Take Up the Cross – Chapter 98: Battle of the Tempted Heart ☆

Flowing blade and twanging bow grant no reprieve.

A sacred duel is not what Adris witnesses as he pushes through false men yelling and moaning for gore and punishment. The dancing figure clad in blue and purple below him resists the enemy; a body he’s held so tightly before that he thought she might gift revenge for the affection in place of muted approval is chased by stamping birds and left with no refuge to hide in.

(I should’ve held her tighter when I could…)

Such a pitiable thought rakes at his confidence as Still, with a shining gem in her hand, dives for a space between the statues at the edge of the arena.

The rainbow token flares up, its inner fire distorting a crackling barrier of turquoise that springs from nothing upon her intrusion. Scintillating light identical to a doll’s favorite tool’s output becomes woven upon her hand, sucking to the inside of her palm as a hole tears away.

Escape at the forefront of her pursuers is within reach, right up until the first crack sounds out.

A great explosion of compressed shards and rejected rainbow sends his partner’s squishy body soaring when the vibrating wall reintegrates and flares up.

“Oh, quite the feat. A means of negation picked within a time of crisis speaks of finesse of mind…”

Her pursuers follow her flight as she tumbles up into the center of the ring, letting her shaking body rest for a moment before facing the enemy that stalks her once more.

A shining saber dips low as Kaskin shuffles forward, leaving the short distance about to vanish.

“… but finesse fails when confronting the unsurpassable, I’m afraid.”

Mist wafts off of his blade as his body shifts to draw forward.

“And with your escape prevented, I have an attentive audience for my recital.”

Pseudo-aura coalesces on his body, not the taste of Zennian magic but rather of Kol’s savagery, as the harpies around him nod to one-another before tapping forward to take the back of the hunted.

{Fuck your poetry!}

Rather than be caught wanting, the spooked blue angel flings a bundle of dirks with a blurring arm before flipping backwards into the air to leave the dangerous ground.

A fleshy target springs toward the dark, death-dealing shivs instead of to safety, whipping around his saber elegantly before crying out in a feminine manner.

“[Style of Deluge: Calming Turbulence]!”

Body follows sword, the saber singing as it becomes a streaking rain of swirling lights.

One slice becomes two, leaving Kaskin’s tailfeathers nearly plucked free as he falls into the vacuum wake of his slashes; two become four, with every dirk expertly tossed by Still uselessly scattering to his sides from the taps of his blade…

{!?!?}

A white mask bears a horrified “O” of imminent ruin as Still’s free hand sprouts a hidden blade to fill its grip, flicking around to let both short swords meet glittering arcs that approach.

Four strikes become sixteen, as the air around Still grows choppier with each half-hearted deflection she meets Kaskin’s flurry with. A delicious body, which seems to lack bones, contorts in mid-air like a hummingbird furiously beating its wings to escape a spider’s spinning web.

Shreds of a duelist’s jacket, hat, short cape, and leggings depart as the victim finally drops to the ground, clutching only one sword as her other arm limply hangs, spewing blackish-red mist into the air.

“… HAAAH!”

The only thing that saves her from the certain doom that landing brings is that the man pointing a saber at her neck, only a few feet from her center, is forced to finally breathe.

Energy departs him as his body goes torpid, leaving Still’s blade lifting as her legs lean her forward into an impending dash.

“To your sides, Still!”

Adris’ call is largely useless, as the backstabber is already strutting once more to weave between flying blades that narrowly avoid cutting down the man their wielders serve.

“How dare you even think it!”

“Should’ve done it faster!”

Similar voices yell in unison as the harridans with armored wings weave their steel “feathers” around. Connected to the plating by lengths of thin strands, their launched projectiles slash about like animated aura blades.

No matter how surprising the space-filling display of clattering stranded blades is, though, they aren’t controlled well enough to corner Still.

Instead, they merely…

(Those two are trained for supplanting his problem of distance and protection!)

At the cusp of safety, Still flings one more dirk straight for Kaskin’s face, only to have a long wing intercede before the smiling man’s paralyzed self.

When it strikes, the dirk erupts into blackish-blue energies.

“GYAAAH!?”

These swirling forces wrap around the armored harpy servant, causing shivering heaves as her body partially collapses.

“… Haaaah, oh, an amateur’s blade combined with witchcraft?” Genuine surprise flashes across the beautifully pointed face of the saberman, before he swoops in to lift his struck comrade up before she can hit the floor.

“Perhaps of a noble style, with such attention to form…? I recognize not your instructor of sword with how little you cultivated his lessons, but one’s ‘invisible’ markings upon blades bring up old stories.”

When Kaskin raises up the harpy, her body mostly calms, though her skin remains stained with a whitish pallor.

“Keeee, what did she hit me with…!?”

(A reprisal…)

Still’s glorious, sneaky weapon against malice fails to deliver the same effect without a gaping wound to aid it. Though her sorcery wove along the harpy’s muscular limbs and torso, it failed to assert itself sufficiently to disable in one hit.

Stuck applying a reddish tie to her mashed arm, Still ignores the conversation while stumbling back to make space.

“[Castigator]?”

This single word sends Still backward with a grand leap, before she produces a thin knife swirling with purple lacquer on it.

“My, my, my. Such a dead art, brought back to life before my eyes? Oh? Don’t look so surprised, ‘young’ lady.”

Kaskin’s claw is pulled along the flat side of his blade as he draws it back, swirling over the false steel and leaving runes carved into it as Still’s tenseness peaks.

“All men should have hobbies.”

{… Women’s deepest secrets aren’t a man’s hobby! Are you a woman on the inside!?}

Gleaning only the briefest understanding of Still’s angry, shaking signs, Kaskin heartily giggles to himself while finishing his impromptu work.

“‘Like a woman?’ Perhaps, at times? Only insecurity would invite shame at such truths being revealed…”

Still’s purple knife twists to life, lancing out with a purple flying snake, trailed by glowing mist, that races toward the fop.

When the spiraling fanged mist nears its mark, its disembodied head is sent over Kaskin’s shoulder.

“… Doesn’t it take a woman’s heart to understand a woman? Do you believe that there’s nothing left to discover beneath those warring feelings that also desires a woman?”

A glowing sword becomes mute after cutting down her living sorcery, silencing the sneak just as readily as her magic.

Even from such a distant perch, Adris can make out the words engraved into the blade.

(“Hate, infirmity, rejection, disregard”… The same nonsense emotional language that Still uses!?)

The language of a witch is reproduced in part by a man, leaving those who understand cognizant of the dangers inherited by the saber’s edge.

{… Okay. You’re definitely feminine.}

When Still relaxes briefly, the peacock man chortles while patting his blade.

“A [Castigator]? You are far from home, for I recall that the maliciousness you covet has its birthplace in the far north-east lands toward the [Narrow Reach]?”

Still’s lack of further response brings a refreshingly bright smile from the hounding man, her tacit admission by silence confirming his thoughts.

“How impossible, you’ve learned an art I’ve only read about in archaic texts! Even this trifle is merely a derivation of a counter spell blindly developed by those who hunted your predecessors…”

{Go back to reading books and stop batting your eyes at me! I’m not impressed!}

(A Castigator? “Reprover”?)

More of Still’s secrets are unmasked in the thick of battle, leaving Adris shocked by the enemy knowing more about his partner than he does.

Still’s surprise leaves her seeking another escape, a task that is made amply more difficult with the carnage to her left threatening to spill over into her lane.

“HAAAAAH!”

Sparking metal off of her wolf helmet takes with it taxidermy flesh, leaving blackish steel beneath scuffed as Kol presses on.

Like all of her attempts, a wild swing fails to steal even an ounce of flesh as it goes wide.

But unlike previous attempts, this one compels the winds to serve as they roar from nothingness toward Kol’s howling poleaxe.

“EEEEH!?”

A harpy with no protection save for sashes is ripped down by the sudden air, twirling within a whirl of it as she’s brought toward the irate kobold.

“MINE!”

Kol’s torso twists along the axis of her spine, with her legs opposite the chambered side and clawed into the stage to grant a lethal fulcrum as she unleashes her swing.

The wide-eyed bird woman clutches her wings to herself, heartily crying big tears as she prepares to be bisected. Even could she escape, the phantasmal flames all around her that start her sweating also invite her to join a roast.

“NO RUN, CHICKEN!”

“[Style of Deluge: Unknown Current].”

Three shafts of light pierce through the whirlwind, generating a triangle of watery bands to condense around the mace harpy.

Before steel can split her, the woman’s personage is unwillingly dragged toward the source of the voice and out of the consuming aura.

“NAAAH!?”

Kol twirls as she overshoots wildly, lifting off to hop on one foot as her spinning velocity cannot be constrained.

“What!?”

