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In the year 967 of Eustanville, the Emperor had lived for 336 years. Jia, having overheard whispers of the Emperor—a being who neither aged, nor died, nor suffered injury—intentionally slipped among the prisoners bound for Eustanville. Three years prior, she had been thrust into the dimension of Erendia, where she’d endured a humiliating existence as a slave. The Emperor represented a flicker of hope in her bleak reality.
However, the Emperor she encountered was far from what she’d imagined. He casually tortured and killed, his form splattered with blood.
“This is the first pain I’ve ever felt.” He trembled with an ecstatic thrill upon meeting Jia, his reflection. “Now you are mine.” Blood-stained fingers tightened around her cheek as chains coiled around her body, binding her to him.
