Deviantart illustrations for previous chapter:
Druella and Sasha Scene: /mahlawn/art/Rectification-Leak-860108685
Hōrō Design: /mahlawn/art/Rectification-Horo-860108959
Annihilanth Design: /mahlawn/art/Rectification-Annihilanth-860109060
Tell me what you think.
Author's Note: Here's a wholesome little chapter to take a break from the character introductions and settle down. I wanted to flesh out the established characters a bit more and start moving the plot(s) forward. (Okay, still gotta finish introducing Annihilanth but I promise this is the last time you'll see another backstory (For a now at least)).
As always, review responses are at the bottom of the page.
Chapter 3: Slices of Life (and Slices of Death)
[ Undertale ] Megalo Strike Back - lullaby arrangement -
by Lia1291 on Youtube
Annihilanth von Priorem Aetate sat inside the Primordial Demon Realm, his tentacles twitching idly on the bloody grass as if they were spider legs, scanning for any intruders in the great red web. His single giant eye constantly shifted and slowly convulsed, a motion that he only made when he was chewing.
Annihilanth found it strange, how easy it was to kill the Hero, how he barely even felt the man's attacks against his carapace. Heroes used to be a rare and gratifying challenge, something he could savor and enjoy, something memorable. But Heroes were a lot more common now days, and they were much weaker as well. It seemed that Ilias was just tossing out blessings like they were candy, indiscriminately giving it to people regardless of whether they were worthy or not. At this point, the foolish goddess may have accidentally blessed a Dhampir.
...
Okay, Annihilanth highly doubted that Ilias would be that stupid, but a gut feeling within his spherical body kept insisting this scenario to be true (Especially about it being a Dhampir of all things, oddly specific). He decided to trust his gut, because it served him very well throughout his life, and it still does to this day, helping him avert disastrous situations.
He remembered the golden age, back when he was still the Demon Lord. Like many before him, he took great joy in fulfilling his purpose, leading legions of Monsters to wreak havoc upon the humans, spreading an age of darkness and despair. Like many before him, Annihilanth would eventually fall, struck down by a valiant Hero chosen by the Chief God and ending his reign of terror. Annihilanth wasn't stupid, and knew of the inevitability of this fact, but he didn't dread his fate, as a matter of fact, he looked forward to it. He would enjoy his time as the Demon Lord as much as possible, and when the time comes, he would have one final dance with a worthy opponent, going out with a bang, embracing his destiny.
But instead of the valiant Hero carving through his armies and confronting him face-to-eye, Annihilanth found himself fighting an army of disloyal Monsters, led by a Succubus and a Hero.
Lilith...Adam...
He wouldn't dare to forget their names, not even if his brain had melted and began leaking out of his pupil. For those two were the ones that had prematurely ended his reign, and in such a humiliating manner as well. It was cowardly, the way they won. Nay, it was dishonorable.
Annihilanth ascended to the throne because he was worthy. He had fought through legions of Monsters during the power vacuum and emerged victorious atop a mountain of corpses, he earned the throne. By all accounts, Lilith was not worthy. She didn't fight, she talked and manipulated, spreading her poisonous ideas of 'peace' and 'co-existence' to Monsters that didn't know any better, even resorting to use a Hero that was equally delusional as her. She didn't earn the throne, she stole it.
Annihilanth shook himself and expelled those thoughts from his brain, there was no use getting angry now. Besides, the fact that he remained unchanged by Lilith's Energy showed that he was superior. After all, a Beholder's mana was far more powerful than that of a puny Succubus. Lilith wasn't changing the cycle or the purpose of Monsters, this was just a tiny tiny tiny tiny mistake, a temporary setback, the cycle was damaged but he would fix it, definitely. Humans should not show remorse when killing Monsters, they are supposed to fear them until the very end.
As he finished chewing, the former Demon Lord lifted himself with his tentacles and observed the distant city. He had seen many fortress nations like Lescatie back in the golden age, they were the bastions of humanity, filled with the most noble and kind-hearted people, willing to do everything in their power to stop Annihilanth and his army from easily destroying them. Worthy opponents.
But now? Lescatie could be best described as a cornered rat, filled not with kindness and righteousness, but with fear, gnashing its foaming jaws at anything that got too close, too paranoid to even offer help to its neighboring states. The rampant corruption of the nobility and clergy was made apparent in the cruel treatment of their weaker citizens. Lescatie resembled an ancient Demon Realm that was run by real Monsters.
Seeing the Order, his once greatest adversary, his greatest rival, reduced to such a shameful display, it made Annihilanth chuckle. But the chuckle was not an amused one. In fact, his chuckle sounded like an angry sob that had been poorly translated into laughter. His laughter was filled with rage, like a gagging scream.
He prepared himself to leave, as he wouldn't be able to hide in this place much longer without attracting suspicion. The spikes on his tentacles reformed into serrated talons, allowing him to burrow into the ground easier. As any traces of his existence was covered up by the dirt, his eye looked into the red sky one last time.
"Be very afraid Lilith, and enjoy whatever precious time you have left with your daughters." His pupil curved slightly, indicating a smile.
"For when the time comes, I will twist their faces into something not even a mother could love."
Undertale OST - Undyne Extended
by Elu Tran on Youtube
Inside a certain crumbling house within the southern-outer district of Lescatie, a man found himself unable to move from his bed due to the incoming involuntary intercourse that was being caused by a Werewolf pinning him down. (Though it was partly due to laziness, as most Orderites were known to be slackers).
Werewolves resembled human women in most aspects, with the differences being apparent from the fact that their limbs were covered in purple fur and ended in sharp claws. They also had quite a few additions, such as two wolf-ears emerging from the sides of their heads (It is still unknown whether they possess regular human-ears under all the hair/fur) and a single fluffy tail from their rear ends.
However, due to the lighting of the room, all the man could really see was the Werewolf's dark silhouette and glowing yellow eyes, making all the remotely human parts virtually invisible. In this situation, the Werewolf would have likely had some trouble raping the man due to the fact that he was more scared than aroused. Still, that didn't stop the Monster from slowly tearing off the man's clothes.
"You know...you keep acting like you don't want this, but your body is very clearly saying 'Yes'." The werewolf said, baring her fangs in a manner that could be considered as 'too friendly'.
She was correct. Thanks to the rules of porn logic, the man was somehow still getting an erection out of this entire ordeal. They say fear is a powerful aphrodisiac, but it was more likely that this man was just a masochist.
The wolf's eyes were filled with hunger and lust, both sensations being further established in the fact that fluid was dripping from both the 'upper lips' of her face and the 'lower lips' of her nether regions. The Werewolf continued to savor the moment and slowly stripped off the man's clothes in a pace that further enforced the fact that she had all the time in the world. Right when she was about to get to the good part however, an interruption manifests itself in the form of a blinding beam of light emerging from the door that was just slammed open.
"Hey." The intruder said, severely dulling her dramatic entrance.
