Terror and dread, fear and horror engulfed Blade, as she reached for her sword, her prized divine armament. She tried to crawl, but her muscles responded with a feeling of thousand needles cutting into her flesh. But… even if no poison tormented the woman, she would still be unable to reach Ragnarok.
“What’re you doing, Josie? Am I not your little kitten?” Keara scoffed. The ‘girl’ still held the back of her neck. ‘Her’ erected penis was steadily rubbing between the woman’s buttocks.
“N-no… P-p-p-plea… se…” Blade mumbled, choking on her tears and snot. It was a prison all over again. Not a trigger, not a nightmare, only a pure, harsh reality.
“Please? Please what? “Please don’t touch me!” — come on, bitch! How many times have you been told this?” The healer mused, after which he ripped away the blonde’s underpants.
“A-A-A-A-A-A-A-A!!!” And she yelled, out of fear of her own helplessness. So loud, one could almost feel their ears bleeding around her. Keyaruga, though… He was thrilled.
“You used to use me as a punching bag. Beat the shit out of me every time you needed an outlet. You struck me with your fists, sticks, branches. There was a time, when you tied me to a tree and hit my back with that shiny thing over there.” The Hero of Healing dived into the memories of martyrdom. In reality, though, his hands spread Blade’s gluts, just so that he could have a bit of fun, as she drowned in hysteria. “You messed me up so bad I had to manually recreate half of my bones. And now what?” A rhetorical question was nothing more than a flavor to the upcoming retribution.
“A-A-A-A-A!!! I… I don’t… even know you…” Blade grievously sobbed, unable to even imagine a tiny fragment of Keyaru’s torments. To even comprehend who ‘Keara’ was.
“Oh, but I do!” The healer scoffed, before his raging manhood…
“GHA-A-A-A-A-A-A!!!” …violently entered the swordswoman’s anus. Whatever resistance her rectum offered, it was broken in a single forceful push. The masquerading man left a few tears and fissures down there, cast his victim into a pit of agony… and enjoyed every last second of it.
“You see, Josie, you…” Keyaruga began his harsh thrusting. It felt hot, narrow, and tight in Blade’s asshole. Her delightful screams made the whole process even more joyful than he could possibly imagine. “…did the same thing to me.”
“A-A-A-A-A-A-A-A!!! NO-O-O-O!!!” So many cries, so many tears. What was once one of the healer’s torturers, now wriggled in inescapable pain. The way he talked, the way he called her, it ripped Josephine’s maimed soul even more, than her body.
“Ye-e-e-es! You know, it’s our first meeting in this world, so I shouldn’t judge you for what you never did. But think of this: how many innocent men have you killed? How many women have you raped, murdered and tossed their remains into a bag? And now look at where you ended up!” Keyaruga sneered, pulling the madwoman by her hair. Crying like a little girl, she didn’t seem much of a threat, but he knew better than expose himself to anymore risks. “All those poor victims can’t or won’t testify against you, so I will be your ultimate judge.” The healer scoffed, after which he licked Blade’s cheek.
“U-ugh… U-u-u-uh…” Unfortunately, by that time Josephine had lost any grip over her consciousness. That stress was just too much for her. No more yells, no more tears, only choked gasps from her barely breathing body.
“Pathetic worm!” The hero swore, slapping Blade’s face a few times in a row, but there was no result. “Hey, what about all this fun we could have together?” Keyaruga complained. Not only did he lose the pleasure of sexually abusing one of the worst humans to ever live in that world, her muscles relaxed too much to keep the man erect after a few long hours of orgy with Freia and Setsuna. “Well, it’s not like it’s all over.” The man spoke, standing upright. His limping penis was covered in dung and blood. So much to do, so much to accomplish, but…
I can’t go anywhere, without scrubbing that shit of my dick first.
…
The Hero of Sword walked under the pale moon. Blade in her full glory carried a dark heavy bag behind her back. That… wasn’t really Josephine. It was Keyaruga, walking toward the last court for the madwoman, with said insane woman in the sack he carried. Ultimately, no matter how much the blonde cried, she never repented, never apologized, and if Keara had been just another unfortunate klutz to die in yet another of Blade’s violent tantrums, it would be her body lying in that bag. Like so many others…
Keyaruga also liked having Ragnarok on his back. Bound to only one master, the holy sword wasn’t responding to his will, but even without that, it still was an unbreakable, ever sharp chunk of miraculous divine metal. Alas, contrary to whatever valuable junk, gold and jewels he looted from Blade, it had to go. To revert a divine armament to its original form, its hero had to perish in order for a new one to take their place as the owner of the weapon.
Somewhere far off, the man heard the clanking of steel. From the sound of it, the skirmish was fierce. A harsh battle between… Well, whoever it was, Keyaruga hastened his pace. He needed to reach the slums.
…
He had arrived. A place of misery, a hellish hole previously occupied by a maniac, a house where the Hero of Healing raped Kailia and denied the goddess Kali. Now it would serve him one more time.
