The descent from the pinnacle of the obelisk was a slow and steady.
Adam led the way, his powerful, tall body moving with a predator's lazy pace down the steep, kilometer-high staircase carved onto the side of the nexus point.
His strength advancing and reaching greater heights was leaving its physical mark; making his skin a slight shade redder, his horns a deeper black and slightly longer, and his height slowly, but undoubtedly increasing.
Blair and Agri trailed him, their naked bodies close at his side, like his shadow, the heat from their bodies a palpable warmth against his.
His hands, seemingly with a mind of their own, were constantly, possessively squeezing the soft and elastic flesh of their bodies.
His palms cupped the full, plump curves of their asses, his fingers kneading the jiggly flesh with a casual, yet deep intensity.
A sharp, stinging slap would land without warning, making one of them yelp and press herself more deeply into his touch. The resulting sudden movement would cause a jiggle of their reddened skin in a mesmerizing way he couldn't tear his eyes from.
He was addicted.
The realization hadn't yet struck a major cord within his conscious mind just yet, but the need was a physical desire that coursed in his veins.
It was a constant hunger that demanded feeding.
For Adam, to go from a lifetime of immobile, sensory-deprived agony, to this daily, brutal, wanton indulgence of beautiful flesh, was a fall from grace so profound and deep, it felt like a dream.
One he never hoped to wake from.
The sheer, overwhelming sensory input, the power to command pleasure and pain; it was a drug almost more potent than any surge of power and strength… almost at least.
He was a drowning man who had found an ocean of Intoxicating nectar, and he drank from it with a desperate, unquenchable thirst, unaware that he was the one being consumed by his own newfound vice.
As they reached the base of the colossal spire, his gaze, still hazy with the afterglow of his groping, swept across the courtyard.
As his heavy, yet silent steps made their way towards the last step, his eyes drifted from the demonesses, and onto Roh. Or to be more specific, onto the project Roh had been working meticulously on to finish.
It was the terrance room hanging above the dimensional gate and the command pedestal.
Because of his command, roared out in a moment of indulgence towards his queen Lyra, Roh had worked over night and fulfilled the task with terrifying, noiseless efficiency.
A black stone structure, elegant in its crude, hellish way, now extended from the elevated platform that held the dimensional gate.
It was a terrace made for Lyra, a place for her to lounge and survey the domain without the arduous, excessive climb. A place where he and her could… indulge in one another.
A simple, lazy statement, born from a desire to spoil his cute, tan-skinned elf-devil, had been made completed with swift, brutal, and overworked diligence.
A horde of heaving, sweating demons were a visual testament to the work paid in sweat and blood.
The sight of it completed sent a sense of thrill through him.
Pleasing her, seeing that haughty pride soften into satisfaction, fueled something deep within Adam. It was a need to provide, to dominate through generosity, to spoil and see his will become her comfort.
The image of her haughty, ethereal face trying to express her inner feelings, yet having trouble do so, could already be seen by him.
As the thought of Lyra and her silver hair messily across the furs in his new chamber filled his mind, unexpectedly another unknown presence brushed against his senses.
It was faint, seemingly illusionary gaze, but his devilish senses, honed by power and natural instinct, caught it instantly.
It was an inspecting gaze that roamed over his body with a swift, surgical precision.
It was not the adoring, lust-filled stare of his demons and queen that he was used to. Nor was it the envy and fear of the demons he commanded.
It was the gaze of an observer, no, a hunter assessing prey.
It came from beyond the shuffling demons, past the barrier, and into the dark miasma beyond.
The unknown individuals senses were like a sharp knife that cut through all of the tangible noise, mana, and emotions; prickling Adam's sensitive, apex predator-like sixth sense.
The reminiscing thoughts of his Lyra froze instantly.
His head turned, his hellish red eyes narrowing, scanning the jagged terrain and trenches for the source of the probing. The daydreaming thoughts of spoiling his queen was interrupted by the cold, sharp prod.
It was the feeling of being watched.
Kaelgor's last warning echoed in his mind, his voice cold and clear.
'That beacon you hold will not go unnoticed forever… Ancient Arch Devils, or worse: Devil Kings...'
This probing gaze, while not possessing the overwhelming weight and terror-inducing power of such entities, it still made him recall the danger he was constantly in; his deepest, hidden fear reacted to the piercing gaze as such.
His power was a lighthouse in the fog, and every flicker, every display, was drawing ships. Some would be merchants seeking trade and offer benefits for rewards. Others would be pirates, seeking to take advantage of his weak strength and limited mobility. Some… some would be leviathans and colossal serpents that could swallow his entire world before he could process a thought.
Herald of the tower of abyssal light, Adam now stood in defiance against the incoming 'ships', and in anxious observation for what's to come.
"The waters of hell run deep." He spoke softly, once again setting his mind straight.
This subtle surveillance was a reminder that his time was limited. That his sanctuary, power, and control were all an illusion.
That his constant indulgences were setbacks to his overall goals.
That the grand teleportation array couldn't be completed fast enough!
Agri and Blair, standing by his side, were able to feel Adam's aura change drastically, their own bodies adjusted in response to their masters, unaware of the hidden danger, but ready to fight alongside him regardless.