Survive as the Family Villain

X

ALL EXPLICIT, RATED, AND MATURE TAGS! SO READ AT YOUR OWN RISK!

[*****]

[NO ONE'S POV]

*Cracking, cracking, cracking*

Deon's blood dripped on the ground as he remained suspended in the air. Achille's Cubic chains bound him tightly, sealing his mana core. The whiplash persisted. Potions are being consumed, and the relentless assault continues.

The same as Deon's grin persisted.

"This is becoming tedious," Achille said, causing the man to flinch. "Throw him away," he said, his two little dolls on his lap, grinning from ear to ear.

The chains that bound him disintegrated. Achille turned away as if he did not care, and he collapsed to the ground.

"A...chille," the monstrous Deon said as he rose to his feet slowly. Achille looked at him, lacking the warmth and comfort he once had for him. His face was filled with disgust and rage. "Look... at...m...e."

He handed his dolls to Ron and looked at Deon, who was in desperate need. His bright red eyes had become dull. The heralded prized son grovels before him.

He is terrified...

Deon was terrified.

... that I am going to abandon him.

Achille smiled even wider.

"Why would I look at you?" he asked, grabbing the back of Deon's head. He yanked his head back, forcing him to examine his expression.

Achille's eyes widen as his gaze meets Deon's. Those eyes were devoid of emotion. There is nothing, not even resentment. Achille's eyes were completely black and blank. As if he would already given up on him and was ready to abandon him at any time.

Achille bites Deon's neck, causing him to bleed even more due to the lack of healing potions. He went so far as to push him to the ground and straddle him. He crossed his legs and stroked Deon's cheeks with his feet.

This kind of relationship is normal.

Achille knows it is wrong, but he made that excuse to justify the torture.

Lante does not care if his useless son and most prized son band together.

He is neither a demon nor a saint.

But—

His final line of reasoning.

Was the children who had always been with him throughout his life.

Ominous, threatening, menacing, and ominous. Whiplash roared like a bloodcurdling scream from the depths of hell. A sinister smile flashed across the dark sky like lightning tears. Achille had yanked on Deon's clothes, which were wide and full in his birthday suit. He pulls his skin apart, opening his wounds and scratching as his adorable dolls have. Blood splashes and crashes on the glass. Pouring forn in a steady but gentle stream. The dark and formidable angelic one had vanished. Nothing but a cold and icy bastard, worse than the devil.

"It would have been preferable if you had sold your own insane siblings... but innocent children?"

The blades shattered and fell to the ground. His fingers are deathly still.

He is watching. He is watching. He is watching. He is not watching.

Deon's eyes can see but are unable to see. He would never see Achille quite like this before. Achille refused to allow him to see his heart. His eyes are constantly on the lookout. Someone far more dangerous is always on the lookout.