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They always break, always give in. Zonda is a master of all arts concerning love after all, her lovely counterparts have tasted every carnal aspect of it, while she herself focused on the emotional parts. One could call such devotion to the subject of love to be a perversion, Copen certainly would, he'd look at her with disdain, believing firmly in the boorish belief of keeping oneself pure. But such an inexperience, as much as it is a strength of character is also a weakness that's easy to leap on.

Zonda looked down to her prey, and smiled as he dozed off on her lap, unable to stay entirely awake after the thick infusion of layers of compulsion and septimosomes, a mix of bitter pain and sweet pleasure as her own power courses through his bloodstream. Powerful enough to heal any lingering injuries she inflicted on him, but not enough to completely overtake his will. His sharp red eyes were still open, drowsy but watching. As his own body has a reaction similar to an allergy against her venom, rejecting, refusing to let it change him for the better. Through his own sheer will alone.

As ironic as it may be. Fate has handed Copen the card of being on the lowest level of compatibility with the life wave itself. That of the Primordial (1st) level and thus he is the unlikeliest person to ever be capable of developing a septima on his own. That alongside the fact one's septima tends to reacts to one's emotions. Means his sheer refusal to such a thing will either cause his septima (if he ever develops one) to go haywire and most likely kill him or outright refuse to show itself in any way.

A lesser demon would have found this unnerving. Called such a situation impossible and unfair.

But Zonda is no demon. She is a goddess, and her will is law.

"You can feel it, can't you?" asked Zonda as she patted the slayer's head with a fond affection, although she expected no answer and received none. "My power running through you. Becoming part of you, slowly but surely, even as you fight it. What can one will do against all my power?"

With her other hand, she traced Copen's jawline right down to his chin, long white elegant claws trailing over the unexplored valleys and mountains of the slayer's throat, finally letting it rest on his chest. His heart was beating fast. Adrenaline. Fear. Arousal. Any combination of these, all of them would paint a far more pleasant painting than the usual response of artificial adept creation.

And yet he would not ascend. Not overnight, no. This blessing would be slow and sweet, stripping away the young man's pride, honour, and humanity like dry rot, until one day all Zonda would need do is tap that precious human heart and watch his will crumble away.

So Copen could fight it as much as he liked.

"But sooner or later, you will submit to me of your own volition." Zonda gazed at his helpless figure, how vulnerable his current state is, could he even hear her? Is he currently stuck in a fugue state where he's fully aware of what she does but is unable to even give a single reply towards it?

Zonda had the brief impulsive thought to kiss him then and there. It'll take a while before she'll have him this obedient again within her grasp once he snaps out of it. And the humiliation he would feel when he remembers he was so putty in her hands would make the satisfaction all the sweeter.

But she didn't.

Instead she covered the man under a barrier as she stood up, letting him float behind her in a bubble like he's some grand trophy. She's enjoyed this moment but she has others things still to achieve and so…

Well, she can use this as some extra reward to herself once she's really done a good job.

After all, it's not like he's going anywhere.

Copen felt his body being carried by something and couldn't stop it. Couldn't bother to even try to muster some force in his body in order to stop it. There were more important things to worry about.

The main thing was fighting off the infection that was attempting to root itself into his body and mind. The Kamizonos were always a stubborn bunch, but his mental discipline training was more specialized in letting him contend against illusions, taunts, pain tolerance, nothing so extreme as what he's facing now, for Nori, even in her stoicism, being ever so caring refused to go that far.

"Even if I am your guardian. Going further than this would simply be abuse. Though I hope you'll never have a need for it. The best thing you can do is focus and refuse to lose yourself within it."

Even as she said it, he wasn't really convinced on what that meant. Which is most likely why he can only vaguely tell what's happening to his body right now. That or Zonda actually poisoned him.

Well, either way. Copen supposed he'll have to hold onto his stubbornness and resolve for now.

Which seemed to be working.

