Awakening Domination System: But I'm a Slave?-Chapter 329: You Little Brat!

Alaric stood against a marble pillar at the training ground’s edge, arms crossed, watching with detached fascination.

The arena was impressive, carved from black stone that seemed to absorb light, with reinforced barriers surrounding the combat space.

Weapon racks lined the walls, filled with everything from standard blades to exotic demon armaments.

Observation platforms rose on multiple levels, currently empty except for Alaric’s solitary presence.

And in the center... two figures engaged in combat.

One was a demon general.

Mordax, one of Lilith’s senior commanders.

He was massive, easily eight feet tall, with obsidian skin and eyes like molten gold. Four arms, each wielding a different weapon with practiced expertise.

His movements were precise.

The other—

Brandon Azra’kharzeth.

Twenty-two years old now. No longer the small child Alaric had watched playing in cottage gardens. This Brandon was a man, lean and powerful, moving with predatory grace.

He had dark hair like his mother’s, falling slightly past his shoulders, often tied back during combat but currently loose and wild from exertion.

His eyes deep blood-red that blazed when his power flared.

He wore training clothes, black pants and sleeveless shirt that showed lean, defined muscle.

The teardrop pendant hung around his neck as always, pulsing faintly with essence.

And currently, he was dominating.

The general attacked with all four weapons simultaneously, coordinated strikes that should have been overwhelming.

But Brandon flowed between them like water, his movements economical, precise, beautiful in their efficiency.

He ducked under a blade aimed at his head. Parried another with his own weapon. His free hand gestured, shadows erupted from the ground and intercepted the third strike. Then he twisted, using the general’s own momentum against him, redirecting the fourth attack into empty air.

Mordax’s molten gold eyes widened slightly in surprise.

Brandon’s blade moved in blur of motion. Not attacking directly. Just... redirecting. Using the general’s four-armed advantage against him, tangling weapons together, creating openings that shouldn’t exist.

CLANG! CLANG! CLANG!

Two weapons knocked aside in rapid succession.

Brandon’s foot hooked behind the demon’s ankle. And with a sharp pull—

The general stumbled fractionally, enough to break his defensive stance.

Then Brandon struck.

SNAP! SNAP! SNAP! SNAP!

Shadows exploded from multiple directions simultaneously, around the general’s ankles. Around his knees. Around his four wrists.

Each weapon fell from suddenly restrained hands, clattering to the arena floor.

And finally—

A shadow construct formed around the general’s throat. Not choking or crushing. Just... present. Making absolutely clear what could happen if resistance continued.

The general stood completely immobilized. Bound at five points. Disarmed and defeated.

His molten gold eyes met Brandon’s crimson ones across the minimal distance separating them.

Several heartbeats passed.

Then the general exhaled slowly. "I yield."

The shadows dissolved immediately. Brandon stepped back, offering hand to help steady the much larger demon.

"You’re improving," the general rumbled, his tone carrying grudging respect. "That binding technique... I’ve seen veteran shadow manipulators fail to manage three."

Brandon’s expression remained neutral, but something flickered in his crimson eyes. Satisfaction.

"You left openings in your third and seventh strikes. If this had been real combat—"

"I’d be dead," Mordax finished flatly. "Yes. I’m aware."

Then suddenly—

"Yaaaay! You did it!"

A cheerful voice cut through the post-combat analysis.

Brandon turned, his eyes tracking toward the arena entrance.

Brandon’s head snapped toward the arena entrance.

A figure launched from the doorway, closing the distance between them in a blur.

She collided with him in a tight side-hug, knocking him off balance. The scent of cinnamon and sulfur washed over him.

Her sleeves were up, revealing skin with that telltale reddish undertone that marked her heritage. Small horns curved back from her temples, barely visible through the wild mass of violet hair that tumbled past her shoulders in loose waves.

Her eyes were a striking shade of amber, locked onto his face with pure, unfiltered excitement.

