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Chapter 7: Failed Heroics
Villages at the borders of Vale were the most dangerous places to live, yet Grimm attacks were uncommon. Even so, folk this far from the city had the capability to defend themselves from small packs, and a lively atmosphere was kept to prevent further attraction of the creatures. Life in Sentinel, one of the most far out villages in the kingdom of Vale, was both hardy and livable once adapted to the environment.
The morning of the bright sun and blue sky did not bring that air of peace. The sizable village was what can be described as hell. Uncountable fires burned at homes and other wooden buildings, clouding the air in black smoke. Worst in this crisis were the blood-chilling screams seemingly from everywhere. Despite the village's defenses, they were completely unprepared for what came upon them. It could not have been Grimm for no horde could do this at such little time and destruction. Nor was it bandits or White Fang terrorists set on looting the village as the attack was far too organized. Their attacker's goal however was not simply destruction or loot, but a far worse fate.
These new invaders wanted their suffering. That was what Anna Fray thought hiding under the rubble of wood and stone that used to be her house. A concussion on her forehead bled blood that made her vision blur occasionally, and the splinters of the destroyed wood threatened to pierce her back. Yet she held herself strong, refusing to sink into unconsciousness. Anna had lived her whole life in the village and growing up made her more hardy than people in the capitol would give credit. Right now, she refused to give in, not when her son was in danger.
'He's a smart boy.' Thought Anna. 'I know he will hiding somewhere. Most likely in the basement at our home. By the Gods, please be alright, my little John.'
Through the roaring fires, Anna heard the march of boots and instantly went still, holding her breath. Her eyes turned to the left and from the corner of her vision came the very invaders that have burned their home. She was still in disbelief at what she was seeing, having never heard or seen anything like them. Marching in perfect formation, the invaders were all dressed in black from the armor clinking as they walked to the 'skirts' some whore reaching to their ankles. From their helmets, Anna noticed how each individual consistently possessed pointed ears; a rare trait among humans, but the fact all of the attackers had so made Anna suspect they were not exactly human to begin with. They wielded armaments made of black steel including spears, swords, and shields. Yet none of them possessed a gun, as if the entire force came straight out of a dark folk tale from ancient times.
And it made all the more shocking. In the very first seconds of the attack, the village's communication systems to the rest of the kingdom were cut off. Not even Scrolls were working, essentially leaving them stranded to their fate without even warning the outside world. After that, the populous went in alarm when they heard blaring horns and roar of beasts. From all sides, the invaders charged in mounted on terrifying reptiles the likes Anna had never dreamed of. They slaughtered through the village using the shock factor of their appearance to kill as much as they could before anyone could react. It did not matter who they killed, not even children were spared in their onslaught.
Just when the village were starting to get their wits about in getting people to retreat, that was when the infantry moved in. The cavalry that made up the first wave acted as a shocker to allow the rest of their force to move in before they could escape. Their march rumbled like the earth holding spear, sword, and shield. Some of them Anna witnessed were nearly naked females of almost white skin, pale hair, and covered in tribal tattoos sprinting through the streets. In her mind, they were the most terrifying as these women cackled as they slaughtered whoever they saw. Further to Anna's horror these insane women went so far as to smear the gore of their victims onto their bear skin like a bath.
None of this was right. Anna knew this was all so terribly wrong. Whoever these horrid people were, they were no simple bandits or White Fang. It all stemmed from the very start of the attack to the burning of the village that she grew up in. They were far too organized, too much like the military to that of Atlas, and despite their 'primitive' weaponry possessed power in their own way in how efficient they took over. All of it turned to one question: Who could be responsible to deliver such a tragedy?
The squad marching on the street where Anna laid buried under the ruins of the local tavern came to the center of her peripheral vision, or at least as she could see their black steel boots. From under the rubble where she was trapped/hidden, Anna watched in a mix of horror and disdain as they burned her home with fire bombs, flame lit arrows, and regular torches. Another detail Anna noticed was that none of these pointy-eared bastards used Dust.
These soldiers - for there was no way to call them bandits - suddenly stopped in the street and the burning of the other buildings. Anna froze, not even daring to make a muscle twitch. One of them in the lead that had a more elaborate helm with a golden crest turned to his fellow. If those unique looks were anything to go by, it would be he was the de facto leader of the squad.
