Harem Startup : The Demon Billionaire is on Vacation

Chapter 793 – Impulse [Part 3]

Lux Shadow Stepped.

Vanished.

Reappeared behind Arctyros again.

Threads deepened.

[Motor Override Potential: 41%.]

Arctyros spun aggressively, fury creeping into his movements now.

Pride did not like loss of control.

His spear came down in a crushing vertical strike.

Lux lifted one hand.

The threads pulsed.

Arctyros’s grip faltered for half a second.

The spear’s angle shifted.

Instead of cleaving Lux in half, it embedded into the stone at an awkward diagonal.

Lux stepped forward.

Placed his hand lightly on Arctyros’s shoulder. ”Relax.”

Threads tightened.

Harder.

Arctyros’s arm jerked against his will.

His posture straightened unnaturally.

The spear slid from his grip.

The audience gasped audibly now.

[Velvet Marionette Dominion: Active.]

[Control Strength: 63%.]

Arctyros’s body moved.

But not by his choice.

His hand lifted.

Waved.

Like he was greeting someone.

Lux tilted his head slightly. ”Good afternoon,” he said casually.

Arctyros’s lips trembled as his own hand smacked lightly against his cheek.

Once.

Twice.

The nobles stared in stunned silence.

Vira’s wine glass froze halfway to her lips.

Lux leaned closer, threads shimmering faintly around Arctyros’s form. ”Pride looks better when it bows,” he murmured softly.

Arctyros’s knees bent.

Slowly.

Against his will.

He fought it. ”F*ck you, Vaelthorn...” he hissed.

Veins stood out along Arctyros’s neck like carved marble cracks. His jaw clenched so tightly the tendons trembled. Every muscle in his body strained against the invisible hold, shoulders locking, fingers digging into the stone as if brute force alone could break whatever had wrapped around him.

Lux felt it.

Not physically.

But through the threads.

Resistance.

Pride was stubborn like that. It didn’t snap easily. It refused. It postured even while drowning.

Interesting.

Strong.

But not enough.

Lux inhaled slowly, feeling the vibration of struggle travel along the Velvet Marionette Dominion threads like tension on piano wire. The arena felt smaller now. Quieter. The Envy field wavered, unsure whether to flare in outrage or curl in fascination.

[Control Strength: 76%.]

The system’s tone was neutral.

Clinical.

But Lux felt the shift.

The bind tightened.

Arctyros’s second knee hit the floor.

Hard.

A crack echoed outward from the impact, splintering stone beneath him.

A murmur rippled through the nobles.

No one laughed.

No one cheered.

Because this wasn’t playful anymore.

This was instructional.

Lux’s grin spread slowly.

Not wide.

Not theatrical.

Just enough to show teeth.

An evil kind of calm.

He stepped forward until he stood directly in front of Arctyros, who was now kneeling on both knees, hands trembling as they tried to push against nothing.

”You... how...” Arctyros rasped, breath shaking. ”How do you have this much power?”

Lux tilted his head slightly.

A twisted smile curved at the corner of his mouth.

”I wonder,” he murmured softly. ”Why?”

The threads pulsed again.

Arctyros’s spine straightened unnaturally. His shoulders jerked backward as if invisible hooks had caught him under the ribs.

”You...” Arctyros growled, teeth grinding. ”You only want to play around...”

His displeasure wasn’t subtle.

It was raw.

Insulted.

Humiliated.

Lux looked down at him.

And for a split second, the incubus part of him almost laughed.

Because Pride always thought itself untouchable.

Lux leaned closer, eyes lowering until they met Arctyros’s directly.

”Am I?” he asked quietly.

Then he pulled.

Not enough to kill.

But enough to hurt.

The threads tightened like garrotes beneath the skin, not cutting, but compressing. Arctyros’s muscles seized as if lightning had crawled through his nerves. His breath hitched violently, chest locking.

A groan tore out of him.

Not theatrical.

Real.

Pain.

Lux felt it ripple through the connection, every tremor, every crack in composure.

And beneath that...

Fear.

Just a whisper.

Because for the first time, Arctyros understood something he hadn’t before.

Lux could kill him.

Easily.

Right here.

Right now.

With nothing more than invisible silk.

Lux didn’t want to.

Killing him would be inefficient. Messy. Politically inconvenient.

But the knowledge had to be delivered.

Cleanly.

Unmistakably.

The arena had gone dead silent.

No Envy pulse.

No commentary.

Just tension thick enough to taste.

Lux’s internal thoughts sharpened into cold clarity.

’This is why I hate Pride.’

Not because they were strong.

But because they needed to be shown.

He leaned down slightly so only Arctyros could hear him.

”You think this is playing?” Lux’s voice was soft. Almost conversational. ”You think this is for show?”

He pulled again.

A fraction more.

Arctyros gasped sharply, back arching involuntarily as his own arms jerked upward against his will.

”This,” Lux continued calmly, ”is me being patient.”

Arctyros’s breath came ragged now.

Sweat slid down his temple.

The spear lay discarded beside him, forgotten.

For a brief, dangerous second, Lux considered holding it longer.

Breaking him a little more.

Not physically.

But emotionally.

Pride shattered slowly.

And it was satisfying.

The darker part of Lux stirred.

The part that enjoyed control.

That enjoyed being the only stable thing in a room full of inflated egos.

But then...

[Artifact Resonance: Critical Threshold Approaching.]

Right.

Time.

Lux exhaled.

He let the control hold for exactly two seconds longer than necessary.

Two.

Measured.

Deliberate.

Enough to brand the lesson into memory.

Then...

Released.

The threads snapped back into nothingness.

Arctyros collapsed forward slightly, barely catching himself before face-planting into the cracked floor. His hands trembled as they pressed against the stone.

Silence filled the arena.

Heavy.

Charged.

Lux stepped back casually, brushing imaginary dust off his sleeve.

”Please don’t escalate further.”

His tone wasn’t mocking.

It wasn’t kind either.

Arctyros remained on one knee for a second longer before rising slowly.

His pride was intact only because he forced it to be.

His shoulders squared.

His jaw lifted.

But there was something different in his eyes now.

Calculation.

Not superiority.

Lux looked toward Vira briefly.

She wasn’t smiling.

Not fully.

Her wine glass rested untouched in her hand. Her posture remained regal, but her gaze had sharpened, cutting through the scene like a scalpel.

Analyzing.

’That wasn’t Greed,’ she realized.

No.

It wasn’t.

That was something colder.

More dangerous.

Lux ran a hand through his hair lazily, breaking the tension on purpose.

”You’re dramatic,” he said lightly to Arctyros. ”Work on that.”