Ruler Of Beast Multiverse

Chapter 71: Lilith

The scene shifted across oceans to America, near Valoria, inside the towering Cathedral of the Holy Convergence Church.

The cathedral was vast and solemn—high vaulted ceilings of dark stone, rows of flickering candles casting long shadows across marble floors, and stained-glass windows glowing faintly with twilight colors. Nuns in pale gray habits moved silently between pews, heads bowed in prayer.

Then the heavy oak doors creaked open.

A girl stepped inside alone.

She was striking, almost otherworldly in the dim light. Tall and statuesque, with pale skin. Her long, straight black hair fell like a midnight curtain past her waist, framing a face of sharp beauty—high cheekbones, full lips painted deep crimson, and large, luminous dark eyes that carried an unsettling calm.

She wore a form-fitting black bodysuit of sleek, glossy material that clung to her curves like a second skin, accentuating her hourglass figure and deep cleavage.

Over it, a long hooded cloak of heavy black velvet draped from her shoulders to the floor, the hood currently pushed back to reveal her face. The cloak’s inner lining shimmered faintly with subtle silver threading.

Around her neck hung a large silver cross, a traditional Christian cross that rested heavily between her breasts, catching every flicker of candlelight.

She moved down the central aisle with slow, deliberate grace, heels clicking softly against the marble. The nuns paused, turning to watch her pass, some with curiosity, others with quiet unease.

She stopped at the altar, raised one gloved hand, palm up, as though offering something unseen to the empty space before the crucifix.

She is Lilith Valoria, assistant Priestess of the Cathedral Of Holy Convergence Church.

"Today Arahan turned eighteen years old. It is time for him to enter adulthood. Bring him now."

A few nuns rose without hesitation. They moved quickly through a side door, returning moments later with a young man between them.

He was strikingly handsome—tall for his age, with sharp jawline, dark eyes, and thick black hair that fell slightly over his forehead.

His face was almost impossibly familiar: the same high cheekbones, the same intense gaze, the same quiet confidence that had once belonged to Arahan of Prayagraj, the man who died on a highway delivering guns six months earlier.

"Sister," the boy said calmly, looking straight at Lilith without fear, "why did you bring me here?"

Lilith’s cold, commanding expression melted the moment she saw him. Her eyes softened with pure, fierce love—the kind that made the rest of the world disappear. She stepped down from the altar, heels clicking softly, and crossed the distance between them.

She reached out and caressed his cheek with gloved fingers, tender, reverent, as though he were the only real thing in existence.

"My dear brother," she murmured, voice thick with emotion, "today you have become an adult. It is time for you to understand adult life... and your place in it."

She looked at him with such intensity that the nuns averted their eyes. To Lilith, the world was divided in two: one side everything else, and the other side only him—Arahan Valoria, her little brother, her only remaining family, her reason for breathing.

Years ago, when they were children, their parents had been burned at the stake by this very cathedral. Their mother accused of witchcraft, their father killed trying to save her.

Lilith, barely twelve, had fled into the night with six-year-old Arahan, arriving at the church gates as orphans. They were taken in, raised within these walls.

But Lilith never forgot. Never forgave.

She joined the church not out of faith, but strategy. She made friends, forged alliances, climbed silently—always one step ahead, always watching. Now, at twenty-three, she was Assistant Priestess, second only to the Head Priestess herself. ƒгeewebnovёl.com

And she had one goal: her brother would become the next Head Priest. He would rule this place that had murdered their parents. He would remake it in their image.

Lilith leaned closer, her voice dropping to a whisper only he could hear.

"Let’s go downstairs."

Lilith led Arahan down a hidden stone staircase behind the altar, descending into the undercroft of the cathedral. The air grew warmer, scented with incense and something sweeter—jasmine and rose. They emerged into a network of quiet corridors lined with private residences for the nuns.

The homes were simple from the outside—plain wooden doors, arched stone frames—but the one in the center was Lilith’s.

She opened the door and stepped inside.