Or at least, it kept the black-blooded version of himself with crimson eyes, black scleras, and a smile full of teeth whose wearing an armored phenomenon that makes them look like a demonic tiger on the other side of the hexapyle Copen had built in his mind. Visualization inside his own imagination was something that even he could do, having seen the trope before in fiction.

And right now it was surprisingly going smooth.

Through his actual eyes, he could see Zonda, carefully putting him on a soft bed, sheets over him to protect from the cold. The girl's face was unusually smooth, focused as she was on the task of putting chains around his hands. Copen tried not to think about the fact he was being chained onto a bed by the most notorious sex fiend in...every history ever, and jolted in surprise when the armored-Copen lifted his claws and slashed against the beehive of barriers with gusto.

Cracks start to form on the barrier, some of the smaller hives surrounding it already vanishing.

Copen reached at the air, using hand motions that don't really mean anything at all, in the hope that it would make the barrier somehow sturdier. In response, some of the hives started to come back.

The other him doubled his efforts at that, their fierce attacks inflicting more damage than Copen could himself repair. Which promised nothing good for once the hexapyle is gone, there will be nothing he can do prevent the other him from shredding him into pieces. Still he refuses to give up.

He's a Kamizono after all. And a Kamizono never submits. Fighting smarter instead of harder, he created 2 more hexapyles instead, the burden of doing so less tiresome than constantly repairing the same one. Thus creating a fine loop that his enemy will never be able to escape out of without help.

And they wouldn't get any, for the silence around them showed that they were on their own.

It was then that Copen realised more time had passed outside than he had been conscious of.

Then he snapped back to his physical body, aware of something crunching down on his wrists and neck. He wasn't in the grand hall anymore. Instead, he had been moved to somewhere else.

He finds himself inside a luxurious bedroom. One with chocolate brown walls and a blue ceiling where stars are painted on. His bed is huge, very soft to the touch and even has heart shaped pillows fluffed next to him. Even then, he refused to think of the room as comfy. There were no windows, the cuffs on his body are attached to the head of the bed and the solid steel doors blocking his exit consist of little more than a small vertical window and a food slot he's probably too big to slip through. In other words this place is a cell and nothing else. One he has to escape, immediately.

So Copen struggled. It was something he's been proficient in ever since he took on the cause, and damn if he was going to stop now, not when freedom was only barred by three obstacles. It took only a minute or two of straining his back and holding in some pain before he manages to twist his legs into having a solid foothold in order for him to semi stand up with his back pressed against the head of the bed. Though his arms are uncomfortably bend downwards in this angle, it doesn't stop the slayer from firmly putting one foot against the wall, followed by another as he pushes with his full body and all of his strength against the chains that dig deeper into his arms and neck in response. The effort fills him with pain as the chains dig deeper into his hands and neck, cutting off both the blood flow in the former two and the much needed air in his lungs. But still, he continues.

Everything hurts. It feels like his insides are being ripped apart, that he is dying. Blood starts to be drawn from his hands as the metallic bonds dig deeper into his skin. But stop he does not. He'd sooner die self-asphyxiated on this bed than lay idle and be toyed with like some captured bitch.

He almost smashes his head face-first into the ground when the chains inevitably snap, but instincts take over as he rolls over the bed and lands feet-first on the ground. Chunks of solid wood now attached where the chains were once attached to. Copen is free, or at least, close to being free.

Immediately he used the mobility to scan the room further, taking inventory of useful supplies. Unfortunately short of more gaudy clothes in the closet, some perfumes, soap and lube in a lower desk and even some candles in a box set in a corner. (Which has more than just candles COUGH COUGH) There is nothing he can use as a weapon, short of the chains still attached to his body.

But Copen is no flail fighter, the best he can think off doing with these chains is to ambush someone and choke them to death. That and the wooden stumps could potentially serve as semi-stakes…

Well, that's settled then. He'll hide somewhere in the room. Wait for some guard or adept with food to open the door the moment they realize he's gone. And then take them down for an easy way out alongside taking their weapons as his own. Of course, that means right now, he can only wait.

