Hello Everyone! Yes, I know. Been a while. I've had a lot going on. But, for the foreseeable future, I will have more time to work on these stories. I want to thank everyone who has kept with me for this long and put up with my long absences. You guys are awesome.
"Then, the two of them heard this eerie groaning sound coming from the trees," Claudio said, continuing his ghost story as he and a gathering of the men of his detachment huddled around their campfire. "The two lovers, against their better judgement, followed the sound into the forest. As they went, the sound became sharper and deeper. Soon, they could definitely tell that the groans were coming from a small shack just visible through the trees."
The other men leaned in as the story began to pick up. There were only a few that were actually interested, the rest just huddled around the fire for warmth and company. Claudio continued, his voice low and hushed.
"The sound was almost deafening as they came up to the door of the small shack, the young man taking hold of the old door with a shaky hand. Then, as he opened the door, the both of them let out a horrific cry…as they were met with the town drunk diddling himself. Ha!" Claudio laughed. Some of the men laughed at his drawn-out joke, others rolled their eyes and left for better company while the rest paid him no mind.
The 218th regiment had been stationed in the far south for almost a year now, the rolling dunes of the desert spread around the ruins that they had fortified for their camp. Despite the distance and time away from their homeland, the men were in good spirits. They had struck another devastating blow to the current rulers of the desert region not but two days prior and were still celebrating their victory, and the many to come.
Many of the younger soldiers, like Claudio, were happy to finally let lose after what seemed like the longest year of their lives. Their time in the desert had not been easy as they acclimated to the region, defended themselves from the native Monster Girls, and the long sieges of the region's cities had left little time for rest and merriment. However, a small group of the older soldiers did not celebrate as loudly as the rest.
Claudio eyed one such soldier, an older legionnaire by the name of Hector. Claudio hadn't spoken to him more than in passing, Hector was a sergeant and thus didn't spend much of his time speaking to the lower ranking soldiers. But, on nights like this, even the leadership were meandering about with drink in hand. Hector, however, sat by another campfire with a few other legionnaires, the group silent as they watched the fires spit up sparks.
Wanting to brighten the mood around their fire, Claudio approached the dreary group and sat down beside Hector. "You men seem to be heavy of mind. This is a celebration! Come, friends, drink!" Claudio raised his cup over his head and looked around at the small group. They looked back at him with raised brows, but slowly raised their cups and drank. Claudio couldn't help but feel bashful after their slow reaction. "What seems to weigh on you all?"
"Got some news from the western detachment," Hector said gruffly. "Their camp was attacked. Many dead, many more wounded. They barely have enough soldiers left to defend themselves should they come under attack."
"What?" Claudio asked, horrified. He didn't know anyone in that detachment, but for an entire century to be devastated was no laughing matter. "How did that happen? We pushed the sultans' armies further south, there is no way they could have flanked that far west so soon and defeat a century." The group of men stared at him, giving no response.
"Claudio is your name, yes?" Hector asked finally and the younger soldier nodded. "Right. Have you heard of Ultio?" Claudio arched a brow at the name. He had heard it somewhere before. He pondered for a moment, remembering something about a spirit or ghost. "I'll take that as a no," Hector began. "Long time ago, back when the Great War was raging and Apollyon was leading the Blackstones, there was a centurion under her command. He led a century, flew her colors, and he carved a path through Valkenheim. He was ruthless, and Apollyon would not have had to defeat the Vikings had he not been betrayed."
Claudio arched a brow as he listened to Hector's story, not sure how it had anything to do with the western detachment. "Under him," Hector continued, "there were three sergeants who were jealous of their centurion. They each believed themselves to be worthy of their own century, too proud to serve under anyone other than Apollyon herself. The three devised a plot, and after a harsh battle, they led their centurion away from the battlefield, out of sight, and murdered him with a Viking axe. After he died, his soul was taken by Hades. She pitied the warrior, and thus sent him back as a vengeful spirit. He laid waste to his sergeants, and his army, too. No one knows where he went after that, but his story is passed on from the leaders of the Empire, so that all warriors know to never betray their comrades, lest the spirit of Ultio come for them."
"If…If you don't mind me asking, what does that have to do with the western detachment?" Claudio asked, confused, and worried. Hector took a long draft from his cup, Claudio looking at him with concerned eyes.
"Not too long ago, a good friend of mine was betrayed by our general, boy. And believe me, if anyone were going to come back from the dead with a vengeance, it would be him."
