I, the slave boy, awaken with the most potent seed!!

Zafron stared at Calista as she moved through the water like some ethereal vision, her body glistening under the dim, ghostly light of the limbo pool. Her playful smile, her teasing tone, the way the silver ripples clung to her curves—it all screamed temptation. And for a fleeting moment, he felt that familiar heat rise in him. But just as quickly, it was smothered by anger.

"Not happening," Zafron said flatly, standing up and turning away.

Calista froze mid-step, her smile faltering. "What?"

"You heard me." He didn't look back. "I'm not doing this."

Her voice followed him, incredulous and tinged with hurt. "You're joking, right?"

"Nope." Zafron kept walking toward the temple, his boots crunching against the gray, gravelly path.

"Zafron, stop." Her tone was sharper now, her movements audible as she splashed to the edge of the pool and stepped out. "What's your problem?"

He spun around, glaring at her. "My problem? My problem is that I've been stuck in this hellhole because of Aphrodite's meddling and my own dumb decisions. Sex is literally the reason I'm here! So forgive me if I'm not jumping at the chance to repeat the same mistake with her—what even are you? Her manifestation? Her will? A walking, talking reminder of every bad choice I've made?"

Calista's jaw tightened, her eyes flashing with something between anger and pain. "I'm not her, Zafron. You know that."

"Do I?" He laughed bitterly. "Because you sure act like her. The flirting, the teasing, the whole 'I'm here to distract you' shtick. Tell me, what happens if I go there with you, huh? Another curse? Another system upgrade that screws me over? No thanks."

"That's not fair," she snapped, stepping closer, water dripping down her bare form. "I've been here for you. I've fought for you. I've—"

"And I appreciate it," Zafron cut her off, his voice cold. "But I'm done. Done with the games, the seduction, the endless cycle of digging myself into deeper trouble. You want to help me? Fine. But keep your clothes on."

Calista crossed her arms over her chest, her expression hardening. "You're a real piece of work, you know that?"

"Yeah, I've been told," he muttered, turning back toward the temple.

As he walked away, Calista called after him, her voice trembling with barely contained frustration. "You think running from everything makes you better than her? You're just as much a coward as she is!"

Zafron didn't stop. He didn't turn around. He didn't trust himself to.

The temple was quiet, its vast halls filled with an eerie stillness that pressed against Zafron's senses. He sat heavily on the cold stone steps, running a hand through his hair.

'She's right,' he admitted bitterly to himself. 'I am running.'

But what other choice did he have? Every time he gave in—every time he let impulse or desire guide him—things only got worse. He couldn't afford another mistake. Not now.

He leaned back, staring at the cracked ceiling of the temple. Limbo was a prison, a realm that bent time and space into a suffocating loop. He'd been here long enough to understand that much. Days, weeks, maybe months had passed since his arrival, but his body in the mortal realm remained asleep.

He could still hear Aphrodite's voice, that frustratingly casual tone she used when she didn't have all the answers.

"There's no way back," she'd said, her eyes almost pitying. "Not one I know of, at least. Your body actualized here by itself, Zafron. That's… unprecedented."

'Unprecedented my foot,' he thought bitterly.

Aphrodite wasn't exactly the goddess of full disclosure. She knew more than she let on—always. And while she might not have the answer, Zafron was willing to bet that someone—or something—did.

He stood abruptly, his determination flaring like a spark in the dark.

'There's a way out of here. There has to be.'

As his gaze swept across the temple, his eyes locked onto a passage he had explored before. Its archway was etched with intricate symbols that glowed faintly, and a strange pull urged him forward.

----

Zafron leaned against a towering bookshelf, his frustration mounting as he slammed another book shut. The spine read "The Art of Eternal Seduction"—one of at least twenty variations of the same title. His fingers brushed the thick layer of dust coating the next row of identical volumes: "1000 Positions of the Gods," "Mastering the Divine Touch," and "Aphrodite's Guide to Scandalous Pleasures."

"This place is a circus," he muttered, tossing the latest offender onto the growing pile of useless books at his feet.

The library had felt massive the first time he'd stumbled upon it—a sprawling, endless labyrinth of shelves reaching into the void. But now, it was an infuriating reminder of Aphrodite's singular focus. He'd hoped for answers, for a way out of limbo, but instead found himself lost in aisle after aisle of debauchery and frivolity.