"Time to round up these pathetic monkeigh." The 'human' ordered, disdain obvious in his voice at the term. "The general is already pleased with the destruction of their village. Better to have the survivors picked up as slavery or sacrifices for her experiments. Do not leave ruin or stone unturned. They are awfully stubborn enough that they will hide like rats."
Frowns appeared on the faces of the invaders, but the glare from their current commander and the fact it was an order from the Witch Princess made them obey. Dropping the torches and equipping either spear or sword, the infantry men began to look through the ruin for any signs of life. At this point, Anna's heart was beating against her ribcage in terror and she mentally prayed to the god to grant her mercy lest she meet whatever fate awaited her if she was captured. Her panic increased as she saw the boots of one of the soldiers approach the rubble she was hiding under. Each footstep seemed to thunder in Anna's head as he came closer.
'I'm going to die.' Thought Anna miserably. 'I'mgonnadieI'mgonnadieI'mgonnadie. Someone please help.'
There was one more step before the soldier would reach down to pry the rubble away and reveal Anna hiding under. A few moments before her fate was virtually forfeit. Every second, her mental prayers became more frantic till she was begging for anything to save her. Before the soldier's hand could pry away the pieces of lumber to show Anna, his motions suddenly stopped as if his ears picked up something.
"We have an aggressor!" Exclaimed the soldier, the alarm clear in his voice. "He has explosives!"
All at once, the invaders braced themselves with their shields while crouched closer to the ground or rolling away for cover. A good thing to as a dink of a metal object reached Anna's ears till her eyes found a red glowing cylinder having landed on the ground. An object that was also blinking rapidly as if-
'A bomb!?' Anna thought, but soon realized the design of the weaponry. 'No, a grenade!'
With a beep, the cylindrical grenade exploded in a mess of heat and flames from the fire and wind Dust incorporated in the device. The invader closest to the blast had tanked most of the outward force, but was the most immediate casualty with his shield reduced to black steel fragments. His body was then vulnerable to the vicious heat suffusing into his armor, burning him on the inside out. He was left screaming in agony on the ground, his arms a twitching mess and the smell of cooked flesh in the air.
The others were alive frantically on the alert, but only just. They were not given a chance to let out a shout before someone literally crashed onto the street on top of one, crushing the unfortunate soldier. Blood gushed out from crushed flesh, bone, and dented, and metal, and Anna could see a set of new boots green in color and of familiar make. Whoever it was, her apparent savior moved too fast for the invaders to react, and she could not see very well from her low vantage. She did however hear the clash of weapons, the smashing of shields into pieces, and the chop of an edge cutting into flesh. In thirty seconds were the butchers of her village slain to silence, the smell of blood heavy in the air, and she even saw one of the invaders prone on the ground with his head and entire left shoulder missing from a single clean cut. Inwardly, Anna was quite satisfied with justice done upon these horrid people.
"Damn, there's no end to them." Spoke the voice of her savior, the deep masculine tone in it indicating it was a he. "Is there any survivors here? I'm a Huntsman. Please answer."
Hope further brightening with her savior's identity of a Huntsman, Anna answered. "I'm under here. I can't get out."
The green boots swiveled around to her direction and the man replied. "Just hold still. I'll get you out."
Anna heard and felt the rubble holding her down rumble as someone took hold of the pile. The more it shifted, the lesser the weight on her back. Her eyes squinted from the light of day for a moment, only to wash away after breathing fresh air instead of the dust she was softly inhaling into her lungs. Yet what should be a wonderful breeze was tainted by the smoke and ash of the fires that were burning her home to the ground. The matter on it was soon interrupted when a large hand came into her vision.
Looking up the limb, Anna came to witness the form of a very burly man that was obvious in his looks to be a huntress. He stood over six feet tall and was quite broad further accentuated by large muscles trained for power. All in all very burly with very milky coffee skin complexion. For clothes he wore a white tunic underneath a dirty green vest holding Dust ammunition and black trousers held by a utility belt. In his hands was a massive battle axe almost as tall as he was with two head on each side made of grey steel, but Anna could make out folding mechanisms that showed it can also mecha-shift. As for looks, he had a squared jaw, a head of messy brown hair, and hazel eyes.
"Thank the Gods I found someone else alive among these corpses." The Huntsman said. "Damn these lunatics."
