Reincarnated as an Apocalyptic Catalyst-Chapter 46: The Price of Disobedience

I was exhausted... Just being near this Garrett fellow was enough to drain me of what little energy I had when dealing with others. I made sure that he had not followed me, which wasn’t terribly difficult because I really was the only one who had held all the cards. Garrett might have been able to sense me in the outskirts of his mind, but could not track me down, especially in this doomsday bunker I had created over the last 40-odd days.

After half a dozen, maybe a dozen, maybe more shots of whiskey, I eventually passed out in my bed. I had been lost in uneasy sleep when everything changed. One moment I was cocooned in the familiar darkness of my room, not even able to hear the chaos of the city outside within the thick vault-like walls that surrounded my room.. Then—without warning—a force yanked me from that fragile oblivion. I wasn’t aware of the transition until I tried to blink away the remnants of dreams. The familiar outlines of my bed were gone, replaced instead by a harsh, unyielding light that revealed a place I did not recognize.

I found myself in a long, narrow corridor. This was likely a dream, and I was more than familiar with navigating my subconscious. However, what threw me off, was that I had expected to spend my night being berated by Morgana, though this was far different. I was by myself, no hint of her power in the air. The walls were of rough stone, unadorned and uninviting, and the only sound was the echo of my own ragged breathing. The air was noticeably colder here, cutting through the fabric of my cloak like a knife–Seriously, tomorrow I was going shopping, even if I had to wake up early–. There was no softness, no comfort in this space—just a bleak, functional environment that told me I was no longer in my own world.

I tried to sit up, but a force pinned me in place. I couldn’t move my arms or legs, as if invisible chains... or shadows... had been wrapped around me. My heart pounded against my ribcage as I realized she was fucking with me in a new way tonight. Morgana had brought me here, teasing me with unfamiliar locales, sending me into a state of quiet content as I found myself in a new location. Allowed only enough time to let my defenses fall, though that would be the last time I did that. Even in the most pleasant dreams, even in the arms of Mara, I would remain alert.. I remembered the last fragments of our exchange, her harsh words, and tone that had shattered the illusion of her familiar seduction.

"Lucian," her voice boomed, as it reverberated off the stone walls, carrying no warmth, reminding me of the authority she possessed. I could barely move to turn my head, yet I managed to focus on the figure advancing through the corridor. Morgana stood a few paces away, her presence the same as it had been lately, no longer bothering to tease or torment me sexually. She was still on edge from our last encounter.

I tried to speak, to protest but found myself mute no matter what I did. Morgana stepped closer until I could feel the warmth of her breath. "You’ve been making progress, Lucian," she said. There was a note of approval in her tone, but it was quickly drowned by an undercurrent of discontent. "But you’re pushing Garrett too hard. You’re risking my goal for your silly little morals."

I struggled to form a response, and even as I did, something told me I shouldn’t make excuses, that I should speak the truth. I forced the words out, my voice trembling slightly. "I... I did what I had to do. Garrett’s recklessness—"

"—is a liability," she interrupted sharply. "He’s already begun recruiting, building an empire that makes my plans stronger, not weaker. And you, Lucian, if you let him run free, you’ll bring ruin upon us all." Her tone was confusing, to say the least. One moment she seemed irritated that I had interrupted Garrett, and another moment, she seemed irritated that I had let him run rampant so quickly. "You need to rein him in before his own ambition consumes everything. Remember, you are the one who created him. Without your control, he’s nothing more than a helpless worm."

"I know what I’m doing," I replied, trying to keep my voice steady. "I let him strut because I wanted him to feel in control. As you have taught me, it’s only when one feels on top of the world, when one feels as though they cannot be stopped, that they truly understand how vulnerable they are. He thinks he’s running his operation, but he’s only a pawn in my design, as I am yours."

Morgana’s eyes narrowed. "Your success is measured by your ability to command obedience. The moment you stray from that, you risk everything—the plan, the balance of power, even Mara’s life." Her words cut into me, a reminder of the stakes that weighed on every decision I made.

I took a slow, measured breath, letting the severity of her warning sink in. "I have survived this long by taking calculated risks. I never rushed in the way Garrett did. He needs to be allowed to fail, and if I hold his hand, he will never grow; for isn’t it failure that yields the best results?" I questioned, not necessarily to Morgana, but simply wanting to voice my opinion aloud.

"We need more parasites, more copies of my will–our will–, to truly control this city. And if Garrett’s recklessness undermines that, then I’d have no choice but to step in."

