Awakening Domination System: But I'm a Slave?-Chapter 16: Varell’s Rage

Alaric stepped into another hallway, his footsteps echoing faintly off the stone walls.

Ahead, a middle-aged woman stood near a cupboard stacked with linens, folding sheets with practiced ease. Her auburn hair was tied into a tight bun, and the stiff maid uniform hugged her tall, stern frame.

Hearing his uneven footsteps, the woman turned her head. Her sharp hazel eyes widened slightly upon seeing his bruised face and blood-smeared shirt.

"Didn't even last a day without causing trouble, did you?" she said dryly, voice laced with mockery.

Alaric exhaled through his nose, ignoring the jab. "Lady Selene said... you will take me to my new quarters."

She narrowed her eyes.

"New quarters?" she repeated.

Alaric gave a quiet nod.

Lena clicked her tongue. "Tch. Alright, come with me then."

He followed her through the dimly lit corridors, past cracked stone arches and creaking floorboards. The torches lining the walls flickered as they walked, casting long, shifting shadows.

Eventually, they reached the servant quarters—a hallway even darker and older than the rest. The air here was mustier, colder.

Lena stopped in front of a narrow wooden door. "Here," she said flatly. "The least shitty room I can give you. Go shove yourself inside."

Alaric said nothing. He stepped inside.

The room was small, barely enough for a bed.

A small shelf, and a chair. The walls were rough stone, patched in places. A tiny window up high let in a sliver of moonlight.

A thin blanket lay folded at the end of the bed, and dust still clung to the corners.

It smelled of stone and dust.

Still...

Alaric stepped in, closed the door behind him, and collapsed onto the bed with a heavy sigh. The wooden frame creaked under his weight.

"...It's at least better than that cell," he muttered, eyes drifting to the ceiling.

And for a moment, he let his eyes close, letting the quiet swallow him whole.

Then he opened them, staring at the cracked ceiling.

Status

[STATUS WINDOW]

Name: Brandon

(Past Life: Alaric Noir)

Race: Human

Age: 19

Title: Slave, (The Fallen King)

Essence Path: None

Rank: Unawakened

EXP: 24 / 100

Stats:

STR: 7

AGI: 7

END: 6

WIL: 15

CHA: 15

INT: 8 (??)

Domination Points: 100

Daily Quest: Completed!

Bonus Quest: Entangle the Duskwood Flower (Completed!)

Main Quest: Subjugate Selene Gilmore (In Progress)

System Level: 1 (Requires 150 Domination Points to Upgrade)

??? (Locked – Requires System Level 2)

"How did I even get those Domination Points just now? I didn't complete any mission."

[Host can gain Domination Points outside missions by asserting dominance over others.]

Alaric raised a brow.

"Really?"

[However, that does not mean Host can simply go around beating people up to farm points.]

A small chuckle escaped his lips, followed by a wince as his ribs flared in protest.

[Domination Points are awarded when specific conditions align—typically when Host overcomes someone, especially when provoked or challenged. In this case, Caleb assaulted you first.]

Alaric nodded slowly.

"Alright, so if I smack that fat pig—Ferick—I might earn some ?"

[Correct. However, humiliating or defeating someone weaker, like a fellow servant, won't grant anything. There must be a meaningful shift in dominance.]

Alaric gave a tired yawn, wincing again as his body reminded him of every blow.

"Got it. Beat the right people, not the wrong ones..."

He closed his eyes, letting the last thoughts trail off into the stillness.

"Whatever..."

And then silence took over.

------

"Urgh!" Caleb groaned as he stumbled into his chamber, slamming the door shut behind him. His fists trembled, blood still trickling faintly down his nose.

His blood boiled with humiliation.

"That fucker..." he hissed, kicking a nearby stool. It crashed into the wall with a loud thud, splintering on impact.

Before he could let out another breath, a sharp knock echoed from the door.

"Caleb? What's going on in there?" came a woman's voice, refined, laced with concern.

His mother.

Caleb's eyes widened.

He quickly wiped the blood from under his nose with his sleeve, tried to fix his disheveled hair, and turned his back to the door, trying to hide his bruised face.

"It's nothing, Mother. I'm tired."

But Mirenna didn't buy it.

The door creaked open anyway.

She entered the room, her gown flowing like a wave of darkness as she stepped in. Her heels tapped sharply on the floor.

Her gaze narrowed as she saw her son hunched over, back facing her.

"I asked what happened." Her voice was calm.

Caleb clenched his jaw. "It's nothing. I just want to rest, alright?"

She didn't listen. Instead, she strode forward, grabbed his arm, and yanked him around with startling strength.

Caleb winced.

Mirenna's eyes darkened. She saw his twisted nose, the drying blood along his temple, the bruises already blooming beneath the skin

Her expression turned cold.

"Who did this to you?"

------

Next morning...

The air inside the drawing room was thick with tension. Sunlight streamed in from tall windows, casting long shadows across the polished floor.

Ferick sat stiffly on an ornate sofa, hands clasped together.

Across from him, Baron Varell Duskwood leaned forward, eyes burning with furry.

Beside the Baron, Lady Mirenna sat with her usual composure—though her gaze was sharp, assessing.

Caleb stood beside them, head low, a faint bandage wrapped across his temple and nose.

Ferick opened his mouth. "We can di—"

"I'm afraid we cannot," Varell cut him off coldly. "First, you allow a filthy slave to serve at the table, then—then!—he lays hands on my son?"

Caleb's jaw tightened, but he stayed silent. He had twisted the story enough to preserve his image—claiming Alaric ambushed him unprovoked, painting himself the victim.

"I will handle the matter personally," Ferick began, his voice almost pleading.

"Will you?" Varell interrupted again, voice rising.

"Because from where I stood, not only did the slave assault my son—your guest—but your wife stood idle and watched it happen. No, worse—she took his side."

All eyes turned to Selene, who seated in quiet composure until now.

"My lord," Selene said smoothly, "I was merely testing his limits. After all, he was supposed to become my son-in-law. Shouldn't I know if he's strong enough to stand beside my daughter?"

A pause.

CRACK!

Varell slammed his fist on the table with a thunderous crack, splitting the wood at the center.

"I've heard enough of this!" he growled.

"You enjoy testing, don't you, Lady Selene?" His eyes gleamed with cold amusement. "Then let's have a Phoenix Trial. Let's test your strength as well—after all, it's only fair my son's future mother-in-law proves her worth too."

The room fell into stunned silence.

Selene's eyes narrowed, but she didn't flinch.

Mirenna simply watched with a small, dangerous smile playing on her lips.