NOVEL NEXT Chapter 165 - Demoness in Pain I: Sinister Attraction
"What's wrong?" Auron asked when Tristessa joined him and Severus, standing at a safe distance so the scorching air surrounding the cursed blood sword wouldn't burn her. "Did you forget something?"
"No, don't worry." The young woman didn't even dare look back, still feeling her guardian angel watching over her from the eternal darkness of the corridor. She was more concerned about something else, closer, incandescent, and dripping glowing dark-red liquid that melted the floor. "Sev, y-your arm…"
"…"
The blood elf didn't even bother to tell her not to call him by that nickname; even Auron shook his head, silently warning her not to persist. Given the obvious and unbearable pain Severus felt as his own blood, turned into cursed flames, not only slowly ate away at his skin and muscle, but also devoured the magical power of his soul. Pushing him to the limit. The only source of control was that crystal, which emitted a glow the same color as his hair, one breath away from shattering into a thousand pieces.
"Do you hear that?"
Auron's question served to distract them from that tension. While welcome to avoid escalating potential conflicts, it hadn't been his intention, as the sounds he was referring to were real. They resonated above their footsteps, echoing through the dark hallway.
"Yes. Could it be…?"
Tristessa focused to filter out all those undesirable noises and pay attention on what the gunslinger was referring to: the clash of metal against metal, along with furious female screams, tinged with bloodlust and battle.
"Astoria!"
Once outside, they saw that the tornado of darkness was unabated, its winds of corruption eroding the walls of the Fort and sinking the area ever deeper into a bottomless abyss where the light of the stars and the Twin Moons seemed ever more distant.
From the gallery that culminated in the collapsed part of the wall, the three watched with conflicting emotions as the knightess continued to fight against that supernatural, headless foe.
"I feel your presence here again, my Nemesis!" The Dullahan's shout was so powerful and echoed so loudly that the ears of those present suffered the consequences in blood. "Come to me!"
The entire courtyard no longer held any resurrected soldiers; it was a battlefield reserved for the two of them, the deadly dance floor between the two black-cloaked women, whose clash of swords vibrated the air, carrying ash and Discord.
Astoria's brute strength could guarantee great damage if she managed to land a saber blow, but the Dullahan knew how to fight with one hand while keeping her head safe with the other. She also cushioned each blow with expert skill, deflecting the saber to the sides and dispersing some of the implicit inertia.
But…
"She's slower! Her reaction speed isn't the same!" Tristessa reasoned, having spent dozens of subjective hours inside her mind palace analyzing her Nemesis's movements and skills. "She's weak!"
A fact that seemed irrefutable, although for the moment neither of them could subdue the other, not even when they locked swords. Astoria pushed with all her might and managed to make her enemy take two steps back, more concerned with protecting her head than finding a way to counterattack.
"Come on, we must go down and help her! Severus…" Auron's words were cut short as he watched the elf drop over the edge of the wall and use his thaumaturgy to levitate and descend to the ground. "Arrogant prick."
He too jumped off the edge, relying on his physical resistance augmented by a bit of magical power. He hit the ground unharmed, puffs of ash rising around him, and looked up at where he'd left Tristessa, several meters above.
"Come on, lady! Jump!"
Driven both by the desire to see Vergil's condition and by the desperation to help Astoria -her efforts manifested in war cries- she didn't hesitate for a moment and jumped. It was the second time that night that she felt her insides floating in the air and the blood rushing to her head. And it was the first time that she cared little for the fear of getting hurt, even though Auron caught her perfectly in his arms.
"Vergil…" Tristessa wanted to go straight for the aracross as soon as Auron let go, and her feet sank into the ashes. On the other hand, the gunslinger and the thaumaturge focused on the two women, drawing a perimeter around them, ready to spring into action at the first opportunity. "Vergil!"
This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.
The wind had begun to cover the beast with ash, seeking to hide it and cover it under a dark gray blanket; it lay on its side, its mouth half-open and its tongue sticking out from between its teeth, dry and stained black.
She crouched down beside him and ran her hand over his warm back, a gentle movement caused by his beating heart. But what brought a smile to Tristessa's face, against all odds in such a grim and horrifying place and circumstance, was seeing him open his right eye. A precious sphere like a heliodor, full of intelligence and wanting to convey messages to Tristessa, who couldn't manage to do so with her weak, guttural grunts.
