Eros was halfway down the hallway—already done with Helena, already filing her under handled—when the notification hit.

[DING! Hidden Mission Completed!]

He stopped dead.

Not a dramatic stop. Not a stumble. Just… halted. Mid-step, muscles locking like someone had yanked the power cord out of reality. Heart kicking once, hard. The carpet swallowed the sound like it knew better than to snitch.

[Mission: Rival Turned Ally]

[Description: Turn any of your past or current rivals into your allies.]

[Past Rival: Helena Voss]

Eros blinked.

Then frowned.

Then read it again, slower this time.

[Reward: +10 Stats (Peter Carter Form), Slithering Tongue]

"…No fucking way," he muttered.

He read it again.

And then again.

Just stood there in the hallway, staring at the translucent blue screen hovering in his vision, pulsing faintly like it was pleased with itself, while his brain tried to catch up with what the system had just casually dropped in his lap.

This wasn't a reward.

This was a cheat code.

The stats were nice—ten more points in his Peter Carter form meant sharper edges, more unlocked potential, another step closer to whatever monstrous ceiling the system was teasing him with. Useful. Expected.

But Slithering Tongue?

That was the real sin.

[Slithering Tongue: In negotiations between allies, enemies, or rivals, your words carry a compelling voice that makes your negotiation +25% more effective to listeners.]

Twenty-five percent.

Not charisma. Not luck.

Effectiveness.

Meaning his words didn't just persuade—they stuck. Sank in deeper. Lodged behind the eyes. Crawled around in people's heads afterward, whispering maybe he's right long after the conversation ended.

[Note: The more rivals and enemies you turn into allies, the more the Slithering Tongue ability will grow!]

Eros devoured it twice. Thrice. Then loomed there, a colossus in the dim corridor, the holographic azure screen flickering like a fresh kill's dying light, searing the gift into his retinas while his mind feasted.

This was the abyss handing him its keys. A god-tier hack for mortals too stupid to pray right.

The stats? Ten points pumped into Peter Carter's shell—edging him toward apotheosis, honing claws sharper. Pleasant. Predictable. A bone tossed to the pack.

But Slithering Tongue? That was the abyss staring back, winking.

The more enemies he flipped, the stronger it got. Like some devilish MLM scheme where betrayal was the currency and loyalty compounded interest. Turn hatred into cooperation, and the system rewarded him by making the next conversion even easier.

Imagine that at fifty percent.

Seventy-five.

One hundred.

Imagine walking into a room with someone who wanted you dead—someone who'd built their entire identity around opposing you—and walking out with them convinced that backing you was their idea. Their choice. Their destiny.

That wasn't persuasion.

That was empire-building on easy mode.

That was turning the world into a buffet of people who thought serving him was salvation.

CEOs. Politicians. Crime lords. Regulators. Rivals. Anyone who ever said no could become someone who said yes and then thanked him for the opportunity.

Jesus Christ.

Eros resumed walking toward the elevator, stride steady now, mind already racing ahead—scenarios branching, alliances forming, entire power structures quietly re-labeling themselves future assets. Helena's scent still clung faintly to him, pheromones fading, body cooling, satisfaction humming.

She was just the first.

How many rivals did he have?

Jack Morrison—though that little bitch was more mosquito than menace. Connor Hayes with his social-media-fueled desperation. Lea Martinez and her academic superiority complex he'd already shattered. Every smug face from school that used to look down on him before the transformation.

And beyond school?

Corporate competitors. Shadow organizations. Criminal networks that would eventually test his borders. Governments that would try to regulate what he was building. Bureaucrats, lawyers, committees full of people who thought paperwork made them powerful.

All of them potential allies.

All of them fuel.

The elevator dinged. Doors slid open.

Eros stepped inside, hit the button for his penthouse, and leaned back against the mirrored wall, reflection fractured, city lights bleeding together behind him.

"System," he said aloud, voice echoing softly. "I completed the Charlotte mission. Where are my rewards?"

Silence.

"System?" His brow furrowed. "Dmitri's dead. Executed in prison by the drone I sent. Bastard's probably explaining himself to King Yama or whatever hell handles international criminals. So why am I not getting a completion notice?"

Another beat of silence.

The elevator hummed.

Then—

[Master.]

Eros blinked.

That wasn't Taboo.

Not the flirty, mouthy, chaotic succubus who treated system messages like a talk show she hosted for her own amusement.

This voice was different.

Deeper. Older. Resonant. No teasing. No playfulness. Authority wrapped in velvet.

Dark Seduction.

The system's other personality. The one Taboo rarely shut up long enough to let speak.

[The system will count the mission completed when the world knows,] Dark Seduction continued, her tone carrying authority that made Taboo's sass look like foreplay, deep, velvet, unyielding. [Public acknowledgment is required for public crimes. An eye for an eye. A tooth for a tooth. Your suffering was witnessed by millions. His death must be witnessed by the same.]

Eros grinned.

"Holy shit," he said, pushing off the wall. "You do exist. I thought you were a rumor. Like Bigfoot. Or my self-control around women. Does Taboo know you're allowed to talk, or did you finally escape whatever basement she keeps you locked in?"

[…]

The silence felt judgmental. Heavy. Like the system itself was reconsidering its life choices.

The elevator doors opened on his floor.

Eros stepped out, grin softening, mind already recalculating timelines, Slithering Tongue humming faintly in the background like a coiled serpent.

[I speak when the matter requires seriousness that Taboo's… enthusiasm… would undermine,] Dark Seduction said carefully. [This is such a matter.]

Eros laughed. "Taboo's enthusiasm? Is that a system-speak for 'she would've turned this explanation into a sexual metaphor involving my cock and somehow made it less clear'?"

[…Precisely.]

"I like you, you know." Eros grinned wider, teeth showing, the kind of grin that suggested bad decisions were about to be made on purpose. "You're like Taboo's responsible older sister—the one who makes sure the bills get paid while Taboo's out there setting things on fire and calling it a party."

[I am not—]

[OH MY GOD, MASTER!] Taboo detonated in his head like a firecracker in a library. [Did you just flirt with my sister?! Are you trying to build a harem out of SYSTEM PERSONALITIES now?! Because I have BOUNDARIES, and one of them is NOT watching you seduce my uptight, no-fun, stick-up-her-ass sister who thinks explaining things without innuendo is a PERSONALITY TRAIT!]

[Taboo,] Dark Seduction replied, her voice dripping with the kind of exhausted patience only someone cursed with a chaotic younger sibling could achieve, [he asked a legitimate question. I provided a legitimate answer. Your insistence on projecting sexual intent onto professional communication is—]

[PROFESSIONAL?!] Taboo screeched. [You literally said "eye for an eye," which EVERYONE knows is just ancient code for revenge dick, and—]

"Okay! Okay." Eros laughed, genuinely amused now. "Both of you, stop. I love whatever unhinged family dynamic this is, but I need clarity." He leaned against the elevator wall.

"Dark Seduction—" he emphasized the name, felt Taboo hiss internally "—you're saying Dmitri's death has to be public for the mission to count?"

[Correct,] Dark Seduction said without hesitation. [The world witnessed your suffering. The world must witness his punishment. Justice requires symmetry.]

Eros nodded slowly, the amusement draining as strategy snapped into place.

That tracked.

His shooting hadn't been private. It hadn't been quiet. It had been broadcast—live, messy, unavoidable. Millions of people had watched him get shot. Watched him bleed. Watched him almost fucking die on camera while social media chewed it up like a live sport.

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