Voracity
Chapter Ten
Comfort Me
***V***
True to Albedo's word, help arrived quickly.
When the screams began, I turned to face the wall. As if it would hide me from myself.
Little stray fragments of thought led me to wonder if the old locator spells were as potent in the new world. Or possibly even more so, with everything being so low level. Without any of my cloaking gear or abilities active I was probably like a thousand foot beacon.
From below I discerned the heavy crunch of footsteps then the crumpling of softer bodies. Splintered wood. Low whines. Soft laughter.
The screams didn't last long.
Once the tears started, they wouldn't stop. I was a passenger in my own body as it was wracked with sobs. The harder it came, the more the tears poured forth. I balled my fists into my eyes and cried and cried and cried. Unintentionally, I used my rending claws. The tears stung the furrows I clawed into my cheeks.
Monster. I clamped my hands around my long muzzle, tucking my Scythe Wings tightly against my back. I had always thought of myself as ugly, inside and out. Now I was monstrous inside and out. Torque did not speak outright, only wrapping me in his many chains and his ocean waves of our connection cooling my edges.
Someone was behind me. Their footsteps were nearly silent, save for the wet noise of congealing blood on the floor. But I didn't want them there. I wanted them to go away. I latched onto that resentment and bent it around my heart. Surely they must see me in such a state and believe I'm pathetic. So I hold them in rage, and gird my soul in the armor of contempt. Then that contempt melted as a blanket wrapped around my shoulders. With strength of rage, and pain, I turn the hideous visage of my horrific combat form to face whoever joined me in my quiet place.
Kneeling with his aura of black flames wreathing his shoes, Demiurge had his eyes fixed on me, awaiting his opportunity to speak. What was he thinking? I guess it was obvious that the blood wasn't mine.
"Demiurge, what?" I pause, letting a silence stretch. "Just... Leave me. Don't look at this..." I looked down at my claws and many-jointed fingers and felt the tears swell once more, threatening to break the dam I had built.
"Why would I not wish to gaze upon your beauty? Lady Tyrannica?"
A sharp breath whistled through my teeth. I couldn't help it. Demiurge's voice sounded...
"My Lady? Did I say something wrong?"
He was looking up at me, and my tears swelled, then died as if a valve was slammed shut in my chest.
"No, it's just... You sounded just like Ulbert for a second." My voice was distant.
Then I saw the demon's smile slowly overtake his entire face. His fangs grew as tall as his shadow as the black flame at his feet rose in abyssal revelry. Demiurge rose to his feet, extending a hand towards me.
"There is a [Gate] waiting for you, Lady Tyrannica. Please, allow me to accompany you back to Nazarick." Smooth as silk, he made the offer seem as natural as going on a midnight stroll. No comment about my deviant activities. I realized then, that Demiurge's most dangerous quality was not his abilities or devilish intelligence. It was that he made it okay to be a monster.
I still couldn't look directly at him, even as I took his hand.
"Just... Clean this up. Please, Demiurge." The blanket I clutched around me was big enough for my combat form and clearly from Nazarick with its royal purple color. Torque wound around the outside, helping me hold it.
"Do not worry, my Lady. Everything will be taken care of. No one will know we were ever here."
Which was exactly what I needed to hear.
Not letting go of my hand, Demiurge guided me down. Torque held onto my back. I shut my eyes so as not to look at the ruined bodies, choosing not to confront the lives I had destroyed in negligence. Below among the wreckage of the destroyed inn, a lineup of Greater Demons waited, all bondage leather and spikes.
They had the mark of Ulbert written on them too. They were too detailed, too meticulously curated to be anything else. In voices made of broken glass and tortured harps, they intoned their loyalty to me. Great Reborn One. Tyrant of Chains. It was hard to pick out any one voice among them. It all blurred together in a worshipful hymn of the damned.