After a moment of staring at the Huntsman, Anna grabbed his hand and was pulled to her feet. He kept his hold on her so she could get her balance until he was sure Anna can stand straight. The Huntsman frowned at the state of her clothes with tears and burn marks, but nothing as bad as the mutilated corpses he had seen passing through the village.
"Can you stand?" The Huntsman asked, getting a nod from Anna. "Good. Name's Peterson. I was on a standard patrol mission on the lookout for any alarming hordes near communities until I see yours up in flames by these guys. Anyone I've found alive I brought them to the nearby forests to hide. I'll bring you there, but then we will have to leave. These murders are everywhere."
Questions came to the forefront of Anna's mind, even as she and the now named Huntsman, Peter, sprinted through the streets while using alleyways to hide in if they weren't burning. A few times they had to stop in the shadows to avoid a patrol of the invaders. Once they had barely heard the rattle of roof tiles shifting under weight where Witch Elves sprinted across the top of buildings above them. If there was one group of the invaders they shouldn't be found by, it was those sadistic hags. When they were sure there were no eavesdroppers, Anna decided to voice her questions.
"Have you seen my son?" Anna said in a hushed whisper. "His name is John. He's seven years old, just a little small for his age. Has a head of red hair and few freckles on his face. Please tell me you've found my boy."
"You said your son is named John, right?" Said Peterson, a smile on his face. "Don't worry. The little tike is safe. Smart too since I found him hiding under a hollow of a tree. Bastards never saw him, thank goodness. You'll get to see him when we get to the rendezvous point where the survivors have gathered."
Anna perked up. "Does that mean that evacuation services are on the way, or even reinforcements?"
Peterson frowned bitterly. "No. No one's coming. It's just me. Trust me, I tried getting in contact with Vale, but something here is jamming the signal on my Scroll. We're all alone. Our best bet is to make a run for it, hopefully get far enough to get a signal and warn the kingdoms about... this."
Anna made a horrified grimace. Cut off from the rest of the world was probably the worst situation that could have landed them in. Not only could they not get reinforcements, it was impossible to warn the rest of the world of this threat. Not unless they could run far enough until they escaped whatever is interfering with communications. Yet the thought of running brought up a chill on Anna's spine. An instinctual part of her, one not determined with hope, knew even running closer to Vale was of now use.
They continued on in silence, making their way to the eastern way out of the village. Soon buildings and structures became spaced out till they came to flat crops. Once these fertile lands grew acres of corn, potato, and other agricultural produce, but now flooded in fires reaching heights taller than the pair. It wasn't just an invasion, it was sacking of all Anna knew turning into ash. At the very least, the great amount of the flames provided a cover for Anna and Peterson to rush through the flatlands where in any other case they would stick out like a sore leaf.
But a dreaded fear rose up in both of them. In the entire way, they had not heard or seen anymore of the invaders. Not even the snarls of the bipedal raptors pulling chariots. Instead, they pressed on, pushing back that fear with hope as Anna neared the forests. The flames had only licked at the trees at edge with the signs of scorched branches and burning leaves, but the forest itself was completely safe. However, once arriving under the canopy, the silence that greeted put a pit in their stomachs.
This is where her son was hiding, right? This is the place that the survivors of her home are holed up, right? So why are they being so silent!?
"C'mon, let's go." Peterson called, but Anna could hear the desperation in his tone. "We can make a run for it."
"There's no running." A feminine voice replied back, dripping with malice.
As if a veil had been lifted, the darkness seemed to have parted and before their eyes a whole company of the invaders before them. They varied from the foot soldiers dressed in their Gothic black armor to the demons in women's skin to riders of the reptiles. There was even a hiss where above Anna froze at the sight of nine heads of a massive reptilian monster, covered in light blue and red scales with fire licking from its many forked tongues. The hydra beast snarled and hissed at them, but did not make a move obedient to its master staying at its side with a whip ready to be used.
The most terrifying of this scene was the invaders each had a hold on the survivors. Some had already been killed off quite brutally with townsfolk impaled upon spears or mutilated to gory pieces by the monsters they have tamed. A woman was nailed to a tree by spear running through her stomach, spilling guts where the reptiles feasted on without care. Those alive were worse for wear with bleeding cuts and bruises as they were held rather roughly by their captors. One of the pale demon hags had a child held up the ground with a wicked blade so close to his throat fresh blood ran down the steel. A very familiar boy with a head of red hair.