Saster - Fractured Feels
by [Archived Account] | Siegfridge on Soundcloud
"Bet you didn't expect the Lescatie Inquisition." The intruder continued, speaking in a bored tone that mirrored her bored half-closed eyes, seemingly disinterested in the temporarily blinded Werewolf. Either out of politeness or pity, the Werewolf was allowed to adjust her eyes to the brightness and glare at the the intruder. The intruder's uniform was a tight, black peacoat, with long sleeves and golden buttons. Hands accompanied by dark grey gloves. The intruder's hair was spiky, blacker than her coat, and short. The Werewolf could see that a large group of similarly dressed soldiers were behind the intruder, the safety in numbers likely explaining her nonchalant attitude.
"Unbelievable, right? The damn Inquisition has to do mundane shit like finding enemies in the slums because the local law enforcement is too busy putting down rebellions and can't be bothered to do any investigations. Kinda sad if you think about it, the whole city's economy is dependent on slavery, but the higher ups are doing shit to protect it." The Inquisitor continued to speak, despite the fact that the Werewolf was now baring her fangs in a not-so-friendly manner. The soldiers behind the her appeared unfazed by Lynnchester's criticism, seemingly used to her grumblings.
"So, since I'm actually doing my job, I should just kill you right now and get it over with." The gloomy Inquisitor then began pacing around dramatically. "But nooo, we can't have that, because that would make sense now wouldn't it?" The pacing went on, with the Werewolf still glaring, albeit, now with a little confusion. "Nope, instead, we have to arrest you and lock you up in prison as if you're a human being with human rights. Only to then kill you without a trial in a fancy and unnecessarily long execution ceremony. It makes just as much sense as a world where humans are dying out because they think with their dicks instead of their brains."
Suddenly, the Inquisitor stopped pacing, and gave a skeptical stare at the Werewolf. Her sarcastic and mocking attitude had decided to switch places with a more serious and suspicious one.
"You know, I've been pretending to monologue for almost a minute now and you still haven't done anything. I heard werewolves are smart and all, but even they usually have a hissy fit as soon as I interrupt their sexy time." She leaned forward slightly. "And yet here you are, staring at me like you've had an aneurysm. Are you just too angry to move or something?" Lynnchester impatiently tapped the ground with her shoe as she waited for a response.
An awkward silence passed, as the Werewolf and the inquisitor stared at one another, as if their lives depended on who would lose the staring contest. Even the soldiers standing outside started losing their composure, and a few approached the insides of the house in worry. It seemed that the nonverbal debate would continue on until noon, though Lynnchester looked just about ready to pull out some handcuffs. The human that was still pinned under the Werewolf had been completely forgotten, and the poor bastard could only wait for someone to make a move.
Just then however, Lynnchester noticed movement around the corner of her vision, and also realized that the Werewolf's glare had shifted into a smirk. The Inquisitor's eyes widened as she hurriedly took a few steps back.
"Men, retreat! It's an ambu-"
Spear of Agony
by TeffyJeffy on Soundcloud
Just as the inquisitor urged her allies to leave the house, about thirty or so werewolves burst out from it, emerging from various cracks and closets, smashing through windows and doors alike. The house was falling apart, practically exploding from the amount of holes being punched out of it. This scene was similar to the way the larvae of parasitoid wasps would burst out of a caterpillar's skin. Don't google that last part by the way, MGE has enough body horror as it is.
A few of the soldiers were unable to escape in time, and found themselves being pinned down by both werewolves and bits of the fallen house. The rest however were attempting to fend off the onslaught of deranged sexual predators, their swords and crossbows managing to stun the wolves but not cause any major injuries (Gee, thanks Ares). Although the element of surprise had quickly worn off, Lynnchester was still having trouble rallying her squad.
The nearby civilians had noticed the fight. Most reacted accordingly, using their wits in order to harness the stellar power to run away in the opposite direction, a cunning and sophisticated move that required a basic fight or flight response and only the most minimal desires of self preservation (of one's virginity and dignity (also legs, you need those to run too)). But alas, not all citizens had been gifted with the intelligence to perform such a complex maneuver, and were only able to helplessly ogle the breasts and thighs of the ironically attractive werewolves. To put it simply: They were fucking stupid.
As nature does with all idiots, it naturally selected them for natural selection, and soon the idle civilians were getting hug-tackled by the werewolves (Wait, I thought idiots don't get their genes passed on?). Other citizens that were still standing around idiotically were subjected to the full voyeuristic horrors of intense intercourse, helplessly observing as the werewolves began shamelessly getting it on in public. This atrocity was so vile that it managed to attract a nearby squad from the Order of Public Decency, causing more soldiers to come in and attempt to censor the werewolves, angrily demanding the lascivious creatures to put on some clothes. It didn't work obviously, but the attempt was so pathetic that the werewolves probably would have listened out of pity if they weren't so distracted.
Meanwhile, the Inquisitor's soldiers were still in an ongoing battle against the main pack, constantly switching between shooting, swinging, retreating, and playing tug of war whenever a wolf grabbed one of the men.
"YOU WON'T HAVE HIM!" A White Mage yelled, the anger in her voice betraying her typically gentle disposition.
"HE'S MINE BITCH!" The Werewolf replied in tandem, her jealously rivaling the mage's rage.
"PLEASE LET GO, MY SPINE IS ABOUT TO BREAK!" The poor soldier in between the two complained, the death grips on his arms and legs never ceasing, perpetuating his suffering. It was ironic; in any other context, the man would have probably loved seeing two women fighting over him. Though the display of stupidity currently being presented would have been an excellent opportunity for either one of their allies to help, it went on completely undisturbed as the rest of the battle had magically drifted away from them.
The werewolves still outnumbered the soldiers, but since many of the perverted beings decided to split off in order to 'have fun', the pack was having a much harder time trying to overwhelm the Orderites. Not to mention, the Inquisitor was constantly keeping an eye on any flanking werewolves, alerting her guards and directing them to swing their swords behind themselves. It seemed that Ares's blessings only worked for physical wounds, and many werewolves began collapsing from exhaustion, unable to keep up with the endurance training of the soldiers.
Just when it seemed that the Orderites were gaining the upper hand however, the ground exploded, violently rupturing in a smokey eruption as dozens of soldiers were sent into the air. Once the dust cleared out, many knights and archers were found incapacitated and lying unconscious, leaving a few mages and the Inquisitor standing face-to-face with the remaining werewolves and their...Alpha.
Every pack had them, a single werewolf much stronger than the rest, the one that guides them and leads them all to victory. This particular Alpha was easy to differentiate from the others, given the fact that her fur was pink instead of purple, and while her sisters were either constantly hunched over or on all fours, the Alpha stood upright on her back legs like a human noble. She wore various talismans and accessories that wrapped around her neck and wrists, demonic mana radiated off them like purple ice vapor.
The Alpha stood with her arms crossed, a mischievous smirk splitting her face. Though they were quite rare, Werewolf Spellcasters did indeed exist, and the one currently standing in front of the remaining Orderites was also responsible for the ground erupting.
Lynnchester took a few steps back, before whispering into the ear of one of a white mage, giving a quiet order to take care of the downed soldiers. As the mages reluctantly began casting spells to heal their comrades, Lynnchester took a few steps forward and approached the werewolves.
