So much for a heartwarming reunion, so much for peace. When Keyaruga finally thought about having a moment of rest, Panakea showed up. When he thought nothing would happen for at least a day, he met with his love. And now, it was a red sunset that casted its crimson shadow over Buranikka. On omen of evil, an omen of change.
“Despite everything, she still… remembers me. Remembers us. Norn never forgets, no matter what. The only problem, though, is that she won’t accept me now. She may look like a cute little girl, but she’s also a fully competent warlord, with which we’re on different sides.” The man spoke, standing at the door to the corridor. He carried the white sphere, the one and only thing that could make a breakthrough from the current state. “Only a battle will judge us.” The healer admitted, glancing at the bed. Freia sat there, combing Eve’s hair. Setsuna, in turn, listened while in a handstand.
“Uh-hu-u-uh!” The she-wolf muttered, doing a cartwheel to stand upright. “We will win.” She assured him, sitting on the edge of the bed. Honestly, her smile and words were everything Keyaruga needed not to give in to his angst. The gray-haired girl accepted his pain, and now crawled to Freia to heal the magician with her touch. At least a little bit.
“Certainly.” Keyaruga responded optimistically. He had to. Otherwise, his whole redo would be for nothing. And if having the best strategist in Jioral on Margurth’s side still wasn’t bad enough, he’d end up shackled in Norn’s residence for sure.
No doubt, she’s already prepared a chastity cage for me. Brrr, no way I’m signing up for that.
“Freia, are you alright?” The hero asked, approaching the sorceress. He couldn’t leave yet, even though Tidir had already provided Keyaruga with an isolated room in the attic.
“You shouldn’t worry about me.” The pink-haired girl spoke phlegmatically. She allowed Setsuna to massage her back and shoulders, but inside her soul there was still a skirmish ongoing. She thought of each self-accusation, countered it with numerous excuses, just to realize there was no coming back and fixing what was already done. “Move forward, Keyaru. This thing must become your new weapon. Take it, claim it, and… save my sister. She must’ve been counting on you.” The princess stated, still focused on the black-winged maiden before her. So much evil was caused by her, so many torments had Keyaru suffered. And yet, he forgave her, loud and clear. Now only one thing stood between the girl and her inner peace. Something, only she could attain throughout the long self-reflection. “This orb should’ve been yours from the very beginning.”
“I see. Eve, do you have something to say?” The man deliberately wondered, looking at the queen-to-be, who retained her silence up to that point.
“Hmm… No. Dealing with princesses is your thing. Sorry, I can’t help you with that.” The kokuyoku scion responded, giving the lad a brief look. She thought he was just a calculating cutthroat, someone who’s whole interest resided in violence and sex. Now, that she saw his worries, his inner side, she couldn’t help but find him slightly attractive. Especially after how he stood against Hawkeye. Only… “So… Are you really immortal?”
“I am, birdie. I am.” The Hero of Healing grinned a little. He formed an endearing smile, warm and bright. Alas, underneath it there was only cold. After all, Blade almost killed him, and she was way beneath Organ Trist’s mastery. “Take care, girls. I’ll be back soon.”
“Uh-huh. Setsuna’s waiting.”
Thanks. That’s all I need to hear.
…
“Go in, nura (brother).” The blue-feathered deity uttered, closing the door behind the red-haired man. And so, the man found himself in a dark cramped room, filled with nothing but ages-old dust and stains. He sat behind a small table, looking at the perfectly round object of divine origins. No one could enter without the host’s permission, so Keyaruga was safe from outer distractions.
Brother, huh? You don’t sound too happy saying that, Tidir.
“Ha-a-a…” The man exhaled, rubbed his forehead, and then touched the orb with his right hand. The brand had resonated, bizarre white light erupted from it. Up until now, that was a hard object of unknown properties. Now, the healer knew – the white sphere was actually a solidified chunk of godly energy. After a new hero poured his ambitions into the raw armament’s form, it was ready to morph into whatever its new owner deems fit.
But what would it be? Josephine, for example, wished for a shining gilded sword that would allow her to murder her jailers right after she got it from Flare’s hands. It was bright and decorated, it embodied every wish and aspiration the broken girl kept inside her tormented soul. But despite Ragnarok’s golden, inlayed look, it was crude and unbalanced. But even worse, it was ultimately a crutch for a powerless girl. A lesson – do not wish for something you can get taken away from you.
In Bullet’s case, it was Taslam, the massive magic-spitting cannon. Although not without decorative incrustations of its own, the silver armament was not the primary weapon for the veteran of reconnaissance. After all, the massive black man was not ‘born’ a hero. This was the title he got through research, a few shady deals and the assassination of the previous Hero of Cannon. One could think a weapon of such scale wouldn’t be a spy’s choice. They would be wrong, especially when Bullet draws Taslam’s true form – a small pistol he could hide in his sleeve. A second lesson – do not wish for something to brag with, practicality is always preferable to showing off.