"John!" Screamed Anna.
"Mommy!" Screamed the boy, only for the witch elf's hold on the boy to grow tighter.
"Ah, ah, ah!" The pale woman spoke with sweet malice, licking her black lips. "Be a good boy or I'll carve your throat open."
Anna wanted nothing more than to rush to her boy and somehow free him. She was fortunately held back by Peterson holding the woman by the scruff of her neck. However, his own face was contorted in righteous rage seeing the whole situation lose all hope. The only advantage he had was that he was a veteran Huntsman armed with his Aura and Semblance while the enemies before him were mostly regular people without such protection. And yet this entire nightmare had proved they are far from normal.
"You let that boy go now!" Peterson roared, kicking off into a forward sprint faster than the normal eye could see.
The foes before him were beyond even the standards of certain Faunas with night vision. One moment, his eyes were on the dreadful woman holding the boy, the next he felt as though an Ursa Major punted him at full force. His breath was knocked of his lungs and his body tumbled across the ground like a thrown pebble. It only stopped when Peterson crashed into a tree hard enough to crack the trunk, but then a steel boot stomped on his chest to pin him down. Once his vision stopped swimming, he found himself terrified taking in the evil visage of Allisara, the Witch Princess.
"So you find yourself a hero of some sort?" Allisara spoke, twisting her foot to elicit grunts of pain. "You know, this is my first time I've met a lot like you. Those type of people my father and grandmother rant on about. That for reasons that escape me you put your life on the line for other people. To make other people feel happy and safe and glorious. Seeing it myself, it's just so... petty."
As she spoke, Peterson took in the new assailant's image, instantly knowing right that she was much more than the invaders themselves; possibly their leader. Any observer will label the Witch Princess as beautiful possessing flawless white skin, alluring face, and amazing figure that all stood at an impressive height of six feet for a woman dressed in black plated armor and armed with a vicious broadsword of dark steel. Though calling her a woman may be a stretch as Allisara looked far younger than the Druchii men he saw that had more grim looks to them.
Yet the eyes ruined the entire visage. Looking at them, every part of his body to his soul screamed at Peterson that they were so terribly wrong. Her left eye was a void with just a faint outline of dark purple and its gaze made his insides freeze over. The eye on the right looked to have come from a Grimm with his crimson color that actually glowed with a black slit pupil in it. This eye did not hide the insanity and bloodlust that made Peterson feel he was a toddler staring up at a Grimm dragon ready to devour him.
Gritting his teeth, Peterson made to push himself to get himself back up and make Allisara stumble off of him. That ended in failure and he received a hard stomp to his gut, chipping more off his Aura and making the ground crater below him. He did not give Allisara the satisfaction of him coughing out his breath.
"You're already frail and decaying as mortals go." Allisara said as if talking about the weather. "So why go ahead and try to waste it anyway for complete strangers? Heroes are glorious? Pfft! I'd say you have the most foolish death wish."
Peterson growled. "There is no reason to save people. Especially when protecting them from the likes of you."
Allisara grinned sinisterly. "Ah, getting uppity, aren't you? I've heard of how the monkeigh write their tale of heroes. The destined winner, the 'bane of evil and center of praise'. Why is that? Do you think you're a hero because you are a little more than the common monkey. A monkey with a pointy stick is still a monkey."
While Peterson glared at the wicked woman, his mind was whirling with confusion. 'What the hell is she going on about? Why the hell am I being called a mortal and a monkey!? What is she on about?'
"After having a nice stroll through that wood pile you call a village, I'm in a really a good mood for a bit more fun." Allisara said, her grin stretching enough to reveal sharpened teeth. "I hear that you are one of these Huntsman. A special person with special training and unique abilities. Something these people look up to. Their shining hero. Let's put a wager on that. You and me in a duel to the death. Winner takes the prize of the remaining cattle here."
Peterson took a moment to glance to the captives, including Anna and her son John. "Deal."
Allisara's response was the smile of a predator. She jumped back, leveling her blade in a relaxed grip. The Druchii in the area had expressions expecting a spectacle for their general to show.
As a Huntsman, it was his duty to protect the folk who couldn't and be the shield against the Grimm. He needed to win not just to save the rest of the villagers, but also warn his superiors of this new threat on the kingdoms. Ozpin had to know.
