Patriarch Orsini's orders

The Aftermath – A Monk’s Revelation

The Orsini Bunker – A Den of Shadows

Deep beneath the labyrinthine streets of Milano, in a chamber lined with black marble and veined with gold, Patriarch Orsini sat upon his obsidian throne. The air was thick with the scent of aged cognac, Cuban cigars, and the faint metallic tang of blood—always blood.

The walls pulsed with muted crimson light, casting long, jagged shadows that slithered like living things across the floor. The Patriarch’s fingers drummed against the armrest of his throne, each tap echoing like a funeral march.

Before him, the massive holographic screens flickered, replaying the footage of Isabella’s ruin—the once-proud policewoman now reduced to a drooling, broken thing, her mind shattered, her body branded with the **** Crest of an unknown master.

The footage had been dissected frame by frame, analyzed by the Orsini clan’s best occultists, their most ruthless interrogators.

And yet—

No answers.

Only more questions.

The heavy steel doors groaned open, and Rama, the Mad Monk, stepped inside. His massive frame filled the doorway, his saffron robes straining against his bulk. His face was a mask of serenity, but his eyes—those dark, glittering pits—burned with something far more dangerous than calm.

"Patriarch," he rumbled, his voice like gravel and honey.

The Patriarch didn’t look up.

"Speak."

Rama’s lips curled into a slow, knowing smile.

"I have found him."

The Revelation – A Battle Revisited

The holographic screens shifted, the footage of Isabella’s ruin dissolving into the recent auction hall duel—the clash between Vasudeva Mahayana and Zeno Meyer.

Rama stepped forward, his fingers dancing through the air as he manipulated the playback.

"Watch," he murmured.

The footage slowed, zooming in on Vasudeva’s hands—the way his fingers moved, the subtle flicker of his obsidian ring as he wove his hypnotic commands into Lucia’s mind.

"There," Rama whispered.

A single frame.

A single, impossible moment.

For less than a heartbeat, Vasudeva’s crimson eyes glowed not with mere focus—but with something otherworldly.

The Patriarch’s fingers stilled.

"Again."

Rama obliged, replaying the moment.

The Patriarch leaned forward, his dark hazel eyes narrowing.

"That’s not just hypnosis."

Rama chuckled.

"No. It’s soulcraft."

The Connection – A Womb’s Ruin

The screens shifted once more, this time overlaying the footage of Isabella’s violation with Vasudeva’s hypnotic patterns.

The similarities were undeniable.

The way his will had fractured her.

The way her mind had shattered under his touch.

The Patriarch’s lips peeled back in a snarl.

"He did this."

Rama nodded.

"And more."

The footage zoomed in on Isabella’s **** Crest, the pulsing sigil burning into her flesh.

"This mark…" Rama murmured. "It’s not just ownership. It’s consumption."

The Patriarch’s fingers clenched.

"Explain."

Rama’s grin widened.

"He’s feeding."

The Truth – A Nephilim’s Hunger

Rama stepped closer, his voice dropping to a whisper.

"The incident with Isabella was no accident. It was a test."

The Patriarch’s eyes flickered.

"A test?"

Rama nodded.

"Vasudeva Mahayana is no mere hypnotist. He’s a Nephilim—a half-blood whose demonic lineage has awakened. But not just any lineage."

The screens shifted again, this time displaying ancient texts, fragments of forbidden lore.

"The Oblivion Moon was in ascendancy that night. The gates to the Abyss were thin. And Vasudeva…"

Rama’s fingers traced the image of Isabella’s ruined body.

"He feasted. Only Nimrod's royal bloods have this kind of power..."

The Patriarch’s breath hissed between his teeth.

"You’re saying he ate her?"

Rama chuckled.

"Not her flesh. Her soul."

The Implications – A New Player

The Patriarch leaned back, his mind racing.

A soul-eater.

A Nephilim with the power to break minds and consume wills.

This was no mere rival.

This was a cataclysm.

Rama’s voice slithered through the silence.

"He’s growing stronger. The auction was another feeding. Zeno Meyer’s will was devoured, just like Isabella’s."

The Patriarch’s fingers twitched toward his cane.

"And you let him?"

Rama’s grin didn’t falter.

"I observed."

The Patriarch’s eyes burned.

"You failed."

Rama’s laughter was low, dark.

"No. I learned."

The Trap – A Monk’s Gambit

Rama stepped closer, his voice a whisper.

"Vasudeva doesn’t know what he is. Not fully. He’s untrained. A beast lashing out in the dark."

The Patriarch’s lips curled.

"And you think we can control him?"

Rama’s fingers danced through the air, the holograms shifting to show Rebecca, Vasudeva’s pregnant daughter, her belly swollen with his spawn.

"No," Rama murmured. "But we can use him."

The Patriarch’s eyes flickered.

"How?"

Rama’s grin was feral.

"The Morettis."

The Plan – A War in the Shadows

The screens dissolved into a map of Milano, the territories of the Moretti family highlighted in crimson.

"Old man Kasimir is weak. The Bratva are circling. And Vasudeva…"

Rama’s fingers tapped the image of Torino, where the Osiris Temple had begun its rise.

"He’s hungry for more."

The Patriarch’s lips peeled back in a smile.

"You want to lure him into the war."

Rama nodded.

"Let him feast on the Morettis. Let the little Guru break the Bratva. And when he’s gorged himself, when he’s bloated with stolen souls…"

The Patriarch’s fingers tightened around his cane.

"We strike."

Rama’s laughter echoed through the chamber.

"And then, Patriarch…"

His eyes gleamed.

"We own him."

The Patriarch’s Decision – A Daughter’s Price

The Patriarch leaned back, his mind turning.

This was dangerous.

This was madness.

But it was also opportunity.

His fingers tapped the armrest once, twice—

Then stilled.

"Do it."

Rama bowed.

"As you command."

The Patriarch’s eyes flickered to the door, where Vanessa, his daughter, lingered, her lips swollen, her thighs still glistening with her brother’s spend.

"And Rama?"

The Mad Monk paused.

"Yes, Patriarch?"

The old man’s smile was cruel.

"If you fail…"

His fingers traced Vanessa’s cheek.

"I’ll let Vasudeva have her."

Vanessa’s breath hitched—

Not in fear.

In arousal.

Rama’s laughter echoed as the doors sealed behind him.

The Awakening – A Storm Approaches

Far away, in the depths of the Osiris Temple, Vasudeva stirred.

His crimson eyes snapped open.

Something was coming.

Something hungry.

Something old.

And as Rebecca moaned in her sleep, her fingers trailing over her swollen belly, Vasudeva’s lips curled into a smile.

"Soon," he whispered.

The **** Crest on Rebecca’s brow pulsed in response.

And deep within her womb—

Amon and Lilith laughed.