A whistling trails the receding waters, leaving its mark on her white-furred foot as flecks of black Vigor spurt out. What’s left of the arrow breaks upon her shin, but the disruptive arrow trips Kol upon the floor with a clattering thud.

“EH!? Stupid bird! Shot Kol’s foot!”

Yelling up from the ground, the rebuttal to the girl’s complaint is swift.

“GAH!”

Sharp points descend from above by the dozens, shattering off of her armored form as Kol turtles up.

“… Hmm… Even though no misses are permitted, is there beauty obtainable in chipping down a wall by repetition alone?”

“T-T-Thank you for saving me, Master Nerik!”

An ungentle girl’s head is patted on the side, leaving her hidden face no doubt blushing from ear to ear as the bowman spares time for the spooked harpy’s mental recovery.

Taking back to the air afterward, both harpies keep great distance from the rising Kol. Onto her knees and groaning in discomfort, the kobold with dents all over her black carapace, a cage which groans with ghostly hatred, stares down her opposition.

“… Cute bird. So, Kol, understands.”

The understanding girl tramps forward, letting her aura burn hot as she prepares to swing once more.

“Even if in heat, if someone else makes them leave, it fails to keep them close? Shitty weakness! Very unfun…”

“What’s patently ‘unfun’ is a Talent which turns one’s body’s hardness equal to the protection one wears. [Forced Protection] sounds appropriate.”

“… Kakaka! Wouldn’t bird, like to understand, too!?”

Lifting herself up, her weapon becomes the focus of the man’s appraising yellow eye.

“An ensorcelled armor and enchanted poleaxe? How extravagant.”

(Good! They’re back together!)

The situation mends a bit with Still’s sudden escape from pursuit.

As Kol leans forward while growling, another servant of water hobbles into her aura without enjoyment. One leg keeps revealing growing lameness, an injury from earlier that maimed far worse than Adris anticipated.

(Still takes some blows with stride, while others are crippling? Or is something different about their strikes?)

{Kol, we… we need to…!}

Efforts to communicate are slapped away by the brutish girl, before Kol springs ahead alone.

“NEED TO SMASH, KOL KNOWS! HAAAA!”

A great leap into the air, naked of any defense, becomes an overhead spin that narrowly avoids a juking harpy. The return reply is from the airborne artillery that wasn’t attacked to fling both legs forward, impacting mace heads on the kobold stuck in air.

“GAH!? Come down and fight Kol!”

“… For what reason would one reduce themselves to a disadvantage when merely demanded to do so?”

Nerik calmly draws forth three new missiles with glowing arrow-heads, knocking one as Kol stands up from her landing.

“Umu, would be stupid to do what Kol says.” The honest fighter nods her head at the effeminate man, before pounding the butt of her poleaxe into the floor. “But, Kol really would appreciate it.”

“… I’m certain you would. Let us consider the invitation.”

(That arrow is different from the previous ones.)

“Kol, there’s great power in his next shots! Don’t take them!”

“Great idea, Boss!”

Kol hollers back while her tail wags happily, lifting her clenched hand up.

“Any idea, how?”

(None.)

“What a vexing sense of things that yelling boy possesses…”

Grinning lightly as he draws his bow, Nerik looses a streaking herald of doom.

“NAAH!?”

Two more glowing missiles follow, with all three impacting in a shower of glittering explosions as Kol vanishes from sight into rising dust.

With her teammate lost, Still jumps toward the dust cloud…

“No, please stay here, shadow caller.”

… only for it to be scooped up when an arrow flies through it while glowing blue.

{Shit!}

“Um, this isn’t working.”

Back to back with the kneeling Kol, Still faces down a man who readies to jump toward her, while Kol faces the opposite danger which keeps its distance with ease.

“Adris! The field works in both directions!”

Finally to the bottom of the audience seating, Ave runs her hands over runes while reading them. “It’s… um… ‘the only way is down’? Huh? No…!”

Ave points toward the heads of the insectoid-armored warriors, where Adris notices that the pseudo-aura does not flow.

“We have to go above…! … which is…”

“Can you call a wind?”

“… suicidal.”

Without missing a beat, Ave mutters a dark omen.

Even if her winds bring her impossible survivability, her green eyes that take in Adris feel differently about him.

(I can’t get any luck when she’s taking it all!)

“… Forget that option.

STILL! KOL!”

“Nah!? Boss?”

Both heed his call, with even the twins and harpies giving him notice.

(… I’m committed. There’s only one chance of coming out of this alive.)

Now that Still and Kol are separated, there’s a sacrifice to be made.

Outside of the arena, two harpies flap overhead.

Bearing scepters and muttering to themselves at time as they direct currents of magical energy toward their fellows, these supportive spell weavers keep the edge constantly in the twins’ favors.

But they are more than just support. When above Adris and Ave, a standoff of whip versus magic has so far not resulted in a collapse of that dynamic of not acting, yet keeps Adris contained.

(The moment I say anything, that will change.)

A hand comes up, amplifying his voice so that the situation will be forced to change.

“Kol! Absolutely follow my command!”

“Hmm!?”

The girl whines out her confusion, but what comes next simplifies her world.

(Kol can’t win because she’s overthinking things. She’s trying to force a duel, while the truth is that she’s at her most powerful when she’s simply fighting for a goal she believes in.)

Motivation is Kol’s strongest resource.

It fuels her indomitable pride and body.

So long as she has it, she will never succumb.

(So, I just need to give her a momentary motivation to break her out.)

Placing his hand on Ave’s shaking shoulder, Adris then looks to his most trusted partner.

A quiet woman that places both trust and mistrust in equal measure on Adris.

One who is now looking to him while betraying signs of her growing insecurity and weakness, with her leg growing clumsier as she dances in place to throw off an approaching saber.

To her, Adris nods his head to the left, before rolling a finger and flicking it back toward himself.

(“Do. Believe.”)

A subtle reply comes when the sneak dips her sword, losing energy as her hidden sight rakes over his skin looking for more clues as to his thoughts.

“Kol, heed this with all of your might, with every thread of your being woven into your assault:

absolutely destroy Still.”

The solemnity of Adris’ voice brings blinking from both friend and foe, with Ave’s jaw sliding down as she begins to shake.

“… Ad… Adris…?”

While Ave stares at him as if his sanity will never be found again, two others parse his command, too.

{…

…

…}

Still’s head droops over like candle wax as all life drains from her.

But, another comes to a different appreciation of the matter.

“…

…

… Hm, sounds good~!”

Kol barks happily, nodding her head.

Hidden energies from the furthest corners of the room pull in, swirling around a kobold that turns her body to face the “true enemy” even with danger all around her.

An aura which had dimmed to a dull roar blazes back to an all-consuming intensity.

Pink eyes blaze as they shake.

A sigh of pleasure whispers forth from this growing chaos, drinking deeply of satisfaction at her unleashed orders.

“Boss, finally gets it, Puddle!”

{…!!!!!}

Still springs onto one foot, with the side of her body enduring the invisible razor that slams down where she once stood.

Pieces fly everywhere as the insane strength of a kobold cuts a furrow four feet in length with just the hidden energies of her strike.

“… What… in the world…?”

The approaching Kaskin pulls back into a high guard, too late to meet the frantic passing of a terrified skulker to his side.

“RETURN! PUDDLE!”

A swing absent both talent and restraint plows into his rising saber, launching the startled peacockatrice into a spiraling flight.

“OUT OF THE WAY! FINALLY, KOL… KOL CAN DEAL WITH THIS ONE!

KAKAKAKAKAKA!”

The heat haze which ever maintains a fixed distance from Kol’s body grows instead to pull at everyone present.

(Desire fuels my comrades! So… desire feeds most fervently when it’s nearest to being achieved…!)

Though he smugly approves of his plan, even his body burns uncomfortably when awash in Kol’s room-filling hatred.

Friend and foe reverse as something deep seated is unleashed within Kol.

The joy of overcoming twin birds cannot hope to compare to the rapture of eliminating her oldest “nemesis”.

“Protect… Master Kaskin!”

“… Get…! GET THEM!”

The armored harpies trundle forward, squealing as they fling their wings forward. Tight coordination dissolves with the insane change in the situation.

Serrated blades fly out, seeking a dodging blue ball of unliving fear as a manic kobold kid tries to punt it.

Those blades cut lightly on Still as she rolls away, before impacting and wrapping around Kol as she continues her chase.

“ANNOYING BIRDS! GAAAH!”

Unable to withdraw their blades, these harpies find that the running kobold becomes a moving anchor.

“… MASTER NERIK! HEEEELP!?”

“EEEEEHHH!?”

Rampage is the end result of the order Adris gives.

While Still flees to the periphery while sending rude gestures toward him with her maimed arm, Kol trails behind with her poleaxe hafted up.

Two harpies cry while pulled behind, leaving the bowman Nerik gawking at the show with his groupies.

