Crimson Overlord-Chapter 325: Visiting Nix

An interesting turn of events! Brynhild’s realization adds a new layer of complexity to their situation.

Brynhild speared a piece of fruit with her fork, her gaze thoughtful as she watched Orpheus across the table.

’’You should relax at the pool. I’ve somewhere I need to go.’’ Orpheus informed her.

’’Okay, I’ll be waiting, hopefully you will not stay out for too long, master.’’ she winked at him and he simply rolled his eyes at her before leaving to his room.

A few minutes later, she was reading.

Sliding open the glass doors leading from the opulent living area, Brynhild stepped out onto a sun-drenched patio. The morning air held a refreshing crispness that was quickly chased away by the warmth radiating from the inviting swimming pool that stretched out before her.

The pool itself was a marvel of modern design. Its sleek, rectangular shape glinted like polished sapphire under the clear blue sky. Crystal-clear water shimmered, its surface undisturbed except for a few playful ripples caused by a gentle breeze.

The pool’s edge was adorned with comfortable-looking lounge chairs upholstered in a vibrant turquoise that complemented the water’s hue. Large, white umbrellas, strategically placed, offered shade for those seeking respite from the sun’s intensity.

But the most striking feature was the infinity pool effect on one side. The water seemed to cascade over the edge, creating the illusion of merging with the vast blue canvas of the sky beyond the property line. It offered a breathtaking vista, a sense of endlessness that mirrored the complexity of the emotions swirling within Brynhild.

Taking a deep breath, she inhaled the fresh air mingled with the subtle scent of chlorine and blooming jasmine that wafted from nearby flowerbeds. The tension from their breakfast conversation still clung to her, but the sight of the inviting pool sparked a flicker of defiance within her.

"Perhaps," she thought, a wry smile playing on her lips, "a swim is exactly what I need to clear my head... and cool down after a rather...heated breakfast."

With a determined stride, she shed her robe, revealing a sleek black bikini that accentuated her curves. Stepping onto the cool pool deck, she paused for a moment, her gaze sweeping over the luxurious surroundings.

This wasn’t just a swimming pool; it was an oasis, a sanctuary within the opulent confines of the glass villa. And for a moment, at least, Brynhild allowed herself to imagine a future where swimming in this pool wouldn’t be a solitary act, but a shared experience – a chance to explore the depths of this strange connection with her master, both literally and metaphorically.

Taking a deep breath, she plunged into the cool water, a gasp escaping her lips as it enveloped her in a refreshing embrace. The weight of the world seemed to lift from her shoulders as she glided through the water, the rhythmic strokes providing a much-needed sense of calm.

As she swam, her eyes drifted closed, and for a moment, she allowed herself to dream. Dreams of a future where darkness and light intertwined, where fear and desire danced a delicate waltz, and where love, perhaps, in some unforeseen way, might find a way to bloom.

The air crackled as Orpheus ripped a hole in space, stepping through with a flourish. Gone was the sun-drenched California villa, replaced by the oppressive darkness of the Forbidden Zone. A crimson moon, an alien eye in the blood-red sky, cast an eerie glow on the desolate landscape.

A harsh laugh escaped Orpheus’s lips. This desolate wasteland, a twisted reflection of their race.

With another thought, he vanished, teleporting himself directly to the heart of the Forbidden Zone – the obsidian castle that served as his throne room. It was a monument to his power, a dark and imposing structure built from volcanic rock, its spires reaching like grasping claws into the crimson sky.

Gargoyles, grotesque parodies of life, leered down from the battlements, their eyes glowing with an unnatural light. An icy wind, howling like a banshee, whipped through the desolate courtyard, carrying the stench of decay and sulfur.

Pushing open the massive oak doors, bound with iron and etched with demonic symbols, Orpheus strode into the throne room. The cavernous space was dimly lit by torches sputtering with an oily flame. A cold mist hung low, obscuring the depths of the room.

In the center, upon a throne of obsidian carved with scenes of torture and despair, sat his daughter, Nix.

She turned at his entrance, a smirk twisting her lips. "Father," she said, her voice a rasp that echoed through the vast hall. "You grace us with your presence."

Orpheus chuckled, a dark sound that echoed in the chamber.

"There’s business to discuss, Nix," he replied.

At Nix’s sharp clap, a skeletal figure materialized from the swirling mist. It was a wraith, its form a tattered shroud clinging to a bony frame, its eyes two burning embers. It bowed low, its raspy voice barely a whisper.

"My Lady," it rasped, "your request."

Nix tilted her head, her crimson gaze flickering over her father. "Fresh vintage, from the northern territory," she commanded, a cruel amusement flickering in her eyes.

The wraith bowed again, vanishing as silently as it had appeared. A beat of silence followed, broken only by the dripping of some unseen liquid and the crackle of the torches. Then, with a metallic clang, two goblets of polished obsidian materialized on a nearby pedestal.

Orpheus raised an eyebrow, a hint of a smile playing on his lips. He knew his daughter and her penchant for theatrics. "Highborn vintage, I presume?" he inquired, his voice smooth as velvet.

A slow smile spread across Nix’s face, revealing pointed fangs. "Indeed, Father," she purred.

"A special delivery, just arrived from a particularly... rebellious village."

Orpheus chuckled, a dark, rumbling sound that sent shivers down the wraith’s nonexistent spine. He strode towards the pedestal, his movements radiating a dangerous grace. Picking up one of the goblets, he swirled the crimson liquid within, its viscosity catching the flickering torchlight.

"Rebellious blood," he mused, taking a long draught. "Always the sweetest."

Nix mirrored his action, the blood staining her pale lips a deeper shade of red. As they drank, a tense silence settled over the throne room.