No sooner had Hector spoken those words, a loud crash of splintering wood echoed through the camp as the main gate was obliterated. Men scattered as wooden shards and debris showered the area.
Claudio, Hector, and the men who were around his fire, dropped to the ground as the gate's remains showered over them from almost thirty feet away. When Claudio looked up towards the gate, he didn't know what to think. Just inside the remains of the gate was what looked like a supply cart, its base being the only surviving part as it looked like it was thrown through the gate itself. Claudio expected some large Monster to be the culprit, but all Claudio could see was a man standing between the shattered hinges. What then sent a chill up his spine was the man's appearance: dressed in a set of black centurion armor, his faceplate was molded to look like a mouthless skull, a black plume adorned on his helmet. Thorn-like spikes protruded from his breastplate and gauntlets, and a tattered half-cape flew in the gentle breeze of the desert.
Once the legionnaires recognized the centurion as their attacker, they grabbed whatever weapons were closest and rushed for him. The first soldier to reach him swung a sword for the centurion's throat, but the grim warrior stepped into the attack, catching the soldier by the wrist, and breaking it with a single motion. The soldier didn't have time to scream in pain as the centurion repeated the gesture on the soldier's neck.
Several more soldiers made similar attempts. One rushed him with a spear only for the centurion to twirl past and help the soldier drive it into one of his companions, right before he turned and killed the spearman, too. Another shot arrows at the black armored warrior, each one bouncing off his armor as if they were twigs. The centurion rushed the bowman, unafraid of his arrows. When he reached the bowman, the centurion gripped the man's helmet with one hand, crushing it as if it were made of paper.
Tears flooded to Claudio's eyes as he heard the man's sharp cry replaced with the sound of bending metal and crunching bone, right before the centurion dropped the man's body. As his fear settled into his stomach, Claudio looked at the dark centurion, some twenty feet away, and rage filled his chest. He moved to push himself up, to attack the centurion, but two sets of hands pushed him back to the ground.
"Don't, boy. Those men made their choice, there's no reason for you to die, too." It was Hector's voice.
"You traitors! Those are our comrades. If we don't stop that beast, he'll kill us all," Claudio hissed against the sand, unable to shake both men off.
"No, we won't. He's not here for us."
Claudio turned his head so that he could look at Hector. He wanted to look the man in the eye, to understand why Hector was stopping him from fighting, but Hector wasn't looking at him. He just watched as the black centurion killed four more soldiers with his bare hands.
The centurion finished another soldier, delivering a punch to his sternum so powerful it shattered the man's ribs and ruptured his organs. Just as the soldier hit the ground, dead, a loud voice echoed inside the camp.
"Face me, monster!"
The centurion, Claudio, Hector, and the surviving soldiers who were either too afraid or not equipped yet to attack turned at the voice of the detachment's own centurion. Urban Arminius, a tall, muscled man walked into the open center of the camp, dressed in full centurion steel armor. As he eyed the black centurion, he drew his gladius, the firelight reflecting off the wavy blade as Urban pulled it from his scabbard and pointed it at the grim intruder.
"You dare wear that armor, the armor of an imperial officer, and attack my men! Attack the Emperor's finest! I don't know who you are, but I shall hang your head to dry in the sun. Now, come!" Urban's voice echoed through the encampment again, followed by the cheers of the other soldiers, but the black centurion did not answer, or move. Urban waited for some kind of reaction, but soon realized that the intruder was not going to answer. With a growl of frustration, Urban began to sprint towards the black centurion as his soldiers cheered for his success.
When Urban was within range, he shifted his weapon to his other hand before leaping up and striking the intruder with a vicious, metal plated fist. The soldiers cried in satisfaction as the black centurion recoiled from Urban's blow, and he didn't let up as he closed in again, striking the intruder's faceplate with the rounded pommel of his sword. Looking to finish his enemy, Urban then grasped the sword in both hands before driving it into the space just under his breastplate. More cheers erupted as the blade hit home, sinking into the black centurion's guts; Urban even shoved the blade further in so that the blade's tip protruded from the intruder's back. Triumph filled Urban's chest as he was sure that the black centurion would die within moments, but those thoughts fled as the centurion grabbed the front of Urban's breastplate, jerked him up, and headbutted him.