Copen crouched near the door, just outside of it's viewing zone and waited. Waiting was the worst part, as it let his thoughts go wild. What if the door has to be pulled to enter? Then the blindzone would be useless as someone could see him crouch from the edge of their vision. What if the guard has a gun that shoots normal rounds instead of energy shots? He'd have to predict where they were aiming then lest a bullet he can't dodge would pierce through his defenseless body. If even the tiniest thing goes wrong, then he might not gain a second opportunity to escape ever again…

But thinking about such things won't do anything good. In fact it ignited a stabbing pain at the front of his skull. Copen squeezed his eyes shut in response and silently said each name of his family like a strange prayer. That done, he shoved them out of his mind and focused on where he has to go to reunite with Lola once he's outside. If he's lucky then they're still in china. Which means he could run to some nearby town, find a phone to call them by and wait to be picked up before-

The food slot popped open. A tray of food nudged in. "Dinner for the Goddessse's pet." said a mechanical voice most likely belonging to an armored Zonda fanatic. "Be honored for the-wait, what in the-"

Copen said nothing, holding in a breath as the person beyond the door took a deeper look into the room, sees the destroyed bed from the way they curse. And hears a bunch of keys jangle as the stealth-suit wearing grunt enters the room. Laser-knife held at the ready as they don't see Copen.

Seeing his opportunity, Copen emerges, and swiftly swiped at the grunt's leg, knocking him down. Dragging the armored body closer, Copen dumped their head against the bed, looping his chains around their neck and pulling hard, using his foot against their back to keep them immobile.

This wouldn't be enough to kill the grunt. Copen knew this. The grunt knew this. Moving to phase 2, Copen quickly transferred the chains to one hand, snatching up the wooden stump with his free one, and smashed the head of it against the wall, fracturing it. Then lets go of the chains.

The grunt immediately shot up, two feet against the ceiling as he launches himself at Copen. With one decisive strike, Copen launched his makeshift through the grunt's lesser protected neck, using all of his strength and the latter's momentum to break through their armor and jab it into them.

"Just so you know." noted Copen, speaking over the bloodied gargling of the grunt. "I belong to nobody."

He put his whole weight into the stake, and heaved, feeling it slide through further. The grunt's body flailed about, scratching Copen's left cheek with a long claw, and then went limp. It took a moment but his foe bled to death, choking onto their own blood for their remaining seconds, dirtying the floor and his hands full of the hot crimson-colored liquid. Copen didn't give the body a second glance, instead drying off the blood on parts of the sheets before he rushed out the room.

He didn't have the time to put on the latter's armor. It wasn't his size and with the blatant hole it simply wasn't worth the effort. Instead he focused on running, knowing that it could only be a manner of minutes before someone checks up on the room again and sets off the alarm.

Still he pocketed the laser-knife, and the detachable gloves and boots. They had the ability of letting one cling to walls and jump high like a ninja. He could have made something superior to just that, yes, but beggars can't be choosers if their inferior tools could be the key to getting out of here.

And hey, at least the knife helps with cutting off most of the chains on him. Leaving him only with some of the cuffs still wrapped around him. Those being too close to his own skin to cut off safely.

Still, refusing to be discouraged. Copen focuses on what he can do, like wrapping some of the intact parts of the sheets as semi bandages around his sore wrists and then leaves the room, to freedom!

But he only got to turn one corner before he froze.

"I see the room wasn't to your taste," said a sultry, familiar voice.

