Take Up the Cross – Chapter 122: Hearts Separate, But Bodies Don’t!

(“Wanting love”… like never… finding, but Rantil DIDN’T MEAN…!?)

With her hand squeezing Adris’ neck because of pure affection and especially with how she remains amiable while life drains away, Lycia’s capacity for twisted love reveals itself by also becoming more obscured in “why” it must exist this way.

What slashing characters across her madly grinning face explain is that the “real” Lycia beneath all of the humanity is a chaotic existence that marvels in the fear of another when directed at her.

[Kindest predator, whose fullest love must always murder her beloved prey.]

(… Because… she…!?)

Closing the circuit between them of two pulses now instead of just one, Lycia’s heart is wild with passion for the boy she’s declared to protect “forever”.

(… because she loves me, she has to kill me…!?)

All of the arms dragging him down into the bottomless swamp seek to aid her.

They were born of this obsession that was instilled within Lycia’s mind by another’s greedy manipulations.

(That’s a… ahhh!? Nonsensical… fucking paradox…!)

“Who would possibly harm another because they want to protect them, and why?”

The question alone is hard for Adris to phrase, even if he had sufficient blood flow to accomplish it.

(I’d be dead if you really loved me!)

It’s a consideration he’s never had, the question of “how much past the recommended dose becomes poison”. A tortured question of mental and spiritual turbulence that can’t be answered easily even by a mixer like himself.

And because it can’t be answered easily, it is called [darkness], a contradiction without even a two-word form to encapsulate it. One so convoluted and uncertain that it would take a lifetime to explain with lacking words.

All it can do is devour if you resonate with its unexplainable appeal.

Lycia, though, has considered the emotion Adris can’t feel, or explain, or give any sort of name to, so spectacularly so that the green light from within that paralyzes him to the core overrides his own better judgment.

(The black cross surrendered to my fear…!)

Sweeping away the complete control of self that both aura training and Emperor’s lingering gift swore would never part from him, his terror toward Lycia is absolute.

In the place of a confident liar, a shivering child is at the mercy of an ageless beauty with brutality as naked as she is.

It sends his hairs straight on his arms. Gut churning with the horrific whispers that guide Lycia to the nicest murder imaginable.

The rank stench is comforting in its noxious wiping of all lovelier scents.

Green eyes shine, but black ones might as well be set in her gaunt face, because the feeling of closeness that kills is the same.

(Oh… this is what burned inside of her…)

It sends Adris momentarily kicking before the paralysis renews, the fear revealed and named.

(Serras, when she killed me, she… you, did it out of… love for me…?)

Such a stupid motivation is deranged!

Even if it snares him currently and feels oddly warm, despite her cold touch, it’s counter to his purpose in living.

(F-Fuck… this…! Don’t… want this…!)

Hacking spit onto Lycia’s arm, all Adris can do to escape is to curdle this indelicate “love”.

(I DON’T WANT TO BE MOTHERED BY YOU! EVER!)

“You’ll… leave me… to die, too, just like… them…!”

Though he can’t say where he’s going in his frenzied flight from death, a clever tongue invites the opposite of comfort with the minimum of words.

Especially if he doesn’t believe it, this time.

“… huh?”

Those words alone smash tears through the nightmare Lycia called forth, running up the sides like black veins toward the eclipse above.

The heavy waters churn and swirl to match the hurt that cuts through her care.

(HATE ME!)

A tight grip loosens with shock.

It lets more garbage spill forth.

“I’ll never love only you, so you can never love only me, sis!”

(MORE THAN ANYONE ELSE, DESPISE ME!)

To make her reject him and the very idea of him loving Lycia, or of her discovering love in him in return.

Kindness to her expression disfigures into shock. She sags with despair, trying to talk but only opening and closing her jaw.

(Do you really expect me to die for your weird, deathly hang up about relationships!?)

Adris brought this moment to life through heartfelt emotions, so it’s fitting that the opposite sends it away just as quickly.

He frees his frozen hands to wrench at her wrists, forcing his body to reject her and hopefully send this ghoul toward the black moon above, too.

(Not for this rank attraction! Not for you, ever! The most important thing to me is always…!)

