The world spun in a dizzying kaleidoscope of crimson. Xana, or what was left of her while inside Substance’s body, was sprawled at the bottom of a crater dug into the earth. Her blood, a shimmering pool of scarlet, mirrored the dwindling light of the setting sun, casting an unnerving, macabre glow across the broken woodland floor.
Pain, a slow roar that seemed to resonate through the very bedrock, was an unwavering companion. However, it was a faint echo in comparison to the alien hunger that gnawed at her heart. It was a desire that pulsed with the beat of a thousand unseen eyes, a chorus of whispers coming from the very essence of Substance herself, as the condition to adapt and evolve had been met.
"Shit, well damned, it looked like this body pulled through; I can feel it; my or Substance body is changing... agh; damn, but why aren’t my injuries healing? Something is right here; something is changing, but why does it hurt so much?"
Crack!!.... Crack!!
Ugh, my head hurts. It hurts so much, but... I feel so... agh!! So good."
Xana said to herself as she strained to stand up. She rolled to her side, and Substance’s fancy and cute but still seductive maid dress was soaked in her own blood and covered with dirt from the ground.
And then, as it began, bodily changes began to occur.
Gone was the familiar warmth of flesh and bone. Her body, once a receptacle for her human essence, had become a horrible caricature of its former self. Crimson veins pulsed with an awful brightness behind a transparent membrane that stretched tautly across her damaged form. It felt incorrect and terribly alien, like a terrifying puppet manipulated by invisible threads.
Voices began to whisper in the back of her mind. What were these voices? They didn’t sound human at all, but rather like a lake of different animals all howling and roaring in the back of her mind; their screeches made no sense at all, and the sheer annoyance of these voices was enough to drive anyone insane, as they didn’t stop at all.
And that’s when she realized they weren’t animals, but fragmented memories of everyone this body had known. They weren’t much, but these powerful memories began to shape something unholy—something awful in this case—with the only objective of surviving this situation. However, this was not an adaptation but rather something more precise, over which even Xana had no influence.
The greatest analogy was giving birth; she wasn’t adapting or evolving—at least not in the classic sense. But she could feel it: something was inside her, attempting to escape and come out, and the process was excruciatingly painful, to say the least.
A tremor spread through Xana, beginning at the base of her spine. It was agonizing, yet strangely exhilarating. This body, a vessel for her own being, was changing and adjusting to this dream domain. Bone began to crackle, and the vertebrae shifted and realigned. She shouted, a sound beyond human comprehension, a primordial wail absorbed by the forest’s ravenous symphony.
Lorraine, on the other hand, stared down at Xana, who had abruptly regained consciousness. Her eyes became irritated as she conjured a burning ice spear created from the frozen poison of the Jadoof, one of the numerous mythological beasts imprisoned at the Solomon clan’s palace in the underworld.
As she observed the sight, her lips formed a vicious sneer.
"Determined, little bug, aren’t you?"
She chuckled, a sound devoid of true amusement.
"Like a cockroach scurrying around after a nuclear explosion, impressive in a pathetic way."
Her gaze hardened.
"But wouldn’t you agree that resilience can only take you so far? Without your tremendous power, you are as valuable as a rock on the seashore. All bark and no bite, just twitching on the ground."
A spark of wicked delight appeared in her eyes, as if she were enjoying tormenting Substance, or Xana in this case.
"Allow me to show you how one deals with bugs that refuse to stay down."
"The trick to it, dear little nuisance, is to maintain consistency. A constant bombardment of strikes, each one more powerful and lethal than the previous. Until your unbreakable spirit crumbles and you are permanently down!!"
Lorraine, however, was consumed by pride and ignorance, and she failed to understand that her efforts were futile since none of these Succubus were prepared for what was to follow next. Lorraine, on the other hand, began to assume a throwing posture as she hurled her poisonous spear toward Xana.
The scenario took an unexpected turn as the emerald spear arced through the air, pointing directly at Xana. As the weapon hurtled towards her, a hideous metamorphosis began to take place on her back. It bulged outward with unsettling quickness before erupting in a torrent of blood and a translucent blue mucous that splattered the surrounding environment.
Despite the chaos, a gleam of familiarity developed. A blue ring emerged from Xana’s burst back wound. It resembled the Aether rings, but with a significant difference: the ring itself pulsed and mutated, extending outwards until it formed a massive, four-meter dome of shimmering spatial energy. This unexpected barrier appeared just in time, deflecting Lorraine’s spear with a loud clang that sent shockwaves soaring into the air.
And, because of the seemingly enlarging sore bursting through Substance’s maid suit, part of the dress tore, displaying her top and her boobs in startling detail. On the other hand, this strange blue ring prevented her from receiving any more damage than necessary.
Succubus and now conscious Xana both seem perplexed by the blue ring; for one, the first to speak was Little Boss, whose name was revealed to be Azella, as she stated with a hint of terror in her expression.
"Why the hell is that thing here? We set up a series of commands to prevent that thing from working in here, much less manifesting what the hell."
"Full of fucking surprises, are you? Well, it doesn’t matter; Azella, get rid of that thing now."
Lorraine directed Azella to utilize her godlike authority in this domain to prevent the ring from teleporting Substance or Xana back into the actual world. However, the response Lorraine received from Azella did not meet her expectations.
"I cant!?"
Azella felt a cold glare sink into her. Lorraine had not spoken a word, but the message was as obvious as shattered glass. The stare demanded an explanation, a wordless cry of "What the actual hell do you mean you can’t?!" The allegation weighed heavily in the air, mixed with a powerful concoction of rage and incredulity. Azella shuddered beneath the weight of Lorraine’s implicit query, the frigid intensity of her stare leaving little room for interpretation.
"..."
"..."
"..."
"..."
A dense quiet filled the air, laden with morbid anxiety. Despite her godlike mastery over this universe, Azella couldn’t ignore the prickling terror Lorraine inspired. Lorraine, the Ancient Succubus, who, like Janice and Xana, was a prisoner in this dreamscape, gazed at Azella with ferocious fury. Disappointment even? Her rage was vivid and hardly contained. It was a look that promised strangulation for incompetence.
"Whoa there, hold your fire, Lorraine!!"
Despite the trembling in her voice, Azella smiled and muttered something pleasant.
"I am quite capable of sealing her away and weakening her more. However, something unexpected has occurred."
Azella paused, choosing her words carefully.
"There appears to be something wrong regarding that freshly created ring of hers. My usual authority appears to be impeded whenever I try to target it."
Lorraine’s glare remained frigid, but it altered from accusation to displeasure. Azella noticed the alteration, which reminded her of their husband’s telepathic exchange. He had cautioned them about the creature’s plasticity and how it appeared to adapt after prolonged exposure. That’s why Lorraine wasted no time on their first encounter, denying the monster the opportunity to adjust.
Despite this method, a wrinkle persisted. This dream realm was designed expressly to exclude all forms of ichor, but this creature that this devil had possessed somehow found a way to get around it. How? That was the burning question in Lorraine’s eyes, a silent challenge for Azella to respond.
Azella’s displeasure matched Lorraine’s. Unfortunately, there was little to be gained by addressing the incomprehensible. Azella compared this monster—Lorraine referred to it as a "beast"—to a computer black box. The output was clear; the aether rings challenged her control, but the interior operations remained a mystery. The "how" got buried in the murky workings of Substance’s bizarre and twisted adaptation.
On the other hand, a different scene could be seen playing out. As in the scene below, Substance, or more specifically, Xana, was as such. The solitary neon-translucent ring that shapeshifts into a space dome that repels all physical attacks from the outside quickly returns to its ring-like appearance.
The blue, transparent ring pulsed again, indicating a transformation. The basic spherical band was gone, replaced with a spectral replica of Substance herself made of the same neon light. This structure, a shimmering mirror of Substance, developed quickly, consolidating into a bright, transparent shape.
As the structure hardened, Xana felt an unusual sensation arise within her. It was a link—an unexplainable tie to this freshly born thing.
Lorraine’s gaze remained on the demonic sword, its very existence working as a conduit, draining her power. This, along with the dream realm’s natural repression and the constraints of possessing Substance’s body, made the situation more dangerous.