The cheers quickly died out as the black centurion shoved the staggered Urban back with a hard kick to the chest. He flew backwards, his gladius jerking from the intruder's body as he tumbled through the sand, but Urban managed to stop himself and regain his footing with the grace of a honed fighter. The soldier's cheered for his recovery and Urban used their praise to fuel his assault. He charged back towards the intruder with his gladius whipping out in fast strokes.
The intruder blocked the blade with his spiked gauntlets, sparks flying up from the contact, before reaching out to grab Urban and shove him forward. Urban stumbled slightly, but quickly turned back to continue his attack. He dashed forward, raising his knee to kick the intruder but was interrupted as the dark centurion side stepped, slapped his leg away, and backhanded Urban. He spun from the strike, but Urban was more irritated than hurt.
Finished with the intruder, Urban leaped again, his sword now pointing downwards in his raised hand. As Urban would have drove the blade into the intruder's shoulder, the dark centurion caught Urban's arm with one hand and used the other to draw his own gladius in an upward arc, severing Urban's sword arm. The imperial centurion cried out in pain, the onlooking soldiers following suit, as the dark centurion drew his weapon back and swung low, cutting off one of urban's legs at the knee. As Urban fell to the ground, screaming in renewed agony, many of the other soldiers turned to flee, some even trampled over their comrades as a means to get away from the dark centurion.
Claudio watched in horror as Urban fell against the sand, Hector and his men being the only ones to remain. Claudio's eyes stuck to the intruder's weapon; it was not like any gladius he had seen or used. The guard resembled a gladius, but the pommel was a crude, wide based spike, and the blade was the strangest part. It was the same length, but with a straight, single edge and forged from a dark metal, similar to his armor. The blade also had a rounded tip and a large portion of its spine had sinister serrations down its length. It was a weapon Claudio would associate with a butcher rather than a warrior.
The dark centurion looked down at the screaming Urban for a moment before raising his weapon again, the imperial centurion not having time to plead for his life before the intruder brought the blade down and cleaved his head off. Sheathing his weapon, the intruder pulled the severed head from the helmet, turned back towards the gate, and began to walk away. It was only then that Hector released Claudio, the young soldier too petrified to move. Instead, he watched as Hector began to approach the exiting centurion with a steady pace.
"Centurion Valente!" Hector called, his voice echoing through the now empty encampment. To Claudio's surprise, the dark centurion actually stopped at Hector's voice, though he only stopped, not turning to face him. "Your true comrades have not forgotten you, Sir! We pray to the Gods for your vengeance."
Claudio watched the exchange in bafflement. He had heard that name before, though he couldn't recall where. All he could think about was the story Hector had told before the attack. Was this dark centurion Hector's former superior? Was he betrayed? Multiple questions sounded through Claudio's mind, but he didn't have the voice to ask.
After what seemed like forever, the dark armored intruder turned, the sockets of his helmet were empty, black voids as he looked back at the older legionnaire. Hector then brought his right fist up to his shoulder in solute. The two did not move for a long moment, neither saying anything. Finally, the dark centurion turned and continued walking, Urban's head still in his grasp. Hector watched as the centurion disappeared into the darkness beyond the gate before returning to his comrades.
Elsewhere...
"That miserable beast will pay for this," Thohsa growled as she paced in front of the stone gates that served as the only entrance into Queen Layla's tomb. She was dressed in a simple linen wrap and loin cloth under a bronze collar, a scale battle skirt, vambraces, and greaves. Her hair was tied in multiple braids around her pointed ears. Her skin was darkly tanned, and her amber colored eyes were often fixed in a glare.
The anubis had been waiting for the centurion to return for almost two hours. He, and a girtablilu spy named Ashith, were to attack the encampment, the centurion acting as a decoy while Ashith retrieved any useful intel about the imperials' campaign in the region. This was only the second mission the two had done together in the short months that Thohsa had known the centurion, and it was the second time he had left her waiting for their return.
Her canine ears tilted backward as she growled again, the four mummy guards paying her no mind. Thohsa was known for her short temper, especially with those she considered to be individuals. Or, as her soldiers like to say in private, "out from under her boot". Despite that, Thohsa was the honored general of Queen Layla's army and her most trusted protector. She served her queen with absolute loyalty; anyone who gave less was considered a heretic as far as Thohsa was concerned.
Suddenly, the stone doors of the tomb began to open with a low rumble. The guards lifted their spears and pointed them towards the door, though they knew who it was since there was only one person who could open the heavy stone gates without signaling the guards from inside. Crossing her arms, Thohsa glared at the black armored centurion as he pushed the doors open so that he and Ashith could enter.