It was Zonda. Or well, her adult female clone. Standing proud in her white-pink mockery of a Sumeragi adept hunter outfit. The disguise doing nothing to hide the curves of her legs nor the size of her generous chest. Soft, silky smooth pink-bubblegum like hair trailed all the down, showing off her svelte hourglass curvature until it reaches her butt, at which the end off lies a dangerous tail with a crystal tip lazily that swings around. Her pink eyes were completely focused on him with an intensity that could be called predatory. And from the way one of her hands lazily traces around the heart shaped mark on her upper stomach and the other has it's open palm shown his way with a slow and sensual 'come over here' sign. Her intentions were as clear as day to Copen.

"Then again, you've always been a fighter," she purred. Sounding completely unsurprised, if not amused. "But to think you'd be so eager to reunite with my true self. Oh, how charming of you~"

"Take even one step towards me, and I might change your mind." Copen hissed back, heart once excitedly beating at the thought of sneaking his way out, or even fighting if he got discovered, felt like it had been seized by some icy hand. Copen swallowed hard, bitter at the thought that she gave him the opportunity to escape, just so she can punish him for the attempt like some twisted game.

Still, game or not. He grips the laser-knife harder and steadies his feet. Running away isn't an option lest she'd shoot him in the back with attacks that are too fast to dodge unarmored. But if he fights, perhaps she'll get cocky and he can strike in a killing blow. Even if she is just a copy Zonda can recreate he doubts that it would be an instant process. Because if it is, then he's just out of luck.

"Oh?" she grew a seductive smile, most likely an innuendo on her mind. "Are you planning to put that tiny little thing inside of me?" her eyes trailed to the laser-knife in Copen's hand, "I doubt I'd feel a thing...then again, when it's in your hands….perhaps size won't matter at all?-"

Like a taut elastic band let loose Copen rocketed towards her. Time seemed to slow down and he spent most of that running, he'd almost felt surprised at how light and how little sound his shoes let out as he jumped over a swipe of her tail at the last moment. Fighting instincts soon took over as he swung the knife mid-lung to her throat. But the knife failed to draw blood as the woman encased herself into a mirror wall, cracked but still intact she went skywards after and started shooting purple balls of septimal energy his way, forcing him to dodge as they bounced all over the hall.

"Yes! Jump, flip, run all around! Let out all that energy and show how much you want me!" Zonda cried out ecstatically as she kept flying around in her oval shaped mirror. Occasionally darting a hard up or down whenever the Slayer got close to slashing her, and outright letting out a moan whenever he does hit her as he keeps avoiding the bullet barrage of bouncing energy balls.

"…" Copen on the other hand stays completely silent. Refusing to waste his breath and focus by answering to any of her ludicrous battle banter. She'd just twist his words around if he did.

"Ah, such focus...are you so enthralled by me that you can't say a word?" turns out even silence somehow gets her gears grinding. "Very well, then come! Receive my embrace!"

Her strike came crashing down with all her might. Mid-landing Copen only had enough enough to grab hold of his blade with both hands as he tries to block the sudden spinning figure that comes his way. Pink met pink as they let off sparks on impact. A grinding noise rang throughout Copen's boot as they tried to keep him grounded while he's being pushed back. He felt like he had been hit by a truck rather than a woman pirouetting. But the strength in her body was undeniable, continuing to defy all physics. The twisted woman in front of him got closer and closer as his arms were being pushed closer to his own chest. His eyes met with hers again. Those revolting and predatory pink eyes. They got closer and closer till he could make out the whites within them. Unable to bear the strain anymore he acted quickly. He stopped pushing and following her momentum, launched himself past her. A risky thing, really. Because if that went wrong, he would have broken bones.

Copen backed away, rising off his knees as he tried to get some distance. Zonda wasn't stuck spinning for long. With one effortless mirror-warp she stood ten feet away from him again. She put both of her hands on her hips and tilted her head inquisitively, Copen didn't care what that meant.

