Once inside, the atmosphere shifted immediately. The air was thick with sweat, lust, and a palpable undercurrent of something far darker. Dim lights of various colors pulsed through the rooms, casting everything in hues of red, purple, and blue. Moaning echoed from all directions, and the deeper they ventured, the more Vas realized the depravity of the scene.

Bodies tangled in every corner, lost in their own desires. The bunker wasn't just a party—it was a feeding ground. The sexual energy Axel had mentioned wasn't metaphorical; it was thick in the air, charged and electric. Vas kept his face neutral, but his jaw clenched as some of the partygoers tried to pull him into their games. Hands brushed his arms, whispers of invitation reached his ears, but he ignored them, his mind set on the mission.

Axel, however, struggled. His breathing grew uneven, eyes darting toward the flesh writhing around them. He was moments away from giving in when Vas shot him a hard look, sharp enough to pierce the haze of desire clouding his mind.

"We're not here for this," Vas growled, his voice cold and cutting through the noise.

Axel blinked, shaken from his trance. He nodded quickly, shaking off the temptation. Vas's presence grounded him, reminding him that they had a purpose—a dark, dangerous one.

As they continued through the bunker, Vas's mind whirred. The place was more than just an energy siphon; it was a trap, designed to ensnare the weak-willed, the desperate, and the lost. The raw power of the emotions in this place—lust, fear, desire—was almost tangible. Whoever was behind this operation was harvesting these emotions, feeding off the chaos.

Vas glanced at Axel, his voice barely above a whisper. "This is worse than I thought. Stay sharp."

Axel nodded, but there was a lingering tension in his eyes. The deeper they walked, the more dangerous it felt. Something was wrong, off. Vas could feel the weight of eyes on him, watching from the shadows, waiting for the right moment to strike.

He kept his posture loose, but every muscle in his body was ready to react. He needed to find the heart of this place—the source of the darkness that was drawing people in, manipulating them.

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Suddenly, a figure emerged from one of the darker corners of the room. Vas could feel the shift in the air, the unnatural silence that followed. Whoever this was, they weren't just another partygoer. They were here for him.

The figure's voice was low, mocking. "You don't belong here, stranger."

Vas didn't bother with a response. He simply stepped forward, his hand instinctively twitching toward the Tenebra blades that weren't yet visible. He didn't need to summon them yet, but the urge to lash out was there, simmering just beneath the surface.

Axel moved closer, his nerves evident, but Vas shot him a look that said everything. Stay ready, but let me handle this.

The tension crackled in the air between them, the bunker's pulse dimming as the true danger began to unveil itself.

As the figure stepped into the dim light of the bunker, Vas's eyes narrowed. The young woman had striking blue hair, woven into two braids, one draped lazily over her shoulder. Her skin was pale, almost unnaturally so, and her sharp, distinct facial features stood out even more with the black eye patch covering her right eye. Her expression was unsettlingly neutral, but there was something in the way she tilted her head, as if assessing a curiosity, that sent a cold shiver through the room.

She wore a long, open robe that barely covered her chest, exposing enough skin to make her bold, careless about modesty. Her right thigh was adorned with an imposing tattoo: a skull inked in thick black lines, crowned with the words "DEATH BEFORE DISHONOR" in bold font, an ominous reminder of the life she led. Axel greeted her casually, his voice laced with familiarity, "Morgan."

Vas remained silent, his gaze fixed on her. Morgan, like Axel, seemed to thrive in this underground world. Where Axel had been lured by the hedonistic energy of the party, Morgan exuded something more sinister—dangerous allure mixed with lethal intent. Her eyes, one visible and hungry, roved over Vas with a predatory gleam, but he dismissed it entirely. His usual coldness had settled in, that detached focus that came when he was chasing his objective.

The shift in his expression didn't go unnoticed. His eyes, already sharp, seemed to turn to ice, their coldness radiating outwards. Both Morgan and Axel flinched—Axel out of recognition of what was coming, and Morgan out of something more primal. Instinct, perhaps.

"You'll take me somewhere private," Vas said, his tone leaving no room for refusal.

Morgan's gaze lingered on him for a moment, assessing whether she wanted to challenge the command. But there was something in his voice, a tone that dug into her, making her hesitate. Something primal, like a voice from deep within her subconscious screamed at her to obey. She gave a quick nod, her confidence faltering slightly. Without a word, she turned on her heel, gesturing for them to follow.

The room she led them to was deeper into the bunker, away from prying eyes and ears. The air was thick, cloying with the remnants of whatever had transpired here before. Several men and women were scattered across the floor, tangled in various stages of undress. Morgan snapped her fingers, her tone commanding now. "Get out," she barked.

They left immediately, their eyes flicking nervously between Morgan and Vas. Once the room was cleared, Vas's cold gaze landed on her again. He wasted no time.

"Who gave Light Cavalry their orders?" His voice was calm, measured, but the threat beneath it was clear.

Morgan's lips curled into a smirk, though there was a flicker of unease in her eye. "I know who," she said, almost lazily. "But why would I tell you?" She reached into her robe and pulled out a small, familiar tablet, identical to the one Vas had seen before.