If there was one thing the Inquisitor learned throughout her career, it was the fact that when one's allies were nothing but liabilities, the only person who could still be trusted to protect you...was yourself.
She drew out a flintlock pistol from her pocket, ready to face against a still sizable group.
sans shop
by TeffyJeffy on Soundcloud
Inside the confines of an old and rundown bar, a man with a decaying trench coat and sunken eyes sat on a stool, the base of which was covered in rust. The stool was just as old as him, and the man wondered if the stool was approaching retirement age.
Bazalt was one of the most average men in the world, and he drank beer not because it tasted good, but because all of his friends did. Although, calling them his 'friends' was debatable, as he felt a deeper emotional connection to the stool more than the person babbling next to him. The old Inspector could only stare depressingly at his drink, listening to another one of his friend's deranged ramblings. Bazalt wished he could become intoxicated enough to separate his soul from his own body, allowing him to escape from this one-sided nightmare of a conversation. But alas, the iron nervous system that he inherited from his father wouldn't allow it; curse his alcohol tolerance. Besides, even if he did manage to succeed in his plan, his wife would likely just use a harpoon gun to drag his soul back down from the heavens, kicking and screaming.
"Hey Baz, my man. I've been thinking..." His friend said, finally deciding to talk to him rather than talking at him.
"Yes, Marty?" Bazalt replied, a bit of concern leaking into his voice. Thinking was a very dangerous thing to do, especially for a drunkard.
"You know how like... female-dominant sex is forbidden right?" Marty remarked, speaking in a stereotypical 'stoner' accent.
"Yeah." The Inspector answered. It wasn't exactly forbidden, and more like a community guideline rather than law, as being caught doing it wouldn't land you in prison, but it'll still make people raise their eyebrows and silently judge you. The history of this so-called taboo went back a long way, and it mainly involved cases of Monsters using 'Anthropomorphosis', a spell that required extreme concentration, but otherwise allowed them to disguise themselves as humans. Of course, any form of concentration would be impossible when the Monster started having sex, which is precisely why it became a guideline for men to be in dominant and by extension, easily escapable positions. Unfortunately, this didn't really matter, as most men wouldn't actually want to escape by the time they found out. It was no secret that half the nation's male population only thought using their dicks.
"And you know how- *hic* -some cities tolerate submissive Monsters right?" The drunkard said, repeating the word 'right?' as if there was a broken record stuck in his throat.
"Yeah?" Bazalt answered again. It was true that harmless Monsters were occasionally allowed to live alongside humans, albeit with heavy surveillance and education about the faith. The humans in those cities desperately needed Monsters to understand the difference between 'Love thy neighbor' and 'Fuck thy neighbor'.
"And you know how the Chief God's a girl right?" The drunkard spoke yet again.
"...yeah?" Bazalt replied, very hesitantly this time. He didn't like where this was going.
"Dude...what if...the Chief God is actually a massive sub in bed, and she expects all other women to be the same?" Marty said, as if he was having a revelation.
Bazalt did not respond, silently contemplating the heresy that his intoxicated friend just spouted. The notion that the entire war was being fought, not for humanity's survival, but merely because of the Chief God forcing her sexuality onto the entire world, was something that the devout wouldn't take very well. The Inspector was just glad that Marty was usually sober enough not to tell his conspiracy theories in public, otherwise he would be very concerned for his friend's well-being.
The fact that Marty was still blabbering wasn't any less disturbing however.
"Think about it, dude. It makes so much sense!" Bazalt could have sworn a few bubbles floated out of Marty's mouth. "I bet she sits up there in heaven all day, *hic* keeping up this image of a pure and uh... untainted god or something. But like...*hic* when none of her angels are looking, she probably spies on a couple doing the thing down here." Marty's voice was losing coherence with each word that came out of his foaming and wine-stinked mouth. "And she gets super into it, dude. Like... she's imagining herself being pinned down by this big strong man, thinking about how he would 'defile' her 'holy-place' with his 'lightning rod' and-"
"Marty, please stop." Bazalt said, placing a hand on the drunkard's shoulder. If one were to look around, it would become obvious that Bazalt wasn't the only one made uncomfortable by his friend's ramblings. "If you keep talking about the literal Icon of our religion like she was some embarrassing teenager, an undercover Inquisitor is probably going to shank you on the way out." The Inspector continued, concerned for Marty's safety. "Besides, what the hell even is a 'lightning rod'?"
"Uh...As far as I can tell, lightning rods were things that the Order used a few thousand years ago, back when humanity was at the peak of technologi-" Before Marty could continue giving us that sweet lore-dump, his exposition is interrupted by the sounds of gunshots coming from outside (Meaning that the Author will actually have to put in effort for a scene in a future chapter that explains the Order's lost history).
Immediately, Bazalt's reflexes kicked in, and he shoved both himself and Marty under the bar's desk while simultaneously re-arranging the stools into a makeshift fortress against the would-be intruders. From anyone else's perspective, the old Inspector was likely overreacting, as no one had actually come to invade the bar. But judging by the way the guards looked out the windows, it definitely seemed safer to stay inside a little longer.
Just what was happening outside?
fractured feels.
by Lost Soul's STORYSWAP OST on Soundcloud
Lynnchester pulled out a gadget from her bottomless pockets, this one being some sort of mechanical sphere made of brass. With her thumb, the Inquisitor pressed a button on the metal ball, making a quiet *click*, and simultaneously causing a transparent ninety degree wall of white energy to be projected from the device. Immediately, Lynnchester pointed the sphere, and by extension the shield, forward, making it absorb the blast of a purple fireball. The shield dissipated after that, its purpose fulfilled.
"Hey! That's not fair!" The caster of said fireball complained in a childish manner.
The raven haired Inquisitor did not reply, and instead pointed her large, shotgun-shaped pistol at the pink werewolf while quickly backing away.
Eyes widening, the spellcasting werewolf shouts "Block!" before proceeding to raise her arms into a defensive 'X' shape in front of her face. In less than a second, the demonic mana hardened and crystalized around her entire body, getting ready to absorb the spray of bullets. But the bullets never came, and when the Alpha opened her eyes, she saw that the Inquisitor was instead beating the shit out of her sisters. She sighed in frustration, the Inquisitor had baited her again!
One of the major weaknesses that mages had in combat, was the fact that most spells needed to be chanted in order for the caster to better concentrate. While spells could technically be casted silently, it often required so much concentration that the mage would need to focus all of their thoughts into the single spell, making it very inefficient in combat. As a result, spellcasters effectively needed to announce all of their actions to the enemy when casting spells, making them very easy to predict. Because of this, despite the fact that the werewolves outnumbered Lynnchester by a great margin, they were having a much harder time fighting her due to the fact that she was using magical devices that already had spells embedded within them, which didn't need any chanting to activate.
*Thwack*
An unpleasant noise was made, and a werewolf collapsed onto the ground, her face heavily bruised from the impact with a rubber glove. Not even batting an eye at her downed adversary, Lynnchester pointed her pistol at another werewolf and fired, making a metallic noise followed by a gut-wrenching scream. Temporarily demoralized by the disturbing sight, the wolves were unable to react to the Inquisitor's swift movements as she pulled out a shiv and proceeded to rush towards the spellcaster. The Inquisitor had been trying to target the Alpha for a while now, and she hadn't been able to find any other openings throughout the battle.