"I ain't losing here!" Cried Peterson.
With a flick of a switch, his giant axe mecha-shifted into a grenade launcher with barrel capable of firing four capsules already loaded. The transformation was over in less than a second, and in the next instant shot out a Dust grenade primed to explode on impact. In that small timeframe, only Allisara's brow rose in interest of the weapon's transformation, but didn't change at the approaching projectile. Peterson almost let out a grin for the seemingly easy win until Allisara simply sidestepped out of the way. The grenade passed her to impact a tree, reducing it to burnt splinters on impact to the trunk.
"That looks quite dangerous." Allisara noted in amusement. "Reminds me of the explosives those stubborn dwarves make. I wonder what we'd see if you threw one of those at our wonderful spectators?"
Peterson's eyes widened in terror realizing the precarious situation he was in. His fighting style relied on using high-yield explosives and his Semblance for maximum damage on Grimm. However, he can't afford to do that unless he gets any of the civilians in the crossfire. Even one of his grenades would reduce an Aura-less human or Faunas a red smear.
'Shit!' Cursed Peterson mentally. 'That leaves only my Semblance if I can make direct contact. I'm no slouch in close combat, but why am I so af-'
His thoughts were abruptly halted when he simply blinked and Allisara was right in front of him. Pain seared his chest followed by a harsh forward kick from Allisara that impacted his gut with a bang. As he tumbled off the ground, he switched to his axe form to anchor his weapon into the ground to stop himself. Looking at his opponent, he saw the dark blade's sharp tip dripped with fresh blood. Peterson looked down at himself, finding a gash across his chest that was healing away by his Aura.
'That - I could have died!' Thought Peterson. 'She has enough physical strength to overwhelm Aura!?'
"Do keep in mind I am not going to just stand there." Allisara commented, relishing the blood on her sword. "So this 'Aura' has a limit of its own defensive capabilities, yet has a backup in using a healing factor. Curious. It makes you wonder... how much blood can I squeeze out of you if I kept cutting you and you kept healing?"
Her question brought sadistic giggles from the gathered witch elves. Their interest now keened in wonders how much blood a user of Aura can produce. Could they fill a Blood Cauldron by themselves? Would his screams go on longer? All of this made Peterson shiver in revulsion.
Shaking his head, Peterson made a charge on Allisara and opened with a massive overhead swing. Instead of dodging, she held her sword in an one-armed block. He expected his axe to breach her defense, not for his weapon to stop completely. A flick of her wrist was enough for the axe to be parried away as if Allisara was flicking away a speck of dust. Shocked but not deterred, Peterson continued his assault swinging in wide yet quick arcs to get a hit on Allisara. First swing came from his left, blocked by Allisara's blade and leveled away to the other side harmlessly. Another soon followed coming down diagonally from the right, sidestepped by Allisara with fluid motion. The next was almost predictable with a quick swing meant to cleave Allisara.
However, Peterson feinted the blow and moved into a stabbing motion. Allisara in response swung at the axe itself, forcing it to impact the ground. Before Peterson could bring it back to himself, Allisara, with her blade in her left hand, stabbed the blade behind the axe head locking it by the sword's serrated edge. Peterson was not given the moment to be shocked about it as pain erupted from blunt force on his jaw and his vision getting blurry. With him wide open, Allisara had dealt a backhand across Peterson's face, the sharp edges of her gauntlet leaving bloody scratches on his cheek. Already there were signs of a black bruise developing on his jawline, but the Witch Princess was not done yet.
Before Peterson could stumble back, Allisara let go of her sword planted into the ground to keep Peterson's axe in place and grabbed him by the scruff of his tunic. With her right hand clenched into a fist, she continued to pummel the Huntsman, an insane grin on her face as she did so. She didn't just punch his face; Allisara made blows to his sternum making sure each blow had enough force to shatter bone. Even as bones crunched and blood flowed, his Aura persisted in healing his injuries. To her delight, Peterson felt all of the pain.
Allisara cackled. "It makes this so fun the fact you're still alive. And they say you can't beat a monkey too much-"
Her words halted when Peterson's right hand snapped to grab her left forearm. Allisara paused in the beatdown and stared in confusion of the monkey's sudden second wind. Peterson met Allisara's gaze, a smile blooming as his injuries healed.
