[ LOCATION: SECTOR 4 - FEDERAL BANK VAULT ]
[ TIME UNTIL BREACH: 00:07:42 ]
THOOM!
The impact shook the fillings in Viktor's teeth.
Dust—tasting of copper and centuries-old drywall—rained down from the cracked ceiling, coating Viktor's matte-black tactical vest in a layer of gray silt.
He sat slumped against the cold concrete wall, weighing the massive Desert Eagle in his hand. It felt heavy. Useless. Without the specific .50 Action Express rounds it chewed through, it was just a four-pound paperweight.
'Fantastic,' Viktor thought, his internal voice dry and devoid of panic. 'I have zero bullets, a fractured rib, and a Level 10 Shadow Beast trying to open this vault like a tin of sardines. On the bright side, at least I'm dying in a room full of money that's worth absolutely nothing.'
SKREEEE!
The metal of the vault door groaned under another claw swipe. It sounded like a dying whale.
Viktor closed his eyes. He wasn't afraid of the beast. He was afraid of the noise in his head.
[ WARNING: Entropic Buildup at 96% ]
[ ALERT: Host Sanity Critical. ]
[ SUGGESTION: Mate or Die. ]
"Shut up," Viktor hissed at the glowing red text floating in his vision. "I'm working on it."
"Commander..."
The voice was a jagged whisper.
Viktor looked to his left. Anya Vostrov—the Shield of his non-existent army—was huddled in the corner.
The sight was a tragedy in High Definition.
She was massive, a six-foot-two Amazon of muscle and steel, but right now, she looked fragile. Her silver plate armor was dented inward at the stomach, streaked with black monster ichor. But it was her skin that held Viktor's attention.
It was Alabaster. Marble-white and radiating a terrifying cold. The Mana Chill was freezing her blood from the inside out. Her lips were blue, and frost was forming on her eyelashes.
Clack... clack... clack...
Her teeth chattered, a skeletal rhythm in the quiet vault.
"I... I can't feel my legs," she stammered, her golden eyes wide, the pupils dilated and swallowing the iris. "Viktor. It's cold. It's so deep."
Viktor adjusted his glasses. They were fogged up. He looked at the door. Then at her.
'Calculation: If I fight with fists, survival probability is 0%. If I neutralize her Mana Chill, survival probability rises to 12%. Also...'
He winced as the [Mark of Asmodeus]—the circuit-board tattoo branded over his heart—flared with a searing, magma-like heat.
'...I really need to vent this radiator before my heart explodes.'
He crawled toward her.
"Viktor?"
"Quiet, Anya. Save your breath."
He reached out. The moment his slender, surgical fingers brushed the exposed skin of her neck, the shock was physical.
Zzzzt.
Static electricity snapped between them. She was ice. He was a furnace.
"Oh god," she gasped, her head falling back against the concrete wall with a dull thud. "Warm. You're so warm."
"We don't have time for romance," Viktor muttered, his hands shaking as he grabbed the latches of her breastplate. "We have seven minutes before that thing turns us into lunch."
He fumbled with the buckle. His dexterity was shot. The Entropic Static in his brain was making his hands tremble like a junkie's.
"Damn it."
He gave up on finesse. He grabbed the leather straps and pulled.
RIIIIP.
Leather snapped. The heavy steel chest piece clattered to the floor—CLANG-CLATTER—echoing loudly in the small space.
Underneath, she wore only a thin, black compression tank top. It was soaked through with cold sweat, clinging to her heavy curves like a second skin. She smelled of Iron, Rainwater, and Panic. It was the rawest, most intoxicating scent Viktor had ever inhaled.
"Help me," she begged, grabbing his wrist with a grip strong enough to crush bone. "Burn it out of me, Viktor. Please."
[ PHASE 1: THE IGNITION ]
Viktor didn't answer. He didn't have the words. The logic center of his brain finally short-circuited.
He pushed her legs apart. The sound of her tactical trousers sliding against the concrete floor—shhh-kkt—was harsh and gritty.
He moved between her thighs. The heat radiating from his body hit her like a physical wave. The frost on her arms hissed and evaporated into steam.
"Viktor... ahh!"
She arched her back, a desperate, keening noise tearing from her throat as he pressed his weight against her.
He didn't kiss her. He calibrated her.