"I hope you didn't keep me waiting for nothing?" Thohsa asked heatedly. The question was mostly directed at the centurion, but it was Ashith who answered. Ashith stepped to stand in front of Thohsa as the centurion rounded her, not giving her any of his attention. This irritated her immensely, but their mission was priority.
"These are messages from the larger detachments further south. The sultans' armies have almost been forced to retreat back to their home cities, but the imperials need more support if they are to continue the fight," the girtablilu said in a cool tone. Ashith was a calm, almost unnoticeable girl, despite her large scorpion-like lower half. Like most of her kind, she was a trained scout, thief, and assassin; making her ability to go unnoticed an absolute necessity. Her skin was a shade of caramel while her hair was long and pale blonde, uncommon for her kind, but not unheard of. The chitin of her lower half was a golden tan, her body clothed in a thin strip of linen around her breasts and a leather skirt of a loincloth. She pulled another bundle of scrolls from the leather bag that hung from her right shoulder and offered them to Thohsa. "These last two attacks have cut off their only means of securing resources from the rear."
Thohsa was glad to hear this news; though, she would have preferred to be responsible for the victories, the centurion's role in them leaving a bitter sweetness on her tongue. The anubis turned to face the centurion as he stood in the long tunnel that led further into the tomb, his back to her.
"Thank you, Ashith. This is good news," she said with a growl, not looking at the girtablilu. She took a step further before speaking to the centurion. "As for you, centurion. Is it common for your people to leave their superiors waiting? I would expect nothing less from barbarians."
The centurion turned to look at her over his shoulder, the dark sockets of his skeletal helmet hiding his eyes. "You are no superior of mine," his tone was cold and metallic as he turned his head again. The insubordination was enough to drive her temper to its peak, Thohsa's teeth grinding audibly. Sand began to materialize in her palm, swirling in loose waves as she summoned a blast to strike him.
"I know you aren't honestly thinking of attacking him, right?" a stern, cheeky voice said. Out of the darker part of the tunnel stepped a short, pale blue woman in some of the strangest clothing Thohsa had ever seen; she hadn't left the tomb for a few centuries, but even so. The short woman wore a white, frilly tunic that opened from the front, what she called a 'blouse', a solid black skirt that hugged her thighs, buckled sandals, and a long, flowing white garment that she called a 'lab coat'. Her long, pale hair was pulled into a loose ball on the back of her head and she currently had her lavender eyes pinned to the anubis with a threatening brow raised.
"Why don't you teach that beast of yours to heel, lich. I will not tolerate his defiance," Thohsa sneered, the sand from her magic collapsing to the ground at her feet.
The lich, Novina, smirked at the angry anubis. "One, those are some ironic words coming from you. Two, for your information, his name is Titus. And three, if you want respect, you should try giving a little."
Thohsa bared her elongated canines at the shorter woman, summoning swirling blasts of sand in both of her black furred palms. Novina arched a playful brow at the anubis as she began to float a few inches off the ground, raising one hand to summon a ball of dark purple flame.
"Bitch, if you want to go, all you have to do is say so," Novina giggled with an evil look in her eyes.
The mummy guards and Ashith watched the exchange with a mixture of indifference and subtle interest. Ever since the lich had stumbled into their Queen's tomb and offered her help to their cause, both Thohsa and Novina had been constant rivals. Thohsa couldn't stand Novina being autonomous and Novina was not one to submit to anyone, unless in bed. Titus, the centurion, continued to stare down the dark tunnel, showing no care about the exchange; he had seen them enough times to know that nothing would come of it.
"Ehem," Ashith said in a low, barely audible voice as she now stood between them, neither of them having noticed her. "We need to report to her highness. I'm sure she will want to know about our success."
Thohsa and Novina glared at each other for a few more moments, but it was Thohsa who composed herself first. Her magic disintegrated, her ears pricking up. "I shall not waste my time on you further, lich," she said sneeringly. She then turned to her group of mummies and gave a gesture for them to follow. She then moved around the still floating Novina to walk into the darkened tunnel, her mummies marching behind her.
Ashith stepped to Novina's side and bowed. "Please forgive her. She takes her position seriously."
Novina extinguished her magic and floated back to the ground, the short lich looking up at the girtablilu. "Too seriously. And it's not your job to apologize for her, Ashy."