The brazen idea of displaying her true form within this constricted universe crossed her mind—a desperate bet that may destroy the frail vessel that contained her soul. However, such a course had a high cost. The terrifying thought of Michelle’s contract, a malicious agreement that required Lorraine’s ongoing existence, hovered over her like a Damocles sword.
Failure to keep her half of the pact might mean rapid and cruel destruction. The tactical benefits of her true form were obvious, but at what cost?
A familiar sensation, separate from her own, surged within her. It came from this weird, transparent blue creature that resembled Substance’s shape. Though its nature remained unknown, a link emerged: a sensation of control, similar to driving a toy vehicle with a remote. The thing remained still, yet a wordless appeal echoed across the link. It was inciting her to battle, to force these aggressors out of their shared space, while it served as a ghostly shield in place of her missing arm.
With a sigh, Xana climbed to her feet, the agony a dull roar in comparison to her more immediate problems. Substance’s regular regenerating abilities were slow at best, providing little relief. However, a new sensation emerged—an abnormality she had never experienced before.
As a devil, Xana was acutely aware of the vessel she inhabited, including its strengths and weaknesses. This time, however, a unique organ pulsed underneath her injured heart, an alien entity that kept her alive despite her body’s deteriorating condition. It was evident that Substance adaptation, which was typically a powerful weapon, had run into an unexpected stumbling block, a hindrance that had been jury-rigged against its intended function. As such, it had to get around this weakness, and this organ, whatever it is, was the power answer.
"Again, this ichor is fucking awesome; it hurt everywhere; but even then, by all means, I should be dead or out of commission, but this thing, this strange new organ, is keeping this body alive. I can feel it, almost as if it were ignoring all of the injuries, but I don’t know the full extent of this organ’s ability."
"So it goes without question that I need to finish this quickly and get out of this terrible world; that black hair bitch is to blame though; she is weakening the Michellian bloodline’s regeneration factor, and this sword inside me doesn’t make it any better."
"Hmm, let’s get this thing out first and foremost."
With that stated, Xana began to withdraw the sword from her stomach, but, no matter how hard she tugged, the blade refused to budge, almost as if it were welded to her entire body. It didn’t budge an inch, and the anguish she felt as she tugged on it was enough to drive a grown man mad, as blood poured from her lips as a consequence of attempting to rip the blade out.
"Fuck... a cursed blade or a demonic sword, it doesn’t matter; I don’t need this weapon to fight. This terrible weapon sapped my power, but my Atman was forged through innumerable contracts; I rely heavily on this to get through situations like these. Heheh... oh my, it’s been a long time since I used this, but I guess old habits die hard."
"Power, young harlots? You flutter your wings and call yourself succubi, yet you have not even seen the genuine abyss. Power is not based on whispered promises or momentary pleasure. It is a blood-soaked tapestry woven with the threads of sacrifice. Each thread represents a life lost, a soul bartered away. I’ve witnessed the depths to which mortals would go for a fragment of what I possess. This ability, this warped gift, serves as a monument to their suffering, a continual reminder of the price paid. And it contains a terrifying truth: the devil’s greatest cruelty is not hidden in the shadows, but in the alluring lure that power justifies any cost, no matter how hideous."
Xana lifted her remaining hand, a single limb against the grandeur of the world. Her face, once vivid and vivacious, had become a painting of dreary acceptance, carved with a hollowness that echoed the depths inside. When she spoke, her voice held the weight of a thousand elegies, a mournful tune sung not with passion but with the tired resignation of someone who had lost everything.
It was neither poetry nor a chant, but rather an obituary for a life lost, a sorrow for the bright spirit that had been destroyed in its pursuit. Each syllable was a piece from a broken dream, a tribute to the melancholy symphony of loss that had become her life. The sacrifices she made were all for the sake of strength, and only the powerful understood them.
"Cruelty is inscribed into my entire being, like a tapestry made from the threads of numerous sins. Love, joy, and compassion are luxuries that I gave up long ago, just whispers in an ambition-driven life."
"Mourning is a temporary luxury, a phantom limb I no longer have. My single objective is ascension, and the nine seats of hell are my undivided concentration. To get one, I must fight my way through blood and deception—a vicious symphony of manipulation and bloodshed. Guilt and want are shackles I throw off since only triumph matters."
"However, even the devil must atone. This power, the distorted reflection of my actions, is my punishment. It is a continual reminder of the price paid, a weapon forged in the crucible of my own damnation. It is my greatest power and the hardest load I bear, a sad reflection of the love, joy, and compassion I gave up for a throne in the abyss."
"This world, this power, is only mine. Manifest here; show them the true meaning of power and the pit that lies underneath it. Regret? A luxury I gave up long ago. Not now. Not ever. Let it be known that I, Xana the Great, am here, living an uncontested life free of concern. I will use you, break you, and rebuild you. Hear me, ohh, blade of torment, take form, and slay my enemies: Nepenthe!!"
The moment Xana said this, the purple glow emitted outwards from her hand. The world spun in a dizzying kaleidoscope of crimson. Xana, or what was left of her while inside Substance’s body, was sprawled at the bottom of a crater dug into the earth. Her blood, a shimmering pool of scarlet, mirrored the dwindling light of the setting sun, casting an unnerving, macabre glow across the broken woodland floor.
Pain, a slow roar that seemed to resonate through the very bedrock, was an unwavering companion. However, it was a faint echo in comparison to the alien hunger that gnawed at her heart. It was a desire that pulsed with the beat of a thousand unseen eyes, a chorus of whispers coming from the very essence of Substance herself, as the condition to adapt and evolve had been met.
"Shit, well damned, it looked like this body pulled through; I can feel it; my or Substance body is changing... agh; damn, but why aren’t my injuries healing? Something is right here; something is changing, but why does it hurt so much?"
*Crack!!*.... *Crack!!*
Ugh, my head hurts. It hurts so much, but... I feel so... agh!! So good."
Xana said to herself as she strained to stand up. She rolled to her side, and Substance’s fancy and cute but still seductive maid dress was soaked in her own blood and covered with dirt from the ground.
And then, as it began, bodily changes began to occur.
Gone was the familiar warmth of flesh and bone. Her body, once a receptacle for her human essence, had become a horrible caricature of its former self. Crimson veins pulsed with an awful brightness behind a transparent membrane that stretched tautly across her damaged form. It felt incorrect and terribly alien, like a terrifying puppet manipulated by invisible threads.
Voices began to whisper in the back of her mind. What were these voices? They didn’t sound human at all, but rather like a lake of different animals all howling and roaring in the back of her mind; their screeches made no sense at all, and the sheer annoyance of these voices was enough to drive anyone insane, as they didn’t stop at all.
And that’s when she realized they weren’t animals, but fragmented memories of everyone this body had known. They weren’t much, but these powerful memories began to shape something unholy—something awful in this case—with the only objective of surviving this situation. However, this was not an adaptation but rather something more precise, over which even Xana had no influence.
The greatest analogy was giving birth; she wasn’t adapting or evolving—at least not in the classic sense. But she could feel it: something was inside her, attempting to escape and come out, and the process was excruciatingly painful, to say the least.
A tremor spread through Xana, beginning at the base of her spine. It was agonizing, yet strangely exhilarating. This body, a vessel for her own being, was changing and adjusting to this dream domain. Bone began to crackle, and the vertebrae shifted and realigned. She shouted, a sound beyond human comprehension, a primordial wail absorbed by the forest’s ravenous symphony.
Lorraine, on the other hand, stared down at Xana, who had abruptly regained consciousness. Her eyes became irritated as she conjured a burning ice spear created from the frozen poison of the Jadoof, one of the numerous mythological beasts imprisoned at the Solomon clan’s palace in the underworld.
As she observed the sight, her lips formed a vicious sneer.
"Determined, little bugger, aren’t you?"
She chuckled, a sound devoid of true amusement.
"Like a cockroach scurrying around after a nuclear explosion, impressive in a pathetic way."
Her gaze hardened.
"But wouldn’t you agree that resilience can only take you so far? Without your tremendous power, you are as valuable as a rock on the seashore. All bark and no bite, just twitching on the ground."
A spark of wicked delight appeared in her eyes, as if she were enjoying tormenting Substance, or Xana in this case.
"Allow me to show you how one deals with bugs that refuse to stay down."