"Easy there. Rest..." Vergil seemed to understand his owner's command, especially because of the affectionate massages she gave him on the side of his head, near his polished horn and ear. He closed his eye and allowed himself to fall asleep, perhaps more at ease now that he had seen her alive. Believing he didn't have to worry because his owner would rise victorious. "..."
As she stood up, Tristessa felt that the victory she sought was still far from her reach. There was another presence, familiar to her, there, watching them. Hidden, but letting her know that she was there to help the Dullahan overcome adversity.
For what mother isn't willing to give everything for her children? What mother didn't love her offspring?
"I could name one…," she thought, feeling rot and decay under her tongue. Just by thinking about Selene Irandell was enough to make her oversaturate with boundless anger and disgust. "But why? What did she do…?"
The moment that last question arose in her mind, a feeling of ominousness gripped her soul. The sound of chains had been replaced by the wailing of grieving spirits, coming from the immaterial world and unable to find rest.
Irremediably drawn to a presence Tristessa felt right behind her. Raspy, guttural moans, with a certain morbid sensuality, raising the hairs on the back of her neck. In the periphery of her gaze, she saw two arms in a state of putrefaction that she knew very well. Exposed skin and muscles in a state of extreme decay, gangrenous, due to the Discord that circulated within them like blood.
Female hands, as black and skeletal as she remembered from her first Death, approached. One delicately caressed her right cheek, the fingertips tracing lines from her cheekbone to the bottom of her jaw. While the other rested on the center of her chest, above her [Baptism in Ruins], causing such a deep and painful pressure that Tristessa felt for a few eternal seconds that her heart was about to stop.
"…■ ■ ■…"
A familiar, incomprehensible and erotic whisper filled her with a terrifying, guilty arousal. The love of a mother. A friend. A lover. A daughter. Every single one of those and more were there, and what all they shared in common was a trace of vile, soul-torturing pain.
A sickening mixture of love and agony, sustained by a sinister attraction.
Before Tristessa could even react, in the blink of an eye, those arms and hands that displayed morbid affection disappeared. Leaving only the mortuary symphony of lost souls invading the courtyard that forced her to turn around and open her eyes wide.
The presence that had been behind her was a darker silhouette than the living shadows that abounded on the battlefield, standing near where Astoria and the dark knightess were crossing swords and fighting for supremacy. Ignored by Auron and Severus because they couldn't see her, both pointing their weapons at the black-armored enemy and waiting for Astoria to break the stalemate so they could attack.
"She…!"
Tristessa's dirty and sweaty face was covered with deep terror as she saw the complex metallic gears and components of that entity peeking out from the blackness that sought to hide its figure. The solid darkness surrounding it was a silk that outlined the curves of its erotic, half-machine, half-organic body. And as it turned its head to focus on Astoria, it revealed a veil covering its monstrous, diabolical face. A face that made Tristessa feel a wave of sexual heat traversing her insides, from her crotch to her womb.
"NO!"
It was too late when she was about to run toward the knightess; the entity's intentions had already been made clear, and there was no way to stop it. With a hand so blackened by its rottenness, she grabbed Astoria's chin and forced her head to bend in her direction, so that their gazes met.
If Astoria could see her or not, there was no way to know. Only that the entity whispered words that only she could hear. Causing her red eyes, riddled with confusion, to be covered by absolute blackness.
"ASTORIA!"
Tristessa's scream, with the poison of involuntary envy proliferating within her like disease-riddled pus, not only coincided with the sudden disappearance of the shadowy entity but also alerted the two men. This indicated that something was wrong, starting with the fact that the sword crossing culminated in the knightess' submission.
"What are you doing?!" Auron bellowed as he saw her arms drop. Followed by her sword, which dug into the ground, its weight becoming impossible to support and her right hand staying closed around the handle. "Astoria!"
"You cannot surrender now, Blackguard!" Severus added, as stunned as he was furious, finding it intolerable to see her lower her shoulders and head. What neither he, nor Auron, nor Tristessa had expected was to hear a cry. "Silverthorn!?"
A pained wail that promised to last forever, reverberating simultaneously with the private words she heard and shouldn't have.
Defeated in an instant, at the hands of the phantom of the Consort of Endrel, the demoness Margules.