Shaking herself out of her shock, the Alpha closed her eyes and leaned down, whispering dozens of incantations. As the spellcaster chanted, a spherical projection of pink light emerged from her and slowly began to expand outwards. Werewolves that were engulfed in the forcefield found their wounds being mended and stitched together at an unnatural speed, and a new sense of vigor filling their bodies. As if they had learned to do this many times before, the werewolves quickly began flocking around the Alpha, intending to stop the Inquisitor from reaching her.
In desperation, Lynnchester threw her shiv at the spellcaster, intending to get a hit in before the purple mass could fully surround the Alpha. Unfortunately, the added momentum from her running was unable to propel the knife fast enough to the pink werewolf's face, it got close, but another wolf took the hit at the last moment.
Silently cursing, the short inquisitor dashed backwards, wary of the few wolves separating from the pink forcefield that were homing in on her. If Lynnchester didn't stop the healing spell soon, all the damage she did would be rendered meaningless.
After catching the arm of a wolf that tried to tackle her, and then proceeding to exploit said wolf's momentum by hurling them against a brick wall, the Inquisitor thought up a plan. She began tossing glass balls filled with debilitating smoke at the purple mass, the glass shards injuring and stunning the werewolves within. As they were busy healing, Lynnchester pulled out yet another spherical object from her pocket. After ripping a cross-shaped pin off the ball, the short inquisitor chucked the Holy Hand Grenade into the purple mass.
The Inquisitor immediately took cover, jumping away and lying flat on the ground, covering her head with her gloves. Moments after doing so, the sound of an explosion reverberated across the region of the slums, causing dust and pebbles to fall from quite a few buildings. And then, it had gone quiet again, the echoes of the blast going silent as the healing field dissipated along with it. Lynnchester immediately stood back up and shifted into a combat stance, instinctively knowing the fight wasn't over.
In the distance, a heavily injured Alpha shakily brought herself back up to her hind legs. Looking down, the spellcaster realized that her once pink fur had now been dyed red with the blood of her sisters. Looking around, the formerly pink werewolf realized that many of her sisters were now dead, either as burnt corpses on the ground or blown in half, ruptured entrails spilling everywhere. The Alpha nearly vomited there and then, having never seen such a gruesome sight in her life. The only thing that comforted her was the fact that quite a few were still alive and breathing, albeit in an unconscious state.
The Alpha stared at the Inquisitor, the one who had brought such devastation upon her sisters. Lynnchester stared back, stoic and annoyed as ever, and also casually reloading her pistol. A sudden rage flared up within the red-stained spellcaster from her adversary's apathetic demeanor at her sister's deaths, signified by the Alpha's yellow eyes turning red. The Alpha raised a clawed hand, demonic energy crackling from her sharp finger tips and accumulating into a red ball of fire. It was obvious to anyone that the Alpha's intentions had changed from 'Molest' to 'Mutilate'.
The Inquisitor made the first move, having finished reloading her flintlock and deciding to pull the trigger. The Alpha, too enraged to cast a 'Block', took several bullets to her chest, shoulder, and a single one in her face. The ball of flame in her hand temporarily dissipated as she growled in pain, but quickly re-flared back to life as the wounds only seemed to fuel her rage. The Alpha threw the fireball, the originally alluring purple color of the flame had now become reddish as if mixed with the blood of her sisters.
Lynnchester dodged to the side, just barely getting her coat singed by the fiery projectile. Without hesitation, the Inquisitor shot again, her pistol acting just like the medieval shotgun that it was, spraying bullets in directions that were vaguely close to where the spellcaster was. The Alpha was clear-headed enough to cast a block this time, raising her arms in a cross-shape, and letting the bullets bounce against her hardened body.
Before the Inquisitor could fire again, the Alpha flicked her finger upwards, causing the ground beneath Lynnchester to grumble and shake. The short Inquisitor rolled to the side, cringing uncomfortably as she did so (Believe me, rolling on the ground hurts a lot). The ground she originally occupied ruptured and exploded upward, though at a much smaller scale compared to the one that took out her squad.
Not even taking a break after the spell, the Alpha frantically tossed more fireballs at the Inquisitor, getting more frustrated with each swing. The flames only managed to spread harmlessly across the white shields projected from Lynnchester's gadgets. The Alpha's casting spree was cutoff once again by several more bullets sinking into her skin and fur.
"AGHH! JUST DIE ALREADY!" The werewolf screamed, as she began to sprint towards Lynnchester, a sprint that turned into a gallop as two arms joined her legs in propelling her forward. The Inquisitor was backing away now to keep her distance, and when she attempted to fire-
*Click*
Her gun jammed.
Lynnchester scowled, being reminded of why most Orderites didn't use guns.
The Alpha had leaped at that moment, claws aiming for the Inquisitor's untouched face, eyes red with killing intent.
*Thwack*
The claws never reached the Inquisitor though, as the Alpha's face was instead reached by said Inquisitor's gloved fist. It was like metal, wrapped in a tight, rubber bag, abrasive and painful.
The Alpha stumbled to the side like a shark who had been punched in the nose before its jaws could reach its target. It almost seemed like the scene was paused for a moment, as the pinkish-red werewolf brought up a hand to her bruised cheek. In a second however, the fight continued, as the Alpha roared again and swung her body around in order to face the Inquisitor.
Lynnchester jumped back, sidestepped, ducked, and performed many other motions that the Author won't bother googling in order to dodge the Alpha's animalistic attacks.
The Alpha swung her claws repeatedly, the air squeaking from the force of her attempted slashes at her small, nimble opponent.
Lynnchester had pulled out another shiv at this point, using it to try and deflect the werewolf's savage claws while also trying to get in some hits of her own.
The two continued their dance where both would take turns in attacking and dodging, neither of them managing to get many cuts in. Two pairs of eyes were constantly locked on to each other, one pair being red and filled with a murderous rage, the other pair being black and empty but focused.
Suddenly, the Alpha stopped her jerky movements and lifted a single arm towards the sky. In less than a second, demonic energy began to flow from her entire body and into the new burning sphere she had conjured. The ball of flame began to expand at an alarming rate, quickly becoming as large an entire house. The dark red light engulfed the entire area of the streets, making it look like the apocalypse was approaching, no doubt striking petrifying fear into the hearts of any nearby observers.
Anyway, Lynnchester kicked her in the stomach.
[Undertale: Last Breath] Menu Theme
by SANSational on Soundcloud
Lynnchester stood inside what could be described as a medieval police station.
In front of the short Inquisitor, was a large desk. Sitting on the other side of the desk, was a man who's physical appearance could only be described as 'drooping', as he sunk into his chair like he was melting, and his hunched posture was so terrible it could even rival the Author's condition of 'bent spine'.