"The trick to it, dear little nuisance, is to maintain consistency. A constant bombardment of strikes, each one more powerful and lethal than the previous. Until your unbreakable spirit crumbles and you are permanently down!!"
Lorraine, however, was consumed by pride and ignorance, and she failed to understand that her efforts were futile since none of these Succubus were prepared for what was to follow next. Lorraine, on the other hand, began to assume a throwing posture as she hurled her poisonous spear toward Xana.
The scenario took an unexpected turn as the emerald spear arced through the air, pointing directly at Xana. As the weapon hurtled towards her, a hideous metamorphosis began to take place on her back. It bulged outward with unsettling quickness before erupting in a torrent of blood and a translucent blue mucous that splattered the surrounding environment.
Despite the chaos, a gleam of familiarity developed. A blue ring emerged from Xana’s burst back wound. It resembled the Aether rings, but with a significant difference: the ring itself pulsed and mutated, extending outwards until it formed a massive, four-meter dome of shimmering spatial energy. This unexpected barrier appeared just in time, deflecting Lorraine’s spear with a loud clang that sent shockwaves soaring into the air.
And, because of the seemingly enlarging sore bursting through Substance’s maid suit, part of the dress tore, displaying her top and her boobs in startling detail. On the other hand, this strange blue ring prevented her from receiving any more damage than necessary.
Succubus and now conscious Xana both seem perplexed by the blue ring; for one, the first to speak was Little Boss, whose name was revealed to be Azella, as she stated with a hint of terror in her expression.
"Why the hell is that thing here? We set up a series of commands to prevent that thing from working in here, much less manifesting what the hell."
"Full of fucking surprises, are you? Well, it doesn’t matter; Azella, get rid of that thing now."
Lorraine directed Azella to utilize her godlike authority in this domain to prevent the ring from teleporting Substance or Xana back into the actual world. However, the response Lorraine received from Azella did not meet her expectations.
"I cant!?"
Azella felt a cold glare sink into her. Lorraine had not spoken a word, but the message was as obvious as shattered glass. The stare demanded an explanation, a wordless cry of "What the actual hell do you mean you can’t?!" The allegation weighed heavily in the air, mixed with a powerful concoction of rage and incredulity. Azella shuddered beneath the weight of Lorraine’s implicit query, the frigid intensity of her stare leaving little room for interpretation.
"..."
"..."
"..."
"..."
A dense quiet filled the air, laden with morbid anxiety. Despite her godlike mastery over this universe, Azella couldn’t ignore the prickling terror Lorraine inspired. Lorraine, the Ancient Succubus, who, like Janice and Xana, was a prisoner in this dreamscape, gazed at Azella with ferocious fury. Disappointment even? Her rage was vivid and hardly contained. It was a look that promised strangulation for incompetence.
"Whoa there, hold your fire, Lorraine!!"
Despite the trembling in her voice, Azella smiled and muttered something pleasant.
"I am quite capable of sealing her away and weakening her more. However, something unexpected has occurred."
Azella paused, choosing her words carefully.
"There appears to be something wrong regarding that freshly created ring of hers. My usual authority appears to be impeded whenever I try to target it."
Lorraine’s glare remained frigid, but it altered from accusation to displeasure. Azella noticed the alteration, which reminded her of their husband’s telepathic exchange. He had cautioned them about the creature’s plasticity and how it appeared to adapt after prolonged exposure. That’s why Lorraine wasted no time on their first encounter, denying the monster the opportunity to adjust.
Despite this method, a wrinkle persisted. This dream realm was designed expressly to exclude all forms of ichor, but this creature that this devil had possessed somehow found a way to get around it. How? That was the burning question in Lorraine’s eyes, a silent challenge for Azella to respond.
Azella’s displeasure matched Lorraine’s. Unfortunately, there was little to be gained by addressing the incomprehensible. Azella compared this monster—Lorraine referred to it as a "beast"—to a computer black box. The output was clear; the aether rings challenged her control, but the interior operations remained a mystery. The "how" got buried in the murky workings of Substance’s bizarre and twisted adaptation.
On the other hand, a different scene could be seen playing out. As in the scene below, Substance, or more specifically, Xana, was as such. The solitary neon-translucent ring that shapeshifts into a space dome that repels all physical attacks from the outside quickly returns to its ring-like appearance.
The blue, transparent ring pulsed again, indicating a transformation. The basic spherical band was gone, replaced with a spectral replica of Substance herself made of the same neon light. This structure, a shimmering mirror of Substance, developed quickly, consolidating into a bright, transparent shape.
As the structure hardened, Xana felt an unusual sensation arise within her. It was a link—an unexplainable tie to this freshly born thing.
Lorraine’s gaze remained on the demonic sword, its very existence working as a conduit, draining her power. This, along with the dream realm’s natural repression and the constraints of possessing Substance’s body, made the situation more dangerous.
The brazen idea of displaying her true form within this constricted universe crossed her mind—a desperate bet that may destroy the frail vessel that contained her soul. However, such a course had a high cost. The terrifying thought of Michelle’s contract, a malicious agreement that required Lorraine’s ongoing existence, hovered over her like a Damocles sword.
Failure to keep her half of the pact might mean rapid and cruel destruction. The tactical benefits of her true form were obvious, but at what cost?
A familiar sensation, separate from her own, surged within her. It came from this weird, transparent blue creature that resembled Substance’s shape. Though its nature remained unknown, a link emerged: a sensation of control, similar to driving a toy vehicle with a remote. The thing remained still, yet a wordless appeal echoed across the link. It was inciting her to battle, to force these aggressors out of their shared space, while it served as a ghostly shield in place of her missing arm.
With a sigh, Xana climbed to her feet, the agony a dull roar in comparison to her more immediate problems. Substance’s regular regenerating abilities were slow at best, providing little relief. However, a new sensation emerged—an abnormality she had never experienced before.
As a devil, Xana was acutely aware of the vessel she inhabited, including its strengths and weaknesses. This time, however, a unique organ pulsed underneath her injured heart, an alien entity that kept her alive despite her body’s deteriorating condition. It was evident that Substance adaptation, which was typically a powerful weapon, had run into an unexpected stumbling block, a hindrance that had been jury-rigged against its intended function. As such, it had to get around this weakness, and this organ, whatever it is, was the power answer.
"Again, this ichor is fucking awesome; it hurt everywhere; but even then, by all means, I should be dead or out of commission, but this thing, this strange new organ, is keeping this body alive. I can feel it, almost as if it were ignoring all of the injuries, but I don’t know the full extent of this organ’s ability."
"So it goes without question that I need to finish this quickly and get out of this terrible world; that black hair bitch is to blame though; she is weakening the Michellian bloodline’s regeneration factor, and this sword inside me doesn’t make it any better."
"Hmm, let’s get this thing out first and foremost."
With that stated, Xana began to withdraw the sword from her stomach, but, no matter how hard she tugged, the blade refused to budge, almost as if it were welded to her entire body. It didn’t budge an inch, and the anguish she felt as she tugged on it was enough to drive a grown man mad, as blood poured from her lips as a consequence of attempting to rip the blade out.
"Fuck... a cursed blade or a demonic sword, it doesn’t matter; I don’t need this weapon to fight. This terrible weapon sapped my power, but my Atman was forged through innumerable contracts; I rely heavily on this to get through situations like these. Heheh... oh my, it’s been a long time since I used this, but I guess old habits die hard."
"Power, young harlots? You flutter your wings and call yourself succubi, yet you have not even seen the genuine abyss. Power is not based on whispered promises or momentary pleasure. It is a blood-soaked tapestry woven with the threads of sacrifice. Each thread represents a life lost, a soul bartered away. I’ve witnessed the depths to which mortals would go for a fragment of what I possess. This ability, this warped gift, serves as a monument to their suffering, a continual reminder of the price paid. And it contains a terrifying truth: the devil’s greatest cruelty is not hidden in the shadows, but in the alluring lure that power justifies any cost, no matter how hideous."
Xana lifted her remaining hand, a single limb against the grandeur of the world. Her face, once vivid and vivacious, had become a painting of dreary acceptance, carved with a hollowness that echoed the depths inside. When she spoke, her voice held the weight of a thousand elegies, a mournful tune sung not with passion but with the tired resignation of someone who had lost everything.