(Enjoy the break in tempo that total chaos brings!)

Before Nerik’s eye turns to Adris’.

“Ignore their squabbling, for both are our enemy. Prepare to sortie!”

(Too observant!)

A glorious distraction will soon cease to hide Adris’ next intentions, and the lack of meaningful pursuit of Kol and Still at the moment due to peaked confusion will be filled by Nerik’s new orders once words overcome the shock.

Their targets are either wounded, in Still’s case, or…

(Even if her armor absorbed all the blows, why is Kol slowing down?)

As she runs, Kol’s suit of protection’s infernal creaking turns into a squeal.

Dark sheen is mottled in places by cracked gray patches, at the exact points where arrows struck.

(Her armor is turning into stone!? This is what Ave meant by not being struck? Then, that means Still is?)

Still’s gait has slowed as well, depriving her of her usually energetic bounce.

With the passing of seconds, this curse continues to degrade them.

Lifting his blade, Kaskin licks flirtatiously along its edge.

Residue left behind glints blue momentarily, before merging with the metal.

“How is its flavor, noble intruders?”

The boy who started this then busies himself with patting his comrade’s face, breaking an elf from deep panic.

“Ave! Now is the time to enter in to save them.”

“… Huh…!?”

“The peacockatrices’ venom has affected their bodies. Be the change in battle needed! The wind will answer your call.”

Pointing at the arena’s center, Adris growls out his request.

“Call out your… ‘Zephyrous Wings’!”

Remembering far back to the escape from the Castillo, a nightmare called “White Tail Run” saw Ave’s repertoire of supplications to the “wind spirits” give her wings.

(Wings like a falling comet, but…!)

“That… that is…”

Adris slams a black cross into the field as Ave attempts to dissuade him, lamenting the result even as it accomplishes the task of enrapturing her.

Though the cross passes through while forcing away the turquoise static generated by the statues, once beyond it fails to resist the push outwards, shooting out his arm with almost enough force to twirl him in place.

“The power of the cross has limits alone! But those who benefit from it…!”

Adris holds her shoulders, bringing his face to hers as she gulps in excitement.

“Marvels of an elf make defeating such a barrier child’s play!”

“… Really…?”

Intelligence shines in her eyes after she wakes up at his forceful oration.

Looking first to the harpies overhead, Ave then raises her whip and tugs on its length.

“Mmm! They can overcome it! I’ve… done it before!”

A face wracked by fear firms up, with Ave’s lips pressing tightly after she cheers.

“If you can get inside, you can turn the tide! This distraction won’t last forever!”

“Right…!

… It was a distraction! There’s no way Adris would say that for real, right?”

A private conversation solves Adris’ problem of image in a moment with a plan offered, for deep-seated belief is hard to shake even with insanity witnessed.

(It depends on the circumstances.)

Above, the flapping harpies hover unsteadily, their attention split between a visible need to intervene within the arena and their duties of watching Adris.

“Ave, the moment I act is your time of destiny. Let nothing dissuade you, no matter what happens to me. Strike them with your strongest rhyme!”

“… Right.” Though she continues to shake, Ave leans down to place her hand on his chest, whispering the next part. “B-B-Believe… in me…”

(I’ve no other choices, anyway! But, if you don’t run…!)

As long as she doesn’t flee, he will accept the outcome.

With Kaskin and the harpies reforming around the chopping and lunging Kol, still trapped in her insane hunt for a wounded blue heron who rolls on the ground to avoid desperate chops, only one foe notices when a short figure starts to run toward the nearest statue.

“… Nnn!? YOU!”

Magical talents turn toward the newest interloper, with the watchful harpy above pointing a scintillating scepter that soon twirls in time with chanting.

“‘Boundless seas manifest now, pulling down those who would tread the waves unfearful of your ire!’”

(Show me what you’ve got!)

A comically bouncy springing note accompanies his lifting off, as rabbit boots send him feet first and high up onto the statue, before he twists and launches toward his prey with a centripetal spin.

“Unleash your power, woman!”

“[Riptide]!”

Her scepter points and shines, with formations of glyphs rushing to coalesce into a single torrent of sparkling blue.

Stuck in mid-air and lacking Still’s impossible body motions, Adris is soon surrounded by the swirling waters which tail him on his way up.

(Let them manifest! If it can be seen, it can be…!)

Towards his feet they snap like a band, but meet only obsidian.

The maddening sounds of whispers flutter away with the rejected waters, forced by shining darkness to scatter uselessly into the air.

“What!?”

A confident spellcaster’s morale breaks upon witnessing the impossible, though it’s the body filling her dark eyes that causes her jaw to drop.

(KNOW MY POTENTIAL!)

With his cross below his now inverted body, only one appendage is left for him to utilize in his spin.

Deflecting blue propels him only faster toward his flying oppressor.

“GAACK!?”

Purple Vigor sprouts from her mouth when his shin plows into her. The harpy woman’s veil is torn off with the blow that sends her fluttering drunkenly through the air, showing her spinning eyes.

(My body is weapon enough for you two!)

At the same time, his free hand whips out a purple sash with a weighted end that was drawn off in mid flight. Snaking like Ave’s whip, its target is a gobsmacked “sister” bearing witness to this unusual martial prowess.

“Shiare! … Oh—!?”

When it hits her leg on the swing, the weight catches around to wrap it up.

“LET GO! Miserable child!”

A second scepter points to the ground as its owner becomes a hanging point. Black glyphs stretch the distance of his impromptu rope, hopefully ensuring that it will never snap.

(Thank you for giving me something useful, Cethran!)

Swinging below as his victim is forced to keep him aloft of a deadly fall, the sweating Adris yells down to his final weapon, trying not to let his body’s moisture drop too profusely on top of it.

“Soar, AVE!”

His yell sends a ponytail wiggling with rapid nodding, before its owner answers his shout with her fullest breath.

“… [OH-OH PLAYFUL SCAMPS, SPEAK UP AND SING! FLY ME HIGH, ON ZEPHYROUS WINGS!]”

Earth calls out, too, abusing the air which it reviles.

Sanctity sends the pseudomorphic floor rippling with the power rising upward from the true ground below.

Its intended beneficiary shivers as the maddened, howling winds surround her.

“… Over, over the statues, n-n-not through them! Pleeea—

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA—

SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!”

A screeching emerald comet zooms skyward while wrapped within a sphere of chaos, impacting the ceiling-high chandelier swinging above.

The hit knocks free the candles lodged within it, scattering them everywhere as the still figure of Ave locked within firm air then begins to twirl in place.

“HEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEELLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLPPPPPPP!”

“Oh, Elf?”

A whirlwind drills down from above, aiming straight for an armored brute who stops in her haphazard flailing to notice the cry.

“SCATTER!”

“EHHH!?”

Mace-toting harpies above barely escape the crushing winds that scrape downward to collide with Kol.

“Such power!?”

{!!!}

The ground cracks with the corkscrew air currents landing, pelting the prone Still with her hands over her head lightly and the charging Kaskin in full.

(She nailed the landing!)

Adris silently cheers as the dust is blown away with the releasing tumult, revealing a squat kobold wearing a snake as a boa round her torso and shoulders.

“… Uh… uhhh…? Ave… is…?”

“Elf, is here!”

Sporting a spot on her forehead that is rapidly beginning to swell, Ave is nonetheless intact when she climbs off of Kol.

“… I… I did it! Kol, Still! I’m… Ave is heeere!”

“Naah!?”

A dull swoosh closes on Ave as her arms reach out to wrap around Kol.

“Just another victim…!”

But the maces breeze by the elf’s head when Kol collapses backward with Ave’s hug, before the weapons bounce off the stage and towards others.

“… Ah? HAH!”

{!?!?!?}

The battered Still forward rolls like a caterpillar whipping up from the ground, leaving the aloof Kaskin to kick back like a struck rooster as the gray ball obliterates where he once stood.

“Impossible happenstance!”

“… Intervention of fortune?”

Kaskin quickly steps toward the spooked Nerik, leaving both twins unable to countenance pressing a possible advantage.

(Plausible luck! Come here, you…!)

“LET GO!”

“Give yourself to me!”

While Ave turns to face the enemy, Adris swings in mid-air while trying to wrangle his foe.

(Three on five is doable! Win for me, Ave!)

“Okay! Let’s do this!”

Rising into the air, a green dream begins to snake her body into a coil as she gently sways.

“…

… [Origin of light and shadow be your place of repose; let spirits dance upon the lands you expose…!]”

Grinding earth rumbles as her first verse finishes.

“OOOH! ELF, REALLY DOING IT!? KAKAKA!”

As Kol hulks forward to intercept a counter assault, Still scampers like a squirrel toward the far end of the arena while shivering.

“SHOW KOL, TRUE POWER OF ELVES!”

