Supreme Spouse System.-Chapter 239: Tyrant’s Body, Hidden Blade

Tyrant’s Body, Hidden Blade

The gentle creak of the window faded away behind him as Leon climbed onto the sill, one hand barely touching the frame. The chill of early morning whipped across his skin, sharp and still. Below, the great palace garden stretched out in pale twilight, dew still glistening on the leaves.

And then, with no hesitation, Leon jumped from Sona’s window.

Time hung suspended in that single moment.

While suspended midair, he whispered, "Shadow Cloak."

Darkness spread from his form like black ink spreading in water. Shadows curled and coiled, wrapping him in sinuous folds. It was not just camouflage—it was as if he’d become part of the darkness itself. His shape disintegrated, taken by the spell, until he was no longer of this world. Only the faintest gleam of smoke remained to indicate where he’d stood, before that too dissipated into nothingness.

It wasn’t normal stealth. This was the elusive, obscure art that only a select few throughout the entire kingdom of Galvia knew. A method requiring not only compatibility with the dark element—a talent so uncommon that even the greatest empires only got to see a few per generation—but also complete mastery.

Leon had both.

His system had granted him the Darkness Grimoire, an ancient book spoken in hushed rumors in stories of old. With it, he’d become master of shadow—affinity, control, and a power so elusive that it surpassed natural perceptions.

He descended noiselessly into the garden below, squatting in perfect equilibrium, one hand touching the cool lawn. Not so much as a rustle gave away his coming. A bird close by jerked its head but did not fly. It did not smell him. Nothing did. Not the wind. Not the world. He was a ghost of the morning.

Leon floated easily upward, the darkness still shrouding him, concealing every line of his form. He was present, yet not present—working his way in the waking world as if in the night that lingered on.

Then, he looked up.

Sona stood in the open window above, the silver material of her gown shining softly in the morning sun. Her white hair hung in loose waves down her back, and her hands grasped the windowsill carefully. Her face held a quiet wonder, and under it a faint yearning.

She was looking.

Her eyes traversed the garden at a slow pace, brows slightly furrowed, her mouth open as if to call out. Her blue eyes traversed the exact area where he now stood... and moved on.

She didn’t notice him.

Leon’s lips twisted infinitesimally. His head cocked in wordless amusement. If she were really looking at him, if so much as a shadow of his presence lingered, her gaze would’ve settled on him in an instant. But nothing—no flicker of acknowledgment, no hesitation in her breathing.

She passed right through him.

A low rumble of laughter came from his throat, soft and deep.

"Really the best stealth method in Galvia," he said to himself, a smile spreading across his face. "Improved than I assumed."

Astronomically robed in stillness spell, Leon made an unheard turn and moved further into the palace grounds. The royal gardens glimmered in the sunlight—vibrant, lush, alive—but to him, they were landscape. A patrol of guards marched by, spears held up, boots heavy on pavement. They came close enough for him to touch, but not one of them flinched. No twitch of doubt, no look toward him.

His form, shrouded in darkness, drifted like wind—silent, unfelt.

Two guards stood beneath an arched gate, their shining armor reflecting light like mirrors. Leon slipped through within the breadth of a single breath. Neither ever turned. Not even the lingering trace of leftover mana alerted them. Their eyes gazed straight ahead, blank.

It had almost been too simple.

Five minutes into this silent corridor, he stepped out of the core sector of the palace into a less-traveled alleyway covered in ivy and statues weathered by time. This quiet area, outside of noble vigilance, provided him a moment of isolation.

He dispelled the spell with a flicker of thought.

Cool air caressed his skin as his figure shimmered into appearance. The black and gold robe he donned billowed softly around his legs, carrying the morning wind. Not a single person had missed him. To any random onlooker, the Duke Leon Moonwalker had merely gone for a walk.

His gait did not falter as he walked towards his personal mansion. One corner of his mouth curled into a smile.

"System."

A familiar chime rang in his mind.

[System Online.]

[Awaiting command, Host.]

He gave a short chuckle, eyes glittering with amusement. "So... that little ’mission’ with Sona," he said, voice laced with dry humor, "what’s the verdict?"

Another crisp Ding! followed. The system’s neutral tone echoed inside his mind.

[Mission Triggered: Fuck Queen Sona]

[Objective: Make Queen Sona Completely Yours]

[Reward: Velvet Tyrant Body, 150 Black Points]

[Warning: Mission Failure would result in the deactivation of ’Touch of Charm’.]

[Status: Completed.]

Leon halted mid-step, one brow rising slowly. "...So I’ve been credited?"

[150 Black Points added to Host’s balance.]

[Velvet Tyrant Body unlocked.]

His expression darkened with intrigue. "Velvet Tyrant Body?" he repeated softly. "Now that sounds dangerous..."

Black Points, he understood—they were a form of currency, rare and valuable. But this new reward... a physique? That was something new.

His voice fell to a whisper. "System, tell me. What is this Velvet Tyrant Body?"

The system answered immediately.