It was neither poetry nor a chant, but rather an obituary for a life lost, a sorrow for the bright spirit that had been destroyed in its pursuit. Each syllable was a piece from a broken dream, a tribute to the melancholy symphony of loss that had become her life. The sacrifices she made were all for the sake of strength, and only the powerful understood them.
"Cruelty is inscribed into my entire being, like a tapestry made from the threads of numerous sins. Love, joy, and compassion are luxuries that I gave up long ago, just whispers in an ambition-driven life."
"Mourning is a temporary luxury, a phantom limb I no longer have. My single objective is ascension, and the nine seats of hell are my undivided concentration. To get one, I must fight my way through blood and deception—a vicious symphony of manipulation and bloodshed. Guilt and want are shackles I throw off since only triumph matters."
"However, even the devil must atone. This power, the distorted reflection of my actions, is my punishment. It is a continual reminder of the price paid, a weapon forged in the crucible of my own damnation. It is my greatest power and the hardest load I bear, a sad reflection of the love, joy, and compassion I gave up for a throne in the abyss."
"This world, this power, is only mine. Manifest here; show them the true meaning of power and the pit that lies underneath it. Regret? A luxury I gave up long ago. Not now. Not ever. Let it be known that I, Xana the Great, am here, living an uncontested life free of concern. I will use you, break you, and rebuild you. Hear me, ohh, blade of torment, take form, and slay my enemies: Nepenthe!!"
The moment Xana said this, the purple glow emitted outwards from her hand. As what came before her was a large full red katan, that she held tightly within her hand. The blade radiating with a purple energy.
At this moment, she looked upwards, two succubus before her, however Xana knew well she couldn’t stay to play, as such she was about to go all out. Just because her powers were seal doesn’t mean she didn’t have other options
Her powers were made to be an all rounder type, something that can never make the user fumble in any situation.
As such, the aura that was like a blazing purple flame that wrapped around the sword. Began to seep into the very blade itself, Lorrain, on the other hand began to looked at the injured Xana who was standing beside the weird spectral entity the strongly resembled Xana.
However what happened next was something that Lorrain didn’t foresaw at all, Xana suddenly disappeared, a blue light suddenly flash from beneath her feat. And what played out the moment after, was the sound of Azella, and the stabbing sound of something long and sharp piercing through flesh.
Lorrain eyes went towards Azella, and that when she see Xana still in control of Substance body. Stabbed through Azella, her eyes cold, and empty, she then took the blade, and began to twist it slowly in a cruel manner.
With a wicked grin tugging at the corner of her lips, Xana showed no mercy, twisting the blade deeper, causing a fresh deluge of blood to spill out onto the ground below. Azella’s eyes were wide with terror, not because of Xana, nor because she somehow manage to break past her beacon yet again. No the blade, a mere stabbed wound to the chest, something she has felt many times before.
However, this time the pain of her wound was excruciating and intense. It pulsed and burned, causing her to let out a gut-wrenching scream. The body she inhabited, was horrifically injured and its healing abilities were impaired by the weakening effects of the domain. And as if that wasn’t enough, the fiery aura that had been contained in the sword now exploded outwards, engulfing Azella in purple flames, causing the flames to cook her from the inside out, as they escape from every opening; her mouth, eyes, ears - there was no escaping it.
The air crackled with ozone and the stench of burnt flesh.
"HAGHAA!!…
Azella, cries became louder by the second, it was as if she was being punish, or that was the feeling Lorrain got from the sight.
’BITTTCH WHAT AWREEE YOU DOING HEELLPPP MEEEEE….
A telepathic message was sent to Lorrain, it was as if even her mind was being engulf to the point she couldn’t escape from the suffering that Nepenthe offered her.
A guttural roar, raw and primal, erupted from Lorrain throat as she began to summoned yet another spear, this time it was made from lava that seem to have came out of nowhere.
She flew towards Azella who was being brutally impaled by Xana, her mind racing as she said to herself.
’I don’t get it, how can she move with those injuries, no how the hell did she summoned that sword and the ring when her power were sealed away, by both the domain and the Demonic sword, it shouldn’t be possible.’
As Lorraine, rushed towards Xana to pierce her with her spear, made from the utilization of her beacon, elemental utilization. With this she can utilize and weaponize any elements in existence even ones that are not of this world, as long as it was classified as an element, and she knows that it exist.
However as Lorraine approach Xana, she notice something different about her, Succubus can sense emotions, and there are not afraid to utilize this power to there advantage.
And yet, as she looked at Xana, a being filled with confidence and pride that can outshine the sun, was now like a dry pond, he was completely empty, she had neither fear, happiness, sadness nothing she by all means invisible and unpredictable before entities by herself. But at the same time that was not the case with that weird blade of hers.
Xana was an empty vessel, while, the blade it self was a confusing piece of arts, it harbored immense hatred, and oddly enough that hatred was being directed by Xana. But sword also had a variety of different emotions, such as happiness, sorrow, love, you name it that blade had it.
Nepenthe’s vibrant aura continued to whip around Xana, as if her soul were being scorched by a flame that could not be extinguished. It was as if the blade was absorbing the essence of her very being, consuming her emotions and leaving her with nothing but a hollow view on the world.
And moments later Azella took the spear, stabbed Xana in the shoulders, and from there she pulled it out, and began to stabbed away Xana her flesh hissing with each blow.
For a moment, the only sound currently present, were the brutal sound of Xana being impaled, over and over, causing further damage to Substance body. Yet despite this, Xana didn’t flinch an inch, but for every piercing stabbed she received from Lorraine, Azella screams just got worse.
Lorraine’s eyes widened in disbelief. She couldn’t comprehend how Xana was enduring such pain and not showing any reaction. It was as if she had become immune to the agony.
Despite her confusion, Lorraine pressed on, her spear poised to strike the blade that held so much emotion, and the now empty and hollowed master that wielded it. Her mind raced, trying to understand her opponent’s actions and why Xana was acting in such a confusing manner, was she too injured to doge, or was she suppressing the need to scream.
But she soon stop when she realize, that the her strikes were ineffective. Seconds later, Xana eyes left Lorraine, and he looked at Azella, and said with a soft voice, cold and stoic as ever.
"You have hardly atone, but this should be enough."
Steel sang a deadly song as Xana brutally yanked, and carved a vicious arc through the air, drawing the blade deeper till there was no more blade to push further and monstrous strength, Xana guided the flaming blade upward, and then downward once more. As she was cut in half, the blade flames, heating up from the razor sharp edges, as Azella body distigrates into nothing.
Leaving not even ashes behind, Lorrain watch in horror, and confusion, not because of Azella death, but because the link she shared with her, had suddenly disappeared, this made her weary as she looked at Xana and said in threatening voice, well aware that Azella might not be able to respawn.
"What the hell... did you just do, you freak!?"
Lorrain yelled, her voice trembling with uncertainty and anger.
On the other hand, the aura of the sword began to fade once more inside it, and Xana’s eyes, suddenly became red, but what throw Lorraine off guard was the unique shade of red her eyes became. They were an exact replica of Azella eyes, and that when it happened.
A large black flames suddenly combust out of nowhere, Lorraine clearly familiar of what this was, "Black Sun" the weird Miasma like sun that Xana utilize earlier, or that’s what Lorraine though, but the black fire soon began to transform into a small wooden box, small enough to fit inside a basket ball, top of the small wooden shrine, was the words "For the sin, of lust, a body with no desire." Was written above it in Japanese.
But it was what happened next that made Loraine freaked out with fear and anger. The slide doors of the miniature shrine, adorned with a crudely carved cat, creaked open. It was as if the very shrine obeyed Xana’s will, its hinges groaning under an unseen force. Lorrain’s blood ran cold at the sight within. Nestled amongst crimson silks, like some grotesque trophy, lay Azella’s head. The once sadistic succubus’ face was contorted in a mask of pure agony, bloody tears tracing paths down her pale cheeks. The severed head twitched spasmodically, a guttural moan bubbling from its lifeless lips.
Disgust and a primal fear warred within Lorrain. This wasn’t just gruesome, it was...wrong. It defied the natural order of things. A telepathic message, laced with cruel amusement, pierced her mind – Janice, ever the opportunist, reveling in the chaos.
’Lor-Lor!!’
The message purred at the back of her head.