Wind begins to drag with mighty currents, banishing the misty spray of harpies.

“Ugh… this girl is…!”

“… truly formidable!”

Toward a shining elf whose revealing sashes begin to rise into the air, airborne harridans squeal while dropping like lead weights.

“MASTER KASKIN!”

“NERIIIIIK!”

(She has this sort of technique!?)

A call that makes the winds angrier than any storm Adris has ever weathered grows when her next verse antagonizes it further.

“… [That none may call this simple play, let honest malice our hearts obey…!]”

Shining crystal green eyes open, fixating on the twins who raise saber and bow.

“It’s hardly beautiful to expose ourselves so openly, Kaskin…”

“… Well, can it be labelled our faux pas when forced into it, Nerik?”

The leadership steps forward as harpies grind along the floor with the invisible hands grabbing them.

Into the storm they stride.

(Die, you miserable bitch studs!)

Adris grins as the end nears.

Even if Ave screws up the result, the storm she’s called will shortly astonish everyone with its destruction.

“Gaze upon them, then…”

Reptilian tails lift as the men bow forward, sending a chill down Adris’ back.

(Wait… that point of their physiology was…)

“… our prideful selves, without grace and only insecurity.”

Towards the chaos-calling elf, feathers unfurl in full.

Blue eyes full of mystery begin to shine, capturing the attention of all around.

“… Pretty…!”

With his superior hearing, Adris picks out the adulation of a girl with a sweet voice, absent any guile or hatred.

(NO! AVE! DON’T—!)

Kaskin and Nerik join hands, as a shining garden of feathers blooms behind them.

The stage fills with the swishing of calming plumage.

““[First Love.]””

A blue eye assails the senses.

Sight. Smell. Hearing. Touch. Taste.

All of them are the same thing.

When the blue digs into his burning thoughts, a girl’s voice weakly speaks.

“‘Star’… is your name? … Were you, left here, too…?”

A memory of distant times, when he’d first taken the smaller hand of a black-haired girl. No matter what happened later, the first time she’d willingly spoken to him he’d felt something stir…

Ringing bells clang through his burning mind, causing the boy still swinging wildly to awaken to a cruel reality.

“Shit!? It…!?”

Already, the blue light from below fades rapidly.

Kol merely shakes her head, before growling in anger.

The sneak in blue was never looking, as far as Adris can divine, for only now does she ready to strike.

But, in the light’s recession, the sanctity called forth by a divine snake starts to crumble.

“… HMMMM!? PAPA!?

Where are we going today, Papa!?”

Winds escape to beloved freedom, released by the grip of the earth when Ave starts to babble excitedly while clapping her hands.

Staring at no-one, she rapidly uncoils herself and slithers away from both the arena’s center and her friends in need.

“Is it the grove down by the shore!? YAAAAY!” Her tail flicks happily as she sways, reaching her hand out to grip onto nothing. “Mama won’t ever know, I promise not to tell her like you said not to!”

Turning so that Adris can see Ave’s face, upon it is a sight that cracks his heart.

“So, let’s have fun all day, Papa!”

A face so innocent, a smile so pure, that he feels dirty to exist after witnessing it.

Something she’s never shown before to him grips her in her mania, leaving her eyes clouded by a brightly shining blue film…

(She… had her mind taken…)

This last weapon of wind was one the twins were waiting the whole time to unsheathe their own hidden technique on.

Though Ave was aware of it beforehand, they reserved it for the most weak minded member of the team when she couldn’t avoid it.

“It’s hardly beautiful to invoke the memories of other’s loves before our own…”

With the threat of winds laid to rest, the end comes swiftly.

A peacock rushes forward on tapping feet, swishing his saber as a blue sneak’s own advance through the aftermath of blinding light is preempted.

No matter how cunning Still is, she’s a step behind true talent as the superior duelist gushes his thoughts.

“… so I am glad that we can make ours together, my unliving beauty!”

Flying blades scatter in all directions when tapped at in defense, before the master swordsman’s glow reaches Still.

Blue petals spring from Kaskin’s wake as energies burst out, leaving his cultivated beauty sparkling under the lights that start to shine only on him.

(That feels like…!)

A brutal memory of a more brutal self.

One that turned his darkest ambitions on two whorish girls within a hellish kitchen.

What they’d named it becomes a memory recalled that seizes his heart, unleashing the worst expectations for what is to come.

([Erotic]…!)

“Reveal yourself!”

Kaskin screams as his sword rips forth, his face almost ecstatic as his eyes roll.

Still’s awkward lunge, with both legs now weakened by venom, sees her short sword dipped under by Kaskin’s own blade.

When he flicks up with strength, her grip collapses as the flame-bladed sword springs skyward.

“[Cutting to the Quim]!”

Kaskin tramples over Still without mercy, a resplendent pink glow unleashing a new aptness for psychological harm.

Through her jacket’s ties in a moment it parts, bursting the tight protection as the strain of bouncing breasts push out. Her sleeves are slit free as she reaches in to contain her pleasing orbs, leaving arms bare as well in the aftermath.

Scattering her paneled dress like sour petals, plucking them to float away on the remnant winds of Ave’s call.

Slicing the ties of her leg chasseuses, exposing her luscious thighs to inspection as the girl collapses to the ground with her stamina depleting.

Exposed is the word to describe her as she silently gasps at her state, left nearly nude save for the black mesh which ever defends her skin from unforgiving light and unwelcome voyeurs.

“… please show mercy to me, madame, instead of the pain you inflict on my rampaging heart. You are… too womanly to take in all at once…”

{!?!?!?}

Kaskin sighs appreciatively as he closes, prompting Still to writhe on the ground while uselessly trying to cover herself with her arms. Unable to make effective signs, only the body language of absolute insecurity and astonishment betrays how unsettled she is at the change in tone.

(… No…)

“GAH!? STOP! DIE, BIRD!”

A hail of exploding arrows focus down an immovable mountain.

No matter how strong the mountain is, though, the waters will cut through it with the passing of ages.

Mace strikes combine with pieces of her armor petrifying to limit her mobility, causing Kol to finally succumb to the bombardment as she collapses to her knees.

“Excellent. Hold there.”

A contemplative voice applauds her position, before screaming out like its twin’s did.

“[Goddess Hunt]!”

Whizzing arrows that take flight split wide, spinning pink ropes delicately between them.

“NAAAH!?”

These lassos wrap around Kol’s torso, binding her arms tightly to her chest.

Her legs feel the same constriction as the magic bondage ties her knees and ankles in place, leaving her in an awkward and defenseless pose.

“… Shitty… bird!”

Creaking threads barely contain muscles that surge with inhuman power.

On light footsteps her captor nears Kol, reaching down gingerly toward a wolf’s head helmet as the girl twitches in apoplectic rage.

“KOL, WILL BREAK YOU…”

“Though tempting to enjoy how you might try, I should rather see your face.”

Fast fingers undo the clasps holding onto her helmet.

Quickly pulled off, the sight of what’s hidden, no matter how loudly she growls, brings a whistle of wonder.

“Such perfection is hardly appropriate for a monster wearing accursed steel…”

His hand lifts her chin as she reveals sharp teeth ready to chomp, but even Kol’s mood is battered at when the man sheds a single tear.

“… so it hurts all the more to admit that I could never have expected to fall so easily for it.”

Rubbing her blushing cheek gently, Nerik finishes off his sexually charged admission by feeling for her twitching ear.

“Can you forgive me for falling for you, Miss Warrior?”

“Guh!? Nah… what!?”

At possibly the first advance from a male made toward her, Kol grows quiet.

“… Fall… for… Kol?”

(… No.)

“DO THEM UP!”

“FILL THEM FULL!”

The false life filling the stands rise from their seats to keep stomping, their cheers going with sending their arms pumping toward the ceiling.

Energy fills the arena, adding to the growing tension between enemies as they discover each other in a new way.

“ “ “ “ “ “SHOW US HOW BITCHES BREAK!” ” ” ” ” ”

The name given to these Talents, [Erotic Assault], is more than just a designation.

It is a description of how it addles the mind.

Breaks down the barriers between what is normal and what is desired deep within.

More than just something he has used, and had used on him, it is a forbidden technique that the Slayers relish.

“Be forewarned, Brother.”

A chat with Castile, one in which Adris explained his relationships while seeking help with them, had one dark spot. Fetid emotions dulled their jovial times, harassing both of them when facing a unique topic for Zennia.

“The Castillo cares little for our surface desires. It’s a little more encompassing in what it’s digging for!”

The man’s strong hand had gripped Adris’ shoulder, transferring strength that implored him to also accept a forthcoming truth.

A smiling man with red hair had always seemed strong, but in that moment seemed quite fragile as his smile grew embarrassingly weak.