Standing behind the Inquisitor, was the pink spellcasting werewolf, who's hands were locked tight with a specialized pair of cuffs that would suppress magic. Said werewolf had a defeated expression on her face, eyes puffy with dry tears as she occasionally sniffled. Several guards stood in the room, many of them acting like statues as they never took their eyes off the Alpha.
"Alright Kent, this is the last one." Lynnchester said while gesturing to the Alpha, her voice was labored and tired. "This one could use magic, so it costed me quite a few gadgets." Her exhaustion didn't put any strain on her complaining, and she was doing a fine job expressing her anger at her monetary issues.
"Huh...I didn't know Beastmen-types could be Mages." The man behind the desk answered as he began to write on another section of his clipboard with a quill. "Let me guess, crimes are no different. Attempted rape, attempted corruption, resisting arrest, the usual."
"Actually, add 'Attempted Murder' to that list, I think the fireballs started leaving scorch marks." Lynnchester remarked. Truth be told, there was actually no point in including the last part, as the sentence would be death regardless of the severity of a Monster's crimes, but the Inquisitor still wanted to get it across that she hated this one in particular more than the others.
Partially surprised, Kent continued writing. "Attempted murder of an Inquisitor...done." He then looked back up, slightly correcting his posture. "I guess we'll just stick her in Dungeon Three with the rest?"
Scratching her chin for a moment, Lynnchester answered. "No. Put her in Dungeon Four, we don't want her communicating with her pack members and potentially escaping."
The Alpha's teary eyes widened in shock, before sinking into an even more defeated expression. Not being able to talk with her sisters even moments before death was an insult to the Alpha's already deep injuries.
Entirely apathetic to the spellcaster's suffering, Lynnchester suddenly shoved the monster girl forward. "Stand still, we're taking your mugshot." Seeing how the Alpha started panicking, she spoke again. "Relax, I said mugshot, not gunshot. It means we're gonna take a picture."
Regardless of whether the werewolf was calming down or not, Kent placed a sheet of paper on his desk and began casting some sort of spell. He moved both of his hands in front of his own face, closing all of his fingers except for the indexes and the thumbs, allowing him to get a square 'portrait' view of the werewolf's face. Spiritual energy crackled from his hands, and judging by the fact he wasn't uttering any chants, he was quite experienced.
In less than a minute, the spell was complete. The sheet of paper on Kent's desk now had a clear and accurate image of the Alpha's face engraved into it, almost like a photograph. The mugshot was also steaming, like something fresh out of an oven, it even smelled good too. The drooping man continued writing serial numbers and storage records on the unoccupied sections of the photograph before proceeding to shove the picture into a nearby drawer.
"Thank you again for your service, miss Gleyde. I'll handle the rest." Kent said, gesturing towards the door as the guards began to 'gently' escort the Alpha into the lower regions of the medieval police station.
Lynnchester made a disinterested "Mhm." before walking out.
The Inquisitor found herself walking through the dusty, damned, disgusting, destitute of a slum once again, taking great care not to step on any garbage lying around.
As she instinctively began mouth-breathing in order to avoid the smell, her thoughts drifted back to her battle with the werewolves. When the fight had started, the Monsters didn't even try to take it seriously, treating it more like a harmless game of hide-and-seek, their mischievous smiles seeming to lack any genuine malice. It was only when several wolves had been killed that the Alpha seemed to realize that when fighting a person with a gun, it was a matter of life and death.
Lynnchester had always hated this about Monsters, the way they would charge into battle towards an army of trained killers, and then be genuinely surprised when the soldiers started killing them. It was also why she rarely felt any guilt when killing a Monster, as most of them had been given plenty of warnings, and only brought their deaths upon themselves. After all, a city like Lescatie was the last place any Monster should go if they wanted to live.
Midway through her stroll, the Inquisitor came across the area that the battle had taken place in. There were many guards stationed to urge civilians away, while janitors were at work trying to clean the blood off the streets. Lynnchester decided to stay and watch for awhile, keeping one hand close to her pockets so that she could draw out her pistol at any time. Some may call her paranoid, but she once witnessed a mop getting transformed into a Monster when it came into contact with blood. Luckily, that didn't happen this time, and the Inquisitor was able to rest easy knowing she wouldn't have to buy more bullets.
Continuing her walk once again, the short Inquisitor finally arrived at her destination: A Barrack.
Entering through a cracked wooden door, she found her squad waiting for her, all in varying states of exhaustion and tiredness. Some where standing around, while others sat on benches. The military house itself was in a crude and crumbling state, but given the standards of most people that lived in the slums, it might as well have been called 'Pristine'. After looking around to make sure everyone was there, the raven haired Inquisitor spoke.
"Alright, you all know the drill. Line up." As the soldiers began moving into their respective positions, Lynnchester grabbed a crystalline device from her pockets. The gadget resembled a small flat lamp, hard brass surrounding the fragile glass within, except that the glass was replaced by some sort of colorless gemstone.
The soldiers were separated into two groups: The men, and the women. The men were fairly relaxed, given that they had a natural resistance to Demonic Energy, and their bodies were already getting it out of their system. The women on the other hand, were tense, as they lacked the powerful Spiritual Energy generation that the men had, and were prone to getting infected.
One by one, Lynnchester scanned the women. She waved the gadget around the body of the first one, an archer. The crystal glowed a bright, vibrant blue, while in the very middle of it was a small speck of purple.
"Small traces, looking fine. Did you have any contact with the enemy?" The Inquisitor asked, still sizing up the archer. The archer wore red robes, meant to be flexible and mobile so that she could keep her distance from any adversaries. Her eyes were dull and brown, while her hair was blonde and tied into a ponytail. The rest of the archer's face had a stoic and dutiful expression.
"No ma'am. I was never touched." The archer said, in a tone equally as apathetic as the Inquisitor.
Nodding, Lynnchester moved on to the next person. This time, it was a knight clad in light armor. Similar to the archer, her equipment was designed for agility and evasion. The knight's hair was red and short, while her eyes were also a crimson color.
"Some minor traces...contact?" The Inquisitor asked, giving a cautious glance at the red-headed knight.
"Yes ma'am. I got bitten." The knight replied, noticeably sweating.
"Show me where." Lynnchester said, seemingly uncaring.
Nervously, the knight lifted her arm and disconnected some of the armor. The Inquisitor got a closer look, and could indeed see a small trickle of blood leaking out of the knight's wrist. Examining it further, the Inquisitor could see that the knight's nails had gotten considerably longer, and a few strands of purple hair were growing out of her hand.
"A-am I going to have to amputate it, ma'am?" The knight asked, visibly cringing at the thought.
"Hmm..." The Inquisitor contemplated. "Probably not." She said, letting the knight resume custody of her own hand. "Take a few days off and see a priest. Make sure to clip the nails and shave off the fur. If you still experience symptoms of warmth and well...arousal, then we can talk about how we're going to chop it off."
Not even sparing the wide-eyed knight a glance, Lynnchester moved on to the next person. This process of scanning and questioning went on for a good few minutes, the air having the tenseness of a courtroom as someone was waiting for the moment that the metaphorical judge declared someone guilty. Each checkup was like watching a boulder sitting on the edge of a cliff, ready to fall off at the slightest disturbance.
