The Extra Wants Control

Ilyana, brow furrowed in thought, nudged her sister's arm. "Sis, what do you make of that vampire?" she whispered, her voice barely louder than a rustle of silk.

Her sister, Clara, turned, a gentle smile gracing her lips. "What do you mean, dear?" she asked, her voice a soothing melody.

Ilyana leaned in closer, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial hiss. "Isn't he strange? Did you see how he outperformed everyone the blessed, even the other notable geniuses? The ones from great bloodlines and clans! And I could tell, he was holding back, barely exerting himself."

Clara's smile didn't falter even for a brief moment. "But so was Lara, wasn't she?" she pointed out, gesturing towards the silver-haired woman across the room.

Ilyana shook her head, unconvinced. "It's not the same. Even with all this wealth and influence surrounding him, even under my… well, you know, gaze" she trailed off, a slight shame creeping up her neck, "he remained completely unaffected. It's as if none of it mattered to him."

Evelyn's brows rose slightly. "Unaffected by your gaze? That is interesting…" she mused, a thoughtful glint in her eyes.

"And then there's the Elven text," Ilyana continued, her voice dropping to a hushed whisper. "We're a very secluded race, how could he possibly know how to read it?"

Clara hummed thoughtfully, a finger tapping her chin. "Hmm, that is a curious point. Is it that big a deal, though? Ancient vampire language is very similar to Elven. Why are you fussing over this? Why not simply enjoy the festivities, Ilyana?" she asked, her voice laced with a hint of amusement as she playfully wrapped an arm around her sister's shoulders.

Ilyana swatted her arm away, but the suspicion remained etched on her face. "Not many vampires know the ancient language. Something just doesn't feel right about that vampire," she insisted.

Meanwhile, Clara's mind raced. The pieces were clicking into place. The preternatural talent, the immunity to even Lara's allure, the knowledge of a language supposedly unknown to outsiders. A memory surfaced – of a terrifying vampire. She shook her head.

"He also lied," Clara murmured to herself, barely a breath escaping her lips. "He lied about only reading part of the text, and then claiming ignorance of the ancient script. Interesting why did he lie? I'll keep an eye on you Neveah."

****************

A low chuckle rumbled through the study hall as two students hunched over a single phone screen. The dim glow illuminated their faces, highlighting the salacious grin plastered on Byron's face.

"Damn, she's a looker," Byron murmured, his voice tinged with a perverted edge. "You following Aaliyah? That foxkin is packing some serious curves, kekeke."

Beside him, Ben rolled his eyes. "Nah, mate. Not my scene. You should check out Brianna though. Human, stunning figure, apparently sponsored by Babel. Does these things called streams where you can chat with her, request stuff as long as it's 'safe for work' of course."

"Babel, huh?" Byron perked up, a glint of interest replacing his leer. "What's this 'safe for work' business? Sounds restrictive."

Ben shrugged. "Beats me. And apparently, you can send her gifts – financial support, kind of like packages. Gotta have a Babel bank account for that, though."

"So, people get paid for just… hanging out online?" Byron scratched his chin, a mischievous glint in his eyes. "Sounds like an easy hustle. Maybe I should throw my hat in the ring."

Ben snorted, a barely suppressed laugh escaping his lips. "You? Have you seen yourself in the mirror, mate?"

Byron scowled playfully, shoving Ben's shoulder. "Oi, watch it! Don't think I don't know what you're thinking, you cheeky git. And no, I'm not talking about selling my 'questionable' looks. There are other options, right? Documentaries, exploring ruins, maybe even some monster subjugation – that could be exciting!

Or hey, even just posting cool pictures. There's gotta be a niche for that, right? I saw a whole Babel post about it the other day."

Ben chuckled, softening his voice. "Alright, alright, I get it. You're an ideas machine. Just remember, with Babel, competition's is gonna be fierce. You gotta find your unique hook to stand out from the crowd."

The tension in the study hall dissipated as Byron, with a resigned sigh, conceded, "Alright, alright. Let's get some grub. Let's go to Babel." Ben, relieved to avoid further debate, offered a quick nod.

"Sure," Byron continued, already pulling out his Babel phone. "I'll check out some Dawn Guild subjugation streams. They do some pretty interesting stuff, gotta give them that."

Their bickering had attracted a curious glance from Professor Peabody as he shuffled past. Now, a faint smile played on his lips as he overheard Byron's words. While the students' obsession with Babel still baffled him, the educational value of watching skilled monster subjugation couldn't be denied. Perhaps there was more to this platform than mindless entertainment.

Inside Babel, the students found themselves swept up in the usual weekend flurry. Girls, not to be outdone by the boys, scrolled through streams filled with charming male influencers, their laughter echoing through the cafes. Meanwhile, noble maidens, caught in a social media arms race, meticulously documented their opulent lifestyles, each post a desperate attempt to outshine the last.

The air crackled with a mix of genuine enjoyment and a not-so-subtle undercurrent of competition.