“The truth of our wants and needs is never simple! Human or monster, we must never take for granted the attractive uncertainties of experiences we’ve never had yet. Should you travel with these girls, be prepared to potentially witness their dedications waver, be trampled upon, or… be completely forgotten in the passion of the moment.”

Something that was difficult for him to speak left a deep impression on Adris, resonating with thoughts the boy had dwelled before on without putting them to spoken words.

“… An eternity of meaningful love, one never broken for a moment, is… something worth seeking, but it’s also… a lot to expect? I wonder, can it even be obtained without exceptional circumstances, brother…?”

If even Castille could only show doubts toward a thing he himself coveted, then Adris was left equally as uncertain.

(I… refuse to accept the limitations of the Castillo…!)

“Oh beautiful blue flower, one who makes my own splendor rise to meet your dark shine…”

Kaskin’s hand takes up Still’s, with the nearly defeated becoming the one sought with hopes of mercy.

The paradox of victim and aggressor inverts as the handsome man with a white-painted face bares a trembling voice to the witch who hides behind a white mask.

Her body, so close to another man’s and exposed to more than Adris’ eyes, causes Adris’ spirit to flare up with conflicting feelings.

(… I… want to be the one doing that to her! But… I wouldn’t! Nor would I allow this!)

“Won’t you make a paradise of this moment with me, even should we be forced to be enemies ever after?”

Pinkish energy wicks off of Kaskin, the fop cassanova infecting Still’s body with his tantalizing scent and invisible allure.

Lifting her off the ground slowly by her hand, he awaits her reply with a lovestruck expression that refuses to suggest he might expect “no”.

A nauseating ringing sounds out, unheard by all but Adris as he squints his eyes in pain.

The darkness of obsidian flares up, bathing the room in its quick light before vanishing.

{… Kill yourself.}

“Of course, I would understand your—”

The man’s closed eye reopens, with his smile drooping slowly as he stops in mid sentence.

“Huh?”

Still’s fluid hand, giving special attention to each idea, spells out her desires.

{Grab your sword. Remove your pants. Cut off your own cock…}

Pointing to her mask, which now has a slasher smile on it, she finishes her order.

{And choke to death on it, if it’s not too small for that.}

“… What?”

A similar conversation ends further away, with a gorgeous voice laughing before starting in on its own brutal assault.

“Kol, wants to see you try. Scrawny bird thinks Kol should want to mate? Strong, isn’t ‘strong’ in mating or appealing when bird has no muscles or firm guts!”

“Not… appealing!?”

Being rejected by a kobold seems to shatter Nerik’s heart, for he places his clawed hand to his chest and presses down.

“Why would Kol, find appealing!? But, ‘taste it’? Fine, Kol will taste.”

The kobold opens her mouth showily while yawning, revealing sharp teeth that drip with saliva.

Before chomping shut with a snap.

“Last time, bird will ever have it tasted.

Sadly, probably a tiny meal?

KAKAKAKAKAKAKA!”

“Nnnnn!? What…!?”

Both men cringe back in unison, for the bound knight cackling her head off and the silent sneak continuing with lethal suggestions cut deeper into their prides than either saber or arrow did in return.

(… The cross… wins.)

These two girls are afflicted by the seductive magics which invite them to succumb to their hidden vices, yet reject the invitation.

Erotic techniques, that Adris knows from talking to the slayers, rarely fail once the target is whittled down sufficiently.

At Castile’s suggestion, Adris had felt an undefinable feeling.

One of detachment, but also supreme discomfort.

As if it were someone else’s problem, Adris thought only of how to maximize such knowledge.

But, at the idea of that knowledge one day being witnessed…

(… We already decided how this dream ended. So long as they don’t desire it, they’ll never be forced to desire it.)

Another boy died, stabbed through the heart by a spear. This haunting fate only recently revived itself in his memories, in dreams that end when he awakes to grab on to Kol or Ave for salvation.

Everything that would allow such a fate as this to transpire was sacrificed.

So, when he views the scene unfolding before him…

“… You… no longer have a choice, sadly.”

He would be red-faced without the white paint to hide it, for Kaskin’s voice cracks a bit as he begins to untie the sash of his robe.

“Though this is far from as reasonable as is wanted, and also far from my… intentions, my orders are unwavering: ‘to break and instruct in the most effective way’!”

Kneeling down over the brutalized Still, his clawed hand brings out a thick member that twitches with moisture at the tip. Drawing it to the pleasant space between her thighs, Kaskin ignores consent on the way to victory.

“Understand the lesson I’ll teach to you, so that you won’t end up in such a sad state again.”

(You don’t understand. You can’t have what’s mine.)

Adris’ hand spasms on the cross, watching unblinkingly as the future he rejects with all his heart threatens to unfold.

A past of losing everything, save for one woman.

That life he lived valued only one commodity.

(I don’t entirely grasp what drives this, but I feel it just as strongly now!)

“The loser will service the winner. Even in this villa, the Castillo’s law applies, kobold girl.”

While still shaking at her cutting rejection, Nerik squats low enough to bring his own personal sword nearer to Kol’s lips pink lips.

Held tightly by her white hair as she tries to refuse, the girl’s mouth is still shut.

“When you understand this, you will grow. You will abandon obvious childishness and embrace a meaningful path to future victories.”

As though he cares about her, the man who seeks to force a wet mouth over his length quietly discusses the future.

(Only I will lead them.)

“How dare they think they can refuse the master…!”

Above him, a melodic voice full of sneering depression makes its own observations.

“… Master Nerik’s manhood is too fine for her; buuuu~t, it’s not as if I can refuse giving him what he wants~! Haaah, my needs are secondary to his…”

Another woman, one whose face is revealed and is nursing a reddened cheek as she spits out purple Vigor, flaps while eying Adris with undisguised annoyance. Her thoughts are just as rude.

“Stupid boy. I don’t know what they mean to you, but you’re about to share those women that you no doubt like~!”

The “counterpart” to this one, as Adris is sure of now, adds in a giggle.

“Huu, give it up, you masked weirdo. They’re going to be dripping by the end, one way or another…”

Chatty women are the worst monsters when they have the highest ground, proving once more that Adris’ decision back then to embrace four girls was foolish, but also…

(I made a choice. No matter what happens to me…)

“… Huh?”

Trying to push his hips in between Still’s limp legs, the supine saberman’s effete voice cracks again.

“What? Why…? This has never…!”

“KAKAKA! Stupid bird, can’t even keep it up!?”

A similar affliction strikes the bowman Nerik, who impotently taps his shrinking cock.

“Kol, really that scary? Wimp.”

“YOU!”

“KAKAKAKAKA!”

Gripping the kobold’s cackling face, Nerik squeezes as she loses her mind in a titter.

“So, it’s true. Girlish men like you can’t even make use of your god-gifted supremacy anymore?”

A voice like that of the god who speaks of gifts, darkly humored while also incensed, calls down from above.

Hoisted up by a harpy “messenger”, a boy clutching a black cross “tsks” at the current winners of this fight.

(No, I don’t lose until I say I’ve lost!)

“Shouldn’t the first Attribute you master be ‘the power to maintain an erection’? Or, did you two skip that on your way to mastering ‘useless posturing’ and ‘raping defenseless women’?”

A condescending question causes twins to gape up at him, lost now in his tempo as their eyes burn in humiliation.

(Hit people where it’s most effective! Assault the basis of their personalities!)

By their own admissions, neither men desired this action. Foisted on them by orders, they are horribly weak to its reproach.

“Were you truly as in touch with your feminine sides as you thought, would you really believe that you could appeal to women who have already known the perfect man…?”

“Per—!?”

Nerik gasps, while Kaskin stabs his saber toward Adris and finishes the question.

“—fect!? Who is!?”

(Who else would it be? There’s only one man that fits, after all!)

Tapping his chest as he spins on Cethran’s sash, Adris’ winning smile is all the answer they receive.

Still retrieves her steepled hat with a weak hand, refusing to look at him as she quivers in place.

(You enjoy every moment with me, don’t hide!)

“Hmm? Well, Kol agrees!

After all: Boss, with tight muscles and manly smell, is the perfect male for mating with~!”

(“For mating with”, but not for… being with.)

Kol throws in her thoughts before returning to her struggle.

“Now: let Kol go!”

“… This… boy… is considered more perfect, is it?”

Nerik sounds lost as he stares up, squinting in confusion as he pulls his turban off. Revealing flowing blue locks, the bowman grows haunted in composure as ropes start to creak to the breaking point.

He’s joined by Kaskin, who rolls off of Still to lounge beside her, stuck in his own dark reverie.

“How vexing… truly, do I lose to him in appeal, cunning girl?”

The once defeated victim stirs back to life with this indelicate question.

Rising slowly, her mask is not visible to Adris, but Kaskin’s frightful grimace fully gives away the imposing sight.

{End your life if you must ask, wretched man.}

“Ahh…!? Who are you? Hmm…?”