“I WILL HAVE MY REVENGE, SO GET OUT OF ITS WAY!”

That black moon up high cracks like a dropped ceramic plate, then shatters to fill the sky. A swamp of despair accepts the rejection demanding more effect even as its creator doesn’t.

The deliverer of that rejection tumbles through the bony, rotting arms grasping him only to find freedom when they crumble.

(I was deranged to try for it again! Real affection can be this insane!?)

Adris watches the ghoul shed a tear in answer to his mental rejection, as he drops forever through the pitch blackness below…

(Don’t want it, don’t want it!)

Out the other end of night, Adris strikes real ground.

Cold false stone and carpet is the firmness that escapes a death mire. It’s what he sprawls upon after she drops him, and it’s far more comforting than that false place of respite that would’ve gladly accepted his eternal sleep.

“Guh! This…!?”

Paralysis melts away with muscles shivering freely before he tests their mobility with quick punches out. He wipes his face to remove the disgusting sweat that terror soaks one in.

(That world vanished because I rejected it, but not her…!)

Naturally, it’s not a true escape until he’s certain that the mist clinging to a dark figure looming over him is cooked off.

“… What did I do… almost, again…!?”

(“Again”!? You’ve already killed someone who loved you!?)

Her figure of elongated cruelty begins to revert slowly to its more congenial state, but she needs more prodding to complete their parting. Fear reflects in her own eyes when staring into his. They capture the conflicted feelings of a woman who has made a mistake born of pure intoxication.

([Authentic Fiction] latched onto something deep, a wound from the past!? It made her much more aggressive… tried to tie her to me, make her my focus instead of revenge, making us more real…!)

She reaches for him, with hesitation and need. Adris unconsciously shies away on the floor to deny it.

“… I’m… I’m so…!”

That she can feel self-horror at such a minor reaction proves she’s still vulnerable, a human component of living that a monster no longer needs.

(That vulnerability makes her want to coddle mine, made me want to…! That’s the key to ending this!)

His rejection darkens her mood further, sending her sparse breathing rougher and eating her apology when she shakes.

Instead of wanting her to share empathy, Adris has to turn this joining of hearts into a tragedy in order to free himself from the pounding horror of her gaze.

(Not sorry, fooled by the perfect fraud!)

“A few sobs… and light begging was all it took!? So-So disappointing, sis!”

“… Sorr—

huh?”

Lycia’s sincerity dries up the instant his weaselly voices starts.

“Ahahahaha! Got you! FINALLY GOT YOU!”

“Got… me…?”

The mist thins with his laughter just as she pulls her hand back, perfectly parting to reveal a pale beauty wearing strangely cultured slayer’s armor.

Claws that jutted out for him are no longer seen on pretty, long fingers.

(YES! KEEP AT IT!)

If Lycia wants to comfort young boys who are full of fright, then being the opposite should produce the cure to that want!

“As if I’d need someone like you to save me!? I’ve always got the perfect plan for any scenario, you’re just one part in it that a weird power called out to!”

“You? You what…!?”

When her voice turns sharper, Adris giggles, then rolls over onto his knees and arms.

“I’ll be sharpening my face on the floor, begging with a voice like a girl’s before… I let anyone ‘save’ me, Lycia!”

“Hah? T-Then…!?”

“Sooooooo motherly! The only thing that happened was you getting all misty eyed for me! Ready to drop everything to become my personal tool, just cause I neeeeee~d my big siiii~s!?”

“Buh!?”

(Yeah! That shock is amazing! It feels great!)

A boy flopping about on the ground like a newborn faun shouldn’t unnerve anyone, but Lycia tip-toes back like a struck cat that’s too uncertain to lash out itself at what’s bothering it!

“Grinding my teeth the whole time, remembering how you played with me before a crowd, twice!? Finally, I get the real prize! That face!”

“Mmmph!?”

Lycia’s hands clap to her cheeks, which are turning redder and redder until the pale white becomes a tomato.

“Right, that face is what’s all worth it, sis, my greatest prize!”

(The terror is gone!)

The embarrassment, and his fight to claim it, causes a grinding of more than teeth.

Gears which stalled with the changing of the world’s direction slowly turn once more in a different one.

(It’s shifting back! Keep at it!)