The residence was small yet breathtakingly intimate, decorated like a secret wedding chamber prepared for lovers. Soft golden light spilled from hanging lanterns. Crimson and white silk draped the walls and ceiling in loose waves. A wide, low bed dominated the center, covered in red satin sheets and scattered with white rose petals. Fresh jasmine garlands hung from the bedposts. A small altar in the corner held candles already lit, two glasses of deep red juice on a silver tray beside it. The floor was covered in thick Persian rugs, muffling every step.

Lilith closed the door behind them. The lock clicked softly.

She turned to Arahan, her expression tender, eyes shining with a mix of love and purpose.

She pointed to one glass on the tray.

"Drink half," she said quietly.

Arahan nodded without question. He picked up the glass, brought it to his lips, and drank exactly half. The juice was sweet, warm, with a faint herbal aftertaste that spread through his chest like liquid fire.

Lilith took the glass from him, tilted her head back, and drank the rest in one slow swallow. She set the empty glass down.

She stepped closer, gloved hands rising to cup his face.

"Now," she whispered, voice low and trembling with emotion, "you are no longer a boy. Tonight, you become a man... with me."

Her fingers slid down to his collar, undoing the first button with deliberate care.

Arahan’s breath hitched, but he did not pull away.

He trusted her completely.

For him, there was only Lilith—his sister, his world, his everything.

She leaned in, lips brushing his ear.

"Let me show you what love really means." freēwēbnovel.com

The candles flickered.

The room seemed to hold its breath.

Lilith’s gloved fingers worked slowly, reverently, down the row of black buttons on Arahan’s cassock. Each one released with a soft pop, the sound intimate in the quiet room. The fabric parted inch by inch, revealing the lean, sun-kissed planes of his chest—still boyish in places, yet hardened by years of prayer, fasting, and the quiet labor he’d done at her side.

She pushed the cassock off his shoulders. It fell to the rug in a whisper of wool. Beneath he wore only a plain white undershirt, already clinging slightly to his skin from the warmth of the undercroft and the quickening of his pulse.

Lilith stepped back half a pace, drinking him in.

"You’ve grown so beautiful," she murmured, almost to herself. "I used to bathe you when you were small, dry your hair with the hem of my robe. Now look at you."

Arahan’s throat worked. "I never stopped watching you either."

Her smile was small, loving and a little bit of lust. She peeled off her own long black gloves one at a time, letting them drop beside his cassock. Bare-handed now, she reached for the hem of his undershirt and tugged it upward. He raised his arms obediently. The cloth slid over his head, tousling his dark hair.

She tossed it aside.

For a heartbeat they simply stood there, him shirtless, her still in the sheer midnight shift that left almost nothing to imagination in the lantern light. The herbal warmth from the juice was blooming in both of them now: a slow, spreading heat that made every brush of air against skin feel electric.

Lilith closed the distance again.

This time when she kissed him it was not gentle.

Her mouth claimed his with years of pent-up longing—deep, open, hungry. Tongues slid together, tasting the faint sweetness of the juice still on their lips. Arahan groaned into her mouth, hands finally moving, sliding up her arms, into her hair, cradling the back of her head as though afraid she might disappear.

She backed him toward the bed without breaking the kiss. When the backs of his knees hit the edge of the mattress he sat, pulling her with him. Lilith followed, straddling his lap in one fluid motion. The red satin sheets sighed beneath them.

Lilith’s breath was still uneven as she lay half-draped over him, their bodies slick and warm in the candlelight. The herbal warmth from the juice lingered in their veins, making every touch feel amplified, every heartbeat loud in the quiet chamber.

She lifted her head, gazing down at him with eyes that held both fierce love and quiet command.

"From today," she whispered, tracing a fingertip along his jaw, "you will not be my brother."

Arahan’s chest rose and fell quickly. His storm-gray eyes searched hers—wide, trusting, a little lost in the newness of everything.

"Then... what will I become, sis?" he asked softly, voice rough from the moans she had already drawn from him.