And then it happened, when the crystal displayed an unhealthy amount of purple.
Why? - MEGALOVANIA remix
by Ethan Harper on Youtube
Lynnchester looked at the scanner, and then back at the scanned. It was a squire, and her armor was more than worse for wear. The squire's face was noticeably flushed, a tinge of pink appearing on her cheeks, and an oblivious smile perched on her lips. Tiny and nearly unnoticeable patches of fur were coming out of the holes in her armor.
"...contact?" The Inquisitor asked. This time though, it wasn't a question of 'if'. Lynnchester knew that the soldier had been hit, and merely wanted confirmation.
"I...got scratched and bitten...i-in a few places." The squire said timidly, worry was in her voice and it managed to snap her out of the semi-trance. Lynnchester looked back at the scanner once again, seeing that it still had a large purple blob surrounded by a blue ring. She then shot a dangerous glare at the squire, one that sent shivers up the squire's spine.
"Restrain her." The Inquisitor ordered, her apathetic tone of boredom had become cold and sharp, like a knife cutting into the squire's ears. Within moments, the nearby soldiers grabbed the squire's arms and pulled them behind her back.
"Any last words?" Lynnchester said.
"W-what!?" The squire asked fearfully, her eyes frantically darting around between the Inquisitor and the soldiers seizing her arms.
"*sigh* Sorry, I should have worded that better." The Inquisitor's sharp tone suddenly softened, still apathetic, but no longer harsh. "Is there...anything you want us to tell your friends and family? Before we uh... send you to death?" Lynnchester then gestured to the mutations on the squire's body. "You know, while you're still...you?"
Realization dawned on the squire's face from the last sentence, like a boulder falling off a cliff and crushing all of her protests. The young squire slumped down, her formerly frightened eyes slowly becoming teary and resigned. The squire knew that something like this would happen when she enlisted, she just didn't expect it to happen so soon.
"I...I wrote... a last will. Tell my mom and dad that... its upstairs...in my closet..." The squire's voice was trembling, as despair began to settle into her mind.
The Inquisitor raised an eyebrow in small surprise, but didn't complain. While others looked down with grim expressions, Lynnchester stoically watched as the squire was carried off. The young soldier had held it in during the moment, but everyone could now hear the choked sobs fading into the distance.
"So, do you all want a moment of silence for her, or..." The few rookies of the group began praying for their soon-to-be-dead comrade, but the veterans just shook their heads solemnly, silently urging the Inquisitor to finish checking the remaining soldiers. Thankfully, no similar incidents occurred for the rest of the scans, leaving Lynnchester to think back on the young squire.
That soldier was around the age of a teenager, and yet they became resigned to their own death (albeit hysterically) with only a few sentences. Lynnchester wondered if it was because of how good the faith was at worming its way into the minds of children, turning them into selfless, almost mechanical husks. The Inquisitor had always hated zealots for their constant idiotic screaming, but this incident reminded her of why she hated zealotry in general: It made humans cease to act human.
...
She hoped those werewolves would burn in hell.
Undertale OST - An Ending Extended
by Elu Tran on Youtube
The Alpha sat behind bars in a cold, wet dungeon. A dozen emotions ran through her fluffy head as she recounted her experience.
Things had become hard ever since the Hero arrived at that village. The Alpha already had a little trouble when supporting her sisters against the village guards, but she was completely hopeless against a Hero that could hurl tree logs like tomahawks. Her pack had no choice but to search elsewhere for mates.
There was the option of immigrating to Fibreburg, but that place had already been in sharp stagnation ever since all the men had been taken. So the Alpha considered the option of staging an ambush on one of Lescatie's patrols. It was a suicidal idea, but desperation often lead individuals to compromise their reasoning quite fast. She promised her pack that they would get mates, and maybe even make some new sisters.
Shame manifested in a physical form, leaking out her eyes and down her cheeks.
The attempt was a failure, and now she and her pack would be paying the price. She had assumed that they had already won when they managed to infiltrate that region of Lescatie, and the Alpha had forgotten that her pack was no longer fighting against defenseless villagers, but against a military force experienced in fighting her kind. Who could blame her for underestimating them? after all, they were just regular humans with fancy clothes, not the overpowered Heroes that could take on an entire army.
Her sisters all probably hated her now, since she was the one who had lead them all to their deaths. She wasn't sure if she was glad or ashamed that she wasn't in the same dungeon as them, as she was sure they would be berating her till the very end, while she would sit silently, knowing that it was her own fault.
The Alpha suddenly winced, feeling an uncomfortable amount of sensitivity throughout several points in her body. Looking to the side, she could see that her shoulder had swelled up unhealthily, and a nasty rash was forming. Knowing what she had to do, the Alpha closed her eyes and clenched her teeth as her body tensed up.
"Hnngh!"
With a disgusting squelch, several dozen bullets popped out of her swollen shoulder, squirting blood as they burst through and punched holes in her sensitive skin. Some of the bullets didn't fully come out, so she had to manually dig in and pull some of them, similar to how veterinarians would squeeze and pull out mango worms from a sickly dog. Don't google that last part by the way, they're even worse than the wasps I mentioned earlier.
"Eww...are you okay?" A curious voice said, making the Alpha jump in surprise.
Looking to the other side, the pink Werewolf's yellow eyes met with the blue ones of her fellow prisoner next door. Said prisoner was a slime girl made of blue jelly, and a rather malnourished one at that, if the size of her breasts was anything to go by. The Slime stared at the Alpha with an impatient expression, as if she was expecting her to answer ten seconds before the question was even asked. Dust and grime coated many spots on the girl's surface, dirtying the otherwise clean body of the slime.
The Alpha considered not responding. Slimes were known to be among the dumbest of all Monster Girls, and often gave the impression of being mentally retarded because of how long it takes for them to respond to a medium-sized sentence. Although many Monster Girls tried their best not to discriminate, there was always a silent tension in the air whenever an intelligent creature and a slime tried to have a conversation with each other.
The Alpha was also tempted to say 'Do I look okay?', but given that she lacked the energy to be sassy, she just went with a "Yeah, I'm fine." with a tiny hint of sarcasm.
"Okay...that's good to hear..." The Slime said, in a voice that suggested that she was either doubting the Alpha or just believing her in a bored manner. Seemingly running out of conversation fuel, the two prisoners went back to sulking silently, contemplating how painful their deaths were going to be. The pink Werewolf had heard rumors about the Order's various execution methods. It was said that the most merciful one was the guillotine, a device that would instantly sever the head with only a millisecond of conceivable pain. The guillotine only experienced issues when used against Monster Girls that had particularly powerful skin; in which the blade was prone to getting stuck, leaving the Monster Girl gurgling in agony as they bled and drowned from their half-cut neck.
The Alpha looked at the Slime once again, and shuddered. Though it was likely that the Slime would be destroyed by a magical blast, she remembered some rumors about Lescatie's so-called 'Alchemical Department', how they would trap Slimes in cauldrons and boil them alive, making them evaporate into a pristine vapor. Once the vapor re-condensed and liquified again, all that would be left is a lifeless lump of distilled jelly.