Remember yourself, Tyrannica. Remember what Momonga said. You have to present yourself as a ruler. Though I didn't feel much like one, naked and coated in blood. Maybe for the demons, that was a better representation of royalty than a crown.
As Demiurge continued to tug me along, I heard the first crackles of flame that quickly grew to an inferno. The light from the Tipsy Kobold's funeral pyre lit the way across the road to the swirling maelstrom of the [Gate] Demiurge promised.
As the inn burned, I wish I felt something, anything, other than relief.
***V***
I don't know how many hours I laid in Tabula's bed. I just stayed there, being thankful for and cursing it in equal measure. Sure it was comfortable, but getting out of it was so much trouble I may as well have stayed there until I wasted away. I drifted in and out of sleep more through emotional exhaustion than physical.
The blood washed away easily enough. I avoided Momonga too. He was still busy in E-Rantel. As much as I'd wanted to, I declined Albedo's offer to cuddle with me. The mess, the smell, it all faded. What did not fade, was the taste. And the hunger. My stomach still rumbled. Still tightened. No matter the grotesquerie I had endured, this body did not care.
I was a usurper. An intruder. A foreign body inserted into someone else's dream, turning it into a nightmare. If I stayed still, stayed here, I couldn't hurt anyone else. I couldn't hurt Momonga. Or any other innocent person unlucky enough to be around me. In a twisted way, the guilt burrowing through my guts was secondary to what I had dragged Torque through.
Mistress, exist only for you. Because of you! We are all. Together. No other self.
I knew he would say something like that. As much as I didn't want it too make me feel better, it weakened the parasitic apathy leeching off my will. Just to keep from thinking about anything, I let myself drift deeper into Torque's ocean of mind. My edges blurred as I waded into the waves lapping against me.
Torque was ever calm. Ever steady. He was cool, yet warm at the same time. The most rigid steel, yet the biggest softie. In less time than it took to think it, I banished the idea of never coming to the new world. Not if it meant giving up Torque. I'd kill a hundred men for him. To protect him. That didn't stop me from hating myself right then. Protecting a loved one was far different than killing just to...
No, just... Push it away. Don't think about it.
Bast's scratching post dealt with trauma better than I did.
Torque wound between and through my outstretched fingers. Playing with his chains helped. I left my own body for a while, letting my perception congregate in my sword. There was plenty of room. Even though I had been gone a long time, I couldn't find a trace of resentment.
Torque was labyrinthine. Yet familiar. He had his own inventory. Though it only held chains. Funny, one of the skill objectives had been creating a mile of chain. The devs had titled it 'milestone'. It was easy to forget just how much I had put into him. In many ways my personal fortune was locked away in him, accessible by me alone.
Through him, we walked down old glory road.
We had many adventures. Many victories. Remember being weak. Mistress/Goddess made strong. Glory... Remember glory.
As a Living Weapon, he gained experience with me. I tempered his chain and blade not only with data crystals or currency, but with the blood-stained points of hero, villain, as well as everything between. I loved any weapon that evolved. That changed and grew with me. And Torque was the best. No matter where else I went, whatever other game, I would always try to chase that same enjoyment I got from making Torque into the juggernaut he was.
My hand traced the length of his blade. On contact, the symbols forged into him lit up. His runes meant something. They had not been bought, they had been earned during YGGDRASIL's golden age of weapon modification. Laying each rune had been an ordeal. Getting Divine class runes? A mountain of a challenge. Yes, it had been a grind. A fun one.
Back in those days, Divine class anything was nearly mythical. There were stories of people paying thousands upon thousands of real dollars for illegal trades. During the initial launch, getting to max level really wasn't too hard. Leveling never really was. It was getting better equipment that really separated players. Torque's Divinity made many fights nearly laughable.
There were only a few activities that didn't involve dumping one's paycheck into the cash shop and hoping to get lucky. There were World Enemies, which were glitched and didn't actually drop any rewards. Thirty or more players bashing their under equipped faces against the ultra rare events for several hours for nothing. That was hilarious and painful.