A slight blush appeared on Ashith's face when Novina used the nickname the lich gave her, still not used to the idea of being familiar with someone. "Very well," Ashith said with a bowed head before turning to skitter down the tunnel.
Novina sighed heavily before turning to walk down the tunnel, too. "Come on, we don't want to be late," she said to Titus, the centurion following her without response.
The tunnel stretched on into the darkness for what seemed like miles before opening into an expansive cavern that housed Layla's entire estate. The cavern itself was lit with special mirrors that reflected light from the surface, giving the entire cavern a silver shade from the moonlight. That, along with the ivory colored columns, statues, and a glistening pond leading to the main grounds, Queen Layla's tomb was indeed a beautiful place.
Titus and Novina followed behind the Ashith towards the estate, passing many more mummy soldiers and guards as they went. They also passed many groups of human servants, male and female. Many were actually descendants of Layla's original servants from centuries ago while others either found the tomb and chose to stay or were captured and brought back. Those who were captured didn't want to leave soon after being brought into the tomb, as servants were well taken care of, especially since there were many mummies and other Monster Girls to sate in the tomb. Layla herself had a small harem of servants who served her exclusively.
As the group reached the main gate, the mummy guards took up positions at the flanks and stood at attention as they entered. The interior was decorated in ancient antiques, tapestries, and many golden artifacts; all to signify Layla's status as queen. When Thohsa reached the door to the throne room, she hesitated for a moment before entering, taking a breath to calm her nerves, though no one knew why she would be nervous. When she finally pushed them open, the sound of spear pommels stamping the ground signaled their entry. Mummy guards flanked the entryway and every other archway that led into the throne room. Layla's throne set atop a stone dais, the frame carved from black marble and gold to appear as if she were sitting under the beak of a massive falcon.
Layla was an impressive sight in her own right. Her smooth, hickory colored skin paired with her tall, athletic build made her ravishing to the eye; her shoulder length, solid black hair and piercing golden brown eyes gave her the regal look of an ancient pharaoh. But it was her aura, the natural presence of a ruler, that made her both tantalizing and yet terrifying. Her personality was nothing to scoff at, either; a calm yet authoritative character, she demanded loyalty and excellence and yet cared for her subjects. Although, the sight of her lounging in the intimidating throne made her seem more of a threat.
When she saw them come in, a soft smile spread across her face. "You have returned," Layla said, her voice echoing through the throne room. She leaned forward slightly, eager for their report. When Ashith and Thohsa approached the throne, the two of them kneeled. Novina, however, did not kneel and instead just stood back a few paces from the other two with Titus at her side.
"My queen," Thohsa began, "the mission was a success. Another regiment of the Empire has fallen, and their main force has been left without support. It should not take much more to finish them. Soon, they and the sultan's armies will wear each other out. They will not stand against us."
Layla smiled at the news. For nearly fifty years she had been trying to devise a way to take back her kingdom from the sultans of the region. While still high in number, her forces were not the best equipped, especially against the weapons and magics of the newest generation. Her own powers were nothing to scoff at; but attacking an enemy she did not understand would have been foolish. So, she waited and listened. It wasn't until the small, oddly dressed lich stumbled into their mist that her opportunity made itself known.
"And what of you, centurion," Layla asked. Shuddering in disappointment, Thohsa stood up to step back so that Titus could approach the dais.
"The detachment didn't give much of a fight. Most fled after I killed their centurion," Titus said.
Layla nodded at the information, happy to hear that most of them survived. They had commanded a larger group of mummies to wait just outside the area to round up the fleeing soldiers; hopefully they would return by morning as to begin converting them into servants. However, Layla could not forgo Titus's leaving his helmet on in her presence. While he was not hers to command, she would not take idle disrespect, either.
"Titus," Layla said in a friendly tone, "please remove your helmet. You are among friends here."
The centurion did not comply outright, hesitating for a long moment. However, he eventually removed his helmet slowly. His ebony hair was growing back at a good rate, but not enough to hide the large scar that started at the crown of his head and slid down the back of his neck. His eyes glowed an inhuman pale color, the lids still dark despite his skin regaining some of its original shade.
The first time she had seen him, Layla did not know what to think. Novina called him a "flesh golem", a corpse reanimated through a combination of necromancy and science. To her, Titus had looked like a stray animal: dirty, distrusting, and overall unsightly. However, Novina had not excluded how Titus came into her care, and Layla had taken pity on the soldier. To be betrayed by one's superior was a serious crime, one she wanted to carry out justice for. But that was Titus's quest, she had her own.