’Having fun? Don’t worry, sweetie, I’m holding down the fort from here.’
Lorrain snarled back, pushing down the venomous retort that formed on her tongue.
’Shut up, horny goat with wings! Can’t you see I’m busy? Sigh whatever I guess, but besides that, is it ready?’
’Of course.’
Janice replied, a smugness dripping from her words.
’But remember, this is a one-shot deal. Gotta wait a whole day to recharge, my beacon doesn’t fit my style of fighting, but today is an exception, I don’t like using it otherwise, i’m the type that likes to do things manually instead of relying on tools, but you know tools can be fun too heheh.’
’And it’s infused with darlings commands, right? You’re the only one who can pull that off.’
Lorrain asked, to which Janice replied while licking her lips.
"Of course, Daddy orders are seep deeply in it baby."
A flicker of irritation crossed Lorraine’s mind, at Janice words. But Janice went ahead and finish her explanation as she said.
’Five layers, all meant to suppress her adaptation. Twenty-four hours, tops. The last one triggers a temporal stasis on her body.’
’….. BUTTTTTT…..
’But what Janice?!"
Lorraine asked, clearly irritated by both Janice and situation at hand.
’But she needs to hold still for ten seconds.’
A scoff escaped Lorrain’s lips.
’Easier said than done, bat-brain.’
’Just your luck, huh? Well, good luck either way darling, i’m rooting for you, just go all out, and stop caring about the collateral damage like you always do, you beautiful horny barbarian of a woman!’
With those words said, the connection snapped, leaving Lorrain alone with the horrifying tableau before her.
Xana, a crimson blade gripped in her bloodied hand, pushed her battered body to its limit. The very air crackled with the exertion. The problem, Lorrain realized with a growing sense of dread, was the sword itself. It burned with an unnatural light, radiating a power Lorrain couldn’t begin to comprehend.
"What the hell is wrong with this devil?"
Lorrain hissed to herself.
"Her Atman...it’s not normal. Flames that erase existence, some bizarre attack that bypassed even Azella beacon...and that darkness that swallows everything, making reality as we know it becomes mere outlines! Then the goddamn sea of that unholy miasma! And what about that sealing technique he used earlier as well? Now this sword weird sword that some how severed Azella and my connection, and for some weird reason although i’m just assuming at this point, that thing somehow put her in a shrine? Argh!"
Frustration gnawed at her. On top of it all, there was that spectral blue clone – mocking her with its unearthly presence.
’Ten seconds.’
Lorrain gritted her teeth.
’Just ten seconds… I just need to stun or keep her occupied in one spot for ten second. Then Janice can work her magic.’
Lorrain’s chest heaved as she drew in a deep breath, channeling her power through the length of her spear. The once fiery glow at its core shifted and solidified into a sharp, glimmering shard of ice. This was Lorrain’s trademark move, her adaptability in battle known to strike fear into her opponents. As she locked eyes with Xana, the red glow from Azella’s crimson gaze seemed to reflect in their intense stare. This fight was far from over, and Lorrain could feel the weight of the world on her shoulders as she readied herself for the next round of combat.
’Ice has always being my favorite element, I will just freeze you and this entire domain if I have to.’
Xana’s eyes widened, her heart pounding in her chest as she sensed the impending danger. Lorrain was a powerful succubus, ancient and experience.
The fight shifting off to it last round, both woman being observant of one another. Xana had never seen her use such a formidable ability before. But it didn’t stop her from moving forward with a fierce roar and glint in her eyes, that was as cold as the spear inside Lorraine hands.
She charged forward, her sword held high and glinting in the moonlight. A stream of inky purple darkness erupted from it, coiling and swirling like a living serpent as it enveloped Lorrain in its black mist. The air crackled with a different energy that Xana normally use, this was no miasma but something else entirely.
Lorrain, braced for the challenge ahead, stood tall and resolute as the mist engulfed her. With a swift and confident swing of her spear, she shattered the suffocating darkness with the icy shard at its tip. Xana stumbled backwards, her grip loosening on her sword. But Lorrain did not hesitate - she pressed forward with determination, her spear held steady and ready to deliver the final blow. The air was thick with tension and the sound of ice on metal echoed through the silence, punctuated by grunts and gasps from both opponents.
Xana’s jaw clenched, her teeth grinding together as she fixed her determined gaze on Lorrain. She knew the stakes were high and time was of the essence. With a deep inhale, she drew upon the deepest reserves of the blade that was acting as a power source in place of he Black sun, pulling the strange purple energy once more. Manipulating it to her heart content.
As Xana unleashed her power, the very air seemed to ripple and shimmer with an otherworldly force. A ring of swirling purple flames and darkness erupted beneath Lorrain’s feet, engulfing her in a scorching inferno. The intense heat seared Lorrain’s skin as she struggled to maintain her footing. But Xana showed no mercy, her eyes blazing with a calm malice as she charged forward once again. Her sword cut through the air with ferocity, leaving behind a trail of crimson flames that licked at everything in its path.
As Xana’s sword descended, Lorrain sprang into action, her ice-coated spear glinting in the pale light of the full moon. She gracefully maneuvered her body to align with the trajectory of Xana’s blade, and as it neared, she thrust her spear upwards with an impressive velocity.
The sharp tip pierced through the air, leaving behind a shimmering trail of icy energy that reflected off the moon’s glow. Like a mighty fortress, Lorrain’s defense held strong against Xana’s attack, creating a dazzling spectacle of sparks and crackling energy. Despite the powerful force behind Xana’s strike, she could not break through Lorrain’s defenses, this statement hold true even though she only had one arm.
Refusing to back down, Xana summoned a swirling vortex of purple like darkness around them. It engulfed Lorrain once again.
This time, however, Lorrain didn’t fight it. Instead, she allowed herself to be swallowed by the inky tendrils, letting the darkness consume her until she was little more than a shadow. But just as Xana think she got her were she wanted her something shocking happened before her eyes.
The emotional energy, her swords naturally makes via the use of Atonement, became solid, as Lorrain by some miracle was able to freeze the inky like Substance, and with a mere trust of her spear, the spiral prison that engulf her, break into icy bits.
Xana’s eyes widened in disbelief as she watched the darkness crumble before her. Lorrain, now encased in a shimmering ice, advanced forward with a newfound determination. As Lorraine charge towards Xana, so did Xana as well as responded in a similar manner.
Xana charged at Lorrain with a fierce determination, her blade held high, slicing through the air with abandon. Lorrain met her charge with a swift movement of her spear, her icy tip glowing with a fierce intensity. Their movements were graceful and calculated.
If one were looked in the night sky the shimmer of pink and purple were present along with the sound of weapons clashing.
As the battle raged on, Janice worked her magic, trying to stabilize the situation and find a way to end this fight.
Far away, from the battle field about twenty thousand meters give or take. As she sat one a large tree, sitting on one of the giant branches as she watch the battle unfold, neither of the two getting the advantage over the other.
"Order. Command Stasis….
"Order! Command: All ichor will be ineffective, Time frame: 24 hours, the extension of this time will be a trade off for a amount of souls to make it possible….
"And with that I am done…
As of this moment Janice small horn were gigantic, not because of her power had increase or anything no, this was her demonic beacon. "Infusion" … Basically she can absorb energy, even properties of other people own power, and take it for herself, and her horn will convert whatever she steals, and shoot back the effects or absorbed traits via an energy blast of immense proportions right back at her enemy. As the stolen property is shoot with 10 times more the effectiveness of what she has stolen.
But by virtue of being a succubus they had the racial ability of regeneration, full body movements, mind control, emotion sensing, and best of all shape shifting. But due to the nature of her beacon, she can utilize her natural shapeshifting powers in more diverse ways than other Succubus.
Janice, with her preparations now complete she could now assist Lorraine, because at that moment she took her glowing green horn and break it off, as a result blood began to pour down from head, but nevertheless, she got the two horns off, right after she place them together and using her inherent powers of transformation the horns began to mold as one, and elongated till a giant arrow was made.
From there Janice looked to the side of the tree, and leaning against its wooden surface was a pink and grey bow, made from the bones of chi dragon, and her own hair. Anyone looking at it can tell it modified version of the British long bow.