"You know, if you're tired." She started. "You can always surrende-"

Her attempt at 'diplomacy' was met with a forward step that transitioned into a straight dash leading to a straight chop to her legs. Zonda was forced to take a step back and swing her tail to fend it off. Predicting this, Copen stopped his feint mid-slash, and aimed his steel straight at her left kidney only to be met with a kick straight at his chest. Turns out Zonda can move her body AND tail independently from one another. The force of the blow pushed him off-balance and he fell over sideways, landing on his shoulder. Rolling with the force of the blow Copen tumbled back up onto his feet to be met with a tail thrust. He swung his torso to the side so it flew past him. That was followed by another thrust forcing him to throw his torso in the opposite direction. Pulling her tail back and pivoting on her feet, Zonda twirled around in a pirouette slash on a collision course with his head.

Copen backed up recklessly, mildly panicked by the flurry of blows as if even one hit him straight-on, he'd be out of the fight. His reactions were instinctual but he didn't have eyes on the back of his head. His back caught with a fall and were he a lesser man he'd have fell over, he almost dropped his laser-knife as he tumbled back to his feet. Copen could tell he was in trouble cornered like this, yet Zonda stayed back instead of pushing and watched him. Copen spied a flash of pearly whites. An amused smile on her face and her eyes alight with such an intensity they may as well be shining.

Not only that, but he was breathing heavily, and she wasn't. That could only mean that, while he had pride in his own reflexes, his strength and stamina were quickly fading away. She wasn't showing any fatigue. She'd proven her point by now. That's right! I can't beat you without my own gear! You win. Can I go home now? He thought to himself. But of course he would never say it.

Her moves looked as though they were choreographed and refined. She had real talent and skill. Copen could barely muster the wherewithal to not get run through in the first exchange. She was strong, and while Copen was at the apex his body could give him, he was no match against strength that's supernatural. This fight had already been decided. Copen had no chance and he was at her mercy. He thought of stabbing the knife into himself. Like the samurais of old so she won't be able to toy with him any longer. But the thought quickly vanished when he remembered why he is here.

Steeling himself once more. The revolting woman before him flashed a wider smile and put on her own combative stance once again. She was clearly enjoying every aspect of this fight.

"At least- that makes- one of us," Copen huffed under his breath and then lunged.

Zonda's armor erupted with a purple aura. The colours blazing in such a way that it might actually reflect her mood. Copen took another step forward, and she took a defensive stance. She's inviting him to attack. He took another step forward. She didn't flinch. Copen threw himself at her with the third. With both hands on the knife, he swung upward diagonally. With ease, her tail swatted his blow away. He took a step back, but she didn't follow up with a counter attack. He took another step and swung back horizontally, a blow she swatted upwards. This time Copen knew Zonda wouldn't give him a second chance. He stepped out of the way, and as predicted she'd moved forward. His gambit gave him just one chance as he was off to the side with his knife held high.

He brought it down, knife moving so fast it's purple glow left a trace in the air as it moved.

How stupid of him to think that was fast enough...She recovered, parried and repelled his attack.

Give me more.

That's what he thought those eyes of hers were saying to him. He couldn't mistake that look for anything else. She's certainly expressive enough in that false form of hers.

Copen regained his footing. That condescending look on her face began to piss him off. She was just toying with him at this point. Enjoying in a little sport while I am struggling with life and death, huh? Like tearing wings off a fly, she was stepping all over the Slayer's pride. She stood there waiting, so he indulged her. Copen lunged at her again, resting his blade on his right shoulder ready to swing down. She was too fast and knowledgeable for him to connect an easy blow; she had already shifted her stance to block the incoming attack. Copen predicted Zonda wasn't intending on delivering a fatal counterattack if he left himself open, so as he approached he kept it there. It took her by surprise and during that opening he raised his right leg and kicked as hard as he could. Right to her knee. His shoe connected, but her knee didn't buckle, it didn't even budge. Copen felt color leave his face.

Monster! He thought. How could I forget? All adepts are monsters!