"Thank you, Titus. I hope this mission wasn't too straining for you. I understand these were your people." When Titus had first been resurrected, he had been nothing but rage incarnate. He had to be restrained with magic just so that they could speak to him in the beginning, howling for a chance to take his revenge, to kill his former comrades. After his first mission, he had returned caked in blood, his face seeming to be etched in stone. Now, however, his expression seemed distant, reserved.
"No," Titus finally answered. "The Empire is nothing but a memory to me. My only goal is to repay the favor that Severus left me with." Titus still remembers the day Severus killed him. He had tricked Titus into drinking from a poisoned goblet, he laughed as it burned Titus's throat. It was the last thing Titus saw before it all faded to black.
Layla nods at the bitterness in the centurion's voice. She is glad that his resolve as not wavered. "Good," she says. "I am satisfied with the outcome. You have don-" Layla stops mid-sentence as she notices something. "Titus, are you wounded?"
Novina, Ashith, and Thohsa looked to the centurion and noticed that a small pool of black liquid had started to form at his feet, droplets falling from his war belt. Titus also noticed and arched a brow.
"Ah, yes, the regiment centurion managed to stab me," he said matter-of-factly. Novina thrusted herself into the air and flew to his side, her eyes going to the site of the wound.
"Gods damn it, Titus! Why didn't you say anything before hand?" the lich said as she tried to move his armor aside so that she could inspect the wound.
"It had slipped my mind," he said, honestly. Being undead left him with the inability to feel pain. He could still identify sensations, textures, and temperatures, but physical pain seemed to escape him entirely; though, that was common in most undead. Novina growled in frustration as she realized the extent of the wound.
"You're lucky that he missed your spine. Gods," she growled again. "This is gonna take some work. Alright, to the chair, now." Novina floated up so that she could grip Titus by the ear and start to drag him out of the throne room. Ashith gave the two a tired expression, though it would be difficult to notice it if they did not know her. Thohsa glared after them, finding their exit rude in the face of Layla while the pharaoh herself just watched the two with an amused grin as they left the throne room.
Two hours later…
Novina sighed as she used a pair of thin metal tongs to hold a loose wire in place so that she could reattach it. The process itself wasn't difficult, but the wires were small, and her tools were as well. She also didn't have to comment on the area she was working in.
"You do realize you can die again, right?" she asked Titus as she continued to work. Titus was laid back in a reclining chair that Novina had made for him with cushions. It was comfortable, and it made her job easier on him.
"Yes, Novina. You tell me constantly."
"Well, I wouldn't have to if you would stop getting hurt." She placed the black stained tongs on a metal stand next to her before taking another tool and returning to her task.
"I'm a soldier. Getting hurt is expected. And for the record, my old surgeon complained less than you do."
"That's because he didn't have to dig into you to patch you up." She wasn't entirely right, but no surgeon had ever had to dig into him the way she had to; she was currently elbow deep inside his abdomen, reconnecting a set of wires to his hipbone. After his first mission, she had to remove multiple arrows from his back and chest, having to open him up so that she could check his core for damage; it had been a very strange experience for him. "This technology is advanced, yeah, but it's still delicate."
He didn't comment on that as she finished her repairs. Placing her tools back on the stand, she drew a circle in the air with a finger, a glowing circle of magic forming in midair. She then tapped the center and it, her magic causing the folds of Titus's body to close and seal back together.
Titus sighed as he raised up, examining the new pale scar that ran up horizontally across his stomach. In the short months he had known the lich, he was amazed at how quickly it became so common for him to be cut open without it bothering him. Having no ability to feel pain helped, but it was still strange to him.
Novina removed the thick leather gloves and threw them into a bucket to be washed later. She sighed, irritated with Titus. He didn't understand just how easy it would be for someone to end him. The core she used to revive him was a delicate piece of ancient technology. It was a marvel, having the capability to separate the demonic corruption from Spirit Energy, making Titus the first undead who could continuously produce Spirit Energy so long as he had a continuous supply of Demonic Energy on hand. But, despite that, all it needed was a stray arrow or a well placed hit with a hammer and it would rupture the core, killing Titus for the second time. She had done all she could to reinforce it, but the apparatus was fickle.