And finally, there was Flare. Her armament was represented by Vanargand, an unbreakable staff, allegedly made from the mythical world tree itself. Its twisted, chaotic, branches around a cold blue orb represented the princess’ dominative nature, but in terms of functionality, it was tuned to amplify all possible elements of her bottomless magic pool, whereas a regular magic staff only worked with one, like her current mystical tool boosted nothing but fire. The last lesson was to have something that amplifies your own innate strength, but is not limited by its primary function.
Keyaruga would only get one chance in his entire life. That’s why he carried the orb with his right hand covered with a green glove. No need to hide the mark from Blade, but still, better safe than sorry.
“I wish I could’ve given it more thought.” The lad lamented, pondering on his promise to Norn. And Hawkeye. The last Champion of Jioral stood between him and the princess. An all-seeing demigod needed to go away. “What I wish… is a tool of vengeance. A means of strength. Something that’d amplify my healing powers. And… a guarantee of true immortality. If I die, my girls would be sad. If I die, what was the point of the redo? If I die… how can I complete my vengeance?”
He lied to Eve. Keyaruga was far from true immortality, and they both knew it. Even after all the body modifications, he still remained a human. Someone, who can get knocked out and murdered with ease, but what’s even more critical, his pain threshold was high, but not limitless. One couldn’t forget about Bloodbringer and her sinister living weapon, after all.
I can kill people with one touch. But can I do it through a full plate armor? Can I heal myself while unconscious? Can I exceed the range of an extended arm? No. No! I have to overcome this! Weapons are tools of murder, and I already have plenty. Think, pray, desire your perfect form. Something for a Hero of Healing.
And so, a clear form started to form inside of Keyaruga’s mind. His passion resonated with the wild streams of primordial hue, the energy took form, and finally, the orb began to form a will of its own.
“THOUGH HATH DESIRETH ME, HERO?” A mighty voice resonated throughout the premise. It belonged to a mighty aged man, although much too distorted to confuse it with a real person.
“Yes, I do! Give me your everything!” The lad exclaimed, feeling winds of magic carve inside his very soul. A thrilling power was only rivaled by the man’s force of will.
“DOTH THOUGH DESIRETH TO SAVE THE WORLD?” The spirit inquired. A question was ritualistically asked to each and every hero. Problem is, all of them had pretty different ideas about how, why, and to what extent the world must be preserved. But to be sure…
“Of course I do! I love this world! I made it! I want to live in it, to have all the fun and happiness! I want to preserve those I love and crush those I hate completely! I want to claim my prize! So… how can I not wish to save this wretched world?”
“ALLOWETH ME TO LEND THY MY STRENGTH.” With that said, the wraith began merging itself to the man. Raw energy began mixing with the healer’s own mana, the hero’s mark resonating with the artifact during the process.
“Good! Now listen to my wish! I want to pierce my foes at range, to be immortal! And I want to be safe! Now take my desired form!”
And so, the chaotic winds began taking form. A Vortex of magical might began swirling around the man’s left arm, as he raised the cracked sphere to the ceiling. What lacked substance began taking mass; what lacked direction, was given focus; what had no form, took the shape of a gruesome gauntlet of pink and blue. It was alive, it had an eye, and it was more, much more than just a piece of armor.
“MY NAME THOU NEVER SHOULD FORGET, GEORGIUS – THOU CALL ME THAT!”
“Forget? How can I? Georgius, my holy armor, my property!” The lad spoke, staring at his gauntlet with clenched teeth, while the divine armament bound itself to the man’s muscles, nerves, and veins. Georgius was much more than just an indestructible chunk of metal, although even that offered much in terms of practicality. No, it was a net, a living spell that now dwelled inside the man’s body and soul.
Keyaruga understood Georgius, and vice-versa. They were both now inseparable entities, one complementing the other. First things first…
“Let’s check its primary feature.” The lad muttered, grabbing a poisoned knife from his right gauntlet. A swing, a stab, and the blade pierced his left biceps. Naturally, right? But the sheet of poisoned metal was pushed out by the extracorporeal power, and no trace of the wound remained. Georgius even mended the fabric of Keyaruga’s shirt.
“Ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-a! With that, I’m not gonna die!” The healer scoffed, rolling his armored fingers. The gauntlet didn’t confine his movements; it didn’t even make his hand sweat. The armament wouldn’t even require any attention paid to it, as Georgius safely absorbed the ambient mana and filtered it for its master’s safe usage. It would keep the man alive no matter what.
One would think that it was enough for just some testing of the artifact’s ability to enhance healing and defense, that its offensive capabilities were impossible to probe in an attic, where even a mouse wouldn’t dare to show up. Well, that would be wrong, as the red-eyed lad had already unsheathed his alloyed saber and rested his elbow on the table.