“Yes, that look is the best! The one that says ‘but he was supposed to be so needy, and weak, and my little toy, now, oh nooooo, I can’t live without him now, so why is he being so meeee~an to me~’!?” Adris paws at her like a baby would, reaching for comfort only her luscious bosom can provide.

“Did sis fall so hard for my little joke~? Aren’t you a little too eager for someone to lo~ve you?”

“Gack… I…!”

A slutty lady’s calm is degrading with her own fidgeting increasing to match Adris’ mirth, pointing up from the ground as he is while listening to the Emperor’s voice capture the moment that Lycia’s desire twists from boundless psychopathic love to something much more…

— With the tale’s proper course resumed, a narrative of A GRAND UNION OF TWO DARKNESSES now resumes as A POETIC REVENGE. —

(YES! MORE, JUST TO BE SURE!)

And certainly not to enjoy the way her perfectly crafted superiority fractures.

“You’re my herooooo~o, Lycia! A perfect patsy that shows up for me to fool to feel better about things going wrong, all by letting me crush your pathetic fetish for little boys to need you~!”

“I… I…! I’m… gonna…!”

— With dark love overturned, all great Tribulations for the culmination of the tale are overcome. —

Never speaking lies before now, [Authentic Fiction]’s voice says what sends Adris’ heart soaring.

(I WIN!)

Green flames that can cook a man from the inside out illuminate Lycia’s puffed up face!

Wide eyes, ballooned cheeks, a lifted chin, and a total quivering to her inflamed demeanor is the absolute victory Adris was picking for!

(I DID IT! I BROKE LYCIA!)

— Let the tale now commence to its conclusion, unburdened by false Fate or inhibition of causality. —

(Now, I broke her, time to…! GUUUURK!?)

“AAARGH!? HEEEELP!?”

The weight of Adris’ wrongs collapses upon his stomach!

“M-MERCY FOR A… POOR CHILD!?”

“Who deserves mercy after spouting all of that?”

A fiery goddess of vengeance seeks it so swiftly by pinning him to the floor with her boot. Despite his attempts to pull at her strong leg, she just asserts her stance and then twistsssssss!

“SOOORRY, SO SORRRYYYY!

STOP, STOP, STOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOP!”

“… Sorry for what?”

“FOR BEING ALIVE! Huhhh!?”

The boot only weighs heavier!

“Try again.”

“No!? FOR NOT DYING EARLIER!?”

“Let’s finally remedy that now?”

“PLEASE, NO!”

“Then?”

“Sorry for…! For…!”

(WHAT AM I HONESTLY SORRY FOR!?)

The question is surprisingly easy when staring up at his accuser, a grin of indulgence marring her otherwise picturesque appeal.

“For… knowing you?”

“Huh!?”

“NOT HARDER, NOT—!”

(MY BEAUTIFUL INNARDS!)

“STOOOOP! HOOH, HOOOOOOH!”

(What did I do to deserve this!?)

Within a closed room,

a fully grown woman, one possessed of a superb and unique sensuality that always blinds Adris to her dangerous qualities, licks her lips while having a twinkle in her eye.

It doesn’t help that she’s enjoying a young boy rip at his hair when crushed by her foot, though.

(SISTERS ARE SO EVIL! OR IS IT JUST HER!?)

“SIS, I JUST DIDN’T WANT YOU TO END UP AS SOMEONE WHO’D FALL FOR MY BULLSHIT!? THAT KINDA SIS AIN’T WHAT I WANT, SO I WANTED TO MESS WITH YOU!”

(That isn’t a lie!)

“More like… this! Strong and in charge, sure, I totally want to su—guh, surrender to a sis like th—!?

Huh…?”

Those magic words lift the weight of his sins at the moment before pain would become harm.

Instead of slamming down, Lycia’s foot drags down toward his crotch.

“You’re finally speaking the right words, but what about the tone.”

“Ugh…”

“Hard to teach useful lessons sometimes to brats.”

(“Brat”? I’m… a brat, to you?)

Lycia’s sinister tone also carries a renewed hint of authority, milder than before. “Honestly, all of the servants here are so rebellious.”

(Ser-Servants…? I’m a servant?)