Janice then took the newly made green arrow and nocked it onto the bow, focusing her energy into the arrowhead with give it an extra boost. With a deep breath, she pulled back the bowstring. Here eyes many times greater than even an eagle could see Xana clearly, but the mere fact that they were fighting at high speeds didn’t made this any easier for Janice either, especially since she only has one shot.
"Anytime you are ready Lorraine!!"
On the other hand Janice voice began to rang off in Lorraine head, who didn’t answer, but she got the message loud and clear. As she grinned to her self and said.
"It looks like I will have to use that."
With that in mind Lorraine dodge Xana immensely powerful slash, that shockwave was so strong it slash many mountains in the background as well them away in the process as well.
Her free hand grabbed her by the risk, and using all her physical strength she swung her body around, Xana behind holding firmly to her sword as Lorraine tossed her towards the ground, the impact was harsh as she multiple times scraping the earth, and blowing the trees.
With this free time, she raised her ice spear to the heavens, as the spear began to radiate a terrifying chill.
"I’m putting all my power into this, sigh the collateral damage is going to be a pain to fix… agh fuck it!" With this in mind the spear head of Lorraine’s spear began to glow even brighter, on the other hand Xana began appear from nowhere as neon blue light followed behind.
"Annoying… like roaches refusing to die, gha!! So be it! You and this world can freeze together."
Lorrain’s lips curled into a sneer, her voice dripping with malice as she spat out each word. The sound was like razor blades scraping against ice, piercing the air with its icy venom. As she raised her arm, an ethereal spear of jagged ice materialized in her hand, glinting in the harsh winter light. With a swift motion, she brought it down towards Xana, and the very atmosphere seemed to protest. Cracks and fissures appeared in the air itself, as if unable to bear the intense cold radiating from the weapon.
Lorrain’s own breath turned to frost as she unleashed her power, creating a plume of frozen mist that hung in the air for a moment before dissipating into nothingness.
Xana, a fierce and formidable force of nature, let out a primal snarl as her body erupted in a swirling maelstrom of purple flames. The heat radiating from her was intense, the air crackling with the raw power of her attack. In response, her opponent’s own attack hummed with a dark energy, creating an eerie symphony of power. The world seemed to hold its breath in anticipation, knowing that this clash would be nothing short of explosive.
But just before their weapons met in a world-shattering collision, Lorrain spoke. It wasn’t a shout, nor a scream. It was a cold whisper, a single word that echoed through the frozen battlefield: "Gefrieren Sie die Welt..." (Freeze the world...)
As if the universe pressed pause, all movement ceased. The tension hung heavy in the air, thickening with every passing second. In this suspended moment, only Lorrain and Xana existed – one with steel determination burning in their icy blue eyes, the other a statue of unyielding fury, her weapon poised for attack.
Then, a single word shattered the stillness: "Kristallgefängnis." (Crystal Prison)
A crack split the air, followed by a blinding flash of cold light. Not an explosion, but a focused beam, a spear of pure, radiant chill that shot downward like a laser from orbit. It slammed into Xana, point-blank.
The world seemed to hold its breath for a beat longer, the air thick with anticipation. Then, all at once, chaos erupted.
A wave of coldness radiated out from Xana, freezing everything in its path like a relentless plague. The ground beneath her began to crack and groan, as if it couldn’t withstand the sudden onslaught of frost blooming across its surface.
Every existing matter, hell even time itself turned to ice, visible waves of white spreading outward and engulfing everything in their reach. Mountains stood frozen in time, their jagged peaks and valleys now coated in shimmering layers of ice. Even the largest trees and thickest vegetation were transformed into glittering statues, every detail preserved with chilling accuracy.
It was as if the world had been captured in a moment of frozen beauty, but the reality was far more dangerous and destructive.
The freezing wave continued outward, unstoppable, a terrifying beauty. The once-vibrant world became a vast, crystalline landscape, a frozen monument to Lorrain’s desperate gamble. The freezing cold spread far and wide, at the very edge of Lorrain’s sight, the infinite layers of the world itself began to shimmer and crack. Even those ethereal planes were not immune. They too, were succumbing to the relentless bite of the cold, turning into a frozen tapestry of impossibly layered ice.
This domain, was in a way real, through various contracts, and serious modification via different sources, and souls, Jordan made a physical multiverse, of various worlds, plunder from the dreams of man.
The total number 9,584,395,494 and counting, and somewhere in one of those worlds, lies the core, but the core aside, Lorraine, using her full power, was something that can effect even the true physical world if given chance to unleashed.
In this case, Lorraine froze 7/10th of the many worlds that exist, in the soul vault. You could even say this was Jordan’s personal domain a well.
But alas, currently speaking, the moment Lorraine release that attack, she sacrifice all the power her body had to offer, and she began to fall from the sky, and landing hard on the ground, blood spilling from her mouth as a result.
Her figure tremble in the dirt, as he desperately gasp for air, however a wicked grin appeared on her lips and she began to smile like a maniac, clearly please by her victory.
"Haha…. hahah… AHAHA…. HAAAA… I did it… I fucking did it...…. Slash!! ... haaa?!!
The world seemed to tilt on its axis, as if the very ground beneath Lorraine’s feet was shifting. A rush of exhilaration coursed through her veins, only to be replaced by a searing, white-hot agony that ripped through her body. It stole her breath, leaving her gasping for air, and her scream was a pathetic whimper lost in the roar of pain.
Her left arm was gone - it had been taken from her in an instant. But even as she struggled to comprehend this loss, a new kind of pain erupted within her. It wasn’t a clean, sharp stab - it was like a thousand red-hot needles burrowing into every inch of her being. The sensation pulsed with a sickening rhythm, mimicking the dying star’s final collapse. Each beat squeezed and twisted at her insides, causing her to writhe and thrash in agony.
It felt as though her very bones were being crushed and ground to dust, the marrow sucked out and set ablaze. A primal scream tore from her throat, raw and unfiltered, echoing through the empty space around her. Tears streamed down her face, blurring the edges of her vision but doing little to dull the inferno raging within her arm.
And still, the pain intensified with each ragged breath she took. It was a relentless force, consuming her whole being with its insatiable hunger. It was as if some monstrous beast had sunk its teeth into her flesh and was feasting on it from the inside out.
She could do nothing but endure it, each moment feeling like an eternity as the pain seemed to amplify without end.
"PhyaghyraAAA!!….. FWUACKKKKK!!…. its huRTsSS… ahHHAhahHAAAAHHH…
And to make things worse, a familiar voice echoed in the distance.
"Nepenthe!"
Her voice a silken snarl.
"Is one of the three separate abilities of my Atonement."
"Not a mere weapon, but an extension of my will. Forged from the very essence of my deceased children, it hungers for emotions and memories of the living. It devours it, then twists it, offering a perverse echo of that power back to me. But its true terror lies in its touch. Memories, both joyous and horrific, flood the victim’s mind – a torrent of stolen lives. The pain they endured when they are alive intensifies, a crescendo of shared suffering."
"And then!"
A cruel smile spreads across her face.
"The flames ignite. Not mere fire, but a reflection of their own agony, licking at both their soul and essence, burning away everything till not even ashes remain."
Xana said, the ice slowly breaking off her body, as purple flame began to burn the ice a way, as she continued to speak.
"But you know, that’s no even the worst part."
Xana said this calmly as she began to break free from the prison of crystal she was trapped in… crack!… her movements vastly slower than before.
But she still manage to break free from Lorraine Crystal prison, as the moment the attack made contact with her, she transferred the remaining flames from the sword, and spread it throughout her vessels body.
The flames produce by Nepenthe are not like the flames she produces using Nichibotsu… and after housing the flames of Nepenthe into her vessels body, she slowly begins to return the flames themselves back to the blade. As a result of this, Xana manage to save herself from being transmuted into an ice sculpture.
However, Lorraine was in too much pain to grasp Xana’s words. Her mind focus solely on the collective pain that courses through her body, and with each passing second the intensity only rises upwards without end.
"Gha!! Its hurts, I could only imagine…. but like I said this is only beginning… what comes next is something far more horrific, think of it as a punishment for keeping me here, and putting my cute slime child in danger."
"Anyone killed by Nepenthe: It fills the conditions needed for the second ability of Atonement to activate, "Nine Wheels of Karma," base on one of the nine sins you have committed the most throughout your life, will determine one of nine punishments that you will have to pay for your sins that will serve as your atonement."
