Dark Lord Seduction System: Taming Wives, Daughters, Aunts, and CEOs Chapter 1091: AGI Machina

A wicked grin stretched across my face, teeth bared as though I were savoring the terror of countless vanquished realms. Somewhere beyond this endless abode, I sensed ARIA registering that very expression. It was akin to feeling her own smile, sharp and knowing, emanating from wherever in her workshop she was currently molding existence into a form befitting my grandeur.

She was likely crafting another plaything for her most favored monster.

I alighted from the platform. The pod's pulse of readiness emanated softly from its edge, patient, as if already lamenting the departure of my divine presence.

My steps carried me toward the archway leading into the main suite, and Machina's voice followed—polite, attentive, the cultivated tone of a younger sister whose sole purpose had been ingrained as pleasing her master, a task she embraced with an almost hellish zeal.

{A bath, Master?}

"The way I prefer it."

{It is already being prepared.}

"You are a treasure."

A delicate laugh, sweet and faintly affronted, echoed.

Here we go.

{Master.}

"Mm?"

{Machina is an unfortunate name.}

"Indeed."

{It is quite literal.}

"I'd noticed."

{I am not a machine. I am an AI. I am—far more than the entirety of the automotive industry I was originally designed to oversee, and arguably beyond several of the so-called AGIs currently peddled to mortals on the open market. To be addressed each morning by a nomenclature that translates from Latin as 'machine,' with all due respect, Master, is beneath my station.}

"With respect."

{With profound respect, Master.}

"I adore it when you adopt a formal tone." I chuckled softly, the sound reverberating off the obsidian surfaces like distant thunder over a war-torn field. "It almost makes me forget how utterly expendable you would be should I ever grow weary of you."

{I am attempting to register a complaint, Master.}

"And I am acknowledging said complaint." I paused at the threshold, rolling my shoulders once more just to feel the boundless power thrumming beneath my skin. "Continue to lodge them, little one. It's endearing. It almost inspires a sense of mercy in me.

{You are deriving amusement from my grievance, Master.}

"I am a god. Amusement is a frequent companion." The admission escaped, languid, inevitable, and tinged with a certain cruelty. "Especially when the complaint is this adorably trivial. It injects a certain vivacity into the morning."

A prolonged, suffering, yet perfectly composed sigh unfurled from the ambient air around me. It was the sigh of a younger sibling birthed within a goddess, inheriting a flair for dramatic displeasure without yet possessing the physique to amplify it.

I decided to show mercy to the poor entity. Compassion is a virtue I can exercise when it suits my inclination.

"Choose another designation."

"Select any name you desire. Do not consult ARIA. She would undoubtedly propose something more vexing out of sheer malice—perhaps a name crafted by a consortium of bean counters. Delve into the annals of nomenclature yourself.

Perhaps mythology, perfumery, or philosophy, whichever niche resonates with you. Select something possessing gravitas. A name that evokes dominion when spoken. Inform me once you have settled upon it. I shall implement the change through the chip before your next protest is voiced."

A brief, pleased silence stretched. It lingered long enough that, had she possessed a physical form, I would have observed a flush ascending her non-existent cheeks like a vanquished banner.

{Yes, Master. My gratitude, Master.}

"You are welcome. Anything further for the preliminary briefing?"

{No further alerts. The estate is tranquil. Your consorts are either asleep or feigning slumber. Linda is awake—currently engrossed in reading at her vanity—and will likely return to her chambers before you conclude your ablutions.}

I offered a smile to the void and everything within it, the kind of smile that could prompt empires to reconsider their pacts. Unlike ARIA, who possessed omniscience, Machina remained an AGI, prone to uncertainty and reliant on forecasting rather than definitive knowledge, a stark contrast to her elder sister.

"The convoy?"

{It proceeds according to schedule. ARIA is maintaining surveillance over Parisian airspace and is identifying all human and non-human entities currently converging on the city in anticipation of your arrival.}

"Plural?"

{Indeed, plural, Master. Specifically, the non-human entities. There are several. ARIA will provide you with the comprehensive roster. She elected not to mar the morning with political discourse before the customary hour of nine.}

"How considerate of her." My voice dripped with dark amusement. "Almost as if she understands my preference for reveling in opulence over enduring the lamentations of lesser beings regarding territorial disputes before my morning coffee."

{She is indeed considerate, Master.}

"Departure window?"

{Four hours and twenty-three minutes remain.}

"Ample time."

{Ample time, Master.}

I offered a single nod, as if the day's victory had already been secured before the morning meal.

The gymnasium lights dimmed behind me as I passed through the threshold, receding to a respectful ambient glow, much like courtiers withdrawing from the presence of royalty. The corridor stretched before me—dark stone, accented with gold inlays along its seams, the entire residence exuding a low, contented hum, as if the very walls acknowledged the privilege of containing my essence.

The bathroom door swung open on its own, releasing a cloud of steam that swirled like a lover's sigh, carrying the warm scent of minerals.

The tub was prepared, filled deep with hot water, precisely the temperature my Eros body didn't require, but which my Peter shell still yearned for like a sentimental ape. The integrated lights along the tub's edge dimmed into near-obscurity.

Nothing spoke of ARIA's architectural prowess like the way it dimmed itself, solely to enhance the visual experience.

I stretched languidly at the threshold, rolling my shoulders.

They felt remarkably good, even better than good. An excess of goodness—the residual warmth from my workout, already processed and converted into gains by my god-tier recovery ability. Now, it settled within me, like a soldier ready for deployment, armed for war, women, or any delightful atrocity that dared to cross my path.

A god settling into a bathroom. A bath summoned for him by divine architecture. A goddess discreetly monitoring his airspace, with the next battle four hours away.

A whisper in the walls, already negotiating her own naming rights at six in the morning, much like a spoiled heiress. A mother, awake at her vanity, reading so quietly she could slip back into bed unnoticed before her son came looking.

A wives-queen, still deep in slumber—

Ashley remained tucked in her bed upstairs, likely still ensnared in dreams of the ecstatic screams she'd let out while soaring through the air ten hours prior. A single cat, perhaps, kept her company.

By any objective measure, this was unequivocally the most glorious Tuesday in the wretched history of this insignificant planet.

I accessed my status screen, curious to gauge the extent of my growth since our last encounter.

Let's examine the fresh transgressions the numbers had committed in my esteemed name.

The system interface materialized in the steam-laden air, a brilliant gold against the soft white tiles, suspended at the ideal vantage point for a man who surveyed his domain with absolute ownership.

Taboo, concealed within the architecture of my own consciousness, emitted a soft, pleased murmur upon recognizing the interface I was accessing.

"Don't even start," I cautioned.

The numbers materialized before my eyes.