"Hey, my name's Rachel. What's yours?" The Alpha said, in a desperate attempt to clear her mind from those disturbing and unnecessarily grimdark thoughts.
The sulking slime raised an eyebrow, (which she has by the way) and gave an inquisitive look at Rachel. The stare was that of an intellectual trying to dissect the inner mechanisms of a puzzle, the Slime's eyes were cutting into Rachel's face as if studying them.
"Glueberry." Came the Slime's reply, sounding not that interested in talking. Rachel hadn't noticed it until now, but throughout her life, slimes had only ever expressed one of two noticeably emotions: Happy, and Unhappy. They were such simple creatures, blissfully unaware of how millions would die everyday, only getting worried about where they could find more food. But right now? Glueberry didn't just look unhappy, she looked depressed. It was as if the Slime had gone through the entire five stages of grief, and had finally settled on an angry acceptance, as if to say 'Okay, but I'm not gonna be happy about it'.
"So...how did you get here?" Rachel asked, wanting to hear even the mundane story of a slime just to distract her own grief.
Glueberry blinked slowly, as if her eyes were struggling to open due to how adhesive they were. "Uh...where to start..." She said, attempting to scratch her chin but only managing to slide her sticky finger across a sticky surface.
"Well, I was having a really bad day..." The Slime said. As Glueberry began telling her story, the Alpha couldn't help but reflect upon her encounter with the Inquisitor. It was one of the few times Rachel had lost against a single opponent that wasn't blessed by the Chief God. It was also the first time Rachel had actually wanted to kill someone, getting so angry that her mind had temporarily burst free from the Demon Lord's influence, nearly regressing into something that resembled a Monster from the previous age.
"...Then this fox girl wearing some weird clothes comes and..." The Slime raised her voice, knocking Rachel out of her traumatic memories and getting her to focus back on Glueberry's super interesting backstory. The frustration within the gelatinous girl's voice continued to rise, bubbles forming and popping on her skin as she angrily recited her own experience. The scene reminded Rachel of the moments when her own sisters vented about their own problems to her, trusting the Alpha to be their therapist.
"...And then she pulls out a book!" Glueberry yelled. "I swear, she had to be mocking me! Everyone knows that slimes can't read!"
"Hey, uh...quick question." Rachel said, suddenly getting an idea. "I know this isn't related to how you got arrested, but...you're a slime right? Can't you just squeeze through the bars?"
Anger flashed the Slime's face, annoyed at her story getting interrupted. Then confusion and disbelief replaced the anger as the Slime formed a nervous smile.
"W-What are you talking about? Don't be ridiculous, there's no way that I could possibly..." Glueberry trailed off, giving a long stare at the iron bars of her cell. Her blue eyes were glued onto the bars, as if a sticky and invisible rope was pulling them together. Slowly and steadily, Glueberry's eyes widened in an expression of horror and embarrassment, realizing that she could have escaped at literally any time. If the Slime had skin, it would be redder than the blood that was still leaking out of Rachel's shoulder.
Before Glueberry could continue being dumbfounded by her own shortsightedness, the sound of a struggle is heard from a distance, followed by several *thump*s. When both prisoners looked back, they could see that all the guards, including the warden, had collapsed. Walking among all the unconscious bodies, was a woman who wore the attire of a combat nun.
She approached the cells of the prisoners, her long flowing green hair fluttering gently as she got closer. She held the keys in her hands, and had an apologetic smile on her face, as if to say 'I'm sorry you got into this mess'.
They had escaped.
Sasha Fullmoon, the kind lady, had given them her mercy.
The Alpha regrouped with her sisters, and was surprised to see how fast they had forgiven her.
Sasha offered them a way out, promised them that she could take them to a refuge camp.
And she did! The village they arrived in was full of life, and they were welcomed wholeheartedly.
So then why,
why,
why,
WHY HAD EVERYTHING GONE SO WRONG?
Undertale OST - The Fallen Child Extended
by Elu Tran on Youtube
Glueberry stood, on shaky legs as her form jiggled and trembled in a petrified fear, unable to take her eyes off from the gruesome sight.
The village that was in such a pristine state before, now looked as if it had experienced every single natural disaster that had ever existed. Smoldering craters lay everywhere, molten cracks split the ground and bled lava like chapped lips. The originally bright blue sky had turned into a dark red curtain, covering the realm like a blanket that wrapped around a baby for its longest and final sleep. Houses lay in burnt shambles, some were still burning, and others were charred lumps of ash. The once healthy grass had decayed and been sapped of its life force, the pleasant green had turned into a sickly puke-brown.
Even worse, hundreds of Monster Girls lay dead, the ones that hadn't been reduced to ash were mutilated in a sadistic and 'creative' manner. Arms, entrails, skin, fur, claws, lungs, scales, wings, plates, tails, fins, chitin...Not one of these bodyparts were left intact, either torn into unrecognizable shreds or burnt into a shiny black paste. If anyone was still alive among the trashpile of corpses, they would have died by now, because none of the Monster Girls in this village were capable of breathing smoke.
The perpetrator of these events sat in the very middle of this post-apocalyptic town, its tentacles visibly relaxed as they lay on the ground like it was a soft patch of fluffy grass. Its giant body did not possess a humanoid anatomy, and was instead spherical. From any other position, the sphere would have looked like an armored ball with hundreds of thick veins running through it, but when seen from the front, one would be able to see the large black slit that all the veins converged on. The sphere was a giant eyeball.
A single one of its tentacles was lifted into the air, an anomaly among all the limbs that were sprawling on the ground. Clutched and wrapped tightly around the spiny tendril, was a certain pink werewolf, who's teary eyes were transfixed on the giant eyeball, which in turn stared back like the abyss.
An fiery and masculine voice came from the sphere. "You know...your body keeps acting like it wants this, but your mind is very clearly saying 'No'." The voice carried a hint of amusement, as it began to chuckle.
Indeed, the hellspawn was correct. Despite the fact that she was also crying and bleeding profusely, the Alpha's body reacted to the tentacle wrapping around her and became aroused, even beginning to drip from her lower regions, likely a lingering reflex triggered from all her previous visits to a tentacle forest. Though right now, Rachel was likely one of the few Monster Girls to feel the horrors of violation: to become aroused despite not wanting it.
"Ha ha ha ha...Disgusting." The chuckle cut off as the voice suddenly turned angry. A muffled scream came from Rachel as the tentacles constricted, nearly dislocating more of her bones. Luckily, the giant tendril retracted just enough so it wouldn't kill her. Her involuntary arousal was not quelled in the slightest, and her juices still stained the tentacle. "As expected, you are no different from the rest in the endless sea of madness." The disappointment in the creature's voice was immeasurable, and it would have almost sounded sad if it weren't so livid.
Rachel was paralyzed, not from of the debilitating, but because of the immense and all-encompassing aura that the eyeball emitted. It was definitely Demonic Energy, but it was the color of an atavistic red rather than alluring purplr, and it felt old like it was a long forgotten precursor to the current Demon Lord's Mana. Rachel felt like her lungs were being crushed by the creature's suffocating presence, and if she had the ability to look away, she would've been able to see the corpses of her sisters lying around, the very sisters who's trust she had regained, and had once again lured all to their deaths.
