The Supreme Satanic System

"Contrary, if you desire it, you may take a seat beside me. Better yet, perch upon my lap," the Lunar Goddess purred with a seductive flourish.

In one bold gulp, Damien drained his cup, left it on the table, and elegantly approached her. Without inhibition, he drew closer to her, inhaling deeply three times, savoring the intoxicating fragrance that enveloped her. Opening his eyes, he exhaled gently over her face. Instead of simply taking a seat on her lap, he astounded her by gracefully scooping her up. His left arm encircled her waist while his right cradled her legs, lifting her high above her expectations. He settled into a plush rocking chair, allowing her to rest on his lap sideways. A surprised "Ahh!" escaped her lips.

"What's with that expression? I thought you had given the green light," Damien whispered sensually into her ear. "Or is it because I didn't choose to sit on your lap? Forgive my unconventional nature; I find this arrangement more to my liking."

"And here I believed you were the shy type. Did you relish the sensation of my touch?" She boldly reacted, as though welcoming his caresses.

"Hmm, if this is your test, then I confess I could continue this for eternity." Damien's hand ventured beneath her clothing, caressing her soft belly and tracing the seductive contours. "As much as I'd love to continue, there is still a flaw in this world you've crafted."

For the first time, she shifted her upper body, her movements concealing a hidden motive. Raising her hand, she tenderly caressed the side of his face. "Oh, please, do tell me," she coquettishly urged in a meek tone.

"Lunar Dream Catcher, I couldn't agree more if you told me it's truly one of a kind. This world you've ensnared possesses everything a real world deems fitting, surpassing my comprehension. Even you are an exact replica of yourself in this world. However, there's one glaring imperfection—"

Lunar Goddess, growing impatient, interrupted, "What imperfection?"

"I am the sole blemish in this otherwise flawless illusionary world you've conjured." With a wicked smirk, Damien declared, "Vertical God Eye, activate!" Instantly, he sacrificed about a thousand years of his vitality as fuel, revealing a crimson vertical slit on his forehead. It quivered and then parted, revealing a large, pitch-black eye adorned with three rings and five comma-shaped dots, the colors touching the first ring closer to the cornea. "Look into my eye," he directed her gaze toward the third vertical eye.

A bright smile graced the Lunar Goddess's face. "My guess was correct. It's the God Eye!" In the next moment, her body disintegrated into countless flower petals, carried away by the occasional breeze.

"Mister Damien, you are indeed correct," a sweet, female voice echoed. "You are the flaw in this temporary world I've created, and as a result, I consider it a success for you. Congratulations! I, as the founder and head of the organization, hereby officially declare you one of us in the twelfth rank. Break it for me." As her voice resounded, the world around them crumbled into a cataclysm of floral petals.

He experienced a sensation of spatial teleportation and found himself suspended within a vast, cavernous hall. Surveying his surroundings, he beheld eleven thrones, each levitating in ascending order. Present were five men and four women, leaving only the fourth throne unoccupied. The most peculiar sight was the first throne, not vacant at all—Damien recognized a pair of familiar cyan eyes. It was the Lunar Goddess herself.

A hushed silence enveloped the chamber as everyone was engrossed in observing the newcomer. Sensing their scrutinizing gaze, Damien swept his vision across them all and greeted them with pride, "Greetings, esteemed colleagues. I am Damien Darhk from Earth, and I look forward to working with you all."

In response, they greeted him in ascending order of their rank—Ruthella Brightlight, the eleventh in rank; Classic Pathfinder Alexander, the tenth in rank; Rasmimita Chelsie, the Ninth in rank; Pickrum Ranchel, the eighth in rank; Rogger Godchild, the Seventh in rank; Drax the puppet god, the sixth in rank; Jagoi Thunderblaster, the Fifth in rank; Olivia Quinelly, the third in rank; and Luther, the second in rank. Observing the empty fourth throne, Damien deduced, 'So, Theodore holds the fourth rank among this group.'

After the brief introductions, Ruthella rose from her seat and declared, "Since our dear brother Damien occupies the twelfth rank, I shall have the honor of crafting his throne."

"Ruthella, how wonderful to see your enthusiasm," the Lunar Goddess's voice echoed through the hall. Pouting playfully, Ruthella relinquished her claim, knowing it was futile to argue with her superior. "Alright, big sister. Just remember you owe me one."

"Of course," the Lunar Goddess agreed. In an astonishing display, a pair of cyan lights emanated from her eyes, materializing into a cyan throne adorned with ninety-nine dragons and ninety-nine phoenixes. "From now on, this is your seat. Take a moment to feel it," she said to Damien.

Damien floated toward the throne and settled onto it. "Is it comfortable?"

"Exceedingly so. Thank you, Lunar Goddess."

"Very well. Feel free to discuss any matters with your fellow brothers and sisters here. I have some business to attend to," she announced, and her cyan eyes vanished into thin air. However, Damien received a telepathic message from her, "And do mind your manners, Mr. Pervert!"

Luther engaged Damien in formal conversation before excusing himself. Olivia Quinelly meticulously inspected every nook and corner of the hall, ensuring her elder sister had indeed departed. As her confidence grew, she cast a bolder gaze toward Damien's dashing visage and ventured further down. Her gaze settled precisely on his nether region. With a unique ocular technique, she discovered Damien's secret concealed within his trousers. "Ah!" She quickly covered her mouth and turned away, her cheeks flushed.

Damien sensed her reaction and turned to find her averting her gaze rapidly. 'She's peculiar but captivating.'

The other three women, well aware of her unusual predilections, materialized beside her in an instant and cautioned her, "Remember the sisterly pact!" Damien noticed them whispering among themselves while sneaking occasional glances at him. 'They're all rather eccentric.'