"I'm serious, Titus. You need to be more careful. Had that blade gone another inch to the left, you could've lost control of your legs." She had replaced his entire spine with a prosthetic that she had crafted from automatons she had unearthed, as well as parts of his skull. These served to circulate the corruption that the core extracted, using it as a sort of fuel for Titus. If any part of it were to be damaged, Titus would either be completely incapacitated, or dead. Titus gave a groan at her words.
"I'm not afraid to die, Novina. So long as Severus goes down with me, I'll die in peace," he said, watching Novina take off her lab coat and hang it on a metal stand.
"You truly have no idea just how valuable you are to Mamono," she said, undoing the buttons of her blouse. "You, quite possibly, are one of the most important creations of our kind. Not only can you siphon Demonic Energy from us, but you can also turn it into energy for yourself and produce Spirit Energy despite being undead. If I could make more like you, there wouldn't be any need for us to attack men."
Novina had spent her entire life trying to find a way to prevent Monster girls from turning rabid. She had studied every piece of material she could get her hands on. While having magical prowess, her passion had been the sciences, especially those left behind by the ancient dwarves. The only reason she had chosen lichdom was because she knew it would take lifetimes for her to find a solution. Titus was a major step forward, but Novina had no way to recreate the core. She had tried many times since she unearthed it four years ago, and each one was a failure.
Titus didn't react to Novina's words as he watched her remove her blouse and skirt, leaving her in a set of sheer, dark purple lingerie. He knew what she intended the moment she had taken off her lab coat. Taking the cue, he stood up and approached her from behind.
"But none of that means I'm needed. You could create another thing like me," he said emotionlessly as she unfastened her bra, freeing her breasts. Titus did not hesitate to reach around and take them into his hands. They were on the small side, but perky and sensitive. That was one thing he was glad to still have as an undead: the ability to feel pleasure. Novina sighed as he began to softly knead her chest the way she liked. Despite his usual aloofness, Titus was still considerate, during sex at the least.
Novina leaned back into Titus, feeling his growing erecting press against the center of her lower back. She wanted to argue with him about the idea of replacing him; she could, yes, but she doubted that she would be able to create a specimen like him: tall, powerful, handsome, and equally gentle as he was coarse. But she didn't, instead she just let him massage her for a moment before finally leading his hands down to her hips.
Titus followed her cues, placing his hands on her hips and lifting her up. They had both quickly learned how much they liked this position after she had resurrected him: him lifting her up at the hips so that he could thrust into her from behind. She loved feeling so dainty as he drove himself into her, and he enjoyed using her like his personal sex toy. Her feet now dangling a few inches off the floor, Titus placed her netherlips on the tip of his member. She shuddered as he entered her slowly, letting her feel every inch of him until he was hilted inside her. She sighed as he began to gyrate his hips at a steadily increasing pace.
Titus hissed as he continued to increase his speed, enjoying the view of Novina's rear bouncing against his hips. She arched her back, her hands going to his elbows to keep her steady and to allow him deeper thrusts. Regardless how he felt about being undead or his new relationship with the Monster Girls of the tomb, sex with Novina was something he wasn't willing to give up. Novina was the only Monster Girl there that truly seemed to care about him. He had been with a few other Monster Girls since his resurrection, most of them curious about his anatomy. He didn't mind, but Novina was the only one who allowed him to handle her this way. He could easily do this position with any woman, Monster or otherwise, but none in the tomb seemed to like the idea of being so vulnerable. Too bad for them, Titus thought. Novina seemed to like it.
And she did. Novina moaned low in her throat as she felt Titus's tip tap against her deepest point repeatedly. It did not take much longer for her to feel the pleasure reaching its crescendo, her head snapping back as she climaxed. Novina cried out in ecstasy as Titus continued to thrust into her, her legs trembling from the orgasm.
Titus growned as he continued, feeling the familiar beating of the core in his chest as it began syphoning the demonic energy from Novina's release. Wanting to escalate Novina's pleasure, and his own, Titus wrapped one of his arms around her to hold her in position and free one of his hands. She gave a needy whimper as he paused his thrusting only to give a squeal as he began to massage her clitoris with his free hands and resumed his thrusting.
Novina's eyes rolled backwards, her mouth hanging open as Titus continued to fuck her. His thrusts were enough, but the heightened sensitivity from her first orgasm made it all the more staggering when paired with his touch. It did not take long for her to orgasm again, her body tightening around him driving his own pleasure to its peak so that they climaxed together. Novina went silent, her mouth agape as pleasure racked her, the feeling of Titus's release inside her giving the full after-tang that she enjoyed. It was a satisfying fullness.