These individuals are presented to Bastet, the judge who will witness their crimes and deliver one of nine harsh punishments that I have personally created. Once all conditions are met, Nepenthe does not discriminate whether or not I still possess my own powers - it offers its own source of power to carry out just punishment."
"It’s ironic, isn’t it? A devil of all things, with powers used for good. But in this world, there is no one truly good. That’s why I made it this way."
"Because I can kill and defeat anyone with a power like this, I know what its like to be defenseless, so to never feel like that again, I constructed my Atman in an unorthodox way, it took me a thousand years to make it, but nevertheless the final results were beyond what I was expecting."
"As such even in domains were one power is sealed away, with Nepenthe I always have a second option. And you pink hair brat, will find out that death is a mercy many have, and those who doesn’t wish for it more than you can ever imagine."
"Relish it…
"Feel it…
"And experience it…. that dread, that pain, that suffering, the feeling of wanting nothing but death knowing damn well you are underserving of such mercy… hahah… ohh well, with you out of the way, the last brat hiding shouldn’t be too much of a problem, you and the black hair harlots where my main issue anyways."
"Now then, you can think about pissing me off once you are in the shri….
BOOOOOM!!
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This chapter is updated by freēwēbnovel.com.
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…nNNNeEEE
A loud sonic boom was heard, as something began to tear through that air, however Xana didn’t notice its presence till she was already structed by it as seamlessly out of nowhere, an emerald green flashed brightly in the sky. As Janice, took the shot the moment she saw the opportunity present itself. As the arrow specifically made to seal Substance was launched towards Xana, approaching at speeds thousands of times faster than sound itself.
The arrow pierce through the side of Xana’s head, the force of speeding esoteric arrow itself dragging Xana off her feat as her head was stapled to a nearby tree, the arrow in of itself going though her skull and brain, and anchoring itself in the nearby tree.
Xana’s eye began to roll to the back of her head, as blood began to rolled down her eyes, her body trembling. As her hand shake reaching towards the arrow. If being impaled by a sword wasn’t enough, another one of the lingering succubus impaled her with an arrow to the head.
Xana mind racing, as confusion hit her, however the time she had to think was limited, because the moment she reach for it the arrowed glowed as green energy flood over her, as her hand felled, and her body became unmoving as if stuck in the motion of time itself, the injuries of this vessel already reaching its breaking point.
As blood hit the icy grown below her, it soon began to snow as the white flakes drop from the sky, Xana body frozen in time, and the snow falling from the sky was like representation of her defeat.
Truly at this point silence filled the air, for the mere fact that Lorraine at this moment was almost burn to nothing, believe it or not, despite only a single arm remained of her body, her consciousness remain so even now she was suffering.
On the other hand, far off into the distance, only one victor remained, it was none other Janice who let a sigh of relief escape her mouth as she said while putting down her bow.
"Damn one devil possessing a crazy ass slime girl cause us this much problem, and done let me get started with the collateral damage, to darling soul vault, sigh, its going to cost a fortune to fix this place, but I must asked. How weird can this day get? Hmmm, oh well… I should inform big sis, that the Lor and Az has fallen, she is more suited for things like these, I will let her deal with this problem, they can be saved either way, there concept still has her mark."
"Hahaha, well lets get on my merry wa…
"Ha…
As Janice spoke, the world around her went black and she returned to her original outline form. Her smile remained as she looked towards where she had shot Xana, only to find that Xana’s body, which had been leaning against a tree, was now gone.
At that moment she sighed to herself and said.
"Agh Fuuuucck me!"
But what she expected, did not come, instead, she suddenly felt a tugged to her head, as blood suddenly gush from a sudden open wound, and to make things worse, what catch her in this instance was a green energy began flow through her, and her body became limp as a result, everything paused within her down to her very concept, as time halted for her and her alone, and her body became frozen in time.
Her consciousness immediately faded as a result of this, but if that wasn’t enough the sound of something through the air, as the glimmering presence of red grace this world of black and white, and in unforgiving manner a familiar red sword fell from the sky at an immense speed, and pierce the chest of the unconscious Janice, as a purple flame burst from the wound burning at her body trap in stasis, but even then this flame was still able to burn her.
On the other hand the sound of footsteps approaching the body could be heard, because the moment Janice fell off the tree and into the thick now below, two people greeted her now burning form.
The first was Xana in Substance body, struggling to stand up straight, while the others was the blue spectral clone of Substance, holding a familiar black sun in her hand as if this spectral clone had the power itself.
"This brat power is useful as well, cough! cough!… to think I could use this weird clone as medium to reflect my power although I can only use one power at a time, and at a limited distance… although it wouldn’t have been much of a help in an actual fight since it only has 1/10th of the original strength Substance possess that and the fact it cant followed detailed order either when i’m not controlling it."
"But then and again I should be thankfully for my own ability as well, "Nine Wheels of Karma," inflicts punishment that will make the enemy face cruel punishment so they can atone for there wrong doings base on there sins. However the third ability of my Atonement power is called Toll, basically any prisoners that I have active in my nine wheels, I can use there powers and even increase the range of it via the use of my Nichibotsu."
"Sadly though I can only keep 3 prisoner at a time, no more than that, ohh well, I will return these sow to there husbands when i’m outside, this place is damage, even if they do brings Substance back here, it will only spell further lost for that Jordan kid."
"On the other hand I should get back, I can also feel it, this ring monster, or whatever it is, can open up a spatial rift to the real world."
"Although it takes time since its need to located the coordinates, and that can take anywhere between one to ten minutes."
Xana muttered to herself as she snapped her fingers, intensifying the flames and reducing both Lorraine and Janice’s bodies to nothing, leaving not even ashes behind. In her hands appeared two replicas of the black sun, creating two more shrines beside the first one. With a wave of her hand, all three shrines opened up, revealing the heads of three recognizable women inside.
Xana then began to take there heads out of the shrine they were in, she then proceeded to open there mouths and saw a black Egyptian like cat mark on each of there tongue meaning that they were properly under effect of Bastet’s atonement. Meaning there was no one else here to bother her, or stopping her from escaping.
So Without wasting anymore time, she removed each of there heads from the shrine, and grabbed them by the hair, and as if it sense its master intentions. The spectral beings soon became a ring once again, opening a portal to the other side.
Xana watched as her team members huddled together, discussing something with worried expressions. She plastered on a smile, hoping to protect Substance from any blame. But suddenly, she felt an overwhelming wave of sleepiness wash over her and before she could even process it, she was on her knees. It wasn’t a sudden attack that caused this, nor was it because of her own exhaustion from the intense battle. In the chaos, she had forgotten about something crucial.
…
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『3:01』
As Xana eyes closed, it open back again, but this time, it wasn’t red, no! Instead it was a familiar blue. A certain person had finally regain her consciousness and free will, the face full of emotions, became cold and expressionless once more.
An eerie silence filled the area, no one but Substance, and her spectral clone remained. The black sun in the spectral hand disappeared, and so did the sword, however the heads remain with the marks still vividly intact.
The world around her was a frozen wasteland, each step sending shards of ice through her body as she trudged forward. But in this moment, something felt different. Memories flooded back to her, powerful and overwhelming, like a raging river breaking through a dam. She saw images of past battles, of women dressed in elegant kimonos walking through the streets of ancient Kyoto. But there were other memories too, more sinister and twisted. Images of a seductive fox luring men to their demise, of salt raining down from the sky and destroying everything in its path. And then there was the blond-haired woman in kimono, whose very presence seemed to bring chaos and destruction wherever she went. Memories of an old wolf loomed over her, his fearsome growl shaking the very foundations of the universe.
His mind was a fount of dark ideas, shaping reality itself. And there were others too - a delinquent man whose words could change the course of history, a tyrannical ruler whose orders were law, a war-hungry Nos, leading shoulder in world war II, killing, and killing without stopping, forward was the only way, his sparks of purple destroyed all in his paths, they cry for help but no mercy was given, he reveled in battle and bloodshed. The flood of memories overwhelmed her, causing her mind to tremble with fear and awe at the power and darkness that resided within her.
Years of memories, experiences, emotions, dreams and purpose flood her being. Her mind cracking under pressure, People crying, and crying, blood pouring, splashing, and staining the world itself.