Brandon’s gaze flicked down briefly. Fitted leather pants. A top that was technically appropriate, cut just low enough to make a point.

Everything in shades of red and black, laced tight enough to move in but clearly chosen for reasons beyond pure function.

"You did it! You beat Papa again!" Her voice carried genuine delight, no trace of concern that her father had just been thoroughly defeated.

The general, her father, apparently, sighed deeply. Theatrically.

"Kira," he said, his deep voice taking on exaggerated wounded tone. "Your father has been struck down. Defeated. His pride in shambles. And you celebrate?"

Kira ignored his dramatics completely.

She just glared at him. "So what? You’re fine. Don’t be such a baby about losing."

Mordax pressed one of his four hands to his chest. "Baby?! Baby?!" He wiped at his eyes with exaggerated gesture.

"Where..." His voice cracked theatrically. "Where is my sweet little daughter who used to care for her papa? Who used to kiss his injuries and tell him he was the strongest demon in the realm? What happened to that precious child who loved her father?"

He actually produced a fake sob. Complete with shoulder shaking.

Kira rolled her eyes so hard it was audible. "Oh, come on, Papa. Don’t be so dramatic. You know I love you."

"Liar!" Mordax pointed accusingly at her with one massive finger. Produced another sobbing sound. "You’ve abandoned me for this... this youngling! This smooth-talking pretty boy with his fancy tricks."

Before Kira could form a retort.

Brandon gently extricated himself from her grip. His movements were smooth, practiced, suggesting he’d done this many times before.

"I have to go now," he said simply. Apologetically.

And suddenly, Kira’s expression shifted. Excitement draining. "This early?"

Her cheeks puffed. "But you promised you’d spend—"

Brandon suddenly leaned in and pecked her lips. Quickly.

Then pulled back with small wink.

"Will this work as compensation?"

Kira’s brain stopped.

Her eyes went wide. Her mouth opened. Closed. Opened again. No words emerged.

Her face went crimson, which was an impressive achievement for someone with reddish skin tone to begin with.

Steam began rising from her head, her ears, from her suddenly overwhelmed system.

"I... this... you... but..." She stammered, her hands coming up to cover her burning face. "That’s not... you can’t just... eeeee!"

The sound she made transcended language. Pure flustered demon noises.

Mordax blinked. Once. Twice. Processing what he’d just witnessed.

Then his molten gold eyes blazed.

"You BRAT!" His voice boomed across the arena. "Did you just—in front of me—you disrespectful little—!"

But Brandon was already moving. Fleeing, really, though with dignity intact.

His hand touched the teardrop pendant at his neck. The artifact pulsed. Shadows wrapped around him, and—

WHOOSH!

He vanished. Teleported clear across the training grounds, reappearing near an exit with grin that suggested he knew exactly what chaos he was leaving behind.

"Come back here!" Mordax bellowed, starting forward.

But Brandon was already gone. Door closing behind him. Laughter echoing in his wake.

Mordax stood in the arena, all four hands clenched into fists, cursing under his breath. "Disrespectful, arrogant brat... thinks he can just kiss my daughter and run... when I get my hands on him—!"

He turned back to Kira, ready to console his clearly traumatized offspring.

But... 𝙧𝙚𝙚𝔀𝒆𝓫𝓷𝙤𝓿𝒆𝙡.𝒄𝙤𝓶

She was grinning. Like an absolute idiot. Her hands still covering her face, but peeking between fingers with expression of pure blissful happiness.

"He kissed me," she whispered to herself. "Right there. In front of everyone. He just... and then he—" She made another tiny squeal.

"Eeeee!"

Mordax stared at his daughter. Then at the door Brandon had escaped through. Then back at his daughter, who was now hugging herself and doing a small happy dance while making unintelligible sounds of joy.

"I’ve lost her," he muttered to himself. "To a smooth-talking shit."

He sighed deeply. All four arms drooping.

"Lady Lilith is going to laugh at me when she hears about this."

And Kira continued her happy grinning, completely unresponsive to her father’s lamentations.