“…” After a while, Blade had slowly opened her eyes. The world met her with ubiquitous cold, and she trembled with fear. The woman quickly looked around, but all she found was darkness. “No!.. No!” She tried to stand up, to run away… “A-A-AH!” But alas, the poor thing fell. Her feet were paralyzed. Fear of the unknown overwhelmed Blade, her heart pounded in her chest viciously, she couldn’t get a hold of her breathing. Her nightmare wasn’t going to end anytime soon.
“Hello there!” A male voice echoed through the premise. He snapped his fingers, and the candles on the rusty chandeliers lit up with bright crimson light. Only then could the ‘fencer’ glance through the veil of darkness. See the gods-forbidden pit she was thrown into. “My name is Keyaru, you may know me, or not, I don’t really care.” The tall man in Blade’s clothes deadpanned, taking an elegant sip from a simple mug. The swordswoman had wine, but no glasses to enjoy it properly.
“You… I-i-it was… It was you! You… YOU TRICKED ME, YOU FUCKING MAN-PIG!!!” She snarled, washing away every last bit of sympathy the healer may had toward her. The rotten heroine approached Keyaruga with a furious grimace on her face. As if he didn’t penetrate her rectum… As if she forgot everything that happened prior.
Either way, she didn’t crawl too far. Just a single sweep of the hero’s arm was enough for the man to send her back flying.
“A-a-a… U-ugh…” Judging from the moans of pain, the blonde might have broken something, but the hero remained careless to her suffering. He had seen quite enough of it already.
“First and foremost, you’re at my mercy now! I played with your ankles a bit, so you can’t escape. Now choose, Josie! Would you like a quick death? Or a chance to play in my game?” Keyaruga asked, stood up, grabbed Ragnarok and approached his prey. Broken and defeated, it was her first time seeing her prized possession in the hands of another, let alone her tormentor.
“G-give… Give it back! It’s mine! MINE!!!” The woman yelled, foolishly reaching for her weapon. In that light, the Hero of Healing leaned over the ‘fencer’… and grabbed her right hand. One instant… “A-A-A-A-A-A-A-A-A!!! …and the gilded blade cut off Josephine’s pinky. Then the ring finger… Middle finger, index – every time the man only made a shallow cut… to rip them off, one after another. To make the matter even worse, Keyaruga cauterized every wound with a pyromantic trick. “A-A-A-A-A!!! STOP!!! STOP IT!!! A-A-A-A-A!!! I BEG YOU, PLEASE!!! UA-A-A-A-AGH!!!” Blade wailed, while the hero delightfully rubbed the stumps with his blazing finger. She cried, asked, begged, prayed… “PLEASE!!! I DON’T WANT TO DI-I-I-I-IE!!!”
At that point Keyaruga barely felt any interest toward the Hero of Sword, neither in his soul, nor in his pants. But seeing that wretched being clinging on her useless life filled him with a bunch of controversial emotions.
“A-A-A-a-a-a-a!.. Ha-a-a-a…” He, ultimately, halt the torture for a moment. “P-please… I… I will obey you! Please…”
“I don’t give a fuck about your obedience.” The red-haired lad confessed, looking at the bloodied Ragnarok.
In the end, there’s no such thing as a ‘holy’ sword. They all do the same bloody thing. Although, this one is really off. Too wide, its balance shifted toward the blade a bit too much. Yeah, I would need…
“Please, no more! Please, no mo-o-o-ore!..”
Wait, is she hugging my leg? Kissing my boots? Disgusting!
“Get off me, maggot!” Keyaruga yelled, kicking the woman in the chest. For better or worse, it was his turn to tremble in eerie discomfort. Blade remained behind, weeping and crying. The man moved toward the far corner of the room. There, he grabbed a dirty rag and tossed it aside. There were three naked men beneath, hobo-looking thugs with chains built right into their spines, and rotten flesh engulfing the links. “Time to wake up, fuckers!”
“U-ugh… Ua-a-a-a…” Josephine cried, watching her captor emanating green light onto the pile of bodies. Nothing good would come out of that for her.
“Now then, see these three dirty bastards? I used my magic on them.” The healer spoke, leading what looked like mindless chained beasts toward Blade. “I played with the frontal lobes of their brains, sympathetic nervous system, and also their ghrelin production, and such…”
“E… Eh?..” Obviously, the blonde never understood a thing of what he just said. All she knew was that those three wretched men meant no good thing for her.
“Ghh, they want nothing more than to eat and fuck, you illiterate dipshit!” Keyaruga shouted in an aggressive elaboration. “They will do so until they fucking die! So either you give them a good sex-marathon, or they eat the shit out of you! Faint – you die! Refuse – you die! Resist – well, you get the idea. I hope your small brain can process it!” The man snarled, letting his over salivating dogs near Blade. They clacked their teeth, rolled their eyes, growled mindlessly… and dripped precum from their raging penises. Maybe, the woman could have done something against the trio, but the irony is, on her thirty-eighth level, without Ragnarok, she was comparable to the level of nine. Despicably pathetic performance for someone of her caliber.