“Ha-ha-a!” Then, he started cutting. Slamming the light curved sword against the powerful limb was a wasted effort, much more so with the gruesome eye keeping track for each and every wound, but Keyaruga proceeded. “MORE-E-E-E!!! DE-E-E-EPER!!! PHA-HA-HA-HA-HA!!!” The gargling laugh mixed with slicing and squashing of meat and cleaving of bones above his own elbow resonated with the utmost excitement in the hero’s brain. Strike after strike, he deliberately mutilated his own body just to see what would happen if one manages to cut off his left arm, to lacerate his veins and tendrils. Blood ruptured just to stop in a moment. Wounds reopened right after fading in green mist. And finally, after a whole minute of zealous self-torture, Keyaruga cast away his saber, grabbed his left hand, and ripped it off altogether. All while guffawing murderously. “HA-HA-HA-HA! WHAT WILL YOU DO NOW, GEORGIUS?!!!”
The answer didn’t take long, as right in front of the healer’s eyes, the gauntlet on the severed hand turned into purple dust, along with leather bracers, dangling bloodied cloth and a few throwing needles. All of it returned to where it was supposed to be – on a fresh new left arm. It even was so kind as to erase the crimson stains from all over the man’s body. This kindness didn’t extend to what dripped on his boots from the dismembered arm, though.
“I’m starting to fall in love with you, Georgius!” Keyaruga sneered, unhinged by his own ambiguous commentary. He remained with an extra limb. Of course he used it for more experimentation.
Let’s leave it here, two steps away, and…
The man extended his left arm, focused his will, and called upon his magic. A second and the flesh of the severed arm wriggled in convulsions. Another and it returned to normal… Well, with every bone and tendril mercilessly ruined. Georgius gave the lad so much needed distance, even if it was limited by a bare meter, but no control whatsoever. He would never heal someone with that in his right mind. Holding the arm directly, though, was a completely different story. The touch gave the lad the utmost will over his patients, or victims. But more than anything, all the pain and fear were barred from his psyche. Alas, that wouldn’t allow for copying skills, but nobody forbade the lad from using his right arm. And even if he wanted to use the left one, just a single thought made Georgius completely and utterly disappear. It was still there; ready to come back in an instant.
Fuck, it’s so awesome; I’m getting so hard right now!
…
“…and then I had him poisoned, thrown into the dungeon. I beat him, had him raped, drugged, tortured…
And while Keyaruga enjoyed his new toy, Setsuna was far, far away from having any sort of fun. She listened to Freia, heeded her every word, every description, and every little notion. The two of them sat on the bed, and the she-wolf was furious. It was a rare occasion to see her frown, let alone openly grinding her teeth. Eve had retreated to her room just in time to spare herself from hearing and seeing the worst.
“…after all of that, I really did deserve the fire rod between my legs,” the princess admonished, unable to raise her head. Freia was desperate, but she couldn’t hide the truth any longer. Not after Hawkeye crushed her spirit just by referencing her sins. “What I didn’t deserve, though, is his lov-!”
That was it, Setsuna’s patience had run out, and she grabbed the sorceress by the throat. With the power of both hands, the huntress easily overpowered the magician, she could end her simply by squeezing a little harder, or scratching her carotid artery a little too deep.
“GHHHH!!!” The she-wolf growled, consumed by rage. All those nightmares, all those traumas – it was her fault, she did it to him, she…
She didn’t even struggle.
“…you… YOU!!!” The huntress’ grip had weakened, she couldn’t go on like that, her hands slipped, but the fury didn’t go anywhere.
“Kha-kha-kha-a… A-a-a… Haa… Kha…” Freia’s face was morbidly red, her breath was rugged, and even her eyes looked like they would pop out of their sockets every second now. “Kha-a… Se… tty…” But even in that sorry state, the girl never raised a hand against her friend. One swing, and the huntress would be burned by flames, scourged by a lightning, her brain would pop out on the edge of a sharp flying icicle… And yet, despite all of those possibilities, the heroine insisted on calling her possible murderer… by a friendly pet name.
“GRRR! What?!” She roared, still unsure what to do with the pink-haired girl. She was a part of their family, their pack… And someone they would be better off without. Right? Alas, whether that was true or not, Freia herself shared that ridiculous thought.
“Before you kill me… Promise me one thing.” The princess all but demanded. Her voice was faint, but there was power, a true regal authority in it. “Promise, you’d never leave him! Keyaruga… I don’t think he believes anyone can love him! Promise me you’ll take care of Evy and Norn! They have nothing to do with it! Promise…”
“No.” But Setsuna refused.
“B-but why?”
“Because Setsuna…”
…
Keyaruga returned. He pushed the door open and entered the room. His fervor wasn’t that high ever since the lad successfully broken the chain Flare put him on, ever since he burned the vile arrogant witch from the inside.