His eyes roamed the endless shelves, pausing on a section marked with tattered banners reading "Forbidden Knowledge." He sighed. 'Yeah, forbidden to anyone who's not a nymphomaniac.'

He turned a corner and paused. This section was different. The books here weren't meticulously kept like the others. Their covers were scratched, their pages torn or missing altogether. One tome had been ripped in half, its title smeared and unreadable.

Curiosity piqued, Zafron crouched down, picking up one of the more intact books. Its cover was plain and worn, but the title whispered across the spine in faded letters: "Veils of the Immortal Soul." He opened it carefully, only to find… nothing. The pages were blank.

"Of course," he muttered, throwing it back onto the shelf.

He was about to move on when a soft voice interrupted his thoughts.

"What are you doing?"

He turned sharply, spotting Thera peeking around a corner. Her wide eyes were sheepish, her hands clasped nervously behind her back.

"How long have you been standing there?" he asked, annoyed.

"A while," she admitted with a small, guilty shrug. "I was… watching you."

Zafron raised an eyebrow, crossing his arms. "And why exactly would you be doing that?"

Thera hesitated, then blurted, "You've been in here for so long. It's strange. No one stays in the library this long, especially not you."

He exhaled sharply, brushing past her to return a book to the shelf. "Yeah, well, I'm looking for something."

"What?" she asked, tilting her head.

Zafron hesitated. Thera had an innocent charm that grated on his nerves, but there was something endearing about her curiosity. Still, he wasn't about to spill his frustrations to her.

"Answers," he said finally. "A way out of all this. But so far, all I've found is thousands of rows of books about seduction and sex."

Thera blinked, her face reddening. "Well… it is her library," she said hesitantly.

Something about her tone made him pause. He turned to her, narrowing his eyes. "What do you mean by that?"

She shifted uncomfortably, looking anywhere but at him. "I mean, it's Aphrodite's library. What were you expecting to find here?"

Zafron's gaze sharpened. "Wait. Are you saying there's another library?"

Thera's eyes widened in alarm. "No! I mean… never mind. Forget I said anything." She turned to leave, but Zafron was faster.

In an instant, he grabbed her wrist, spinning her back around and pinning her gently but firmly against the bookshelf. The dusty tomes rattled in their places as their faces were inches apart.

"Talk," he demanded, his voice low and dangerous.

"I can't," she whispered, her eyes darting to the side.

"You can and you will," he pressed, his tone brooking no argument. "What other library? Where is it?"

Thera shook her head frantically. "I'm not supposed to say. If I do—"

"I don't care," Zafron interrupted. "If there's even a chance it'll get me out of this mess, you're going to tell me. Now."

Her lips trembled, and for a moment, it seemed she would refuse. But then he saw the flicker of doubt in her eyes—the crack in her resolve.

"What do you want?" he asked, his voice softer now but still insistent. "What will it take to make you talk? Name it."

Thera's gaze flicked up to meet his, and he saw the answer in her expression before she even said it. Like he guessed earlier, they were all somehow parts of Aphrodite and if there was one thing universally through about her then...

Zafron leaned closer, his lips brushing hers as he whispered, "Anything?"

Her breath hitched, but she didn't pull away.

Without waiting for an answer, he closed the distance, his lips capturing hers in a fierce, savage kiss. Her hands gripped his shirt, her resolve crumbling under the weight of his intensity.

When they finally broke apart, her cheeks were flushed, her breathing ragged.

"Nikola's library," she murmured, barely audible.

Zafron froze, the name sending a chill down his spine.

"Where is it?" he asked, his voice urgent.

Thera shook her head, her gaze dropping. "I don't know. I swear."

"That's a lie," he said, his tone hardening again.

"I'm not lying," she insisted, her voice trembling. "No one knows where it is. Only Aphrodite, and maybe Eros."

Zafron stared at her for a long moment, his mind racing. Nikola.

"Fine," he said finally, stepping back and releasing her wrist. "But if you're hiding something, Thera, I'll find out."

She nodded silently, slipping away from him.

Zafron turned back to the torn books, his jaw clenched. He didn't have all the pieces yet, but he was getting closer. And one way or another, he was going to find this hidden library—and the answers he needed.