“W-wait! You can’t possibly…”
“I can! And I will!” Keyaruga scoffed, slowly releasing the gruesome chains. “Now, let the game begin!” With that said and done, the red-eyed lad took his leave. He had no place in that stage anymore, but the man remained to watch as a spectator.
“N-no! No-no-no! Please, don’t eat me!” The woman begged, as three brutes piled on her. She tried crawling away, but what could Blade do with that maimed legs of hers? Truth be told, the Hero of Healing deemed these monsters his masterpiece. Not turning on each other, nor their master, they poured all of their aggression toward one and only target. They tackled her, gnawed, and chewed on the woman’s naked flesh.
“A-A-A-A! NO-O-O!!!” Blade yelled, and somehow, miraculously even, breaking out of their monstrous grip. She didn’t crawl too far, though. “A-A-A-AH!!! STOP IT, PLEASE!!!”
“They wouldn’t listen, moron! Do something, or they’ll eat you!” Keyaruga warned, laying his feet on the table.
“A-a-ah! Right… Please, f… fuck me!” In the end, there was nothing else for poor murderous Josephine to do than to turn around and spread her legs. A hard choice. “A-A-A-A-A!!! IT HURTS!!!” But stupid nonetheless, instead of taking their prize, the brain-dead thugs began crunching on Blade even worse than the last time.
The Hero of Healing drank cup after cup, watching his minions tormenting one of his nemesis. He wouldn’t share anymore tips or words. But even without it, she somehow collected herself, muffled her screams, and took the initiative.
If Josephine wanted to live, she had to act. Take one penis in her vagina, another in the mouth, and the third in the anus. She was everything but a newbie in that. There was a time in her life, where the golden-haired girl had to do it daily.
“Heh, know your place, wretch.” Keyaruga snapped, watching the man-hating maniac pleasing three despicable low-lives. “Hey! Keep it up till the morning, and maybe they’ll die by that time!” The hero exclaimed, giving at least some semblance of hope to the suffering woman. There was no Blade, she couldn’t exist without Ragnarok at her side. Only a miserable inmate named Josephine, who hummed in dull pain, ravaged by three pricks.
They weren’t all that big and muscular, but they had no limitations as well. Usually, a brain never allows for unstoppable activities for too long, pain, thirst, and hunger will eventually catch up to you, but not for them. What remained after Keyaruga stripped his unfortunate rapists of their humanity were mindless husks that would go on until they die of exhaustion.
Now this will take a while.
…
Indeed it did. At least two hours the healer had to watch for his four victims doing basically the same things. Same poses, same monotonous thrusts, same distant gargling. Josephine did not die, one had to give her credit for her unexpected resilience. One of the scum had perished, leaving the woman with a gaping rectum, a profoundly bleeding hole. Two others were on verge of death, and it wasn’t even close to the dawn.
They’re weaker than I thought. Curse you, dickheads, why does it always have to be like that? Well, no matter, I still have a trump card in my desk, the man contemplated, looking at pale magic fireflies dancing in the empty bottle of wine. It was a nice exercise in conjuring, and surely a better entertainment than whatever travesty happened with Josephine. Unfortunately, though, all good things came to an end. This one wasn’t an exception.
“I guess, it’s time for Flare to go onstage.” The man mumbled. His hand sparked with green hue, he laid it on his face, and after a moment of gruesome metamorphosis, he was transformed. Pink hair, a gorgeous face, and a pair of green eyes. The tarnished reflection in the window gave the man a poisonous smile, making him shudder a little. The body was his, clothes belonged to Blade, but the head…
“I… am Flare, the first princess of… that bullshit kingdom.” Keyaruga smirked, facing Josephine. It was high time to make her even more miserable. The tortured Hero of Healing always dreamt of vengeance. These excruciating moments, the very thought of them, was conceived long before he bent the fabric of time itself to his will. Time and time again did he imagine Blade crawling in a pile of semen and blood, having no choice but to give up her inflated pride. And what now?
What now? Why does it feel like such a drag? Why can’t I just kill her and call it a day?
“Blade. Do you hear me, Blade?” The man addressed Josephine. He sounded like the princess, his face looked like hers, but what’s the point… if his victim didn’t even recognize it at all? “I have come for you, my… Wait, are you even listening?”
She didn’t.
“I can’t believe you. You made it twice, twice already! Hey, dipshit!” Keyaruga, tired of all of this nonsense, kicked the mindless woman. At that point, she was no different from two men she copulated with. Even a blow with a leg didn’t make the ruined hero exit her weird trance. “I guess you three make a merry band, after all.” The healer mumbled, returning the usual mask on his face. Josephine died inside, pushed off the two penises, she laid soundlessly, dripping cum and blood from all of her orifices. The brain-dead thugs rubbed their rods into the hemorrhaging mess, but they were dull to pain. What they weren’t immune to, though, was the all-consuming hunger.