“Freia! Setsuna! Let’s fuck!” The hero yelled, as his eyes rolled all over the place. There was passion, there was zeal, and, most importantly…
“Haa… Set… ty!..” …his feelings were shared here, two naked girls, with one clearly dominating the other. The huntress held the sorceress from the back, Setsuna played with Freia’s nipple, she twitched her puffy vulva, teased her erect clitoris. All the while the huntress kept gently and caringly biting the princess’ ear. “Keya… ruga…” The caster helplessly pleaded, reaching for the towering man, but the she-wolf’s grip was just too strong.
“You start with Freia.” Setsuna proclaimed, patting her prey’s puffy lips.
“That’s a bold thing to hear from you.” Keyaruga sneered, all while getting rid of his equipment. What was just a normal arousal grew into a burning passion, as his raging erection urged him to drop the trousers as fast as possible. “Still, who am I to refuse a lady?”
And so, the lad jumped into the bed in all of his naked glory. His rod was on fire, his heart’s pounding resonated all the way to his temples, and his sex drive became unstoppable at that point.
“You’re gorgeous, Freia.” Keyaruga said, caressing the girl’s sweaty cheek. While he was gone, Setsuna made sure Freia was hot and wet; this was her tribute to the leader of their small pack. “I wanna fuck you silly.” The lad whispered heatedly, claiming his shivering bounty. She was moist, she was panting, and most importantly – the sorceress was in mad love.
“A-A-A-H!” Barely did the huntress let go of her, before the girl got on top of her man. She leant on his chest and lowered her hips, letting the hard penis pierce her dripping vagina. “You’re… mine now.” The princess declared, accepting the lad’s meaty stick all the way to the twitching balls.
“Well-well, care to explain what’s happened? Anybody?” The healer wondered with a mischievous grin on his face. He never missed a chance to get a firm grip on Freia’s bouncing ass; and neither did he deny himself from leaving a bunch of hickeys on her neck.
Nobody cared for conversation anymore. One was too busy moaning, while bouncing on the man’s rod, another was muffledly panting, all while pleasing herself. Setsuna dared not intervene, but neither would she miss a chance to follow Eve’s example.
Freia embraced Keyaruga, rubbing her sweaty body against his torso. Strangely enough, the girl deliberately avoided looking him in the eyes. She even turned her back to the man. And while her trained spine and round buttcheeks did look enticing, just having a beauty riding his dick wasn’t really enough to the hero.
“Hey, Freia…” Keyaruga spoke, lifting himself in a sitting position. That way, he could once again embrace his lovely princess. “You don’t have to fuck me out of guilt, you know.” The healer admonished, bending the girl in to take her doggy-style.
“I don- AHH!!!” There was no place for excuses. No moment of reflection, nothing but a primal lust and desire. Freia was his trophy, while he and Norn had a long story behind them? As if it mattered at all right now. “A-A-H!!! KEYARUGA!!!” She yelled, as the lad ravaged her. Gripping onto the bedsheets, the sorceress could do nothing but drown in pleasure. “A-A-A-A-A-A-A-H!!!” She was on the verge, orgasm after orgasm; she was led, or rather dragged, to the highest peak of ecstasy.
A wave of pure joy had covered Freia from her head down to her toes, she trembled, drooled, she even got a small puddle underneath her butt. These five minutes were so intense, she couldn’t think, couldn’t breathe properly. And yet…
“Get up. Master’s not finished.” Setsuna demanded, crawling near the girl. And indeed, Keyaruga’s penis was still far from ejaculating.
“She’s right. You and I have a lo-o-o-ot to do!” The hero uttered, grabbing Freia’s butt.
…
It’s been… how much time? Twenty? Thirty minutes? An hour? Even more? It was hard to tell after countless orgasms the two enjoyed together. Freia looked more like a dirty rag, than anything else. Her pink hair was all messy; she was sticky with sweat and reeked of semen, leaking right from her loose vagina. But even so, she clung to the Hero of Healing, who didn’t really seem any better, napping with a string of saliva drooling from his mouth.
Only Setsuna remained awake. She didn’t take any part in their love, other than masturbating right beside them. There was an undisputed reason for such a behavior. Specifically, Freia had told her everything; down to the most gruesome detail of how she abused the drug-addicted boy she now called master. The sorceress had expected retribution, a swift and brutal death by the ice claws, knowing she could leave her beloved man for Norn.
But, well, what kind of keeper would Setsuna be if she didn’t direct that lunacy into a fine night for two broken souls? The huntress would get her turn her turn the next day. Now, though, she covered Keyaruga and Freia with a blanket and lied beside him.
Silently, the she-wolf took the lad’s hand and pressed it against her breast. After all, it was kindness and warmth that kept his nightmares at bay.