"phgrAA…. it hUrTs….
Her first words, a single arm to her name, holding her head, as she drop the three heads.
"Power isn’t a luxury, it’s the ragged breath a drowning man fights for. With it, you might claw your way to the surface for a fleeting gasp, but without it... you sink, forgotten, into the crushing silence of the abyss."
Memories of Lucy flooded her mind, her obsession with power evident as she tell this to her father.
"Sometimes love feels like a song playing on a radio station I can’t quite reach. The static hisses, the signal fades, but I can just barely hear the melody that makes my heart ache. Maybe someday the stars will align, the frequency will clear, but for now, all I have is this bittersweet longing and the knowledge that some connections, no matter how strong, are just out of reach."
The image of a horny fox could be seen, many political figures lies a large bed, there face showing imminent satisfaction, as said fox her curves evident, a bitter smile on her face as she look at the stars above.
"They flicker out like fireflies, these bright, fleeting lives I hold dear. Centuries stretch before me, yet each goodbye feels like a fresh wound. I understand the necessity, the grand design etched across the fabric of time. But understanding doesn’t dull the sting. Their laughter, their dreams, all embers fading in the wind. Perhaps that’s the curse of immortality - to forever witness the impermanence of all I cherish, but even then, my fallen brethren will not be forgotten, they depart, never to rise again, but even then I shall carry there memories on my shoulder, and their dreams on my back."
A young boy with dark skin dressed in a military uniform is shown on a gruesome battlefield, taking the lives of many. His training has been brutal, but necessary to comprehend human behavior and thought processes. He willingly submits to these inferior beings and transforms into one himself. He feels a mixture of pity and fear towards them, wondering why they are weak individually but a unstoppable force when united. His new companions perish, his façade of a family gone, causing his hardened worldview to become even more rigid and flawless. He now realizes his previous ignorance and is humbled by it.
The pain was overwhelming, encompassing centuries of memories and the fragility of life compared to the vastness of existence, like a rock sinking in an endless ocean.
"Let it stop, why, why, why… is this what it means to live… to be alive for so long…
"To be aware… to make choices, I see it, but I don’t understand, yet I feel it… but I cant agh… my head…
…
…
…
"The path to my aspirations is littered with farewells. Each choice I make takes a toll on me, leaving behind fragments of my former self. The end goal may be magnificent, but the journey is filled with murmurs of uncertainty. Will I still be the same person when I finally arrive at my destination?"
Her mind shifted to a new scene, showing a young man with long black hair and an intimidating glare. Despite his intimidating presence, there was a certain charm about him. A large white wolf tail swished behind him as he stood in a bloody forest, looking down at his hands covered in blood. Ten of his children, his most beloved family members, lay dead at his feet. They were the casualties of his own actions - punished for treason by his lord’s order. As he looked at them, it pained him deeply. His hand trembled with emotion; in this moment, he seemed much softer and more vulnerable than before. He was still young and naïve, but old enough to know what he wanted and what was necessary to achieve his goals.
"Ever wonder what sunshine feels like on your skin, or the taste of wind on your tongue? Me too. My whole life’s been these cold stone walls metaphorically speaking of course, the only sky a sliver through a high window. People talk about freedom, like it’s air you can breathe. Here, it’s a story whispered in the dead of night, a dream just out of reach. Maybe someday these bars will creak open, and I’ll finally step outside, blinking in the light like a newborn. But for now, all I have are these bars that is my family and its devotion to the king, and the stories they hold captive with me."
Pain, unrelenting pain, darkness surround her, no him in this place, to be a royal is not one of luxury but one of expectations, from birth they train their minds and body, especially there minds, he could speak and it happen, but there just some things in this world even he cannot order.
There hands tied, there Achilles cut with godium… 5 hours till sun rise, there bodies under the night sky, the nearest shelter a fifty miles away, they no he cannot walk, like a snake he crawled to live, to strive, and to conquer, he vowed he would escape them one by one till their was nothing else that can control him.
"You see the red, right? Soaked into the ground, clinging to the wind. The air smells like burnt metal and something else I can’t quite place. Part of me, the primal part, can’t help but get a rush from it all. The clash of steel, the roar of the fight, it’s intoxicating. But then... silence falls, and you see them lying there. All of them. Another win, another battlefield. Makes you wonder, doesn’t it? Is this all there is? This endless dance with death? Maybe winning ain’t everything, you know? Maybe there’s gotta be more to it than just who’s left standing."
As her purple hair danced in the wind, her comrades cheered for yet another triumph. She was hailed as the champion, but deep down she felt nothing but boredom and exhaustion from always being at the top. At night, she ruled the sheets, while during the day, she spilled blood on the ground.
But as the memories began to flood her being, one memory flood her being, the last memory, it wasn’t much, a fat teen blond hair, dying her hair black and looking at the mirror, extremely unattractive, base on the average preference of society, he looks at himself he cant help but looked at his body, bow did he got here.
"Look, the sun used to be my alarm clock, a grumpy reminder to face another day. Now, it’s just a harsh glare on an empty house, well if you can even call this old dump a house. People talk about hating their jobs, their bosses, their commutes. Man, in hard times like these, I’d kill for one of those. All I have is this silence, this suffocating quiet that presses down on me like a tomb. The world outside seems to move in vibrant colors, filled with people who laugh and connect. Me? I scroll through faces on a screen, a ghost haunting a party I can’t get into. The only company I have comes in little plastic bottles, needle, and wraps, promises of a different reality, a temporary escape. I swallow, I inject, and I inhale them down first thing in the morning, a bitter greeting to another lonely day. They’re there again at night, a lullaby sung in the language of oblivion. But even the drugs wear off, you know? And then I’m left with the truth, staring at the chipped paint on the ceiling, the weight of being utterly, terrifyingly alone. It’s a heavy crown, this loneliness, and trust me, it’s not the kind you want to be king of."
The final recollection hit her like a ton of bricks, leaving her stunned. She couldn’t fully comprehend or make sense of it, but it felt as though she had experienced it firsthand. It was almost as if she had been a part of that memory, and for the first time, she was able to truly process and understand what had happened. The memories that were once ignored were now seen with clarity, as if the person being remembered had suddenly become acutely aware of their surroundings.
Yet there was something missing, she sees, she is aware of it, yet it hard to understand, however much easier than what her mind was prior to now.
A single memory coursing through her.
"Take their genetic sample at any cost."
The pain dullen at his words, it was enough to make Substance began stand up despite her horrible injuries. Her eyes set towards the portal, the view of her oppressor’s vivid, it was clear they were unaware of her presence.
This world was weakening her, she could feel it, even with their guardians now taken out of the picture, this horrific world was still against her, just as these people were against her for fulfilling her masters will.
"Unacceptable…
Her voice, cold and frustrated, as she began walk towards the portal, she tried to ponder it, but she couldn’t understand what her wrong doing were.
"Why are they stopping me from my purpose?"
She asked nonchalantly, unaware of the gravity of her actions. Her mind was now developed enough to distinguish between right and wrong, but her understanding of these concepts was twisted. According to her existing train of thoughts, anything Merciless says is absolute truth, even if it’s morally wrong. She sees Merciless as greater than even God himself, so she will always agree with whatever he says, whether it’s right or wrong in reality.
"I see… I just need to get rid of them, Lucy… the black one, I need her, the finale obstacle of my goal…
As her one remaining hand stretched outward, it began to swell until they were as large as an inflated whale. Her skin turned a bright red and the veins bulged as she reached maximum size. Suddenly, there was a loud popping sound and a giant bubble of bloody mucus appeared. With one final burst, the mucus shot outwards towards the unsuspecting people on the other side of the portal, growing in size and force with each passing second. The group of chibis were thrown back by the impact, crashing into a distant mountain in the other world. Using her knowledge of their ichor, she was able to temporarily seal them away.
The portal began to split as if cloning herself, and from it a surprised Jordan can be seen looking her way, as she walks back to the real, as she picked up the heads of the wenches who gave her a hard time in that place.
Her eyes, for a moment glowed a weird red with anger and annoyance till they turned back to Neon blue. Jordan eyes, opening up with anger as he say the heads of his wives in Substance hands.
As if pissed off by this man existence, she tossed the heads towards him and said.
"Their love, insufficient."