She let Copen get that close, she fell for his feint, in order to let himself get a free swing in with his sword. Copen opted for a cheap shot instead. He had put all his weight into it and it didn't even faze her. Once again she got serious and hooked him in for a shoulder throw. Copen was lifted off the ground with ease and after a mid-air flip Copen landed on his shoes a few feet away from her. Zonda rolled her shoulders and limbered up. She wiped her sultry smile off and looked as though she was beginning to finally take this seriously or maybe she's just done playing with him..

If this was all a game to her, and he was no longer a possible threat, then she was probably just going to end the game now. Copen was overtaken by anger earlier, but he was now also fighting against dread. The Slayer scrambled back to his feet and faced off with her again. His hands were beginning to shake, so he gripped the knife harder. His legs started to shake next, but he tried to hide it. The next attack looked like it would count. Has to count, he's running out of chances here.

There wasn't any time to react. Like a switch had been flipped Zonda readied herself and she closed the distance with one kick off the ground. She swung across hard. Copen tried to block it, but it was like a runaway freight train this time. It lifted him off his feet and threw him backward. Earlier she had just been knocking him off balance, but this time the Slayer was sent tumbling into the ground. Rolling over and over again. He came to a stop and recovered, yes but was now unarmed, his laser knife lying a dozen feet away, right behind Zonda. The pink armored woman took deliberate strides toward him that verged on the seductive. Copen ignored that and stayed on guard, for she was poised to deliver the coup de grâce anytime now.

"Now it's been fun playing with you, dear. But even you can tell how this will e-"

"This isn't over yet!" Copen interrupted with a determined scream, his body rushing her way low to the ground and ready to strike even without a weapon. A sight that made the adept flinch in surprise, but she quickly recovered. Swinging her tail this way….only for it to clash against a wooden object that breaks seconds after it's been used to parry it. Though that was Copen's last weapon and physical attacks failed against her before. He still put everything into the following uppercut, adrenaline surged through his body and he didn't care about the potential consequence of the blow making his muscle tear or bone crack. It didn't matter if any part of his body ripped and broke. They wouldn't be of any use soon if this didn't work out. Copen stood solid enough and put all of his weight into it. It happened quickly and all at once. Copen was still standing, fist in the air. And Zonda was now on the ground, grasping her own chin. Her expression wasn't cold, sultry or even mocking. It was an expression of surprise. Because despite all of the odds, despite everything.

A human managed to harm an adept with will and skill alone.

Copen winced in pain and tried in vain to desperately refill his lungs with air, the blow had broken his thumb and two other fingers now looked a bit out of place. Still he looked down at his foe with the most intent his eyes could carry, which as it turns out is so much of it, that through a trick of the light, his red eyes seemed to shine with raw hatred. Meanwhile, Zonda stood a few feet in front of him with a stream of black running between her eyes. She flickered in pain while tracing her hand over her forehead. Her palm now covered in a thin layer of her own blood. Zonda looked up at Copen with those indigo, black sclera eyes. Her face now shoved only one emotion in return.

Pure exhilaration.

She en-wrapped herself into a purple mirror and then vanished, before, like a bullet, she lunged back at Copen from a blind-spot. Leaving behind a trail of indigo bullets as she descends towards him. Hearing her battle-cry, Copen immediately went on the evasive maneuvers, dodging bullets left and right but one moment she grabbed onto him mid-jump with her naked hand – claw – whatever you call it. The next moment Copen was swung against a wall so hard that it cracked from the impact and threw out all the air in his lungs alongside doing far more lasting internal damage. That acute feeling of terror had returned to him afterwards. His whole body was now slick with pain and sweat. If she had used this strength and speed before, then surely he would have died by now.

Still, even though his body was now cold with instinctive fear. Copen moved to stand up and tried a right hook, but she ducked under it with ease and slipped past his guard. She grabbed hold of it with her right hand and intertwined her disgusting fingers with his own. Her whole body came careening into his next. Copen could feel the soft and bizarre feeling of her chest pressing against his own. Her body heat pierced his cold and sweat drenched self and banished that sensation in an instant.

