Desires & Heresy

On the night Zane completely corrupted Eleanor, a familiar chime echoed in his mind.

A glowing screen flickered before his eyes, crisp blue against the dim candlelight.

[Congratulations, Host, for completing the Level 1 Quest of the "Holy Corruption System."]

The words pulsed, filling the quiet chamber with an undeniable finality. Then—another series of prompts appeared.

[All skills gained will disappear, except for Divine Authorities, if you choose to begin Level 2.]

[However, difficulty will increase exponentially. Failure will lead to severe consequences.]

[If you choose to proceed, the system will undergo an update, allowing it to provide deeper insight to the Host.]

And then, just as before—just as on the night he had taken Celeste—the same text appeared again.

[The system will disappear in seven days. Choose wisely.]

[Stay and embrace the comfort of an ordinary life… or surrender to your desires and ascend to something far greater.]

Zane exhaled slowly, dragging his fingers down Eleanor's bare spine. She lay beside him, breath steady, golden hair cascading over the pillows like a broken halo.

His greatest victory.

And yet, he would leave.

He had shaped her, broken her, turned her into something that no longer belonged to the gods—only to him. And after all that effort, he would need to abandon her without hesitation.

The choice had already been made.

He closed the prompt.

Seven days.

And they were spent as he pleased.

Viviana was a perfect indulgence.

She was sharp, relentless, and knew exactly how to play their game. She had given herself freely, not out of broken faith, but because she had chosen to abandon her chains. It made no difference in the end.

She was his all the same.

Every glance, every fleeting touch, every brush of silk against bare skin—all of it was a calculated move between them, a slow unraveling. She tempted and teased, knowing he would never deny her, but never once realizing that she was the one being played.

She liked to believe she had control.

She never did.

He always made fun of her in the carriage, teasing, provoking.

The rhythmic sway of the carriage only made it easier. His fingers toyed lazily with the fabric of her dress, his other hand already beneath it, palming the soft weight of her breast.

Even through the layers of silk and corsetry, he could feel her heat. His thumb traced slow, deliberate circles over the nipple, teasing, pressing, feeling the way her breath hitched ever so slightly.

Her body was always so responsive.

His teeth grazed her, a light, deliberate scrape, before pulling away just enough to murmur against her flushed skin.

"Still sensitive? Even after last night?"

Viviana exhaled a soft laugh, her fingers threading through his hair as she reclined further against the seat. Her hazel eyes, always so full of amusement, flickered down to him with mock exasperation.

"Do you love sucking them so much? Are you a child?"

Zane chuckled, pressing a lingering kiss just above the curve of her breast before glancing up, his amber eyes glinting with mischief.

"If you wish me to be."

Her laugh was quiet, indulgent, as her fingers traced the back of his neck.

But he never indulged in pleasure alone.

He also hungered for knowledge.

Zane sifted through archives, traced old records, and mapped out the structure of this world. Every faith had roots, and he followed Lunara's deeper than ever before.

Goddess Lunara, the Radiance of Eternal Light, the Divine Arbiter of Virtue and Sin.

The prayers, the doctrine, the unwavering devotion—it was all unchanged.

Just as it had been when he had corrupted Celeste.

The confirmation was undeniable. This was the same world.

But the timeline remained uncertain.

The places he had once known—the towns, the cities, the names he had burned into memory during his first conquest—were nowhere to be found. No records, no mentions. Whether they had been renamed, destroyed, or had never existed in this part of the world, he couldn't say.

Another matter he delved into was the gods.

The ones perceived as omnipotent, omniscient.

They never intervened.

Not when he had twisted faith into ruin. Not when their most devout had broken beneath his touch. Not when he had turned prayers into something sinful.

They either did not care.

Or they were watching.

Either way, it changed nothing.

And so, the days passed.

Until finally, last night arrived.

Eleanor lay beneath him, her body pliant, her golden eyes unfocused, her breath hitching under his touch. Candlelight flickered over her flushed skin, highlighting the way her chest rose and fell with every uneven breath.

The shyness had never fully left her—not completely—but there was no more hesitance.

Still, when his hand drifted lower, she instinctively pressed her thighs together.

Zane chuckled, gripping her knee, parting her legs with ease.

"Still shy?" His voice was teasing.

Eleanor turned her head away, golden lashes fluttering. "…It's embarrassing."

Her voice was barely a whisper, but the flush on her face told him everything.

Zane smirked, his palm running over the inside of her thigh, savoring the way she trembled beneath him.

"You should be used to this by now."

She shivered but didn't argue.

His hand left her skin for a moment, reaching for the ink vial he had set aside. He dipped his fingers in, then pressed them between her thighs, against the most delicate part of her.

Her breath hitched sharply.

He didn't rush.

Instead, he wrote his name there, tracing each letter with slow, deliberate strokes. The ink smeared as his fingers pressed deeper, ensuring she felt every motion.

Eleanor gasped, her thighs tensing again, but he only smiled, dragging his fingers over her, smearing his name into her skin.

"There. Now it's official."

She buried her face into the pillow, clearly flustered, her entire body trembling beneath him.

Zane only chuckled, lips brushing just above her navel.

"Don't hide." His voice was a whisper, low and commanding. "You're mine. Let me see you."

She hesitated.

But slowly, her body relaxed beneath his touch.

And he took his time—savoring every reaction, every shiver, every gasp.

By the time he was finished, she was barely conscious, exhaustion overtaking her.

She barely lasted a few moments before sleep claimed her.

Zane did not sleep.

He lay beside her, fingers tracing idle lines over her bare skin. 

She looked like something holy.

And yet—she was ruined.

A soft chime echoed in his mind.

A familiar blue screen flickered before his eyes.

[Please Make Your Choice]

Zane exhaled, gaze still fixed on her.

He had left Celeste behind. And for a fleeting second, he had hesitated.

It had been quick—almost meaningless—but it had been there.

And now, as he lay beside Eleanor, feeling the warmth of her body, the silence stretching thin around them—

He felt it again.

Not regret. Not doubt.

Something else.

Longing?

The thought was absurd.

And yet, his fingers traced down her spine, slower than necessary, committing the warmth of her skin to memory.

Was it because she had taken longer than the others? Because she had fought harder? Held on until there was truly nothing left?

A strange amusement flickered through him. Perhaps.

But it didn't change anything.

He exhaled, dragging his hand down her back—one last touch, one last act of possession.

Then, without a word, without a second thought.—

He pressed the notification.

[Initiating Transmigration]

The world shifted.

The bed beneath him vanished.

The air changed.

When his eyes opened, the dim candlelight was gone—replaced by grandeur.

The scent of incense. The weight of heavy robes. The hushed whispers of reverence.

Zane exhaled, adjusting to his new body. His robes were finer now—gold-trimmed, marked with Lunara's symbol.

Ah.

He was higher now.

A throne, but not a king's. A pulpit, but not a priest's.

The game had begun anew.

[Level 2 Quest Initiated]

[New Identity: Bishop Lucian Duskveil]

[New Main Target Identified: Archbishop Athena Ella Luminis]

"Welcome, Host, to the Grand Cathedral."