The woman’s golden hair was tainted by all manner of dirt and dust, her body was severely gnawed upon and injured, and her conscious wasn’t there anymore.
“Pa… P… Pa-a…” As two man-made gluttonous monsters crawled toward her, the woman began gabble. Two consonants, a single word.
“…” Keyaruga stared in silence. He desperately wished to utter some caustic mockery, but he couldn’t. The red-eyed lad watched, as his ghouls slowly shredded her to pieces, but failed to feel at least something out of this horrific scene. No triumph, no malevolence or gloating followed. This vengeance… felt hollow.
Until…
A lightning bolt rammed through the window, it tore down and through the wooden frame and bricks like they were nothing. A storm became embodied in the very heart of the room. Keyaruga did a back flip, he avoided most of the damage, but he had to watch his remaining brutes getting shredded into bloody chunks by an innumerable number of slashes.
When the murdering was over, Keyaruga saw a familiar man kneeling before Josephine body. Ragnarok was still there, but it was only a matter of minutes before the Hero of Sword is no more.
“Did you at least find any enjoyment in this, Keyaru?” The man asked calmly. He looked rough, his robes were severely nicked, underneath the healer spotted countless battle scars and fresh wounds. Had the god of sword found his match? It didn’t matter. At least not nearly so much, as the deity’s sorrow toward his chosen one.
“Ah, Takemikazuchi? Welcome. I guess, I should’ve known you’d come.” The chosen of Panakea spoke with his usual carefree attitude. To the ultimate extent of his deceptive abilities. He carefully watched as the divine fencer picked up Blade’s maimed body. “And you should’ve known I wouldn’t let her get away after all she’d done.”
“You haven’t answered my question.” The barefooted god pronounced slowly. His voice was a mix of cold anger and fiery regret. In the right hand, he held the thunderclad sword. In the left, he carried Blade. Standing amongst minced meat, he wouldn’t face Keyaruga yet.
“Pa… pa…” The one and only word Josephine could mutter, was now obviously targeted at Takemikazuchi. She put all of her remaining will, all the hopes and dreams in it. And when the deity finally dared look Keyaruga in the eyes, the latter found nothing but sorrow in the man’s black eyes. He dropped his mask of cheerfulness, and the hero felt obliged to do the same.
“No. It was frustratingly disappointing. I’ve been looking forward to slay a rotten monster in the cruelest way possible, and I will do it, god of sword. You chose poorly, and because of that dozens of innocent died by her hand. I can’t leave her alive.” The healer spoke melancholically. The man in buggy robes held his sword between Blade and the lad. The thin stripped of forged metal was now the strongest shield to ever exist, and it threatened to strip Keyaruga of his revenge. “Now tell me, god. Why haven’t you saved a single of her victims, but came galloping right when she was about to die?
“…” To this statement, Takemikazuchi had not a single thing say in response. His long life brimmed with all manners of excuses and shirking of duties, aimless violence and irresponsibility. Practically all of that would prove useful in this situation. But the man just couldn’t. There was no grace in his posture, lacking any sort of signs of divinity. What Keyaruga saw was just a simple man. He was tall, powerful… and absolutely wretched. After all…
“Or, rather, why haven’t you done anything at all for her, like, five years ago? She… She is your daughter, right?” And finally, the hero said that, knowing he was right either way. If not in a biological sense, (which would explain their similar faces) than at least Lorenzo calling Keyaruga ‘a child of Panakea’ would make more sense in context. Either way… “Fuck, you gods sure are shitty parents.” There was only one conclusion to be made. “Haa… Do you have anything to say?”
“…” Nothing. Only silence was Takemikazuchi’s response. What could he say? That he had spent the last few centuries in an existential crisis? That he had dozens of demigod children, completely unaware of their origins? That he was never interested in their fates, however cruel they may have been? That Keyaru’s redo finally gave him a new purpose, and even after that, instead of helping his daughter, he had been dueling with Hawkeye mostly for fun? “Hyo rou tribe is safe. So are your women.” The deity spoke, engulfing both him and his mauled child in an aura of white flames. “Farewell for now, Keyaru.”
…
It was over. Keyaruga stood amongst the fresh corpses. After Takemikazuchi and Blade vanished in the fire, he stood like a statue, holding a white sphere. The red-eyed lad had been like that for less than four minutes, yet they felt like a whole eternity. Wherever the fencer took Josephine, it broke her connection to the divine armament. That fact alone left only two possible variants as to what had happened. Either he somehow erased her mark of a hero… or carried his daughter to the afterlife.
Keyaruga couldn’t say he was satisfied with how it all ended up. Nevertheless…
“I need to go home.”