Next they reached his lips.

It was warm, so very warm. Copen looked at Zonda and saw her eyes were closed while his were bugged out and ready to leap out of his own skull. The seductress pulled her head back and looked up at him. Copen felt his arms shaking from all the strain, fear and anger, but she had gotten hold of his left now too and held them both tight and still with supernatural strength. His legs quivered, but she had slipped one of her thighs between and it rubbed against his crotch. Copen's lungs were trying desperately to get air, but Zonda's breasts were pushing up against his chest. Every part of her suffocating him with her presence. There was no longer a trace of that faked killing intent on her expression. She wasn't smiling mischievously either. Her cheeks were flushed red, her lips were curled into a warm smile and her eyes were soft.

Zonda turned her head to the side, increased the grip on his body and pushed her face close again. Her lips met with his, and her body began to coil around his own. Copen gasped, but that was a mistake. Something foreign forced its way inside. Something alive was inside his mouth. It probed and pushed against his tongue. Copen felt a tickle of air from her nose against his face, and his own sense of smell was flooded with pheromones. It smelt of flowers, the sweet scent of cherries.

Copen tasted something slimy, wet and warm. A cascade of flesh that wasn't his own. Her saliva poured from her mouth to his, and her kiss progressed deeper. Her tongue was wild, in a frenzy, like a savage beast. But it was not clumsy or inexperienced, she knew what she was doing, not that Copen would ever admit that, but even he knew that much on instinct alone. Her tongue pushed his to the back of his mouth, and Copen was nearly unable to breathe. Even through his nose he could hardly take in any air, and she did not relent. Copen found himself slowly starving of oxygen, and his body started to feel woozy. The strength in his arms faded fast. His fists unclenched and her fingers gripped harder and locked their hands together even tighter than before.

His legs lost their strength next, and Copen's back slid down the wall toward the ground. Zonda rode on top of him, straddled over his hips as she kept her mouth locked with his. When he had finally hit the ground, she pulled back her face, a thick stream of saliva connecting them still. Copen was breathing hard, trying to catch his breath. She let go of his hands and brought her claws up to wrap around the back of his neck. For the third time, she brought her face in and inserted her tongue. Copen met it with his own, if only to attempt at stopping her from choking him again. They slipped and rubbed past each other. Pushing and brushing each other aside, mingling and dancing too intimate with one another for him to try and bite his teeth down without ripping off his own. Her breath became even hotter, and she moaned slightly this time. Her hips shook as her armor vanished, and she rubbed her now naked body up and down, her bare breasts pressing against him, her stiff nipples tracing circles on his chest. Resting on her knees to each side of him she closed them tight to lock Copen in as she used her tail to shred his clothes apart for even more contact.

Copen wasn't starting to just feel her heat, he was starting to feel very hot himself. He was covered now in a new layer of sweat. It wasn't a cold sweat from life or death combat, but one that was warm. Copen was starting to feel turned on. This was the situation he was trying to avoid by escaping. But he refused to feel conflicted because the situation couldn't be simpler; Copen was having Zonda's lust forced onto him, forced onto him because he had lost. He was being overpowered and made to go along. He was being raped. Never would he have done anything like on his own. Yes, mock him if you must, a guy in his teens, deciding to abandon all romance in exchange for his personal goals. But nothing in his life could have prepared him for this kind of passionate embrace. His first kiss had been stolen by some beautiful doppelganger of a woman who became the goddess of all that is evil, and who was just less than a minute ago was trying to hurt him again. Copen was scared, and the cowardly emotions made him feel ill deep down. At the same time, he couldn't deny that his body was starting to feel hotter, and that horrified him all the more.

He has to do something before it's too late.

He refuses to let himself be toyed with, to lose against her in any way!

Copen won't submit to any adept.

He won't.

He can't.

He mustn't.