According to rumor based on freeze frame captures taken from game trailers, there were hidden caches on the edges of the nine worlds that were supposed to drop at least a part of a Divine data crystal. Visit all nine, get enough to guarantee making at least one piece. Except they never got implemented.
Which left only the two raids on launch. The Crystal Sepulcher and Roots of the Nine.
The latter of which was supposed to have been released three weeks after launch, but due to an intern misplacing a digit, came out three years later.
The Crystal Sepulcher was an interesting beast. Many players agreed that its like was never equaled in the rest of the game's life. It was magnificent. An awe inspiring visual feast. From Eternity Chasm to Heaven's Stair, it was their flagship raid after all. Seeing it for the first time had been something special. The group I teamed up with for my first attempt had all fallen quiet as we entered and saw just how big it was on the inside. For a moment, we weren't playing a game anymore. It was as close to a spiritual experience as I've ever had.
While one of YGGDRASIL's major strengths was customization, the Crystal Sepulcher only dropped premade weapons aside form the final boss. The loot pool was massive. However, one Crystal Saber was identical to every other Crystal Saber. For once, I actually agreed with one of the dev's decisions. Ironically, it brought to light several key balancing issues. Though the poor Great Mace mains would never recover. It also gave everyone a fair chance to compete in the upper levels of play, those weapons being about Relic level in terms of power. Not quite Legendary, not nearly Divine, but close enough to make a difference at least.
For a harrowing three months, the only way to get the data crystals needed for Divine class gear was to defeat the Prelate of Quartz. Her drop rate was less than forgiving.
Mistress! Remember! Pushing big lady off platform edge?
Yeah, yeah I do. I liked tripping her with your Crystal Chains. Too bad they patched that so quickly. Made the fight a lot easier. You were with me all the way back then, weren't you, buddy?
Humming in agreement, Torque snuck more of himself through my undergarments. It wasn't sexual, just him yearning for closeness in body and mind.
Before Nine's Own Goal, I mostly played solo. Every now and then, like when grouping up for a raid, I drifted among the higher echelons of players. To that kind of person, striving for the absolute limit was the norm. It wasn't until much later that the exact percentage of users that even began the raid came out. And the fraction of a percent that ever finished it in those three months.
Any piece of gear, weapon, armor, or accessory that achieved Divinity through use of those data crystals were given special legacy status as Crystal Vanguard items. Though many buffs and nerfs would come and go for the static drops of the Crystal Sepulcher, the Vanguard items were protected.
My stomach rumbled.
A long suffering sigh escaped me. Of course I was hungry. Not extremely. Enough to be annoyed about it.
As nice as it would've been to reminisce for the next eternity, my blasted mind still yearned for entertainment. Maybe that wasn't a bad thing actually. Get engrossed in something. My fingers rubbed the deep blue crystal of the chain he had brought out for me.
What was the right answer? How long should I lay there? What contrition, what penance would absolve my sins? Was there absolution for me? I knew I should forgive myself for Torque's sake if nothing else. I couldn't afford to make such a mistake again.
Hungry or not, boredom still reared its ugly head. Rolling onto my back, I stared unblinking at the ceiling, wishing I still had my dive menus and unlimited internet access.
What was there to do in this new world?
What a strange thing. I always wondered how terribly boring it would be to actually get stuck in a medieval world. No internet. No dive. No movies or shows. The banality of the conundrum almost got a sardonic smile from me. I think I remember there being a library in Nazarick. Though I didn't want to leave Tabula's room.
After wrestling with blankets that each seemed a ton and realizing that Torque was tangled between every limb, I extricated myself. As I stood, my joints cracked, though my stomach remained obstinate. It was dark in Tabula's room. In classic form, there were plenty of glowing bits worked into the walls and decorations that gave just enough to see by. I looked around a bit, letting my attention wander through the detailed knickknacks spilling from shelves and hanging from the ceiling in cloth cradles.