As if it couldn't make up its mind, the creature once again took on an amused tone. "You wanna know something funny? Lilith always assumed that I hated humans." The creature's eyelid visibly twitched when it uttered the Demon Lord's name, as if it was focusing all of its willpower into speaking about her like an old friend. "But as a matter of fact, I love humans." One of the idle tentacles began playing with a corpse as if it was silly putty. "Their taste, their texture, the way their bones would crunch in your mouth, the feeling of blood squirting all around your teeth." The tentacle suddenly crushed the corpse, squeezing out all manner of boiled blood and shredded entrails.
"Let me tell you. Humans are really fun to play with." It suddenly moved closer to Rachel, making her inaudibly gasp as her entire field of view was consumed by the giant sphere. "They make the loudest screams when you pull off something as small as a finger. And they struggle real hard even though its pointless." The size of the creature's pupil increased along with the glee in its voice. "They're adorable." The black slit had gotten so large that Rachel could see the teeth inside it.
It made a tired sigh, blowing more smoke into Rachel's face. "As much as I want to spend hours explaining it to you, I'm on a very tight schedule, and I think it would be easier to just demonstrate." The eyeball's pupil curved into a sadistic smile. "After all... you do look quite human."
The tentacle slowly began to tighten, making Rachel's eyes widen as she whined pitifully. Hundreds of thorns scraped against her already damaged skin, and the hardened carapace of the constricting limb began to heat up and burn the Werewolf's fur. The muffled screams did not grow louder, but they increased in frequency as more and more crunching noises were made. The whole time, the giant eyeball stared into Rachel's agony-blinded eyes with an unusual coldness, as if her blood-mixed tears were the most interesting thing in the world.
Suddenly, the tendril retracted, dropping the mangled and ruined werewolf onto the charred ground. The gnarled mess twitched in pain, gurgling uncontrollably from her crushed throat while her fractured ribs lay in her shredd,ed lungs. "Go wash yourself up. A mockery like you isn't worthy of staining my hands with your blood." The eye said, as all of Rachel's bodily fluids that were on the creature's body evaporated into steam.
No longer paying any mind to the dying werewolf, Annihilanth crawled over to the portal that the werewolves had come from. He supposed he should have thanked the villagers before killing them, as it was thanks to their existence that allowed him a way into Lescatie. Just as he was about to use the portal however, he was reminded of one last creature that he hadn't taken care of yet.
He faced towards the small and trembling slime. Glueberry had been watching the whole time, struggling to move even an inch of her body as Rachel was crushed in front of her very eyes. Her fight or flight instincts had betrayed her, preventing her from fighting or flying. Though it wouldn't have mattered either way, what could she have done that an army couldn't?
Annihilanth approached her slowly, not making any sudden moves so that the Slime wouldn't be shocked out of her paralyzed state. He knelt down, giant pupil facing the trembling girl with an unreadable expression. And then, in the most friendly and gentlest tone he could imitate, Annihilanth spoke.
"Boo."
Glueberry screamed.
Author's Note: Wholesome right? Tell me what you think.
Sorry if the fight segments were a bit underwhelming, I'm not that good at writing any action scenes. Also, tell me if there's something wrong with the last section, I was very sleepy when I wrote it. I also apologize if the music recommendations were a bit excessive.
And now for reviews.
undefinedforever: Great progress and setup till now.
Firstly, for things I don't like... the names are a bit cheesy. Specifically, I feel like the Inari's name feels too blatant, to the point which even someone illiterate in Japanese can tell. While I appreciate your effort, the name really does detract from the overall reading in the story. But I get it.
Mr. Tentacle on the other hand... his name is a bit... edgy? Kinda makes sense though, given he is essentially made of edges.
I'm just going to call him Mr. Tentacle.
So, you actually included an old Monster. A genuine tentacle monster. Who isn't porn. And he has EMOTIONS. Brilliant. If I wasn't sold on this story before, this alone would have hooked me now. I suppose he's going to be a grim reflection of humanity's fate should the DE actually win.
For your attempts at making sympathetic antagonists... you are succeeding. Outlining what little precious common ground exists in internal monologue works pretty well, so for all intents and purposes, I'll consider her your OC that just so happens to possess the same name as an established character. And for good this time. Unlike those friggin NINOs that plague this particular website.
Again, I'd like to say that I really enjoy how you've been setting up this story. At this point, as long as you keep writing from the perspective of your various characters, and do it well, you could actually make readers sympathetic to the actual antagonists, for the meantime at least (how you want to use that is up to you).
At this point however, I think the setup should come to an end. Your overall story so far has so much unbelievable promise, and it's to the point where I am genuinely looking forward to future updates. I'm worried that you'll try and introduce too many characters, and begin favouring writing some POVs over the others, when ALL of them so far read so well.
Yeah, I can agree with you on the cringey names. I could have just picked a common japanese name for my Inari OC, but nooo, I had to make it mean something. And now I think I just made the same mistake with Annihilanth's full name (Have fun trying to figure out what 'Priorem Aetate' means). Speaking of tentacles'mcgee, yeah, he is an absolute edgelord, it's kinda the point of his character. As an old-age Monster, his brain is literally wired to be an edgy, one-dimensional villain.
Glad I was able to make Druella sympathetic. I tried to write her as someone who's alignment can flip upside down if you were to shove her in a human body and make her perceive black-and-white morality. By the way, what's a 'NINO'?
I'm glad you're looking forward to reading more. As for the characters, I still want to introduce more, but I think I'll do it at a very slow pace so that it doesn't immediately bloat the story. I apologize if I accidentally end up favoring certain characters. I admit that Lynnchester is the character I spent most effort in building, so it's inevitable that I might end up making her the pseudo-primary-protagonist. I'll try my best to give all characters equal attention.
Mr. What If: Actually before the retcon, the order was still viewed as the bad guys XD
If you want I can provide you proof
No need for proof, I am already aware of how KC wants the Order to be portrayed. I still see them as the lesser of two evils.
Guest: Lol, this is good
Okay.
Guest: This fic is good. Hope you will be willing to update. Like the way you're making your own lore
I have a bad schedule, but I'll definitely try to speed up my updates (giving me more reviews helps by the way). Although I'm making my own lore, I'm trying really hard to stick to canon-complaint laws, which is the reason I'm torturing myself by reading the Sabbath Grimoire (It contains the magic system that I needed to write this chapter's fight scene).
J.B Goomba Soldier44: So we actually get to see an honest the prospective from the monsters, huh? That's alot more merciful than any other "Hate-fics" I've read. Though, I really hope you include stuff like Dragonia and Runya, because it has even more sorta sympathetic monsters.
I'm still reading through all the books on the wiki, and I already have a basic understanding of Runya. I haven't seen Dragonia yet, so it would be very helpful if you gave me some insight about it in your future reviews.
Alright, I think that's all of the reviews for now. Probably could have responded better to some of them, but I really wanted to get this chapter out before I sleep. Regardless, I hope to see you all in the next chapter.
Sincerely, The Author.