The weekend nights in Stonegate buzzed with a newfound energy. Babel, the all-encompassing platform, had become more than just a digital space – it was a social hub. Students and young adults, no longer confined to study halls or monotonous work, flooded Babel's cafes and clubs. Laughter spilled out from glowing screens, punctuated by the clinking of glasses raised in toasts.

Babel catered to everyone. While commoners enjoyed the camaraderie and entertainment, nobles, usually ensconced in their opulent estates, found themselves drawn into the social media frenzy and luxury shopping. Lavish displays of wealth, documented on meticulously crafted profiles, fueled a playful competition amongst them.

The air crackled with a mix of genuine amusement and a desperate need to outdo each other.

This newfound popularity had a profound effect on Stonegate itself. The once-stagnant city witnessed a surge of activity. The imposing wall that had separated the city from the outside world crumbled, a symbolic gesture of the change sweeping through Stonegate. In its place, Babel spearheaded construction projects – new apartment complexes designed for a growing population.

Since all land belonged to Alexei, the process was swift and efficient.

Residents, weary of corrupt merchants and the constant threat of violence, embraced Babel with open arms. They were offered fair compensation and a brighter future. Word on the street was that Babel would have even defended Stonegate from the threat of Kensington's attack.

The "peace" imposed by the princess wasn't a formal treaty; it was a heavy-handed decree. No documents were signed, only a veiled threat. Yet, for Stonegate, it was enough. Development continued, fueled by Babel's initiatives and the promise of a conflict-free future. The city throbbed with a newfound optimism, its future brimming with possibilities, even if peace remained a fragile concept.

******************

[Amber's Pov]

I leaned back in my chair, a weary sigh escaping my lips. The report in front of me practically glowed with success – 39,000 students out of 65,000 in Babel were now B.Bank account holders. Also we have a considerably huge noble men accounts in B.Bank.

Kurrent's popularity was soaring, translating to a steady stream of revenue. Stonegate, once a stagnant backwater, was bustling with activity. We were practically printing money at this rate, the dependence on Master's personal funds fading with every passing day.

The influx of people was another positive. We were diligently recruiting soldiers, bolstering Stonegate's defenses. Alexei, that useless man, remained blissfully unaware of anything beyond Babel's virtual embrace. It was effectively his city only in name; the reins of power rested firmly in our hands.

A pang of frustration lanced through me as I glanced at Alexei's behavioural report. Useless. Partying from dusk till dawn, his responsibilities as Lord Paramount conveniently forgotten. Yet, here I was, neck-deep in paperwork, effectively running Stonegate single-handedly.

Null, our intelligence network, was quietly expanding its reach. Constantine and Mavis were doing a stellar job handling the intercontinental tasks, but I knew it wouldn't be sustainable. That, however, was a concern for another day. My current focus remained on Stonegate's development.

Papers piled high in my inbox, dismissed by Master's nonchalant order to ignore them. Nobles wouldn't dare cause trouble openly, he'd said. But the unease gnawed at me. Still, I pushed it down, focusing on the present. The harder I worked, the sooner I'd repay Master. And then perhaps...

**************

The rusty hinges shrieked in protest as the heavy cell door groaned open. A shaft of wan light speared through the gloom, illuminating a young man with fiery orange hair and eyes the color of a summer sky. He was clad in a dark, unassuming uniform, a stark contrast to the grimy confines of the Null dungeons.

His gaze immediately fell upon the solitary figure slumped against the far wall. 002. Her eyes, once vibrant emerald, were now dull and lifeless. Chains, heavy and cruel, snaked around her wrists and ankles, leaving angry welts on her exposed skin.

A wave of concern washed over the young man. He hurried forward, his steps echoing in the oppressive silence. As he drew closer, he saw the telltale signs of torture – raw wounds marring her once-smooth skin, and a grimace etched upon her pale face.

He didn't hesitate. With a muttered incantation, his hand glowed faintly, and a gentle warmth emanated from it. The light danced across 002's wounds, slowly coaxing the edges together and easing the throbbing pain.

He noticed her flinch and quickly cast his eyes around the cell. Fear flickered in his blue eyes, a stark contrast to his youthful features. He fumbled in a pouch at his belt, retrieving a vial filled with an emerald green liquid.

"Miss," he whispered, his voice barely above a nervous squeak, "are you okay? This is a healing potion. It will take away any pain you have."

He uncorked the vial, a tremor running through his hand. But before he could bring it to her lips, 002 recoiled, a defiant glint sparking in her dull eyes. With a forceful jerk of her head, she spat the offered potion to the side, the emerald liquid splattering against the damp stone floor.

The young man's expression crumpled. Disappointment flickered across his face, quickly replaced by a deeper sadness.

He flinched, not in anger, but in genuine sadness. "Oh no," he muttered, his voice laced with disappointment rather than fury. "Why'd you do that? It was very expensive. I have to clean it all up before anyone notices the potion is missing."

He grabbed a rag, his movements swift and practiced as he wiped away the spilled potion. A tense silence filled the air as he deposited a meager portion of food through the bars and retreated from the cell, the heavy door clanging shut behind him.

"..." 002 watched him go, her eyes regaining a flicker of their former fire. Her gaze lingered on the empty space where the potion had been, her thoughts remained a mystery.