There were plenty of things I could've tinkered with. Yet that seemed disrespectful. Not to mention his Tarot deck still haunting me. If I played with one of the puzzle boxes, interdimensional demons were likely to pop out.
Remember Brain Eater friend. Long ago. Gave many treats.
He did like finding those Eldritch Crystals for you, didn't he? I wish he was here. I wish everyone was here to enjoy this.
More guilt stabbed me. I felt like one of the voodoo dolls sitting on Tabula's shelves. Despite all the tiredness, there was still new pain to be had.
Well, even if I couldn't reminisce about my own past, maybe I could rummage in Tabula's closet. The only problem was that there were two extra doors. At least my curiosity didn't have to wait. I pulled open the first one and...
Oh... My hearts seized just a bit. I clutched my chest.
It was a movie theater. Just like the YGGDRASIL add-on. It was a nearly perfect recreation. The forty or so red velvet seats, matching curtains, as well as wide screen. At each row of seating was a big dial that would change the theater seats into couches or other options. On the back wall there was a recessed projector. Hundreds of slim cases were arranged on floating shelves underneath the projector. There were retro gaming consoles on little themed pedestals, statues holding out controllers in their hands. With the push of a button, the projector would be connected to them, and all the decades of games preserved inside them.
Based on the other doors, I'd say there were a few different ways into the theater. What other secrets did Nazarick hold? I couldn't even begin to guess how much money this had cost Tabula. To not just rent, but purchase outright?
"Thanks you big squid monster. You always knew how to cheer me up."
There was a knock from the front door of Tabula's room.
No. Go away. Momma needs to curl up on a couch and binge some old horror movies. Maybe some softcore porn.
They were insistent, the knocking polite however steady.
I wanted to be annoyed. Even that was tiring. Resigned to fate, I went back into Tabula's room, gently shutting the way to the theater as I went. I considered answering the door in just my underwear as I wavered on the precipice of fucks to give. Grudgingly, it seemed I still had one as I shrugged on a bath robe.
I expected a maid wanting to clean or something. It was Demiurge. Because of course it was. No, just put on a brave face. Or at least a neutral one. He was pushing a cart laden with food. All precisely cut, portioned, even color coded. Not a servant. Demiurge himself was doing the work.
"Lady Tyrannica, good day. As you no doubt are aware, I have been given the wonderful responsibility of overseeing the farm outside of Nazarick. There, we recently received a fresh shipment of two-legged sheep. Since there were too many lambs to adequately feed with the grain we had on hand, I decided it would be a wonderful opportunity to try some of Lady Zoba's recipes." Demiurge patted his jacket just above his heart.
"Thank you, Demiurge. You didn't have to do that. I'm really not hungry." Which was a lie that my rumbling stomach gave away. Fuck, his ear twitched.
Mistress, why lie?
Don't worry, sweetie, it's complicated.
"Is the fare not to your satisfaction? I apologize if I have erred in timing or presentation." Demiurge frowned. Not the little downturn of lips, nor the subtle curl he tended toward. A deep one that creased his cheeks. I had to say something.
"I just... Don't know if I have the strength for even a sip of wine."
"Then, my Lady..." Demiurge swept up a bottle, taking a long drag from the mouth of the vessel. One of his arms circle my waist. He pulled me close.
His lips locked around mine.
Hot, spiced wine passed from his mouth to mine. His tongue was insistent, and I... I... I melted like a doe lost in a sweet spring meadow. The alcohol had a strong fragrance. A sweetness. But a sharpness I couldn't place. Something a good deal more intoxicating than the wine. Though maybe that was the devil setting my hearts to racing. Little noises escaped me as I swallowed at his insistence. Gasping as Demiurge broke our contact. The ruby red on his lips was the color of velvet dreams.
"I will be your strength." He declared as I panted. He took another swig from the bottle and my mouth was already waiting for him.
