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James's career path resembled a smooth and wide avenue, and William's downfall quickly triggered a redistribution of power within the department, with James emerging as the most suitable successor in everyone's eyes. In those meetings and discussions, there was little debate or lengthy back-and-forth; it seemed everyone had reached a tacit agreement. Professors nodded in approval, while students were filled with joy, eagerly anticipating this esteemed scholar leading them to new academic heights. Throughout this power transition, James effortlessly ascended to the position of Department Chair, as if everything had been secretly planned long ago, just waiting for the right moment.
After the formal appointment ceremony concluded, James finally found a moment of peace. He walked alone into the Department Chair's office, a spacious and quiet room with a desk facing tall windows through which light streamed in at an angle, illuminating neatly arranged documents and books. The air in the office felt somewhat stuffy, tinged with a hint of dust; yet at this moment, the atmosphere was exquisite to James, as if he were breathing not just oxygen but the fragrance of power. He inhaled gently, the slightly pungent scent bringing him immense pleasure. This was his long-lost domain, his reclaimed throne, and now he sat once again in this office that symbolized authority.
James slowly approached the desk, his fingertips gliding over the smooth wooden surface, feeling its cold and hard texture. He pulled out the high-backed chair and sat down leisurely; the chair creaked softly as if welcoming its master back to familiar ground. His hands rested naturally on the armrests, fingers lightly tapping in a lively and forceful rhythm like the beats of his heart. He surveyed his surroundings, his gaze sweeping from the bookshelf on the wall to the stacks of documents piled beside him. Each book and each file had once belonged to William but now belonged to him. A slight smile crept onto his lips, revealing a sense of pride and control over his newfound power.
"What a marvelous feeling..." James murmured softly, his eyes deep and cold. He leaned back in his chair, closed his eyes, and took another deep breath; the dusty air slid through his nostrils and into his lungs like an invisible alcohol that clarified and exhilarated his thoughts for a moment. "This is the taste of victory," he silently reflected, feeling an indescribable thrill spreading within him.
He could almost visualize William being escorted out of court with his hands shackled, that face filled with despair and fear starkly contrasting with James's current confident demeanor. In the past, William had been a significant obstacle on his path forward; now that barrier lay beneath his feet while those who once doubted him were left only with insincere flattery and false smiles. James's fingers continued to tap rhythmically on the armrests, each beat resonating like light notes marking the endgame of this power struggle. He knew this was not merely a victory but one entirely under his control—from the scheming to William's downfall; every step was orchestrated by him.
"What a perfect performance," he whispered to himself as he opened his eyes, revealing cold mockery within them. Those who welcomed and supported him—students and faculty who cheered for him—were merely pawns in his design. They could not see through to his true nature; they only perceived what he allowed them to see—the strong and confident academic leader they deemed a hero. But James knew well that he was never their "hero." He was the player manipulating this game, orchestrating every situation.
He lowered his gaze to a document on the desk—his newly assumed department's upcoming plan. Each line felt like a symbol of power that elevated his mood further. He understood that he stood at a new pinnacle now, one whose height would determine how far he could go in the future. He had no intention of stopping or settling for the status quo. On the contrary, he would continue to ascend, clearing every obstacle from his path until no one could impede him.
Taking another deep breath to savor that slightly dusty air, he exhaled slowly as if relishing a fine wine. "Indeed, this is the taste of victory." A cold yet satisfied smile curled at the corners of his mouth like a predator finally occupying its mountain peak, surveying its territory.
During James's month of recuperation, his most loyal follower, Emma Hopkins, remained active. Like a clandestine strategist operating from dark corners, she quietly propelled the expansion of the Blood Moon Society. On the surface, she still appeared as a helpful researcher who smiled while engaging in everyday campus tasks; behind closed doors, however, she had already woven an intricate web that lured unsuspecting souls into the shadows of Blood Moon.
Emma’s words acted like a gentle yet sharp knife that precisely sliced through her listeners' rational defenses. She would secretly meet students and faculty feeling lost or confused about reality late at night; through soothing whispers and encouragements, she gradually opened their hearts. She painted a hopeful future for those yearning for power and change—convincing them that by following Blood Moon they could attain everything they desired. Her words carried an irresistible magnetism—a power bestowed upon her by Blood Moon—one that ensnared people like serpents whispering sweetly in their ears at night.
Initially, these recruitment efforts remained discreet; only a few knew about this mysterious organization’s existence. However, as Emma’s words spread like seeds into more hearts, Blood Moon Society’s influence gradually grew stronger. Those who initially approached Emma out of curiosity found themselves unwittingly ensnared by Blood Moon’s allure after several encounters with her. They began attending secret gatherings at night where they listened intently under dim candlelight to Emma’s teachings—absorbing her reverence for Blood Moon and praise for James. The sparkles in their eyes turned fervent as if they glimpsed an indescribable truth. These gatherings evolved from just a handful of people into dozens or even more.
In these meetings, Emma stood before them like a shepherdess; her voice was soft yet powerful—a tempting allure impossible to resist. She spoke about the limitless potential granted by Blood Moon that freed them from mundane constraints; she mentioned James's extraordinary resilience and wisdom—depicting him as a prophet destined to lead them into a new era. The audience became increasingly entranced; some even shed tears from overwhelming joy—viewing Emma and James as their salvation. Thus did Blood Moon Society’s influence quietly seep into campus life—silent yet unstoppable.
Emma's allure extended far beyond mere words; the power of the Blood Moon endowed her with an indescribable magnetism. Her eyes seemed to penetrate the deepest desires hidden within people's hearts, and her smile enveloped others like a gentle spring breeze, drawing them in irresistibly. Even under the bright light of day, her slender figure moving through the crowd captured countless gazes. Her presence was like a slowly growing seed, gradually implanting the faith of the Blood Moon deep into the unsuspecting souls. When she stood before those already entranced by her charm, she transformed from a naive biologist into a priestess capable of manipulating hearts, a faithful messenger executing James's will.
More and more people pledged their allegiance during secret gatherings at night, softly chanting hymns in praise of the Blood Moon and offering devout respect to James. They willingly surrendered everything to the Blood Moon Society, becoming an indispensable part of James's grand design. This power spread at an imperceptible pace, like a silent plague quietly infecting every unguarded soul. Those who were once unrelated—faculty and students alike—had unknowingly become part of the Blood Moon Society, their faith in James growing ever more fervent, as if he were indeed some transcendent being capable of leading them toward an infinite future.
Emma was fully aware of it all. She understood her mission and recognized the significance of this force. She had no doubt that James was her faith, her sovereign. Whatever he did was justified; everything she did was merely to garner more support for him and to strengthen his power. Each night, as she led new followers into the shadows of the Blood Moon, she could feel a dark power burgeoning behind her, filling her with boundless strength. She knew that this power would ultimately become a blade in James's hands, severing all who dared challenge him and bringing the entire campus—and beyond—under the dominion of the Blood Moon.
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