He buried his face in the crook of her neck, biting down on the soft muscle. He needed to ground himself. He needed an anchor.
"Quiet the noise," he growled against her skin.
He lined himself up. The air in the vault grew heavy, charged with the scent of ozone. The red emergency light pulsing above them—Flash... Flash...—synced with the thudding of his heart.
He didn't thrust. He invaded.
It was a slow, agonizing breach. He sank into her molten depths, feeling the terrifying cold of her Mana Chill fighting against his heat. It felt like plunging into deep water—heavy, crushing, and all-consuming.
"Oh... haa... oh god..."
Anya's hands scrambled for purchase on his shoulders, her nails digging in through his shirt. Her spine bowed. A string of saliva broke between her lips as she gasped, her eyes rolling back into her head.
"Nnngh!"
She bit her lip so hard a bead of blood welled up.
[ SYSTEM ALERT: CIRCUIT ESTABLISHED ]
[ TIME DILATION: ACTIVE ]
The room changed.
The System took over their perception. The seconds stretched into minutes. The roar of the monster outside faded into a low, distant drone, replaced by the deafening sound of their own heartbeats.
As Viktor began to move—a heavy, grinding torque that sought to weld their bones together—the shadows retreated. The tattoo over his heart pulsed with a blinding crimson light. In response, silver veins lit up under Anya's skin, tracing her nervous system like a living map.
It wasn't just sex. It was Thermodynamics.
"Harder," she sobbed, the word breaking into a choked, wet gasp. "Viktor... don't be gentle. Ruin me."
He obeyed.
He gripped her hips, his fingers sinking into the yielding softness of her flesh, and drove into her.
Schlick.
The sound was wet and lewd—the squelching slap of sweat-slicked skin echoing against the steel walls. It mixed with the BOOM of the monster outside, creating a rhythm of absolute violence.
Viktor's mind went blank. The red code vanished. The Strategy vanished. There was only the viscous heat of her body, the suffocating grip of her muscles clamping down on him, milking the toxicity from his soul.
"Haa... haa... Anya..."
His voice was unrecognizable—a guttural, broken noise.
"I'm... ah-ahh!... I'm crashing!" she wailed, her legs locking around his waist in a vice grip.
The climax didn't build; it exploded.
"AHH!"
Anya's scream was lost against his mouth as he kissed her to stifle the noise. Her body seized, locking up in a spasm of pure energy discharge. Viktor shouted into her mouth, pouring fire into ice, emptying his soul into the sanctuary of her body.
The room flashed white.
[ PHASE 2: THE AFTERMATH ]
They collapsed.
Anya fell forward, her forehead resting heavily on his shoulder. She was dead weight. But she was warm. The marble-cold was gone, replaced by a healthy, flushed sweat that glistened in the emergency light.
Viktor leaned his head back against the concrete wall. His glasses were askew, completely fogged up.
Thump... thump... thump...
His heart hammered against his ribs like a trapped bird. The Time Dilation snapped off, and the roar of the monster returned, louder than before.
The room smelled of burnt magic and musk.
Then, a cheerful, digital sound cut through the dark.
Ding!
[ SYSTEM NOTIFICATION ]
Entropy Purged.
Host Stability: 100%
Partner Status: [Full Stamina Restoration Applied]
Reward: [Sin Points: +500]
Shop Unlocked: [Item: .50 Caliber Armor-Piercing Round (x1)]
Viktor pushed his glasses up his nose with a shaking hand. He stared at the blue screen.
'One bullet,' he thought, a dark, cynical smile touching his lips. 'The System is a cheap bastard.'
"Purchase," he muttered.
Vwummm.
Blue particles swirled around the empty magazine of his Desert Eagle. They coalesced instantly into cold, heavy brass. He didn't need to check. He felt the weight return to the weapon.
One shot.
He looked down at Anya. Her breathing had shifted from ragged to steady. The flush in her cheeks wasn't just from the act; it was adrenaline. The System had refilled her tank.
"Anya," he whispered, his voice cold and sharp again.
She lifted her head. Her golden eyes were clear. The fear was gone, replaced by the terrifying calm of a predator.
"Orders, Commander?" she asked, her voice steady.
Viktor racked the slide of his gun. CH-CHICK.
"Open the door."