As a creature of frozen Niflheim, I enjoyed the cold. Therefore, I basked in heat all the more. The ice around my heart stood no chance. My hand that wasn't holding Torque reached up to grab a fistful of his sleeve. Demiurge's fingers ghosted over my collarbone, up to my chin.
Before he could give me a third helping, I interrupted.
"Demiurge, can I make a selfish request of you?"
He paused, those magnificent gemstone eyes of his bright enough to make a girl believe in diamonds.
"Of course, Lady Tyrannica. Ask anything you will of me. If it is within my power, you shall have it at once. If it is not within my power, then I will bend Nazarick itself to serve you."
My fingers tightened on his sleeve.
"Would you... Stay with me? For just a little while?"
"It would be my honor."
Tugging Demiurge inside, Torque pulled along the cart and shut the door. I sat on the edge of Tabula's bed.
"Maybe I am a little hungry." I admitted, pulling open my robe just a little against the heat.
Demiurge's smile returned, wheeling the cart in front of me. Chased with silver skulls, even the serving trays fit with Nazarick's aesthetic. The more I looked, the more I saw. There was blood pudding in a crystal bowl, various sides, and most of all, the various cuts of meat arranged in a panoply of dishes. I never knew there were so many real ways of serving food. In YGGDRASIL, I never spent too much time pining after what I could never have.
Part showman, part five-star waiter, Demiurge waved a hand over the spread. He placed a gothic goblet and poured me an actual glass of wine, twirling the bottle along the way. As I sipped some, Demiurge explained.
"The secret, my Lady, is in how you butcher them. If you give the sheep a sudden fright, it tints the blood, yet spoils the meat. It makes the finest wine."
That would certainly explain the almost metallic undertone. I was no anemic, yet the copper tinting the fruitiness of the wine made it pair wonderfully with the smell given off by the lamb. The idea of the beverage being made with actual blood if Nazarick itself wasn't so morbid. Not to mention it was damn delicious.
"What about the meat, then?" I asked, Torque winding up the legs of the cart, searching for what he wanted me to try.
"The opposite. The more relaxed they are as they die, the more tender. Unfortunately, this particular species seems to live in constant fear. It is rather difficult to lure them into believing they are safe. Some spells worked too a degree, though not to a grade worthy of dining for a Supreme Being. Then I discovered a mushroom that makes the creatures blissfully unaware of their surroundings that works like a charm. I selected these cuts from yearlings personally for their softness. No common grade sheep, no, no, Great Lady. Only the finest lambs. They were culled while in exquisite euphoria."
"You get them high on hallucinogenic mushrooms before slaughtering them? That works?" YGGDRASIL had anthro deer, so picturing sheep walking around wasn't too much of a stretch. I could picture one high off its ass stumbling around.
"According to my very extensive tests, yes, Lady Tyrannica. Though, I shall let your most refined palette be the ultimate judge." He purred.
There was a particular strip, sliced thickly, ruby red in the middle with a crust of herbs along the top that I couldn't stop watching as the sharply dressed Arch Devil talked about honoring the recipes left to him. A layer of ivory fat bubbled between the seared top and rarer meat. Demiurge must have known what I was looking at because he plucked the morsel from the tray of others and held it pinched between two fingers, palm held beneath to catch the juices.
Opening my mouth, saliva nearly drooled from my tongue in anticipation. He seemed to take great pleasure in feeding me.
As the savory richness, salt, and herbs raced along my taste buds, a not-quite-vision danced along my edges. Euphoria, just as Demiurge said. Colors melting into sound. Afterimages of a death so quick as to be painless reverberated with the crunch of the sear and the buttery softness just beyond.
The meat itself wasn't drugged. Demiurge was too subtle for that. I don't know if he planned it, but my future sight went a bit haywire. I didn't lift a finger, letting my eyes pick what I wanted as Demiurge pulled apart the tender meats with his hands alone. Some of the morsels were so rich, I might have been sick if they hadn't filled me up so nicely.