With that authority is a dollop of sweet seduction. Lycia’s heel bumps against what she’s staring at.

(Shi—shit!)

Such a sensitive strike freezes Adris. Calm finally, his tormentor lifts and drags along the bulge in his pants.

“Loud mouthed, irreverent… and expecting something he shouldn’t from the lady he’s imposing on?”

“So-SOFTER!”

“First you want mercy, now you want to decide how I have fun?”

When she stamps Adris’ cock hard into his own body, the pain and pleasure mix in the way Lycia is a master of inflicting.

(First I’m dead, now I’m a “meal”!?)

It’s a possibility, with how her mood turns abruptly. Almost drunk-faced when he sizes her up, Lycia quickly looks away when he gauges interests.

But, then turns back with a glare and a pronounced thirst.

“Suddenly changed your heart, or have something better elsewhere that I’m going to steal you from…!?”

Anger is a useful way of manipulating marks, too, Adris suddenly recalls.

(How close to the edge is Lycia? Is she like me, almost to the point of losing her mind!?)

Sparingly, anger can even turn into other useful emotional expressions. The one that this self-proclaimed lady is exuding is a different sort of attachment toward a male.

Less like a female predator and more like a predatory bitch, the hunger in her features is never going to lessen on its own.

(Is this her way of trying to fix things!? I’m just what she wants to sate herself, and she’s trying to set the mood for it so it works for her, too!)

But any hesitation on his part will drown that curious flame and renew violence.

(I will help you fuck me, sis! Let’s fix the rest later!)

This could still end poorly if Adris’ heated attention doesn’t lure with an answer, so he relaxes into her abuse as he formulates a plan.

He lets the true fear pass by as best he can. If he concentrates on the sensual nature while the rest is forgotten, it will work.

(My appeal to Lycia is that I am a braggart loudmouth that she can try to grind down!)

Innocence be damned, Adris has to survive.

And, moreover, he has to clear his own mind.

(… I really don’t understand myself.)

Having a woman who almost slaughtered him in this position should revolt Adris. Send him screaming for his girls to save him.

Instead, he’s almost thrusting against her boot.

The thrill of conquest works both ways. Wanting Lycia, but not wanting her, is confusing to the point of shutting down logic.

“Hahaha! You’re just like them! Looking for a reason to abuse me!” Logic finally loses to his laughter, a different feel he offers the interested Lycia. Choosing not to appear to succumb, Adris instead…

(“Just a little bit of an asshole, but clearly misused.” Adventurous, though, is what I need to be…! What’s the theme, Lycia!?)

At this point, the pink glare nearly blinding Adris makes Lycia his sole view.

Even if he disagreed, he’s hardly physically or mentally able to dissuade her from claiming him.

“I just do what I’m supposed to, but it’s never enough…? You’re just going to hurt me too, somehow, right?”

“Hoh, hurt you? No. Loudmouthed, still, and blaming others earns you my special care…”

“UGH!?”

It earns another stamp down, hard but soft.

Dragging the fight out of him.

“Just because you look cute in that uniform—”

(I LOOK CUTE!? No, GOOD LOOKING!? Wait, that has to be a lie…!)

“—you think you don’t have to show respect? I’m going to address this…”

“Uh? But.. you’re not the one I serve!”

(What is this play!?)

Alone with Lycia in a room of outstretched limbs and undulating bodies, hers are the finest. The steel mail doesn’t bother Adris, because it can always go away.

A black bodysuit is the real barrier.

“I came here to be fulfilled, do you understand? But no, more ‘work’ shows up for me to perfect.”

“Such a tantalizing scene of a foreign lady guest who can fix anything, intruded on by a shitty servant who needs teaching”, the tone is aiding in matching their erotic proclivities.

(I’m fine with this, so far.)

It’s enough to make Adris cry white tears.

“If they’re going to waste the potential of who they sent to me…” Getting into the spirit, Lycia lets the toe of her boot draw down his bulge.

(TENDER!)

“… then I’ll just have to steal you away?”

A catty smile finally comes to Lycia’s face again. Through the lust, old confidence drains the last of the swamp’s fumes.

Only pure lewdness is left.

(Good, now I can work with this! She starts off strong, I appear weak, we even out about halfway to my dick knocking on her baby—!)

