes that burned from lack of sleep.

"How long can I keep doing this?" she whispered to the empty room.

How long before I make a mistake? Before Lucius loses patience?

No answers came. Just the ticking of the clock on her desk.

She stood, smoothed her dress. Arranged her expression into a mask of composed nobility despite the screaming inside.

Then walked out. Down familiar corridors toward the guest room where Lucius’s steward waited.

The man stood when she entered. He was in his mid-forties. Well-dressed in clothing that marked him as high-ranking of the household. Sharp eyes. Calculated smile.

He bowed with precise depth. "Baroness Glimor. Thank you for seeing me."

Selene returned the bow, slightly shallower, maintaining hierarchical distinction. "Master Corvus. To what do I owe the pleasure of your visit?"

The pleasantry was hollow. They both knew it. But noble protocols demanded the dance.

Corvus’s smile didn’t waver. "My lord has noted with some concern that the documents regarding Lady Elina’s transfer remain unsigned. It has been nearly two weeks since the initial proposal, and..."

"My husband fell gravely ill," Selene interrupted smoothly.

"As I explained to Lord Lucius himself, and to you during your previous visit. Baron Ferick is currently incapacitated. And as I am neither Elina’s biological parent nor the legal head of this household, I cannot authorize such significant decisions in his absence."

The lie came easily.

Ferick didn’t fall ill. She beat him unconscious and he’d been kept sedated ever since. But they don’t need to know that.

Corvus’s expression didn’t change. "The Baroness is too modest. Surely, given your administrative authority over the barony’s daily operations, you possess sufficient legal standing to..."

"Marriage contracts and adoption agreements are explicit," Selene cut in again. Her voice remained pleasant.

"Baron Ferick retains sole authority over matters concerning his biological children. I am executor of financial and administrative duties only. Any transfer of guardianship requires his signature. Not mine."

She met his eyes directly. "Unless Lord Lucius wishes to challenge the legal framework that governs noble marriages throughout the kingdom? I’m certain the Royal Court would find such a case... interesting."

Corvus’s smile didn’t waver. "Of course not, Baroness. His Grace has no intention of overstepping legal bounds. We simply hoped, given the urgency of Lady Elina’s situation, that perhaps an exception might be..."

"What urgency?" Selene’s tone sharpened slightly. "Elina is safe. Protected. Educated. She lacks for nothing here."

"Except proper guidance befitting her potential," Corvus countered smoothly. "My lord is concerned that recent... tragedies... in your household may have compromised her development. Your husband’s illness. The general instability..."

"Is being managed." Selene’s voice went cold. "Competently. As it has been for years."

They stared at each other. Polite masks firmly in place. But the underlying tension was palpable.

Corvus was first to break eye contact. He reached into his jacket and withdrew a folder, identical to the one Selene had ruined with spilled ink weeks ago.

"Fresh documents," he said, placing them on the table. "In case Baron Ferick’s condition improves. My lord asks only that you... encourage swift resolution once your husband recovers."

Selene studied the folder.

"I will bring this to my husband’s attention. When he is well enough. He will sign them, don’t worry."

Which will be never.

Corvus’s smile returned, wider, more satisfied. "That is all my lord asks." He stood, bowed again. "I shall relay your cooperation to my lord. I’m certain he will be... pleased."

He turned toward the door and paused.

Then looked back over his shoulder.

"The Baroness should know, my lord’s patience, while considerable, is not infinite. He has invested significant political capital in this arrangement. Continued delays may be interpreted as... bad faith negotiation."

The threat hung in the air. Unspoken but unmistakable.

Sign. Or face consequences.

Selene’s expression didn’t change. "I understand completely, Master Corvus. Please convey my regards to Lord Lucius."

Corvus bowed once more and opened the door.

Selene walked him through the corridors toward the manor’s entrance. Maintaining appearances. Playing her role.

The door closed behind him. His carriage pulled away.

Selene stood in the entrance hall, watching through the window until he disappeared from view.

Then she sighed. "It’s done. For now."

She turned to head back to her study. Then suddenly...

CRASH!

The sound came from nearby. Glass breaking or something heavy hitting the floor.

Selene’s head snapped toward the source. A corridor branching off to the right. Leading toward the guest room area.

Her blood ran cold as she caught a flash of red fabric disappearing around the corner.

Toward Elina’s chambers.

And then Selene realized... she was there, and she heard everything.

Oh no.