Morgana’s gaze did not waver as she absorbed my words. The tension in the corridor grew thicker. I could feel the silent pulse of the space, the unspoken command that if I did not prove my worth, my defiance would be crushed along with Garrett’s pitiful ambitions.

After a long, heavy pause, she finally spoke, her voice almost measured now. "Very well, Lucian. I trust that you understand the gravity of your position. But know this: I expect absolute control. Disobedience will not be tolerated. I know not what you are planning, but tread carefully. I don’t care if you satisfy yourself with the flesh and blood of this world, as long as you are aware of your place."

Her gaze softened minutely, not enough to erase the harshness, but enough to suggest that she wasn’t entirely without mercy. "If you truly wish to preserve what we’ve built, and ensure Mara’s safety, you will keep a tight rein on all of your creations. I want you to remember, that every life you commandeer is a step toward the inevitable. Fail in that, and you’ll be the second to fall." I knew what she meant by that, and it made me sick.

I nodded, though she likely didn’t see me. "Understood," I murmured, even if it was more for my own sake than hers. My mind raced with the implications: the delicate balance between my own calculated risks and the reckless ambition of Garrett—and the unknown dangers lurking in the underbelly of the city. Every decision now had to be weighed carefully.

Morgana stepped back, her eyes never leaving mine as if marking the promise in my silent compliance. "Rest now," she ordered. "Gather your strength. Tonight may be over, but tomorrow reveals a new set of opportunities, and your next move may decide everything."

Before I could muster a response, the corridor dissolved around me. The last thing I heard was her parting words echoing in my mind, a reminder that every step forward was under her watchful gaze.

I was left in the darkness once more, alone with my thoughts and the relentless, pulsing presence of the parasite at my wrist. The cold reality of the night settled in, and with it, the understanding that my path was set—not just by Morgana’s orders, but by the very nature of the monster I was forced to create.

I woke with a start—the last vestiges of that nightmare still clinging to me like a wet shroud—and immediately checked my wrist. The parasite pulsed steadily, a quiet reminder of the deal I’d struck. I pushed myself up from the narrow cot in my room, my body still sluggish from restless sleep. It was time to get moving before the night wore on.

I dressed quickly, pulling on a pair of sturdy trousers and a thick, worn leather jacket that had seen better days. My old boots creaked under the weight of my feet as I stepped outside into a street that was far less forgiving than the silent corridors of my dreams. The chill in the air was sharper than ever; the promise of winter was no idle threat. I made a mental note to stop by the market tomorrow for proper gear. For now, though, I had work to do.

I moved deliberately through the back alleys—quiet, forgotten paths where the city’s filth gathered like scars on its skin. I wasn’t hunting tonight; I was scouting. Garrett’s operation was still growing, and I needed to keep tabs on it. I couldn’t risk him drawing too much attention, especially after last night’s warning. Every step reminded me of the mistake I’d made with the slaver parasite—of how arrogance bred recklessness—and I couldn’t let that happen again.

Before the real work began, I ducked into a small, shuttered shop on the fringe of the district. Inside, the air was musty and the shelves held an assortment of winter supplies: extra cloaks, gloves, and even a few new blades. I picked out what I needed with the clinical efficiency of someone who’d learned that the cost of failure was measured in more than just coin. Once I had my provisions secured, I left the shop, making sure to pay in a way that wouldn’t raise too many suspicions.

Returning to my safehouse—a crumbling flat that had become my temporary refuge—I prepared a small meal and poured myself a couple more shots of whiskey. The burn of the alcohol did little to erase the cold in my bones, but it brought a momentary focus. I settled into my chair, re-checking the tiny pulse of the parasite at my wrist. It was steady; it was waiting.

I needed rest. The encounter with Garrett tonight would be dangerous, and I couldn’t afford to be anything less than at my best. I pulled a threadbare blanket over me and closed my eyes, letting sleep take me again. I planned to nap for a couple of hours—long enough to regain some strength but not so long that I’d miss the crucial midnight hours when Garrett would be most exposed.

In the quiet moments before sleep reclaimed me, I reviewed the plan in my head. Garrett’s arrogance was his weakness, and I had already made it clear in my own way that he answered me. Yet his growing empire, built on stolen power and bloodshed, was beginning to slip from my control. I had to be patient and precise. Every minute I slept was a minute spent gathering strength for the inevitable confrontation.

As darkness seeped back into my consciousness, I steeled myself with a final thought: I would not repeat my past mistakes. I would ensure that every parasite under my command remained loyal and that every life taken was a calculated step in a larger design. Tomorrow—and tonight—everything would proceed exactly as planned. And if Garrett dared to defy me, he would learn the price of disobedience.

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