A haze fell on me the more I ate. I wouldn't quite call it a high. Prophet of Evolution gave me echoes of the sheep's end. That little adrenal spike of the body's last moments coupled with the drugs fed to them gave me a euphoria that tingled in my fingers and along the back of my neck. Liquid fear from the wine coupled fruity redness coupled with the feelings of the meat.
Rubbing my arms, I became hyper-aware of the tattoos in their locomotion. I would've thought this to be a crawling sensation, like bugs. Instead, I could minutely detect the turning of bone gears, the sinew pulleys clicking through positions while timing nerves kept the mechanisms in check. Tick. Tick. Time keepers that clicked forward and back whistled their steady tunes, syncing with my hearts and lungs. Torque felt it too, the chains he kept wrapped around my arms undulating along with my skin.
"Demiurge, do you... Think I'm pretty?" It was a stupid, self-indulgent question. I knew I wasn't. But I wanted to hear his answer. Even though my body processed the small bit of alcohol faster than I would've liked, there was still a bit of sway to my vision.
"I know for a fact that there is no greater beauty in this, or any other world."
Everything got a little warmer.
"Could I ask you to do something else?" Shivering in what was certainly not heat, my robe slipped off one shoulder.
"Anything, Lady Tyrannica." His voice dropped into that husky tone. That dangerous timbre. He leaned in closer than I thought he would. Even though he had rejected me once, I was dumb, stupid, hurt, and horny enough to try again.
"Comfort me, Demiurge. As a man does a woman." I held both arms out, welcoming. I begged him with my eyes and an executioner's blade poised above me, ready to drop at his acceptance or rejection. Still not brave enough, I turned my head to one side and closed my eyes.
My only warning was the breath that tickled my neck. His lips were brimstone on my skin. I lifted my chin higher, welcoming him into the hollow of my throat rather than the side of my neck.
"Demiurge you're so... Warm." I moaned. He murmured a worshipful intonation between kisses. Warm was the wrong word. My new body ran cooler, and he was a fever taking root in my skin.
Is this okay, Torque? Is it right that I take this?
In answer to my question, Torque pulled open my robe the rest of the way and undid my bra. I cried out, catching my naked breasts with a gasp. Whining in the back of my throat, I let my hands fall. Just a bit of shame sent self-deprecating tingles to my nether regions. Just like before, Demiurge's hands were supremely gifted. He seemed to have a knack for my chest. The way he teased my pebbled buds until they were stiff and responsive was toe-curling.
I could have felt all kinds of things. Guilt. Shame. Regret. Remorse. They all flickered by like inverted stars. Points of darkness in the hope. Instead, I chose to take Demiurge's reverence. Accept what he wanted to give.
I didn't try to reciprocate the foreplay. I didn't want a repeat of before.
Torque gave me something to push my mound against as I squirmed as he was still nestled in my underwear. It didn't take long for Demiurge to get me ready. Honestly I might have already been wet from the food.
Pulling away, I crawled up onto Tabula's gargantuan bed on all fours. Shedding my robe, I gave my rump a wiggle, then rolled onto my back. However tempting it was to have him take me from behind, I wanted to be able to hold him. I wasn't sure how much of a hint Demiurge needed, but I wanted to make sure there was no misunderstanding. Reaching down the front of my panties, I buried my fingers into the channel of my sex. Feeling the liquid silk pouring freely, I pulled aside the cloth and spread myself with both hands.
Still fully clothed, Demiurge joined me. For a moment it seemed as though he was going to try and get his own taste. Torque did me the favor of yanking on his tie. Once he had climbed between my legs, Demiurge undid his belt and took his cock in hand. Demiurge was still slow. I whined and encouraged with small bucks of my hips as he dragged the tip of his manhood up and down my lower lips.