[Affirmative, Host. Initiating Description—]

[Velvet Tyrant Body – Grade: Tyrant Emperor Physique]

[Core Power: A scarce combination of erotic magnetism and crushing presence. Your very aura will press down on enemies... and charm women.].

Core Traits: A mix of absolute dominance and irresistible vitality. Any woman in vicinity will be naturally attracted to you, safe and perilously excited. Lower-cultivation male enemies will slowly lose the intent to oppose or resist you.]

[Effects:

– Women feel strong comfort and lust in your presence.

– Male enemies endure mounting mental pressure, reducing their spirit.

– Significantly boosts stamina, self-recovery, and charisma-based powers.]

Leon’s eyes widened a little. "A presence that puts women at ease... and on fire?"

[Yes, Host. This duality adds depth to both your love relationships and control of the battlefield. Women will be drawn to your energy. Male opponents will break under its weight.]

There was a silence that followed as Leon took in the gravity of what was revealed to him. He was used to being the focus of everyone’s attention—his power, his aura, his presence always commanding it. But this. this was different. It wasn’t admiration or awe. It was the kind of presence that would be engraved into the minds of those who laid eyes on him—something primitive, something indelible.

His gaze narrowed, a twinge of interest in their centers. "So, if I merge this into my system... how long?"

The response of the system resonated quietly within his mind.

[Integration will take one hour. Pain tolerance requirement: extremely high. Outcome: permanent. Warning: The process will be agonizing.]

Leon blinked, allowing the words to penetrate. A smile twisted at the edge of his lips.

"Pain, I can handle," he grumbled with subdued confidence.

But before he could prepare to accept the merge, another alert flashed into being.

[System Alert: Host presently owns the Blood Essence Orb. Suggestion—eat the orb first. Merging the Velvet Tyrant Body thereafter will facilitate maximum compatibility and minimize structural risk. Doing the process in reverse order can lead to instability or irreparable damage to the new form.]

Leon’s brow creased a little as he processed the system’s suggestion. Naturally. The orb touched his very line of descent, rewriting the cornerstone of his existence. If he merged the body first, it could negate everything.

He nodded slowly, comprehending the reasoning. "You’re right," he whispered. "That orb remolds the central core. If I employed the Tyrant Body first, it could have been wasted. or worse."

A deep breath escaped his chest; one laced with gratitude. The system had never once led him astray. This was just another moment where its guidance had likely spared him a grave mistake.

"Alright," he said aloud, his tone resolute. "First, I’ll use the orb."

Having settled the issue, he went on his way to the estate. The Duke’s mansion loomed before him, with the great gates towering above, their pale surfaces set off by the dawn sun. The towers and spires stood proud, sending long shadows across the courtyard. A regal quiet pervaded the air, which was broken by the faint clinking of hooves and the occasional ring of steel from the guards practicing in the distance.

As he approached the gate, Leon metered his step—his steps now measured, dignified, and even, exuding quiet authority. The perimeter guards instantly took notice, their gazes sharp the moment they spotted him.

"Salutations, Lord Leon!" they chorused, their voices crisp and disciplined. With practiced synchrony, they saluted him, their positions stiff with deference.

Leon smiled a gracious return nod, the slightest smile playing on his lips. He didn’t have to say anything; his very presence would suffice.

He climbed the marble steps up to the main door, where the captain of the guard waited. The man straightened immediately and bowed low.

"Good morning, Lord Leon," the captain greeted, his voice firm, but laced with respect.

Leon leaned his head. "Morning, Captain," he answered with dignified poise.

The great doors opened unbidden before him, inviting him to the very center of his kingdom.

The heavy doors creaked open quietly, revealing the familiar opulence of the entrance hall. High ceilings towered over him, ornamented with carved wood and crystal chandeliers that sparkled like a starry sky. His boots clicked softly on the highly polished marble floor as he walked down the corridor, the warm glow of sunlight beckoning him forward like a whisper.

He glided effortlessly, moving through the refined corridors he had memorized, until he came to the archway that gave access to the principal sitting room—the room where mornings tended to break in tranquility and silence.

But the moment he walked beyond the arch, his pace stopped in mid-step.

His breath was caught.

Just off the center of the living room, bathed in a shaft of golden light that spilled over the cavernous floor-length windows, was a vision that took his breath away.

The silken sofas were spread out like petals on either side of a low glass table, and sat upon them—laughing in effortless ease and beauty—was a stunning group of women. Their laughter sounded like wind chimes, so soft and musical, a clash of their voices in laughing whispers and teasing tones. Their hair sparkled in the morning sun—crimson, violet, jet black, emerald—all shining like precious stones. The curve of their bodies, the radiance of their skin, the sparkle of humor in their eyes.

Leon was frozen, unable to move.

It wasn’t beauty alone. It was tranquility. It was turmoil in silk and sunlight. It was longing disguised in sunshine and satin.

He breathed softly, a tiny smile spreading across his lips, unable to hold it back.

He had gone into his mansion anticipating quiet. What he’d gone into was spring.

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