Terror and dread, fear and horror engulfed Blade, as she reached for her sword, her prized divine armament. She tried to crawl, but her muscles responded with a feeling of thousand needles cutting into her flesh. But… even if no poison tormented the woman, she would still be unable to reach Ragnarok.
“What’re you doing, Josie? Am I not your little kitten?” Keara scoffed. The ‘girl’ still held the back of her neck. ‘Her’ erected penis was steadily rubbing between the woman’s buttocks.
“N-no… P-p-p-plea… se…” Blade mumbled, choking on her tears and snot. It was a prison all over again. Not a trigger, not a nightmare, only a pure, harsh reality.
“Please? Please what? “Please don’t touch me!” — come on, bitch! How many times have you been told this?” The healer mused, after which he ripped away the blonde’s underpants.
“A-A-A-A-A-A-A-A!!!” And she yelled, out of fear of her own helplessness. So loud, one could almost feel their ears bleeding around her. Keyaruga, though… He was thrilled.
“You used to use me as a punching bag. Beat the shit out of me every time you needed an outlet. You struck me with your fists, sticks, branches. There was a time, when you tied me to a tree and hit my back with that shiny thing over there.” The Hero of Healing dived into the memories of martyrdom. In reality, though, his hands spread Blade’s gluts, just so that he could have a bit of fun, as she drowned in hysteria. “You messed me up so bad I had to manually recreate half of my bones. And now what?” A rhetorical question was nothing more than a flavor to the upcoming retribution.
“A-A-A-A-A!!! I… I don’t… even know you…” Blade grievously sobbed, unable to even imagine a tiny fragment of Keyaru’s torments. To even comprehend who ‘Keara’ was.
“Oh, but I do!” The healer scoffed, before his raging manhood…
“GHA-A-A-A-A-A-A!!!” …violently entered the swordswoman’s anus. Whatever resistance her rectum offered, it was broken in a single forceful push. The masquerading man left a few tears and fissures down there, cast his victim into a pit of agony… and enjoyed every last second of it.
“You see, Josie, you…” Keyaruga began his harsh thrusting. It felt hot, narrow, and tight in Blade’s asshole. Her delightful screams made the whole process even more joyful than he could possibly imagine. “…did the same thing to me.”
“A-A-A-A-A-A-A-A!!! NO-O-O-O!!!” So many cries, so many tears. What was once one of the healer’s torturers, now wriggled in inescapable pain. The way he talked, the way he called her, it ripped Josephine’s maimed soul even more, than her body.
“Ye-e-e-es! You know, it’s our first meeting in this world, so I shouldn’t judge you for what you never did. But think of this: how many innocent men have you killed? How many women have you raped, murdered and tossed their remains into a bag? And now look at where you ended up!” Keyaruga sneered, pulling the madwoman by her hair. Crying like a little girl, she didn’t seem much of a threat, but he knew better than expose himself to anymore risks. “All those poor victims can’t or won’t testify against you, so I will be your ultimate judge.” The healer scoffed, after which he licked Blade’s cheek.
“U-ugh… U-u-u-uh…” Unfortunately, by that time Josephine had lost any grip over her consciousness. That stress was just too much for her. No more yells, no more tears, only choked gasps from her barely breathing body.
“Pathetic worm!” The hero swore, slapping Blade’s face a few times in a row, but there was no result. “Hey, what about all this fun we could have together?” Keyaruga complained. Not only did he lose the pleasure of sexually abusing one of the worst humans to ever live in that world, her muscles relaxed too much to keep the man erect after a few long hours of orgy with Freia and Setsuna. “Well, it’s not like it’s all over.” The man spoke, standing upright. His limping penis was covered in dung and blood. So much to do, so much to accomplish, but…
I can’t go anywhere, without scrubbing that shit of my dick first.
…
The Hero of Sword walked under the pale moon. Blade in her full glory carried a dark heavy bag behind her back. That… wasn’t really Josephine. It was Keyaruga, walking toward the last court for the madwoman, with said insane woman in the sack he carried. Ultimately, no matter how much the blonde cried, she never repented, never apologized, and if Keara had been just another unfortunate klutz to die in yet another of Blade’s violent tantrums, it would be her body lying in that bag. Like so many others…
Keyaruga also liked having Ragnarok on his back. Bound to only one master, the holy sword wasn’t responding to his will, but even without that, it still was an unbreakable, ever sharp chunk of miraculous divine metal. Alas, contrary to whatever valuable junk, gold and jewels he looted from Blade, it had to go. To revert a divine armament to its original form, its hero had to perish in order for a new one to take their place as the owner of the weapon.
Somewhere far off, the man heard the clanking of steel. From the sound of it, the skirmish was fierce. A harsh battle between… Well, whoever it was, Keyaruga hastened his pace. He needed to reach the slums.
…
He had arrived. A place of misery, a hellish hole previously occupied by a maniac, a house where the Hero of Healing raped Kailia and denied the goddess Kali. Now it would serve him one more time.