Lycia stomps the floor before her, then points with her toe.

“Kneel, servant.”

(H-Huh?)

Freed from bullying, Adris is able to sit up and stare in wonder at the command given with total confidence.

As if he is simply the prisoner to her desire, she barks at him.

(You’re not dictating terms to me…! You’ll be writhing at my touch, shortly! I don’t kneel, and I’m not gon—)

Before his thoughts even fire properly, Adris throws himself into a kneeling slide.

Lycia hops back with surprise, leaving him a foot away separated from his undead goddess. He’d apparently intended to end up with his face buried in her crotch, mail armor be damned.

“Excellent~! You’re learning quickly, so eager!”

(—NNA DO WHATEVER YOU TELL ME TO JUST BECAUSE I’M HOT FOR YOU!?)

A total surrender was not the plan.

It’s not like he hasn’t noticed his racing heart, though. His pants are tight enough to hurt.

Any sort of unnecessary resistance to who is “in charge” gets deemed worthless by burning blood, eagerly sacrificing dignity.

(I have deep issues?)

“But I like eager…” She was closest to surrendering to carnality, he thought, but a brush with death silently sent him over the edge so far that he can’t climb back. “Do you understand that we’ll work now to make you better?”

(I want to fuck you, “teacher”, yes, so share your wisdom.)

The woman who nearly killed him will receive his revenge.

One way or another, he’s going to hollow out her wet hole. But, only after tasting it.

(After is unsavory.)

Swaying where he kneels, Adris nods his head repeatedly instead of speaking.

Lycia edges forward with her legs wider to repay this obedience. A candid smile grows into a full grin with sharp teeth.

(At least she’s enjoying herself…)

“The lessons will be fast, okay~? The first one is to appreciate more than just the lady.”

“… Yes?”

Her hand pats to the side of her waist where two belts are tied off in loops. Seemingly not connected to anything, Adris has wondered at the mysterious purpose they have in holding up this lewd arena fighter’s protection.

“Sometimes ‘brand’ is more than just fashion? A man might not get it, but the best things a girl owns are in demand and also useful in subtle, soft ways.” She leans down in her graceful, tempting way to whisper into his ear. “I hate dwarves, but Crackbrass’ ‘Crackbrand’ is something more spectacular than magic when it works its miracle.”

(How!?)

The loop that she pointed to has his fingers around it, but Adris hesitates to pull.

Lycia is sternly regarding his jump into action, tilting her head with dismissive judgment.

(Do I wait for you to tell me!?)

But he catches the moment he’s permitted when she relaxes her hips and nods.

That wonderful leather lasso flies away with all of Adris’ might.

(GIVE ME WHAT I WANT!)

Zeal earns a pinging clack of metal. With musical brilliance the mail skirt Lycia wears drops with the crossing of her legs. It slides out from under her emblematic tool panels.

Neither can explain the mechanism, for Adris feels no pseudo aura circulate. Two covering halves freely pull away into a pile of links so that he can take in the inspirational sight of blackness framed by the half-cape hanging still.

(So lovely!)

“You’re too fast, aren’t you!?” Lycia gasps when his cheeks rub on her right thigh, feeling the bodysuit that has a texture so different from Still’s own tight mesh.

“Crackbrass is a genius…!”

“Oh? Right, those strange girls spent well on it.”

(Girls?)

“I’ve no idea how it stays so secure to the corset and upper straps, but then becomes a waterfall when you pull…? Ahem!” Adris’ curious look brings Lycia’s hand to his head, pushing him off so that he can’t lick. “What you should learn is that the best things come from anticipation, servant boy.”

(All I feel for you ever is a need to anticipate more!)

“But, you have… the right idea of the next lesson…!”

Lycia lets herself squat a bit, moving her pelvis out toward Adris’ face.

The “totally in control” teacher bites her lower lip and stares so hard.

“I’m not going to leave you with these ignorant aristocrats! This is instruction on how to become my servant…”

Her legs turn outward, while hands come to her hips and thumbs yank on the material covering the sweetest spot.

“… All you need to do is, hah, wear red and gold instead of ugly purple and green…! Well…?”