Gradually, he pushed his way inside. The further he entered me, the wider my pussy opened, the more I appreciated his endowment. Even with my juices, he still had to thrust a little to overcome my tightness. I could've sworn he was nudging somewhere tender above my Suture Brood tattoos by the time he bottomed out. Though even his length could not quite reach my cervix.
Once seated to the root, I encouraged him to return to my neck, lavishing me with his attentions. There wasn't even a hint of discomfort at having such girth wedged into my inhumanely tight hole. In fact, my twisting tunnel cried out for more. His heat smote all sense from my head as Demiurge started to thrust. With only my natural slickness to guide him, my walls clung to his manhood, lower lips dragged out and shoved back in along with him.
In something of an experiment, I clenched my inner muscles. Demiurge stopped dead as I clamped down on his length. He made a sound I hadn't heard before as he struggled to push back in but couldn't. What a body, to make even a devil shudder in pleasure. All that egg stuff had a silver lining. He resumed his pace with vigor and I lifted my legs to better accommodate him thrusting down into me.
I was okay with moans being our communication.
Although our union did feel good, cumming wasn't necessarily what I was aiming for. Just a little creampie for dessert. As Demiurge's pace became erratic, he also slowed. I wasn't going to have any of that. I wrapped my arms around his neck and locked my legs behind his back, smashing my hips against his and forcing him to keep thrusting with my calves.
He got the hint.
After a groan and a push that saw his groin squish against my petals, Demiurge's length twitched as my insides were spiked with cum. As I closed my eyes to enjoy the new source of warmth, a thought came unbidden. As they always did.
Momonga.
I wish it was Momonga making love to me.
***V***
Self-loathing over many years had turned it into an almost masochistic reflex.
The guardian had thanked me for the honor, declared himself unworthy, and saw himself out, taking his cart with. I wanted to hate myself for enjoying Demiurge's carnal offerings. Even moreso at the betrayal of spirit. It wasn't as though I was in a relationship with Demiurge. It was just sex.
Belly full of mutton and wine. Womanhood leaking male seed. I was a happy abomination, more than content to remain on my back in just my bottoms. Torque used a damp washcloth to wipe the sweat from my brow. I was still a bit giddy from the meat.
Why did it feel so wrong to not want to be miserable?
Shouldn't I try to be happy? If not for my or Torque's sake, then for the friends I'd left behind to honor their memory? I was already turning over different scenarios in my head on how to approach Momonga. He deserved better than what he got from me. Not now. Not yet. I still needed some time. The wounds were still there. I could get over myself for him.
Skeleton friend will understand. Skeleton friend will forgive. Mistress did no wrong. Skeleton friend did wrong! Hurt Mistress. Does not deserve your love.
Petting his hilt soothed Torque as he pouted.
There was a knock on the door.
I might have thought it was Demiurge again, but the sound was much higher up and a good deal louder. Also more urgent. Frantic. Quickly wiping my lower bits with the washcloth, I threw my robe back on, cursing my wobbly legs.
Throwing open the door, a blue giant lowered his fist from hammering the frame before dropping to one knee.
"Cocytus?" I blurted.
"My. Lady. I. Am. Sorry. If. I. Am. Disturbing. You. But. Please. Come. With. Me. Now."
He wouldn't ask if it wasn't something important. And catastrophic. The haze was still clouding my extra senses.
"Cocytus, slow down. What happened? Is Ainz in trouble? Is Nazarick?"
Cocytus let out a blast of his frosty breath. His next words chilled me like a Niflheim winter.
"It. Is. Shalltear. She. Has. Betrayed. Us."
***V***
Author's Notes:
Hello, gentle reader!
Ah, truly Tyrannica is a gamer after my own heart. The pains and joys of loving an MMO. As for those of you who got the hint as to exactly what Demiurge was serving her... Shh... Don't spoil it for the rest.
And lastly, I think everyone knows what's about to happen.
Until next time! Stay hungry.