So much for a heartwarming reunion, so much for peace. When Keyaruga finally thought about having a moment of rest, Panakea showed up. When he thought nothing would happen for at least a day, he met with his love. And now, it was a red sunset that casted its crimson shadow over Buranikka. On omen of evil, an omen of change.
“Despite everything, she still… remembers me. Remembers us. Norn never forgets, no matter what. The only problem, though, is that she won’t accept me now. She may look like a cute little girl, but she’s also a fully competent warlord, with which we’re on different sides.” The man spoke, standing at the door to the corridor. He carried the white sphere, the one and only thing that could make a breakthrough from the current state. “Only a battle will judge us.” The healer admitted, glancing at the bed. Freia sat there, combing Eve’s hair. Setsuna, in turn, listened while in a handstand.
“Uh-hu-u-uh!” The she-wolf muttered, doing a cartwheel to stand upright. “We will win.” She assured him, sitting on the edge of the bed. Honestly, her smile and words were everything Keyaruga needed not to give in to his angst. The gray-haired girl accepted his pain, and now crawled to Freia to heal the magician with her touch. At least a little bit.
“Certainly.” Keyaruga responded optimistically. He had to. Otherwise, his whole redo would be for nothing. And if having the best strategist in Jioral on Margurth’s side still wasn’t bad enough, he’d end up shackled in Norn’s residence for sure.
No doubt, she’s already prepared a chastity cage for me. Brrr, no way I’m signing up for that.
“Freia, are you alright?” The hero asked, approaching the sorceress. He couldn’t leave yet, even though Tidir had already provided Keyaruga with an isolated room in the attic.
“You shouldn’t worry about me.” The pink-haired girl spoke phlegmatically. She allowed Setsuna to massage her back and shoulders, but inside her soul there was still a skirmish ongoing. She thought of each self-accusation, countered it with numerous excuses, just to realize there was no coming back and fixing what was already done. “Move forward, Keyaru. This thing must become your new weapon. Take it, claim it, and… save my sister. She must’ve been counting on you.” The princess stated, still focused on the black-winged maiden before her. So much evil was caused by her, so many torments had Keyaru suffered. And yet, he forgave her, loud and clear. Now only one thing stood between the girl and her inner peace. Something, only she could attain throughout the long self-reflection. “This orb should’ve been yours from the very beginning.”
“I see. Eve, do you have something to say?” The man deliberately wondered, looking at the queen-to-be, who retained her silence up to that point.
“Hmm… No. Dealing with princesses is your thing. Sorry, I can’t help you with that.” The kokuyoku scion responded, giving the lad a brief look. She thought he was just a calculating cutthroat, someone who’s whole interest resided in violence and sex. Now, that she saw his worries, his inner side, she couldn’t help but find him slightly attractive. Especially after how he stood against Hawkeye. Only… “So… Are you really immortal?”
“I am, birdie. I am.” The Hero of Healing grinned a little. He formed an endearing smile, warm and bright. Alas, underneath it there was only cold. After all, Blade almost killed him, and she was way beneath Organ Trist’s mastery. “Take care, girls. I’ll be back soon.”
“Uh-huh. Setsuna’s waiting.”
Thanks. That’s all I need to hear.
…
“Go in, nura (brother).” The blue-feathered deity uttered, closing the door behind the red-haired man. And so, the man found himself in a dark cramped room, filled with nothing but ages-old dust and stains. He sat behind a small table, looking at the perfectly round object of divine origins. No one could enter without the host’s permission, so Keyaruga was safe from outer distractions.
Brother, huh? You don’t sound too happy saying that, Tidir.
“Ha-a-a…” The man exhaled, rubbed his forehead, and then touched the orb with his right hand. The brand had resonated, bizarre white light erupted from it. Up until now, that was a hard object of unknown properties. Now, the healer knew – the white sphere was actually a solidified chunk of godly energy. After a new hero poured his ambitions into the raw armament’s form, it was ready to morph into whatever its new owner deems fit.
But what would it be? Josephine, for example, wished for a shining gilded sword that would allow her to murder her jailers right after she got it from Flare’s hands. It was bright and decorated, it embodied every wish and aspiration the broken girl kept inside her tormented soul. But despite Ragnarok’s golden, inlayed look, it was crude and unbalanced. But even worse, it was ultimately a crutch for a powerless girl. A lesson – do not wish for something you can get taken away from you.
In Bullet’s case, it was Taslam, the massive magic-spitting cannon. Although not without decorative incrustations of its own, the silver armament was not the primary weapon for the veteran of reconnaissance. After all, the massive black man was not ‘born’ a hero. This was the title he got through research, a few shady deals and the assassination of the previous Hero of Cannon. One could think a weapon of such scale wouldn’t be a spy’s choice. They would be wrong, especially when Bullet draws Taslam’s true form – a small pistol he could hide in his sleeve. A second lesson – do not wish for something to brag with, practicality is always preferable to showing off.