"Boom, bitch!"
For the first time, Allisara widened her eyes in surprise when her vision was engulfed in orange light followed by a tremendous bang. An incredible explosion engulfed the area of the fighter's, the heat felt by all. The cheer from the Druchii died to shock followed by their prisoners risking to make smiles. As the dust cloud started to clear, they were first to witness a still standing Peterson sweat dripping down his form and his axe back in hand, but Allisara's sword still in place.
That was the power of Peterson's Semblance, Instability. Whatever he touches, he can imbue with his Aura to make it explode in a heated concussive blast powerful enough to obliterate concrete and even damage industrialized steel. Even Huntsmen and Huntresses would not get off pretty if they got in direct contact with the explosions, much less using his Semblance on an opponent's limbs as he did now. However, with the drainage in his Aura protecting and healing him, he was running low.
'That should have done it.' Thought Peterson.
Victory for Peterson and salvation for the human/Faunas... was not to be. Once the dust cloud finally settled down, they saw Allisara still standing on her own two feet. The force of the blast had pushed Allisara, making her feet dig into the ground as they went, and the limb that had the explosion on his Semblance were missing their pieces of armor but the skin underneath was unharmed. If one looked closely, a black-red shimmer emanated off her skin. Peterson on the other hand stood in shock that Allisara was still alive.
"How... annoying." Allisara said lowly, the smile gone from her face. "That was not magic. How did you do that?"
Instead of answering, Peterson gave a war cry and charged Allisara yet again, who gave a look of exasperation. His attacks this time were less coordinated and more wild from desperation. Allisara didn't want to play with her opponent, choosing to simply dodge or block with the armor on her right arm. Eventually, Allisara had enough and in the split second Peterson was making a swing, her right hand made a grabbing motion as it sparked in Dark Magic. In a flash of purple, a blade composed of solid dark magic formed in her hand as minor use of Blade Dance. She swung it up aiming for Peterson's left bicep.
"AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAUUUUUUUUUUGH!"
Peterson could not help but scream in utter agony and fell to his knees clutching the bleeding stump that used to be his left arm. The limb itself flopped to the ground where its remaining blood fed the grass. Despite Peterson's anguished cries, Allisara ignored it choosing to study her summoned magic blade with a satisfied expression.
"So magic can bypass the defense of this Aura completely." Allisara mused. "Exquisite."
"DAMN YOU!" Peterson yelled, rising up with a look of desperation and madness, and arms outstretched in one last attempt to kill Allisara with his Semblance.
The Witch Princess did not even give Peterson a glance. His motion suddenly stopped as he felt multiple projectiles not simply pierce but forcing his way through his back. Whatever it was, they were forcefully piercing through his body in a slow process that brought untold agony upon him. It was made worse by the fact his Aura was desperately trying to heal the injury no matter what, but served to persist his torture. He felt them push through his lungs and bust out of his ribs so agonizingly slow, all the while he screamed with blood flying out his mouth.
This session of pain lasted for five minutes until his Aura gave out. Without it stopping them, the objects in his body burst through his body where they zipped to Allisara's left forearm. They were in fact the pieces of her armor that were scattered by the blast, but undamaged that they still linked up to complete the armor. The only difference being the armor of the left forearm was now drenched from goring its way through Peterson's body.
Allisara took a moment to admire the art she performed on Peterson from forcing the armor pieces through him. His chest cavity had completely burst open, revealing it in all of its glory detail. Peterson's lungs looked like shredded balloons and his sternum in pieces. Only his heart remained intact, giving its last few beats that served to gush out more blood everywhere. Organs such as his stomach, liver, and intestines trailed out to litter the ground. The best part was the fact he was kneeling to give Allisara the view of the gore, leaving the civilians all of their hopes in the Huntsman to crumble into despair.
"Congrats, monkey." Allisara cooed, caressing the frozen face of the late Peterson. "You had the honor in dying for my entertainment."
The Witch Princess ordered her troops to return to their settlement. That was as far as raiding went, and Allisara was satisfied to finish the day with that fun note.
You thought I wasn't going to update in six months!? But now it wasn't! It was updated today!
Look forward for some classic Druchii torture coming up to serve Allisara's dastardly schemes. Remnant has no idea of the terror coming.
Up next is Chapter 8: Demon.
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