My gaze locked onto Angela's, my voice cutting through the charged silence of the control room with cold, unshakable authority. "Gather all the men soldiers inside the fortress," I commanded, my tone leaving no room for argument.

"Set up a perimeter around the walls. No one gets in or out without my say-so." My fingers traced the edge of the console, my mind already mapping out the logistics.

"Then take every man inside these walls—every one—and send them out to live beyond the perimeter. They'll set up camp outside. Only women stay inside." My voice dropped to a dark, velvety growl. "And I will be the only man left here."

Angela's breath hitched, her eyes widening with a mix of shock and exhilaration. "You're—you're serious—?" she stammered, but I silenced her with a look.

"Gather all the women soldiers," I continued, my voice a blade. "They'll be in charge of your safety. If anyone disagrees—if anyone protests—" My fingers curled into a fist, my knuckles pressing against the console. "Kill them."

Angela's lips parted, her chest rising with a sharp inhale. "You're really doing this," she whispered, her voice thick with awe. "You're making this place… ours."

I didn't answer. Instead, I pulled her closer, my hands gripping her waist as I pressed her against me. "I have a gift for you," I murmured, my voice low and intimate.

Before she could react, I cupped her face and kissed her—deep, possessive, my lips claiming hers until she was breathless. The Nexus ability hummed beneath my skin, and I let it flow into her, weaving through her veins like liquid fire.

When I pulled back, Angela's eyes were wide, her lips swollen from the kiss, her breath coming in ragged gasps. "From now on," I said, my thumb brushing over her bottom lip, "you're immortal. Like me." My voice was a dark promise. "You'll rule this world with me."

Angela's fingers flew to her chest, her voice trembling. "W-What? Immortal?"

I let out a slow, measured breath, my fingers closing around the fabric of the t-shirt—the Magical Tool humming faintly against my skin.

With nothing more than a focused thought, the fibers began to shift, dissolving like mist before reforming into something far more sinister: a dagger, its edge honed to a razor's precision.

The blade gleamed under the flickering light, cold and unyielding, its jagged reflections dancing across Angela's face. Her eyes were wide, locked onto the weapon as if it were a serpent coiled and ready to strike.

For a moment, I hesitated—not out of fear, but anticipation. Then, deliberately, I released my grip on Eternal Vitality, the power that fortified my body beyond human limits. The familiar surge of strength ebbed away, leaving me as vulnerable as any mortal. My muscles loosened, my senses dulled just enough to remind me what it felt like to be fragile. To bleed.

Angela didn't move. Didn't blink. She stood frozen, her breath caught somewhere between her lungs and her lips, as I raised the dagger. The tip hovered just above the delicate pulse at my wrist, the skin there suddenly too thin, too exposed. Then, with a slow, deliberate pressure, I pressed the blade into my flesh.

Pain flared—sharp, white-hot—shooting up my arm like a bolt of lightning. I didn't pull away. Didn't even flinch. Blood welled instantly, a dark, glistening bead swelling at the wound's edge, followed by another, and another.

Soon, a thin, crimson river began to trace its way down my forearm, each drop falling to the floor with a soft, wet tap that echoed in the heavy silence between us. The sound was obscenely loud, each droplet a punctuation mark in the story unfolding before Angela's horrified gaze.

Angela's gasp tore through the silence. "What the hell are you—?!" She lunged forward, her hands hovering over the wound as if she could will it closed. "You're bleeding! Stop it—stop it right now!" Her voice cracked, raw with panic, but then—her words died in her throat.

The cut was healing. Right before her eyes, the torn flesh knitted itself back together, the ragged edges smoothing over until only a few lingering drops of blood remained, glistening like rubies against my skin. The dagger clattered to the ground, forgotten.

I turned my wrist, showing her the unblemished skin. "You're like me now," I murmured, my voice low, almost intimate. "Unkillable. Immortal."

Angela stumbled back a step, her chest rising and falling in rapid, shallow breaths. Her fingers trembled as she reached out—not toward me, but toward the space between us, as if testing the reality of what she'd just witnessed.

"It... it doesn't hurt you," she whispered, more to herself than to me. "You didn't just give me some half-measure. You made me like you. Directly." Her eyes snapped to mine, wild with disbelief. "Why?"

I didn't answer right away. Instead, I closed the distance between us, my hand cupping her cheek. Her skin was warm, alive in a way that went beyond mere biology. "Because you're special," I said, my thumb brushing over her cheekbone.

"Because the world is cruel to people like us—people who don't fit, who refuse to break. Because I wanted you to have what I have. Not just the time, Angela. The freedom." My voice dropped to a whisper.

For a heartbeat, she just stared at me. Then, without warning, she crashed into me, her arms locking around my neck as she all but collapsed onto my lap.

I caught her easily, my arms wrapping around her as she buried her face against my shoulder. Her body shook—not with sobs, but with something deeper, something that didn't have a name. Relief. Fear. Gratitude. Awe. It was all there, pressed between us like a storm barely contained.

"I don't know what to say," she choked out, her voice muffled against my shirt. "I don't know how to—how to even—"

I held her tighter. "You don't have to say anything."

And for the first time in a long time, I let myself believe that maybe—just maybe—I wasn't alone anymore.

Angela's arms wrapped around me, her body trembling as she pressed herself against me, her breath hot against my neck. "Dexter…" she whispered, her voice thick with emotion.

I held her tight, my fingers digging into her flesh. "You take care of the fortress," I said, my voice leaving no room for argument.

"I'll go bring your daughters back." My lips curled into a smirk. "And there are many women in my tribe. I'll bring them all here." My voice dropped to a growl. "From now on… we call this the Overlord Empire."

Angela pulled back just enough to meet my gaze, her eyes burning with fierce determination. "The Overlord Empire," she repeated, her voice a dark promise. "And we'll rule it… together."

I smirked, my hands squeezing her ass before I stood, lifting her with me. "Together," I agreed, my voice a blade. "Now go. Start the purge."

And with that, I turned and walked out, leaving Angela standing there—immortal, powerful, and mine—as the first whispers of the Overlord Empire began to take root.

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