“…” After a while, Blade had slowly opened her eyes. The world met her with ubiquitous cold, and she trembled with fear. The woman quickly looked around, but all she found was darkness. “No!.. No!” She tried to stand up, to run away… “A-A-AH!” But alas, the poor thing fell. Her feet were paralyzed. Fear of the unknown overwhelmed Blade, her heart pounded in her chest viciously, she couldn’t get a hold of her breathing. Her nightmare wasn’t going to end anytime soon.
“Hello there!” A male voice echoed through the premise. He snapped his fingers, and the candles on the rusty chandeliers lit up with bright crimson light. Only then could the ‘fencer’ glance through the veil of darkness. See the gods-forbidden pit she was thrown into. “My name is Keyaru, you may know me, or not, I don’t really care.” The tall man in Blade’s clothes deadpanned, taking an elegant sip from a simple mug. The swordswoman had wine, but no glasses to enjoy it properly.
“You… I-i-it was… It was you! You… YOU TRICKED ME, YOU FUCKING MAN-PIG!!!” She snarled, washing away every last bit of sympathy the healer may had toward her. The rotten heroine approached Keyaruga with a furious grimace on her face. As if he didn’t penetrate her rectum… As if she forgot everything that happened prior.
Either way, she didn’t crawl too far. Just a single sweep of the hero’s arm was enough for the man to send her back flying.
“A-a-a… U-ugh…” Judging from the moans of pain, the blonde might have broken something, but the hero remained careless to her suffering. He had seen quite enough of it already.
“First and foremost, you’re at my mercy now! I played with your ankles a bit, so you can’t escape. Now choose, Josie! Would you like a quick death? Or a chance to play in my game?” Keyaruga asked, stood up, grabbed Ragnarok and approached his prey. Broken and defeated, it was her first time seeing her prized possession in the hands of another, let alone her tormentor.
“G-give… Give it back! It’s mine! MINE!!!” The woman yelled, foolishly reaching for her weapon. In that light, the Hero of Healing leaned over the ‘fencer’… and grabbed her right hand. One instant… “A-A-A-A-A-A-A-A-A!!! …and the gilded blade cut off Josephine’s pinky. Then the ring finger… Middle finger, index – every time the man only made a shallow cut… to rip them off, one after another. To make the matter even worse, Keyaruga cauterized every wound with a pyromantic trick. “A-A-A-A-A!!! STOP!!! STOP IT!!! A-A-A-A-A!!! I BEG YOU, PLEASE!!! UA-A-A-A-AGH!!!” Blade wailed, while the hero delightfully rubbed the stumps with his blazing finger. She cried, asked, begged, prayed… “PLEASE!!! I DON’T WANT TO DI-I-I-I-IE!!!”
At that point Keyaruga barely felt any interest toward the Hero of Sword, neither in his soul, nor in his pants. But seeing that wretched being clinging on her useless life filled him with a bunch of controversial emotions.
“A-A-A-a-a-a-a!.. Ha-a-a-a…” He, ultimately, halt the torture for a moment. “P-please… I… I will obey you! Please…”
“I don’t give a fuck about your obedience.” The red-haired lad confessed, looking at the bloodied Ragnarok.
In the end, there’s no such thing as a ‘holy’ sword. They all do the same bloody thing. Although, this one is really off. Too wide, its balance shifted toward the blade a bit too much. Yeah, I would need…
“Please, no more! Please, no mo-o-o-ore!..”
Wait, is she hugging my leg? Kissing my boots? Disgusting!
“Get off me, maggot!” Keyaruga yelled, kicking the woman in the chest. For better or worse, it was his turn to tremble in eerie discomfort. Blade remained behind, weeping and crying. The man moved toward the far corner of the room. There, he grabbed a dirty rag and tossed it aside. There were three naked men beneath, hobo-looking thugs with chains built right into their spines, and rotten flesh engulfing the links. “Time to wake up, fuckers!”
“U-ugh… Ua-a-a-a…” Josephine cried, watching her captor emanating green light onto the pile of bodies. Nothing good would come out of that for her.
“Now then, see these three dirty bastards? I used my magic on them.” The healer spoke, leading what looked like mindless chained beasts toward Blade. “I played with the frontal lobes of their brains, sympathetic nervous system, and also their ghrelin production, and such…”
“E… Eh?..” Obviously, the blonde never understood a thing of what he just said. All she knew was that those three wretched men meant no good thing for her.
“Ghh, they want nothing more than to eat and fuck, you illiterate dipshit!” Keyaruga shouted in an aggressive elaboration. “They will do so until they fucking die! So either you give them a good sex-marathon, or they eat the shit out of you! Faint – you die! Refuse – you die! Resist – well, you get the idea. I hope your small brain can process it!” The man snarled, letting his over salivating dogs near Blade. They clacked their teeth, rolled their eyes, growled mindlessly… and dripped precum from their raging penises. Maybe, the woman could have done something against the trio, but the irony is, on her thirty-eighth level, without Ragnarok, she was comparable to the level of nine. Despicably pathetic performance for someone of her caliber.