And finally, there was Flare. Her armament was represented by Vanargand, an unbreakable staff, allegedly made from the mythical world tree itself. Its twisted, chaotic, branches around a cold blue orb represented the princess’ dominative nature, but in terms of functionality, it was tuned to amplify all possible elements of her bottomless magic pool, whereas a regular magic staff only worked with one, like her current mystical tool boosted nothing but fire. The last lesson was to have something that amplifies your own innate strength, but is not limited by its primary function.
Keyaruga would only get one chance in his entire life. That’s why he carried the orb with his right hand covered with a green glove. No need to hide the mark from Blade, but still, better safe than sorry.
“I wish I could’ve given it more thought.” The lad lamented, pondering on his promise to Norn. And Hawkeye. The last Champion of Jioral stood between him and the princess. An all-seeing demigod needed to go away. “What I wish… is a tool of vengeance. A means of strength. Something that’d amplify my healing powers. And… a guarantee of true immortality. If I die, my girls would be sad. If I die, what was the point of the redo? If I die… how can I complete my vengeance?”
He lied to Eve. Keyaruga was far from true immortality, and they both knew it. Even after all the body modifications, he still remained a human. Someone, who can get knocked out and murdered with ease, but what’s even more critical, his pain threshold was high, but not limitless. One couldn’t forget about Bloodbringer and her sinister living weapon, after all.
I can kill people with one touch. But can I do it through a full plate armor? Can I heal myself while unconscious? Can I exceed the range of an extended arm? No. No! I have to overcome this! Weapons are tools of murder, and I already have plenty. Think, pray, desire your perfect form. Something for a Hero of Healing.
And so, a clear form started to form inside of Keyaruga’s mind. His passion resonated with the wild streams of primordial hue, the energy took form, and finally, the orb began to form a will of its own.
“THOUGH HATH DESIRETH ME, HERO?” A mighty voice resonated throughout the premise. It belonged to a mighty aged man, although much too distorted to confuse it with a real person.
“Yes, I do! Give me your everything!” The lad exclaimed, feeling winds of magic carve inside his very soul. A thrilling power was only rivaled by the man’s force of will.
“DOTH THOUGH DESIRETH TO SAVE THE WORLD?” The spirit inquired. A question was ritualistically asked to each and every hero. Problem is, all of them had pretty different ideas about how, why, and to what extent the world must be preserved. But to be sure…
“Of course I do! I love this world! I made it! I want to live in it, to have all the fun and happiness! I want to preserve those I love and crush those I hate completely! I want to claim my prize! So… how can I not wish to save this wretched world?”
“ALLOWETH ME TO LEND THY MY STRENGTH.” With that said, the wraith began merging itself to the man. Raw energy began mixing with the healer’s own mana, the hero’s mark resonating with the artifact during the process.
“Good! Now listen to my wish! I want to pierce my foes at range, to be immortal! And I want to be safe! Now take my desired form!”
And so, the chaotic winds began taking form. A Vortex of magical might began swirling around the man’s left arm, as he raised the cracked sphere to the ceiling. What lacked substance began taking mass; what lacked direction, was given focus; what had no form, took the shape of a gruesome gauntlet of pink and blue. It was alive, it had an eye, and it was more, much more than just a piece of armor.
“MY NAME THOU NEVER SHOULD FORGET, GEORGIUS – THOU CALL ME THAT!”
“Forget? How can I? Georgius, my holy armor, my property!” The lad spoke, staring at his gauntlet with clenched teeth, while the divine armament bound itself to the man’s muscles, nerves, and veins. Georgius was much more than just an indestructible chunk of metal, although even that offered much in terms of practicality. No, it was a net, a living spell that now dwelled inside the man’s body and soul.
Keyaruga understood Georgius, and vice-versa. They were both now inseparable entities, one complementing the other. First things first…
“Let’s check its primary feature.” The lad muttered, grabbing a poisoned knife from his right gauntlet. A swing, a stab, and the blade pierced his left biceps. Naturally, right? But the sheet of poisoned metal was pushed out by the extracorporeal power, and no trace of the wound remained. Georgius even mended the fabric of Keyaruga’s shirt.
“Ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-a! With that, I’m not gonna die!” The healer scoffed, rolling his armored fingers. The gauntlet didn’t confine his movements; it didn’t even make his hand sweat. The armament wouldn’t even require any attention paid to it, as Georgius safely absorbed the ambient mana and filtered it for its master’s safe usage. It would keep the man alive no matter what.
One would think that it was enough for just some testing of the artifact’s ability to enhance healing and defense, that its offensive capabilities were impossible to probe in an attic, where even a mouse wouldn’t dare to show up. Well, that would be wrong, as the red-eyed lad had already unsheathed his alloyed saber and rested his elbow on the table.
