Lilith POV
It took her a long time to perfect this act, but oh well.
While His Majesty did tell her not to treat the Fullbringers like toys, she couldn't stop herself. Their abilities were truly too overpowered to pass up—she needed to have access to them.
No matter what, Fullbring was the future, and she needed access to it.
So, she had to put on an act. And despite her best thoughts, actually stop sleeping around. While she did sleep around a lot, apart from some very high-ranking Hollows, most Hollows were unaware of that fact.
Those who were would be too prideful to admit a woman had them beat in the bedroom. Oh well, she had an unbroken record—like thirty thousand to zero. She hadn't really lost once.
Probably because she was good at it—even though Sun-Sun taught her some stuff.
But hey, call her whatever you want—a whore, a slut—it didn't matter. At the end of the day, she survived.
She gained power. It wasn't like she did this because it felt good—yes, it did—but that wasn't the main reason. Her power quite literally required her to do that, and frankly, she didn't mind.
Anyway, when she had set her fangs on that Fullbringer, she just needed to become the petite shy girl. Think Hinata Hyuga but with Tsunade's body.
Truly, all it took was one look, and they were rock hard. Men—so easily controlled.
Oh, how easy it was.
How deliciously easy.
Lilith let her tears fall—perfect droplets, shimmering like diamonds as they slid down her porcelain cheeks. The curve of her lips quivered just so. Her eyes, wide and violet-tinged, brimmed with sorrow that could move the hearts of even the coldest warriors.
And yet—
It was all an act.
An elegant, deadly, well-practiced act.
Her last husband had said she was the perfect wife. Sweet. Gentle. Devoted.
And he wasn't wrong. She was devoted—just not to him.
No, Lilith's devotion was reserved for a far older mistress: power.
Back then, she'd fluttered around him like a butterfly in mourning silk. She'd worn the right dresses, cried the right tears, and whispered the right words—"I need you, my love... I don't know what I'd do without you..."
She'd studied every tic, every memory slip, every slight stutter in his ability.
Time was his power, and time was all she needed to bleed him dry.
Though she did notice, the more feeling she had for someone—as in, actual feeling—the more of their power she retained.
For that simple fact, she may or may not have blasted a Cero through her own brain to make herself forget about the past.
And programmed herself to like him for a bit. Probably how the man managed to knock her up and get her pregnant with her first daughter.
Oh well.
Probably why the man allowed her to drink his essence, even though she had warned him she would suck his soul out of his body.
And he let her.
Oh, he gave her everything—his techniques, his spiritual essence, his hopes, his name, and eventually...
His life.
Lilith sat now on her silken sheets, back against the headboard, legs draped lazily over the side. The new one—this tender Fullbringer with innocent eyes—was asleep beside her, chest rising and falling like a lamb in winter.
She smiled.
Cute. Naïve. Soft.
He'd tried to be noble. Tried to just offer support. But she knew the moment he glanced at her curves, the second his gaze lingered on her collarbone a heartbeat too long—
She had him.
Men didn't change. Not when grief was involved. Not when lust whispered its poison.
And Lilith? She was the serpent and the tree.
"I'm so lucky," she had told him earlier, letting her voice tremble. "You remind me of him."
He'd flushed, like the dumb puppy he was.
Now, in the quiet hush of night, she carved the memory into her skin—her Totemic Scar flaring faintly as it absorbed the residue of his Fullbring ability. She still didn't know the name of it. Something related to echoes or reflections, maybe. She'd find out soon.
No rush.
Lilith always took her time.
She stood, letting the robe fall from her shoulders like falling mist. Her naked form reflected in the obsidian mirror, tattoos glowing faintly beneath her skin like molten script.
"Second imprint complete," she whispered to herself. "Siphoning rate: 14%."
She'd need five more nights. Maybe six, depending on how much stamina he developed.
But in the meantime?
She'd cry for her "beloved." She'd bake little loaves. She'd moan his name at the right volume to boost his ego.
Everything was carefully crafted—a façade, really.
She didn't feel anything for those humans. How could she possibly feel anything for them?
Her gaze landed on the face of her last husband.
The one with time powers. Well, he served his purpose.
It's not like she cared and all.
She wondered how long she could do this for.
She stretched her body a bit. It was then that a tear hit the floor.
She stood, stunned.
Touching her cheek—was she crying?
Hm.
Placing her hand near her head, there.
High-Speed Regeneration
And just like that, her past came back to her. Everything from when she was just a basic Hollow, even to when she was a human. The helplessness she felt, the terror, alongside the realization that men were all beasts.
None of them actually cared. None of them meant any of what they said.
They simply wished to use you and discard you right after.
So what if she did the same now?
That didn't make her evil.