Adris can make out her flush lips against the black material. Just enough illumination reveals its soaked protrusion, granting him a visual taste to go along with the scent drowning his proximity.

“Will you surrender to me?”

(So needy!)

“Can you prove you know what this lady wants, now? That you have an answer for this…?”

No words are allowed for this answer. Only physical demonstration will suffice for Lycia now.

She repeatedly pulls to make her covered lips drag open.

“‘Question’~?”

Without touching her elsewhere, Adris leans in and plants his mouth on her barely hidden honeypot that is the indicated problem.

Then drags his tongue slowly, yet as deeply as he can protrude.

“Oh, OH! Yes!”

(Always like the first taste, full of havoc and evil sweetness…!)

“Good first try!” Lycia’s head whips back briefly when he savors the contact. “Not quite right, though! Ridiculous armor… that falls apart on demand also means something else needs to break, servant…!”

Betraying her scenario, Lycia runs a hand along the back of his head with wanton need. His small fingers easily pinch the delicate fabric that blocks the attacks of others before ripping in exotic ways.

So long as it’s to leave her revealed with lewd exposure!

A beautiful fabric announcement of tearing accompanies the unveiling of pleasantly plump lips peeking from a tight hole’s entrance. Ready for his mouth to pull on them, then dart about with the tip of his tongue. The way the fabric of the suit frays expertly enough to leave tension on the unexposed areas is craftsmanship Adris idolizes.

(A mad dwarf finds a way! I need to ask for real lessons from him…!)

All for his sake, disregarding a half-dozen brutalized harpies, Lycia is wet and so needy. Within the Castillo and Call, Adris thought he’d caught the full experience of her special aroma.

But with the aid of even more precise senses after his ascension rung, there’s a spiritual component to the real veneration of this odor that’s explaining just what he can really do to please her.

“Haah, a student… has to show his work, bro—! S-Servant…!” The teacher doesn’t bother to keep her tone authoritative, instead gulping saliva while shaking eyes capture Adris’ forthcoming “surrender”. “What you need to learn is… that you don’t need to yap your mouth to make it useful!”

Even when she seems like she might collapse the moment he licks, Lycia manages to retain that ageless smugness of hers. “Heh!”

(You are a piece of work, but thanks for the meal, anyway!)

But it’s the licking of his lips and then extension of his tongue that shows his true thoughts, he’s forced to barely notice and admit to while closing on her pink treasure.

Drool plops to the floor. From dreamy killer to a man-claiming vixen, Lycia is a dish.

(I’m digging in—!)

The crisp shift of air draws his tongue away just before touching!

“STAY OUT!”

Up from his knees, Adris throws himself into a fast defensive stance to answer Lycia’s hiss at being interrupted.

(THIS FEELING IS…!?)

The chamber door swings open under its own will.

In defiance of normality he finds that Lycia interposes Adris between herself and the threat that slowly taps into the room.

“Nnnn…?”

Adris’ personal student, the one that keeps changing with every new encounter, should only be a soulless servant of dubious quality like she was this morning. At best, she should be a cheeky and obstinate “servant” like the one Lycia met only a short time ago.

Both “Fehrs” are now solely memories.

“Greetings, guests.”

“AhaHaHa, save meeee…!”

No servant enters a room with shoulders firmed and movements intentionally mimicking the arrogance of a bloody knight. Where Kol enters with fiery swagger through any doorway, though, this self-assured helper named Fehr maintains the pretense of being demure while looking anywhere but at them.

As if she’s simply too busy to bother, the girl impudently shows the profile of her face to them.

(I’ve never met anyone “below me” on the social strata who entered while dragging a lingerie-clad exhibitionist on hands and knees, either!)

When the pet called Hoime shivers at their inspection of her, both Lycia and Adris must collect their thoughts.

Silence during their inspection of the interlopers to their tryst ends with mystified anger from one and dread from the other. Adris’ big sister crouches lower and closer when Fehr flicks her hair to stare back.

“This is not the same artificial humanoid that left earlier, Adris!”

(Even Lycia is cowed by this girl!? How exotic you’re becoming.)

Rather than only fearing this new “Fehr”, Adris finds her…

(What will you do, my star pupil? Show me.)

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