“W-wait! You can’t possibly…”
“I can! And I will!” Keyaruga scoffed, slowly releasing the gruesome chains. “Now, let the game begin!” With that said and done, the red-eyed lad took his leave. He had no place in that stage anymore, but the man remained to watch as a spectator.
“N-no! No-no-no! Please, don’t eat me!” The woman begged, as three brutes piled on her. She tried crawling away, but what could Blade do with that maimed legs of hers? Truth be told, the Hero of Healing deemed these monsters his masterpiece. Not turning on each other, nor their master, they poured all of their aggression toward one and only target. They tackled her, gnawed, and chewed on the woman’s naked flesh.
“A-A-A-A! NO-O-O!!!” Blade yelled, and somehow, miraculously even, breaking out of their monstrous grip. She didn’t crawl too far, though. “A-A-A-AH!!! STOP IT, PLEASE!!!”
“They wouldn’t listen, moron! Do something, or they’ll eat you!” Keyaruga warned, laying his feet on the table.
“A-a-ah! Right… Please, f… fuck me!” In the end, there was nothing else for poor murderous Josephine to do than to turn around and spread her legs. A hard choice. “A-A-A-A-A!!! IT HURTS!!!” But stupid nonetheless, instead of taking their prize, the brain-dead thugs began crunching on Blade even worse than the last time.
The Hero of Healing drank cup after cup, watching his minions tormenting one of his nemesis. He wouldn’t share anymore tips or words. But even without it, she somehow collected herself, muffled her screams, and took the initiative.
If Josephine wanted to live, she had to act. Take one penis in her vagina, another in the mouth, and the third in the anus. She was everything but a newbie in that. There was a time in her life, where the golden-haired girl had to do it daily.
“Heh, know your place, wretch.” Keyaruga snapped, watching the man-hating maniac pleasing three despicable low-lives. “Hey! Keep it up till the morning, and maybe they’ll die by that time!” The hero exclaimed, giving at least some semblance of hope to the suffering woman. There was no Blade, she couldn’t exist without Ragnarok at her side. Only a miserable inmate named Josephine, who hummed in dull pain, ravaged by three pricks.
They weren’t all that big and muscular, but they had no limitations as well. Usually, a brain never allows for unstoppable activities for too long, pain, thirst, and hunger will eventually catch up to you, but not for them. What remained after Keyaruga stripped his unfortunate rapists of their humanity were mindless husks that would go on until they die of exhaustion.
Now this will take a while.
…
Indeed it did. At least two hours the healer had to watch for his four victims doing basically the same things. Same poses, same monotonous thrusts, same distant gargling. Josephine did not die, one had to give her credit for her unexpected resilience. One of the scum had perished, leaving the woman with a gaping rectum, a profoundly bleeding hole. Two others were on verge of death, and it wasn’t even close to the dawn.
They’re weaker than I thought. Curse you, dickheads, why does it always have to be like that? Well, no matter, I still have a trump card in my desk, the man contemplated, looking at pale magic fireflies dancing in the empty bottle of wine. It was a nice exercise in conjuring, and surely a better entertainment than whatever travesty happened with Josephine. Unfortunately, though, all good things came to an end. This one wasn’t an exception.
“I guess, it’s time for Flare to go onstage.” The man mumbled. His hand sparked with green hue, he laid it on his face, and after a moment of gruesome metamorphosis, he was transformed. Pink hair, a gorgeous face, and a pair of green eyes. The tarnished reflection in the window gave the man a poisonous smile, making him shudder a little. The body was his, clothes belonged to Blade, but the head…
“I… am Flare, the first princess of… that bullshit kingdom.” Keyaruga smirked, facing Josephine. It was high time to make her even more miserable. The tortured Hero of Healing always dreamt of vengeance. These excruciating moments, the very thought of them, was conceived long before he bent the fabric of time itself to his will. Time and time again did he imagine Blade crawling in a pile of semen and blood, having no choice but to give up her inflated pride. And what now?
What now? Why does it feel like such a drag? Why can’t I just kill her and call it a day?
“Blade. Do you hear me, Blade?” The man addressed Josephine. He sounded like the princess, his face looked like hers, but what’s the point… if his victim didn’t even recognize it at all? “I have come for you, my… Wait, are you even listening?”
She didn’t.
“I can’t believe you. You made it twice, twice already! Hey, dipshit!” Keyaruga, tired of all of this nonsense, kicked the mindless woman. At that point, she was no different from two men she copulated with. Even a blow with a leg didn’t make the ruined hero exit her weird trance. “I guess you three make a merry band, after all.” The healer mumbled, returning the usual mask on his face. Josephine died inside, pushed off the two penises, she laid soundlessly, dripping cum and blood from all of her orifices. The brain-dead thugs rubbed their rods into the hemorrhaging mess, but they were dull to pain. What they weren’t immune to, though, was the all-consuming hunger.