“Ha-ha-a!” Then, he started cutting. Slamming the light curved sword against the powerful limb was a wasted effort, much more so with the gruesome eye keeping track for each and every wound, but Keyaruga proceeded. “MORE-E-E-E!!! DE-E-E-EPER!!! PHA-HA-HA-HA-HA!!!” The gargling laugh mixed with slicing and squashing of meat and cleaving of bones above his own elbow resonated with the utmost excitement in the hero’s brain. Strike after strike, he deliberately mutilated his own body just to see what would happen if one manages to cut off his left arm, to lacerate his veins and tendrils. Blood ruptured just to stop in a moment. Wounds reopened right after fading in green mist. And finally, after a whole minute of zealous self-torture, Keyaruga cast away his saber, grabbed his left hand, and ripped it off altogether. All while guffawing murderously. “HA-HA-HA-HA! WHAT WILL YOU DO NOW, GEORGIUS?!!!”
The answer didn’t take long, as right in front of the healer’s eyes, the gauntlet on the severed hand turned into purple dust, along with leather bracers, dangling bloodied cloth and a few throwing needles. All of it returned to where it was supposed to be – on a fresh new left arm. It even was so kind as to erase the crimson stains from all over the man’s body. This kindness didn’t extend to what dripped on his boots from the dismembered arm, though.
“I’m starting to fall in love with you, Georgius!” Keyaruga sneered, unhinged by his own ambiguous commentary. He remained with an extra limb. Of course he used it for more experimentation.
Let’s leave it here, two steps away, and…
The man extended his left arm, focused his will, and called upon his magic. A second and the flesh of the severed arm wriggled in convulsions. Another and it returned to normal… Well, with every bone and tendril mercilessly ruined. Georgius gave the lad so much needed distance, even if it was limited by a bare meter, but no control whatsoever. He would never heal someone with that in his right mind. Holding the arm directly, though, was a completely different story. The touch gave the lad the utmost will over his patients, or victims. But more than anything, all the pain and fear were barred from his psyche. Alas, that wouldn’t allow for copying skills, but nobody forbade the lad from using his right arm. And even if he wanted to use the left one, just a single thought made Georgius completely and utterly disappear. It was still there; ready to come back in an instant.
Fuck, it’s so awesome; I’m getting so hard right now!
…
“…and then I had him poisoned, thrown into the dungeon. I beat him, had him raped, drugged, tortured…
And while Keyaruga enjoyed his new toy, Setsuna was far, far away from having any sort of fun. She listened to Freia, heeded her every word, every description, and every little notion. The two of them sat on the bed, and the she-wolf was furious. It was a rare occasion to see her frown, let alone openly grinding her teeth. Eve had retreated to her room just in time to spare herself from hearing and seeing the worst.
“…after all of that, I really did deserve the fire rod between my legs,” the princess admonished, unable to raise her head. Freia was desperate, but she couldn’t hide the truth any longer. Not after Hawkeye crushed her spirit just by referencing her sins. “What I didn’t deserve, though, is his lov-!”
That was it, Setsuna’s patience had run out, and she grabbed the sorceress by the throat. With the power of both hands, the huntress easily overpowered the magician, she could end her simply by squeezing a little harder, or scratching her carotid artery a little too deep.
“GHHHH!!!” The she-wolf growled, consumed by rage. All those nightmares, all those traumas – it was her fault, she did it to him, she…
She didn’t even struggle.
“…you… YOU!!!” The huntress’ grip had weakened, she couldn’t go on like that, her hands slipped, but the fury didn’t go anywhere.
“Kha-kha-kha-a… A-a-a… Haa… Kha…” Freia’s face was morbidly red, her breath was rugged, and even her eyes looked like they would pop out of their sockets every second now. “Kha-a… Se… tty…” But even in that sorry state, the girl never raised a hand against her friend. One swing, and the huntress would be burned by flames, scourged by a lightning, her brain would pop out on the edge of a sharp flying icicle… And yet, despite all of those possibilities, the heroine insisted on calling her possible murderer… by a friendly pet name.
“GRRR! What?!” She roared, still unsure what to do with the pink-haired girl. She was a part of their family, their pack… And someone they would be better off without. Right? Alas, whether that was true or not, Freia herself shared that ridiculous thought.
“Before you kill me… Promise me one thing.” The princess all but demanded. Her voice was faint, but there was power, a true regal authority in it. “Promise, you’d never leave him! Keyaruga… I don’t think he believes anyone can love him! Promise me you’ll take care of Evy and Norn! They have nothing to do with it! Promise…”
“No.” But Setsuna refused.
“B-but why?”
“Because Setsuna…”
…
Keyaruga returned. He pushed the door open and entered the room. His fervor wasn’t that high ever since the lad successfully broken the chain Flare put him on, ever since he burned the vile arrogant witch from the inside.