Titus's head pulsed several times, lava oozing through his veins as his orgasm subsided. After a moment, he removed himself, the lich giving a pitiful moan as he lowered her to the ground. He held on to her for another moment, though, knowing that she would be unstable for a few more minutes.
"No need … to worry about the core … I see," Novina said, her voice labored. She leaned back against Titus, her body still quivering.
Titus gave a rare grin as he looked down at the quivering Novina, enjoying the feeling of her naked body pressed against him. "No. It works just fine."
Elsewhere…
Thohsa glared down at the region map she had just updated. While the last attack certainly made the situation easier, it would not be too long before the Imperials regrouped and rerouted their supply lines. If they continued on like this, an attack every other week, they would make no progress at all. One step forward, one step back.
The anubis looked at the pieces arranged on the map as if waiting for them to arrange themselves in an answer for the issue. But no such reply came, and she pushed herself away from the table with an animalistic growl. She went to the balcony overlooking the tomb's square. She sighed, wishing that she were above ground. It had been almost a thousand years ago, but Thohsa missed a cool desert breeze at night. She missed the open, starry skies.
In her nostalgic desire, her eyes drifted over to Layla's palace, its marble statues pristine in the moonlight. She wandered if her queen was as stressed as she was. Thohsa had known Layla since they were both children, growing up as friends despite their destined roles. She had always watched over Layla, just had her ancestors had watched over Layla's. She missed those days, the simple pleasures of childhood and into early adulthood. Those were the happiest days.
Her mind went to the first time she had taken a man. As custom, Thohsa had gone out with a small raiding party to capture new servants for the palace. It had been her first raid, done just days after her eighteenth birthday, but she had done it like it was natural for her. No casualties, a light struggle, and no escapees as they returned to the city. The former pharaoh, Layla's mother, had been exceptionally pleased as many of those she captured were strong and capable. Thohsa had to choose a male for Layla, as it was her eighteenth birthday as well, and her choice would be the first man Layla would lay with. Thohsa had been greatly nervous about the tradition, but she chose a young, athletically built man. He had been shy, but he would soon learn of the privilege he was going to receive.
That night, they had celebrated greatly with dancing, music, and feasts aplenty. After the party started to wind down, Thohsa found Layla alone and presented her chosen man to her. She looked at him with a shy blush, but she was excited, too. Thohsa was grateful as Layla bit her lip and looked him up and down. The man began to blush as well, a tent beginning to pitch itself in his loincloth. It had been what followed that Thohsa truly treasured as a memory.
Normally, the young pharaoh would have taken her 'gift' and proceeded to the bed chamber. But Layla had surprised Thohsa by taking both the man and Thohsa by the hand. She led them both to the chamber, a wicked smile on her face. She had stripped the man of his loincloth first, his member throbbing at the situation, and then motioned for Thohsa to join her. Thohsa was still a virgin at the time, as she was supposed to find herself a man after presenting her pharaoh with her chosen man first. The entire situation had dumbfounded Thohsa, but Layla was in her element as she led the man and Thohsa through the motions.
Layla took the man's member first, straddling him, while Thohsa straddled his face. She remembered every detail about that night, but she remembered Layla most of all: her moans of pleasure, the curve of her hips and breasts, as well as the feel and taste of her lips and skin. It had been Layla that made Thohsa realize she preferred women, but that night had been magical in many more ways.
Enraptured by the memory, Thohsa unknowingly slid herself down the wall of her balcony, her hands instinctively freeing her breasts as she found her throbbing center and tended to it. She remembered the first time she let the man enter her body, how Layla came up behind her and fondled her breasts and kissed her neck as she rode the man senselessly. It had been the most erotic experience of her life, as well as the night that Thohsa realized that she was in love with her pharaoh. It wasn't forbidden for a pharaoh and her protectors to have relations, but pharaohs were responsible for their entire kingdom. Any relationship they could've had would've been short, pleasurable but fleeting.
Thohsa bit into her lip as she finally reached climax, her body quivering as a warm drop of blood flowed down her chin. A single tear escaped one of her eyes as she leaned her had back against the wall. Layla and Thohsa hadn't shared such an experience since that day, regardless of how much she had wanted to. She wiped at the tear and blood, righted her clothes, and went back inside. She made a mental note to take a servant the following day; she hadn't had a man or woman in several weeks now and would need to be sated, soon.