The woman’s golden hair was tainted by all manner of dirt and dust, her body was severely gnawed upon and injured, and her conscious wasn’t there anymore.
“Pa… P… Pa-a…” As two man-made gluttonous monsters crawled toward her, the woman began gabble. Two consonants, a single word.
“…” Keyaruga stared in silence. He desperately wished to utter some caustic mockery, but he couldn’t. The red-eyed lad watched, as his ghouls slowly shredded her to pieces, but failed to feel at least something out of this horrific scene. No triumph, no malevolence or gloating followed. This vengeance… felt hollow.
Until…
A lightning bolt rammed through the window, it tore down and through the wooden frame and bricks like they were nothing. A storm became embodied in the very heart of the room. Keyaruga did a back flip, he avoided most of the damage, but he had to watch his remaining brutes getting shredded into bloody chunks by an innumerable number of slashes.
When the murdering was over, Keyaruga saw a familiar man kneeling before Josephine body. Ragnarok was still there, but it was only a matter of minutes before the Hero of Sword is no more.
“Did you at least find any enjoyment in this, Keyaru?” The man asked calmly. He looked rough, his robes were severely nicked, underneath the healer spotted countless battle scars and fresh wounds. Had the god of sword found his match? It didn’t matter. At least not nearly so much, as the deity’s sorrow toward his chosen one.
“Ah, Takemikazuchi? Welcome. I guess, I should’ve known you’d come.” The chosen of Panakea spoke with his usual carefree attitude. To the ultimate extent of his deceptive abilities. He carefully watched as the divine fencer picked up Blade’s maimed body. “And you should’ve known I wouldn’t let her get away after all she’d done.”
“You haven’t answered my question.” The barefooted god pronounced slowly. His voice was a mix of cold anger and fiery regret. In the right hand, he held the thunderclad sword. In the left, he carried Blade. Standing amongst minced meat, he wouldn’t face Keyaruga yet.
“Pa… pa…” The one and only word Josephine could mutter, was now obviously targeted at Takemikazuchi. She put all of her remaining will, all the hopes and dreams in it. And when the deity finally dared look Keyaruga in the eyes, the latter found nothing but sorrow in the man’s black eyes. He dropped his mask of cheerfulness, and the hero felt obliged to do the same.
“No. It was frustratingly disappointing. I’ve been looking forward to slay a rotten monster in the cruelest way possible, and I will do it, god of sword. You chose poorly, and because of that dozens of innocent died by her hand. I can’t leave her alive.” The healer spoke melancholically. The man in buggy robes held his sword between Blade and the lad. The thin stripped of forged metal was now the strongest shield to ever exist, and it threatened to strip Keyaruga of his revenge. “Now tell me, god. Why haven’t you saved a single of her victims, but came galloping right when she was about to die?
“…” To this statement, Takemikazuchi had not a single thing say in response. His long life brimmed with all manners of excuses and shirking of duties, aimless violence and irresponsibility. Practically all of that would prove useful in this situation. But the man just couldn’t. There was no grace in his posture, lacking any sort of signs of divinity. What Keyaruga saw was just a simple man. He was tall, powerful… and absolutely wretched. After all…
“Or, rather, why haven’t you done anything at all for her, like, five years ago? She… She is your daughter, right?” And finally, the hero said that, knowing he was right either way. If not in a biological sense, (which would explain their similar faces) than at least Lorenzo calling Keyaruga ‘a child of Panakea’ would make more sense in context. Either way… “Fuck, you gods sure are shitty parents.” There was only one conclusion to be made. “Haa… Do you have anything to say?”
“…” Nothing. Only silence was Takemikazuchi’s response. What could he say? That he had spent the last few centuries in an existential crisis? That he had dozens of demigod children, completely unaware of their origins? That he was never interested in their fates, however cruel they may have been? That Keyaru’s redo finally gave him a new purpose, and even after that, instead of helping his daughter, he had been dueling with Hawkeye mostly for fun? “Hyo rou tribe is safe. So are your women.” The deity spoke, engulfing both him and his mauled child in an aura of white flames. “Farewell for now, Keyaru.”
…
It was over. Keyaruga stood amongst the fresh corpses. After Takemikazuchi and Blade vanished in the fire, he stood like a statue, holding a white sphere. The red-eyed lad had been like that for less than four minutes, yet they felt like a whole eternity. Wherever the fencer took Josephine, it broke her connection to the divine armament. That fact alone left only two possible variants as to what had happened. Either he somehow erased her mark of a hero… or carried his daughter to the afterlife.
Keyaruga couldn’t say he was satisfied with how it all ended up. Nevertheless…
“I need to go home.”