“Freia! Setsuna! Let’s fuck!” The hero yelled, as his eyes rolled all over the place. There was passion, there was zeal, and, most importantly…
“Haa… Set… ty!..” …his feelings were shared here, two naked girls, with one clearly dominating the other. The huntress held the sorceress from the back, Setsuna played with Freia’s nipple, she twitched her puffy vulva, teased her erect clitoris. All the while the huntress kept gently and caringly biting the princess’ ear. “Keya… ruga…” The caster helplessly pleaded, reaching for the towering man, but the she-wolf’s grip was just too strong.
“You start with Freia.” Setsuna proclaimed, patting her prey’s puffy lips.
“That’s a bold thing to hear from you.” Keyaruga sneered, all while getting rid of his equipment. What was just a normal arousal grew into a burning passion, as his raging erection urged him to drop the trousers as fast as possible. “Still, who am I to refuse a lady?”
And so, the lad jumped into the bed in all of his naked glory. His rod was on fire, his heart’s pounding resonated all the way to his temples, and his sex drive became unstoppable at that point.
“You’re gorgeous, Freia.” Keyaruga said, caressing the girl’s sweaty cheek. While he was gone, Setsuna made sure Freia was hot and wet; this was her tribute to the leader of their small pack. “I wanna fuck you silly.” The lad whispered heatedly, claiming his shivering bounty. She was moist, she was panting, and most importantly – the sorceress was in mad love.
“A-A-A-H!” Barely did the huntress let go of her, before the girl got on top of her man. She leant on his chest and lowered her hips, letting the hard penis pierce her dripping vagina. “You’re… mine now.” The princess declared, accepting the lad’s meaty stick all the way to the twitching balls.
“Well-well, care to explain what’s happened? Anybody?” The healer wondered with a mischievous grin on his face. He never missed a chance to get a firm grip on Freia’s bouncing ass; and neither did he deny himself from leaving a bunch of hickeys on her neck.
Nobody cared for conversation anymore. One was too busy moaning, while bouncing on the man’s rod, another was muffledly panting, all while pleasing herself. Setsuna dared not intervene, but neither would she miss a chance to follow Eve’s example.
Freia embraced Keyaruga, rubbing her sweaty body against his torso. Strangely enough, the girl deliberately avoided looking him in the eyes. She even turned her back to the man. And while her trained spine and round buttcheeks did look enticing, just having a beauty riding his dick wasn’t really enough to the hero.
“Hey, Freia…” Keyaruga spoke, lifting himself in a sitting position. That way, he could once again embrace his lovely princess. “You don’t have to fuck me out of guilt, you know.” The healer admonished, bending the girl in to take her doggy-style.
“I don- AHH!!!” There was no place for excuses. No moment of reflection, nothing but a primal lust and desire. Freia was his trophy, while he and Norn had a long story behind them? As if it mattered at all right now. “A-A-H!!! KEYARUGA!!!” She yelled, as the lad ravaged her. Gripping onto the bedsheets, the sorceress could do nothing but drown in pleasure. “A-A-A-A-A-A-A-H!!!” She was on the verge, orgasm after orgasm; she was led, or rather dragged, to the highest peak of ecstasy.
A wave of pure joy had covered Freia from her head down to her toes, she trembled, drooled, she even got a small puddle underneath her butt. These five minutes were so intense, she couldn’t think, couldn’t breathe properly. And yet…
“Get up. Master’s not finished.” Setsuna demanded, crawling near the girl. And indeed, Keyaruga’s penis was still far from ejaculating.
“She’s right. You and I have a lo-o-o-ot to do!” The hero uttered, grabbing Freia’s butt.
…
It’s been… how much time? Twenty? Thirty minutes? An hour? Even more? It was hard to tell after countless orgasms the two enjoyed together. Freia looked more like a dirty rag, than anything else. Her pink hair was all messy; she was sticky with sweat and reeked of semen, leaking right from her loose vagina. But even so, she clung to the Hero of Healing, who didn’t really seem any better, napping with a string of saliva drooling from his mouth.
Only Setsuna remained awake. She didn’t take any part in their love, other than masturbating right beside them. There was an undisputed reason for such a behavior. Specifically, Freia had told her everything; down to the most gruesome detail of how she abused the drug-addicted boy she now called master. The sorceress had expected retribution, a swift and brutal death by the ice claws, knowing she could leave her beloved man for Norn.
But, well, what kind of keeper would Setsuna be if she didn’t direct that lunacy into a fine night for two broken souls? The huntress would get her turn her turn the next day. Now, though, she covered Keyaruga and Freia with a blanket and lied beside him.
Silently, the she-wolf took the lad’s hand and pressed it against her breast. After all, it was kindness and warmth that kept his nightmares at bay.
