Awakening Domination System: But I'm a Slave?-Chapter 18: You are Cruel Host

Varell rose to his feet, his voice booming like thunder across the chamber.

"I, Varell Duskwood, in the name of Ashurael, invoke the right of Phoenix Trial—for divine justice, against the dishonor my bloodline has suffered."

As he spoke, he drew a ceremonial blade from his side, slashing it across his palm.

Blood dripped down, hissing as it met the air, and then—

Whoosh!

It ignited in crimson-gold flames as he channeled his Essence into it.

The fire flared, forming a spectral image of a fiery winged beast behind him.

Gasps rippled across the room.

Selene didn't flinch. Her gaze met his without hesitation.

"I, Selene Glimor, in the name of Ashurael, accept your challenge."

She lifted her hand, a soft golden glow wrapping around her fingers as a feather-shaped flame etched itself into the air.

It hovered between them, then vanished.

Phoenix Trials.

Long ago, the Phoenix Trials were established under the name of Ashurael, the Divine Phoenix—Guardian of Truth and Flame.

The Phoenix Trials were not mere battles.

They were a gift from the divine to mortals—used to settle disputes, demand justice, challenge grievances, or reclaim honor.

But to invoke one was no light matter.

Once accepted, a Phoenix Trial could not be undone—except by mutual consent. And even then, once a trial was underway, backing down meant disgrace, or worse, divine wrath.

Yet not just anyone could summon the flames of Ashurael.

There were strict conditions.

The challenge must be issued of free will—without manipulation, coercion, or deceit.

If manipulation was discovered, the trial would reject the deceitful party, and divine backlash would fall upon the instigator.

The battles were held in Phoenix Altars, sacred grounds overseen by the Church of the Creator—the eternal entity said to have birthed Ashurael and the four other Divine Beasts that watched over the world.

In a Trial, the terms could vary:

They may choose champions to fight in their stead.

The challenge could be one-on-one duels, tests of will, magic

Stakes were set by both sides, and the losing party was bound by divine law to fulfill the winner's terms.

Failure to comply would mean only one thing—

It is said their souls shall burn eternally in Ashurael's cleansing fire.

"On the Day of Emberlight, we'll have our trial." Varell said coldly.

The room felt as though the air itself had stiffened with tension.

Selene met his gaze, calm and composed. "I'll be ready."

Ferick opened his mouth, perhaps to mediate, perhaps to stop things from spiraling further—but Varell had already turned on his heel, striding out with his wife and son in tow.

Ferick scowled, then spat on the floor.

He turned sharply to Selene.

"You brought this on yourself. Don't blame me for what comes next."

Without waiting for her reply, he stormed out.

Selene stood still for a moment, eyes fixed on the door they exited through.

Then—

A smirk tugged at her lips.

And she turned gracefully exited the room.

******

Alaric stepped into the inner garden.

Morning light spilled over the stone path, dappled by the leaves above.

The soft scent of blooming flora hung in the air.

His gaze settled on her.

Livia knelt by the delicate silver-petaled flowers with faint blue veins that shimmered subtly in the light.

Alaric stepped closer, his boot crunching softly on the gravel.

She stood up quickly, turning around, her eyes wide for a brief second.

Alaric halted and bowed lightly.

"I apologize. I didn't mean to startle you."

She blinked, then gave a small shake of her head.

"I-It's nothing. Don't worry about it."

There was a pause—then Alaric reached into his pocket and pulled out a small pendant—a simple chain bearing a teardrop-shaped gem, with an oddly comforting glow.

He'd found it with his clothes the day he arrived in this body.

He held it out to her.

"For ruining your dress yesterday."

She blinked in surprise, her gaze shifting from the pendant to him.

"Y-You... didn't have to," she said softly, waving her hand.

But he kept his hand steady, offering a faint smile.

She hesitated, then reached out slowly and took it, fingers brushing his for a moment.

"... Thank you," she murmured.

Then she looked away, her eyes settling once more on the lunar lilies.

A faint smile curved her lips—small, almost shy.

Alaric followed her gaze to the flowers—Moonpetals swaying softly.

"You like them?" he asked gently.

Livia nodded.

"Mmm. We don't have this kind back home... They only bloom in the shade, under soft light. Most don't notice them, but I think they're beautiful. Quiet and stubborn."

Her voice carried a quiet fondness as she spoke, still facing the flowers.

As she was talking, a small green leaf clung to the edge of her dark hair near her temple.

Without thinking, Alaric reached out slowly and plucked it away.

She flinched slightly, turning halfway with a startled look.

Alaric showed her the leaf between his fingers.

"Just this. It was in your hair."

He offered a small smile.

Livia blinked once, then lowered her eyes.

"Oh. Thank you."

They stood there for a quiet moment, the soft breeze rustling through the garden around them.

Then, a voice cut through the silence.

"Lady Livia," a maid called gently from the path, "your parents are preparing to leave."

Livia exhaled softly and turned toward the direction of the voice.

"I see. I'll come at once."

They both stepped forward together towards the slightly elevated garden path that led toward the courtyard.

Alaric ascended first, then turned and offered her his hand.

She looked at it.

Hesitated.

Then gently placed her hand in his.

As he helped her up, she paused before stepping fully onto the path.

"Your name—what is it?" she asked suddenly, her voice quick and a little flustered.

She then added quickly, almost defensively.

"I mean... you're so composed. Even being this young. My brother's older than you and he still fumbles over etiquettes."

He gave a small smile.

"It's Alaric, my lady."

"Alaric..." she repeated softly, as if trying the name out in her mouth.

Then she brushed a lock of hair behind her ear, her fingers still loosely curled around his.

"I should go," she said, voice barely above a whisper. "They must be waiting..."

Alaric gave a respectful nod.

"Have a safe journey, my lady." He said, as he bowed slightly, and brought her hand up, brushing a faint kiss over her knuckles.

Her breath hitched.

Eyes wide, lips parting just slightly—she looked like she'd forgotten how to breathe.

"I—" she stammered, but no words followed.

She quickly pulled her hand back, clutching it to her chest.

A rosy flush bloomed across her cheeks, lips pressed in thin line.

Then, with one last startled glance at him, she turned and hurried down the path, almost tripping on her dress in her rush.

Alaric watched her go, quietly.

Just as she disappeared around the corner—

[Host is truly cruel to a maiden's heart.]

Alaric blinked.

"What?"

[Ah, right. Host isn't from this world... You probably thought that little knuckle kiss was noble courtesy, didn't you?]

"Wasn't it?" Alaric asked slowly.

[It's a deeply personal gesture—a romantic interest.]

Alaric paused.

"...Ah."

[And also, a sign of submission.]

[Bonus Quest: Leave a Lasting Impression on Livia Duskwood Completed!]