(Something crueler…)

The anger buried within Still becomes vitriol like sewage, flowing out in waves that then subside with her condition worsening.

“Menacing midget.”

“ACK!?”

Adris’ shoulders are pinched by strong feet, before he’s whipped around by a harpy’s soaring flight.

Swung around over the arena, the two women he was observing with grow feral as one restrains him, letting the other begin her torments.

“… This… boy is better than Master Nerik?”

“HEY—!? UGHH!”

A familiar sash is tied tightly around a young boy’s mouth.

Comfortable pants made by a friend are yanked off after without care by fast feet.

“I don’t believe that.”

As though it was never affixed to her, the harpy’s sash dress shuffles itself off.

Only briefly does Adris catch sight of the slick hole between her legs, before his lap is wrapped around by her devourable thighs.

“MMM!?”

“It’s not even going to get that big, now is it?”

Flapping her arms to keep aloft, the harpy with cream-colored skin grows ever more doubtful of Adris’ prowess as she squeezes. Matronly boobs of lovely firmness invite him to suck on them. A dreamy figure without any marring tan lines seeks to force pleasure on a boy who rarely has the chance to enjoy a fully fledged woman.

The cleft that his dick is crushed against is both warm and wet, with the bitch in heat grunting at the sudden contact.

“But you spark when you bump! I like the touch, even if you’re homely!”

At first reticent to claim him, their proximity heats up with shared body heats.

From her, the smells of arousal, that wonderful natural musk that women coat themselves with when heated emotion supplants reason, start their own attack on Adris’ mentality.

(The villa is like the Castillo! No matter how I feel emotionally, my body will…!)

Watching Still lose her clothing, bit by bit, unsettled his mind.

With her being pushed down into a position that Adris has wanted her in many times before, but could never win over his caution to pursue, that invitation to savage her is his darkest inclination. To let his weight keep her down, to feel her succumb to his own desires instead of him succumbing to hers.

Witnessing Kol brought low was even more evilly gratifying, almost begging in his heart to be the one grasping her head, instead. So that he can show her how to pleasure a man with her tongue, but directing the experience instead of being a captive passenger of the trip to satisfaction that she will always derail. A teacher instead of a victim, taking the place of another vile piece of shit in flipping the dynamic from his youth.

All of these sights, no matter how cruel, reflect his own growingly uncontrollable longings. That which he’s always silently at war with, against the reality he must avoid if he wishes to retain his humanity, forces rejection of the dark desires like the Castillo pulls at.

Zennia hungers for that to crumble, so that the Castillo can witness the birth of the creature nursing in the deepest reaches of his soul.

(Is this a monster we all have inside…!?)

Perhaps only the Alchemaster knows, for the minions and visitors her home corrupts always seem to surrender to the unknown answer in pursuit of her.

“Hmm!? You obnoxious and braggart boy…! Falling for the enemy so quickly~?”

Cooing at the mute Adris, the woman who is still veiled grinds along his cock as it begins to engorge.

(I don’t have a choice! It feels good, and…!)

“NAH!? Boss! Why, mate with stupid birds instead of Kol!?”

(Save me then, you idiot!)

Being witnessed from below by all is a forbidden treat that tickles at his longing to be successful before others. Even if this success is in having a woman thrust him into her, it is a conquest in his terms.

A confident and trained mind, one cursed by the cross to always need women until his dying days, completely bends to the chance to wet his dick appearing.

(Still was nice, but…!

There’s always others trying for me, too…! How can I decline!?)

“Altessa!? You’re really going to…!?”

Releasing her grip on his waist while the assistant harpy mutters confusingly about the situation, the Page Harpy Altessa shakes her head to send her veil fluttering away.

“Why not, Shiare!? If this mystery kid curses Master Nerik, then let’s show how little he can stomach in turn!”

With the obstructing softness taking flight, a familiar face that sneers with dark jest lies beneath.

A perfect match for the woman whose face he kicked through on the way up.

“… Was I always like this?”

(More twins!? No, it’s not possible!)

The similarity in aura texture now has an answer, as the cries from the audience grow wild again to invigorate the flowing interchange between Adris and this Altessa.

“MILK HIM DRY!”

“MAKE HIM CRY!”

“EXECUTION, NOW!!!”

Thunderous chanting shakes Adris’ heart, for the woman receiving the applauding demands pulls close to him.

“… I see why Master Nerik enjoys the, haah, pursuit… you cut him down with words, so let’s make you die by pleasure!”

“Mmmm!”

The buxom woman hisses at him before rubbing her sopping crevice over his throbbing dick. Soft folds kiss along the head as she adjusts her posture, seeking to land him in the opening.

(Being carried while molested!? How does this look to others…!?)

Only concerns of image can overcome the hunger which drives him to aid her.

His grinding head finally trails her soft inner flesh to the steaming hole that speaks of desires more carnal than the woman’s hatred.

The velvety feeling of entry blows away his original thoughts and plans.

“Hnnng!? … Haha, you pushed in~!”

No matter how slowly he might wish to enter, her constant flapping jars their bodies merging. He’s thrust deep into her as she clings to him, leaving him blinded by his head between her bosom as she begins to coax his waist into a piston.

“Ahhn, pushing in, mmm, on your own…! Isn’t that… saying, that, you, waaa~nted this!?”

Thick thighs force him in before she squeezes while pulling off, rattling his spirit with abusive invitations as her slick bird pussy proves how exact it is to a human’s standards. Though she has no feathers other than wings, scaled skin on her legs are unusually soft in comparison to their texture.

(Hot and tight! Great… great muscle control…)

Wasting no time one foreplay, she rushes to draw out more squishy friction along his length. The sash binding his mouth and tongue soaks up with saliva.

Were Adris given the chance, he’d rather lick on the slightly salty scent of her bare tits. With his face pushed between them, the warmth flowing into him is confusing his brain.

“Haha! For how that… white dog talked, mmm, I thought I’d melt on it! But it’s just… nah, an okay size~!”

“… Then why are you drooling, Altessa?”

“Slurp, haah!? I’m… not…!

Oh, you’re…!?”

Using the talons hooked around his arms, the only restraint that prevents him from smashing this woman with the cross, for leverage, Adris flexes his core muscles to begin thrusting into her.

The messy tempo she maintained due to flying begins to correct itself as she breathes in time with his aid.

“Gaha! Shiare… he’s… thrusting himself… for real…!”

“… How nice for you.”

Stuck in a blind spot, with only scent and sound to describe the world around him, Adris is also deprived of his gift of tongue.

Though he continues to feel his intellect melting out with the need to be devoured by the hot cunt wrapped around him, what’s left continues with the alternate plan he’d developed before committing to his attack.

(The closer… these two pay attention to me…! The less they’ll notice when… those girls cause havoc…!)

Even if captured, Adris intended to be a distraction. His belief in the ability of his teammates to change a situation through their innate audacity is unshakable.

“… To be denied is… beyond what I’ve felt before. What a fascinating, addictive feeling…?”

A pensive voice, more masculine now in its brooding, locates the man that lost to Still’s rejection.

“… Oh, do you perhaps intend to continue, blue beauty?”

(Still is active! … Mmm!)

“Deeper, aah, you loudmouth boy! Master Nerik scratches so much… mmm, deeper than you do! Let me feel you actually try, hahaha!”

(Give me my hands and tongue, and I’ll juice your cunt up while frying your bird brain!)

Slapping skin is hard to not pay attention to when it’s enveloping his body so comfortably.

While his dick’s pleasure is zesty to the point of surrendering, what he really desires to feel is the embrace of her wings.

(… So soft and warm… No, nevermind! Guuh, she’s…!)

“Harder! Faster! More!”

“… A-A-Altessa…?”

A rocking, mid-air rape by a female picks up intensity that wasn’t present earlier.

The longer they touch, the more Adris feels like his internal reservoirs of existence are beginning to deplete.

(This is… like when Still attacks me…!)

More than warmth is shared by the gyrating bird.

As she grinds with his dick scooping against her inner walls, moaning without propriety in service of a newfound need for him, Adris feels a forced closeness developing.

(… She’s… tightening…!)

“PUNISH HIM!”

“HE’S CLOSE TO DONE!”

(How do you dolls know!?)

A spectacle of mid-air conquest continues to draw the crowd’s energy, hopefully taking away all notice of Still.

Squishing, womanly folds are ignored once more as Adris catches onto the next snippet of the battle below.

“GAH! Stupid maces!? Bow bird gave up, why not you!?”

“FUCK OFF, DOG! YOU MADE NERIK CRY! GET SMASHED!”

(Even with the leaders having their confidences shattered, you keep going!? Are you that offensive, Kol!?)

The body hugging him becomes too tight, like he’s merging with it.

“NNN!? Master Nerik, why is it this pleasant…? AHN! Shiaaare… he’s no good, but it… feels goo~d!”

“Why!? He’s just thrusting!”

(Good question!? Why does it feel so satisfying!?)

Though this bird has no discernible advantage of either muscular control or sexual invigoration, least of all one that can match with Still or Kol, the essence flowing out of Adris pays its own form of satisfaction in turn.

(… AGH! SHE’S DRAINING ME FOR REAL!)

“… What, Puddle!? ‘Say… to Elf’? ‘Papa says’?” Kol’s voice pipes up, a sense of confusion to her interpretation of a silent request from Still. “Umu, fine! Will do, better work!”

(They… they have a plan!)

That plan will no doubt occur soon, leaving Adris with a harsh need to abandon pleasure and seek escape.

A difficultly he mentally struggles with.

“MMM!”

“I’ll accept it! Give it all to meeee! Mmm, delicious boy, I was a teensy bit wrong!”

His pelvis begins to hurt with the intensity of their copulation, with one missed push having the potential to break him eternally.

“… Altessa! You’re… drooping!”

(WHY IS SHE DROOPING!?)

Slapping sounds full of slick temptation for his senses to feast on don’t explain the feeling of moisture against his face. Containing the same body heat as normal, this gooeyness in spots sends the harpy carrying him wild with concern.

“Let him go, Altessa, you’re meltin~ggg!”

“… Let go…? Can’t! Won’t!”

Just before the pleasure becomes too much for Adris, stuck as he has been in the aura of the Castillo as reflected by this mansion, he’s ripped from the warmth of his erotic confinement.

A wet dick desires to re-enter her womanliness briefly as it twitches, but his spasming deep muscles stop when he takes in the view of his partner with wide eyes.

(What the fuck is happening!?)

“… Little… boy… haaahh!”

Still clutching her scepter and book, this sex-mad harpy with her tongue poking out is flushed with arousal that far outmatches her original interest. But, it’s not the normal things, like her luscious boobs with slightly big, pink teats or touch-worthy, soft skin that draws his eyes.

Instead, it’s the flesh which pools and writhes down her body, slipping off of her talons in sparing drops.

The tongue she slithers out threatens to fall off, becoming a pinkish pudding that she gulps back up.

(She’s melting!?)

Beneath the slowly squirming skin are naked runs of sleek gray. Her inner musculature and bones are not human, but rather the works of a mad creator aping the talents of the gods.

(She’s… she’s a doll!?)

His brief coitus partner flaps ungainly, for her feathers threaten to leave her wings.

The darkness of her eyes is full of horror as it swirls, a madness afflicting her as she grinds her teeth. Starting to sharpen, these new canines showcase her mutating affliction.

“… Shiaaaareeee… you’re… trying to take everything from meeeeeeeeeee!?”

“HIEEEE!?”

“Is it not enough that I have to be ‘another you’!? But now, you’d denyyy me finding something for mmmyself!?”

Bizarre rage warps the false woman’s face further into a gooey mess. When she lifts her magical scepter and begins to chant in broken words, there’s no care for sisterliness with how the spell appears pointed at both his captor and himself.

“[Dddrowning Slaaake]!”

“GAH!”

Shiare flaps to dodge the oncoming swirl of condensing water, but cannot manage any defense while weighed down and without aid of her weapon deposited into a leather thong hanging loosely from her side.

One foot lets go to reach for it, mercifully allowing Adris’ left arm free.

(NOW!)

Instead of falling, Adris climbs her waist like a monkey.

The cross he wields whips out as he holds on.

(Take this back!)

Shining blackness assaults the airborne currents, knocking them away with a roar of whispers to disperse uselessly into the air.

“MMM! (FLEE!)”

Adris points downward, toward Still and away from the half-skeletal harpy breathing harshly before them.

Altessa’s eyes, now almost voids of anger, carry a glimmer of chaotic intellect that seems counter to her previous personality. More like a hunter’s glare than a sneering fangirl’s gaze, both witnesses shiver when Altessa’s body begins to reform of its own volition.

Flesh takes on wild colors of gray, with her wings beginning to reflect the lights from above. Legs grow longer, turning even more raptorish as her talons sharpen.

“Shiiiiaarrrreeeee!”

(She’s… changing forms.)

“O… O-OKAY! DOWN IS FINEEEE!”

Adris’ carrier dives quickly, dropping him at the last moment before soaring back up.

“SHIAAAAREEEE! I DON’T EVEN HAVE HIM ANYMORE!?”

“… AAALWAYYYSHHHSSSS…! BETTTERRRR!”

The wild creature of flowing gray ignores the change in situation, taking off in pursuit of her “twin” while lobbing waves of boiling water.

“MMM! … GAH!”

Quickly untying the sash, Adris hurries to retrieve his pants that were carelessly tossed into the arena.

{… What the fuck are we going to do!?}

“UGH!? Let me… finish putting these on, first!”

Another almost naked person joins him, wrapping up against his body to hide her mesh-constrained tits and slapping his butt while he hurries.

(Are we… free to talk?)

Taking in the situation, Adris happily notes that all four remaining harpies throw themselves uselessly at the task of murdering Kol, ignoring all targets but the boisterous bruiser.

Of Kaskin and Nerik…

“To find that their deepest desires had no room for us, I can only think they are both fond of children, instead? It feels fine, then…?”

(I am not a child! … Are they wrong, though!?)

“… Indeed. Of all the requests made of us, we’ve never been fond of Kestner’s adherence to the Pillars’ ‘subordination’ of others by force, so perhaps it’s for the best that we step aside and let the girls play?”

Back-to-back, both peacockatrice weapon masters merely watch while seated cross-legged on the floor. The battle which renews itself is something they passively spectate.

At peace with the outcome, they spare a knowing nod toward Adris when their eyes briefly meet. A gentleman’s agreement passes between them, despite his earlier insults.

(Good. They’re… out for the rest!)

“… These ‘companions’ are dolls made of pseudoprósōpon! They react very poorly to contact with me or the cross!”

{And so!?}

(And so, it means that exposure to more of it will be horrifying… for them.)

Through the hidden barrier of turquoise separating them from escape lies a door across from the one they entered from.

The engravings upon it are “from whence we came, to whence we go, but never further”, hinting that the door will be a worse dead end than their current location.

“We… we can change this if I can get to the door…!”

A door that seems ever distant.

“Oh!? You want to go over there, Papa!?”

“Umu, Kol… Ah, Papa… see, big wind spirit, over there.”

An excited question earns a shrugging Kol’s interest as more booms of impact sound.

Locked in blocking flung maces with her body, the would-be knight whose armor bears marks of brutal punishment protects a still-confused elf. When told about a spirit, the elf turns more bubbly.

“A BIG WIND SPIRIT!? OVER THERE!?”

Shielding her eyes from bright lights, Ave looks to the far door, located under the stands of automatons screaming for blood or rape.

“OOOH! AVE, AVE CAN SEE IT, PAPA!”

“… Umu, good, then…”

“We’ll go right now! I’ve… always waited to meet one!”

Tears fall as Ave raises her dancing hands, whipping them around while chanting.

(Ah… AH!)

Adris leaps up from the ground, pulling Still into his arms and fleeing for the escape rope which threatens to draw up without them.

“Don’t leave us!”

{!!!}

“[PRANCE AND PLAY, NOBLE GREEN LORDS OF PURSUIT; HARK, O’ CARRIAGE OF GALES, ARRIVE AT THE CALL OF A FLUTE!]

Hooray~!”

An elf claps her hands as her ponytail begins to ominously lift, for the room’s air pressure changes for the worse.

“Ave will finally get to meet a great wind—DDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDD!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!”

A tornado mighty enough to devour the room springs up around the jubilant elf without mercy, snatching up the three other prospective travelers beside her. Its funnel aims for the roof, roaring hungrily as it begins to bend over.

The door that is their potential escape obscures with the winds ravaging it, before this “carriage” called forth unwillingly withdraws upon vomiting out its occupants.

Freed of the travelers it bore, the tornado continues to twirl with invisible shackles of earth surrounding it, meandering briefly before…

“HEEELP!”

“MAAASTER KAAAASKINNNN!”

Going completely insane, it roars through nearby statues on its way to the audience stands when the earthen shackles snap. The flying harpies devoured up by its hungry winds cry out in terror, bringing only looks of sadness from the peacockatrices left behind.

A scene of total devastation plays out as the unliving spectators hungrily become a part of the zephyrous revenge unfolding.

{DO SOMETHING!}

“I am! Take this and drag it across the glyphs above the door! It will obliterate the entire filigreed section!”

While the winds whip through, Still holds her hat to her head and begins to climb up the wall. Possibly her only remaining clothing besides her mask, Adris refrains from staring up between her legs as she drags the black cross along the destination glyphs.

(I… never came…)

An overwhelming wave of need invites him to either climb up after Still or to throw himself on top of the unconscious elf, who is left collapsed on the ground and showing the whites of her eyes.

“Hmm!? Boss, those eyes look ‘hard’… you smell kind of… ‘strong’…!?”

The most unfortunate option licks her lips while gripping closer to him.

Forced to rely on Kol to be held down, lest he rejoin the tornado ripping through the room, Adris is moments from possibly exploding within a pussy too needy to survive.

(Concentrate!)

He resists it, nodding instead when the glyphs touched by the cross melt away.

While Still removes the destination, Adris enscribes on the door’s center with a thick piece of marker material.

The language he writes in is readable by all, but its characters are special.

(“Oh, parting curtain to beyond…”)

With each character of Xin’s language of crafting scribbled onto the door, the feeling of certainty of what is beyond dims.

The rampaging winds calm within the door’s vicinity.

(“… place of dancing puppets and shadow minstrel shows…”)

The whispers of the hidden watchers, those entities which have always followed Adris since his arrival on Zennia, grow disconcerted.

Screaming now as they hush, they dismiss themselves at the sound of the door beginning to shake against the mechanism keeping it shut.

Light seeps out of the room, drawn to the cracks in the walls around the door.

“BOSS!? Kol… KOL FEELS WEIRD! TINGLY!” His anchor tightens her squeezing, a tinge of anger coming to her words. “What is this thing!? Kol, doesn’t like it!”

(This is the way we end this entire farce of a night for good! “… home of jaguar servant of whom I recall our undestined meeting!”)

The last characters are drawn in a circle around the center of the formation.

Only one character is missing from his almost-intricate pattern.

{Do you… really know what you’re doing?}

Still thrusts the cross back into his arms with a skittish push, unwilling to hold it even a second longer.

“Remember who I am, Still. If it’s something of darkness’ design… I have no fear of it, for nothing is darker than I am.”

(I am absolutely terrified!)

A creature that changed his entire existence likely lurks behind this door now.

Especially when the last character is applied to the transferring entryway.

A familiar meaning is ascribed to it, but after talking with the origin of the family character, Adris is now sure that the true meaning has depths unreachable by even himself.

(“Emperor of Black Skies”. With your name placed here, something will happen.)

This heresy would never be permitted on Xin, yet Adris has replicated the family name of the Emperor.

When completed, this character begins to shine with a darkness that consumes his senses.

The walls begin to boil almost immediately.

Gray matter pops and sloughs, rushing away from the door like an expansive superheating of the room.

From all sections of the room, the flows of strange matter seek to join the door, as well. Snaking ever closer, Adris lifts his foot away when the material made of magical mischief globs on the door’s facing.

Pseudoprósōpon drinks deeply of the darkness gathering behind the clanking doors, eager to drink even deeper as it changes colors like a rainbow eel.

Over the winds Adris screams out, seeking to address the man who plays the flute that earlier called for his defeat.

“If you found me intolerable before, then you’ll soon have much worse. Behind here lies mysteries not even you have conceived of.”

The gate of mysteries Adris has created buckles and groans, leaving Kol grunting as she releases Adris to forcibly restrain it from opening with shaking arms.

“BOSS! DON’T… LET THROUGH! TOO STRONG FOR KOL TO SMASH!”

(I won’t, as long as he surrenders!)

“I’ll accept a [tie], so…

RETURN MY FRIEND TO ME, YOU MADMAN!

Give me back… MY NEESIETTE!”

Just as unsettled as Still, a man who has rarely lost things that mattered to him discovers emotions flowing out in his scream.

Unmanly when screaming with the voice of a boy, what he seeks is something he’s willing to sacrifice everything to recover.

(Give me back my teammate! Neesiette is the only one that bothers trying to understand me!)

Though they rarely chat about meaningless things,

and she spends most of her time eying him with the disappointed expression of a tutor whose pupil is incapable in comparison to herself…

The rare hints of a smile after her disappointments, before she turns to walk away rather than to betray her thoughts, leaves him…

… wanting.

A solid wall begins to melt.

Rays of red and violet shine through the holes that gape open in it.

Beyond the wall that they all stare at, a mammoth tree reveals its glory.

“Agreed. Then, step out to meet that friend. Discover if she greets you the same way as you hope she will.”

A gentle voice, tortured by age and experience, but also given the firmness of those gifts, beckons from the garden beyond.

(… That’s… that’s it…! We have an accord!)

The whispers of battle roar out in condemnation, before they’re driven away by the truce agreed upon.

His blood ceases to pump with the same fervor, alerting him to newfound freedom.

With alacrity, Adris smashes the Emperor’s glyph with the cross, evaporating the glowing name with a poof of smoke.

The buckling door groans in dissatisfaction, though it succumbs to the rejection immediately.

Still’s arms smear the hastily scribbled characters that seek to reach the end of existence, staining her mesh as she creakily moves.

{… Don’t… do this… ever again…}

Willingly collapsing back into his arms, the girl with a neutral expression on her mask accepts for him to carry her.

(… Heavy…)

Before the abused harpies can protest, the survivors of yet another fruitless, indecisive battle run for the new exit.

Only for a voice to halt them, full of musing humor.

“Be careful, young ones.”

Adris turns his head, finding that a man with a saber is standing against one of the giant statues.

With the winds now dying down, he alone sees them off.

“Though we are surely disinterested and fulfilling mere duty, the master you have discovered cannot understand the concept of ‘disinterest’. Be certain of who you are before speaking with him.”

With his advice given, Kaskin runs his claw through his hair before bowing lightly, then walking away.

(… Who are you, Kestner? Oh well, it doesn’t matter…)

Though savaged and personally aggrieved, Adris smiles lethargically at the result of the chaotic assault.

(I’ll shortly find out. We didn’t win, but you certainly were the one who lost!)

Outside and under the twin moons above, Adris’ understanding of power and the tiers of grandeur of the Castillo is again unseated by seeing the wonders at the heart of this baby villa.

The gently moving tree filling the garden, one which is a glowing and transparent orange, defies imagination with how its trunk and branches change at strata to become machinery of the likes Adris has never conceived of.

Squat and wide, the breadth of it overhangs the entire open area at the center of the villa. More vibrant than the flowers outside, the garden’s false flora made of glimmering stones and metals lulls all present into an equally false sense of ease.

“Nnn!?”

Kol reaches up to grab one of the orange leaves which falls toward her from the bows of the tree, blinking in confusion when she opens her hand to reveal it has turned to gray dust.

(The tree is… alive, though.)

While made of the same stuff as the villa, it nonetheless has a detectable spirit of existence as it sheds a rain of leaves that fills the atmosphere.

It even has a sense of humor, if the way it directs four giant limbs at them is any indication.

Gray tips regard Adris as their sole target.

Giant bolts are locked between the living branches which weave overhead, plucked from the garden which grew them.

(Ah, I see. They were originally the garden’s pillars…?)

Numerous holes are left where the originals were expended from, failing to utilize dozens more left still upright.

The only crossbowman to be found is the giant tree which cradles them, with branches placing enormous tension on the ends and sides of the shafts.

In this hidden place beneath its might, the tree jokingly twitches a bolt with a loud creaking, shepherding Adris’ attention away from it to two figures seated at its wide, gnarled base.

At a fine table with cups placed upon it, a tall man and a short lady stare fixedly at the new arrivals.

The man’s appearance is uncertain at this distance, for smoke seems to cling to his shape as it roils about the silver throne he sits upon.

But, his guest is just as Adris remembers her.

“… Confident beyond acceptable limits a boy must feel, to disregard the instructions of a tool which departed with an understanding that what be requested be within acceptable terms.”

A bell-like voice and a level flippancy unique to her marks her greeting.

Lifting her hand to her perfect face, she moves an errant lock of amber hair back underneath the golden horns she wears.

“Haste, confusion, or longing… describing the necessity for one’s pursuit of this tool which word does, such that delicacy of diplomatic negotiations be potentially lost by your actions?”

The fairy that berates him without raising her voice is shining. A moon-wrought dress glimmers under the violet of the full Traveler above which birthed it.

(“Longing.” That is definitely the right word.)

Still relaxes as they approach, falling into Adris’ grip with a “sigh” at her friend being safe.

“MOON! Kol, beat up a lot of people! Can show how! Will beat up that guy.”

The worst diplomat born hurries forward, eagerly dragging her poleaxe and pet elf as she grins toothily at the villa’s master.

(She’s safe. I haven’t… lost anyone.)

A private fear makes itself known after averting it.

His heart finally untenses, beating normally once more.

The girl he’s always assumed he would have time to grow close to almost vanished, instead.

“… I missed you, Neesiette, so I had to find you.

That, and that alone, is my reason for all of this.”

Characters:

Glossary:

Chapter 97         Table of Contents          Chapter 99