It is only by the time Varzath reappears in his portal room, still lying on the ground, that he realizes his pants remained in Elysium.
Cursing softly as he rises, Varzath takes a look toward his raging erection, then sighs.
There’s no doubt Saendara did it on purpose (both sending him back naked, as well as making sure he’d think about her until their next meeting), but in truth, Varzath doesn’t mind the dragoness’ proactiveness… Besides, had she truly wished to cause him harm, she could’ve done much worse.
She’s something wild, for certain, but what’s life without a bit of spice now and then?
Turning toward Sonog and Biranal, Varzath realizes the tter seems to struggle as she attempts to have his shirt cover all the important bits… Had he known Saendara would strip him naked regardless, he’d have just given Biranal his damn pants as well, but as it is, the vision of her barely hidden sex, ass, and nipples, does not exactly help with his erection.
Biranal’s gaze remains downcast as she pulls his shirt down coyly, her expression one of slight shock, shame, and confusion. It is clear the whole experience was a bit much for her, and that she’ll need a while to process what happened, including her fight against Monnir.
Breaking the slightly awkward silence, Varzath clears his throat. “Since Saendara presented me the ring, I’ve meant to take you there one day… Sonog’s pn made so I finally stopped putting it off. As you may have noticed, Saendara can be a bit much to handle.”
Other than lowering her gaze further, Biranal does not show any signs of having heard him, leaving Varzath no choice but to approach her of his own accord.
Removing his ring, he simply extends it in her direction against his open palm, which finally has so Biranal’s eyes shift slightly in his direction.
“Obviously, I’ll need it one more time, but after that, just consider it a present. I doubt I’ll need it where I’m going, and it’s not like I’d be able to take it with me to begin with... Souls don’t wear rings.”
Biranal’s eyes widen slightly.
Varzath wonders if it has finally downed on her he might truly die in this small venture of theirs…
Abruptly, Biranal clenches her teeth, then she sps his hand away, causing the ring to fly off into the distance.
Rather than speaking, or meeting his eyes, she closes her fists as her body continues to tremble slightly…
Varzath sighs, stepping back as he throws Sonog a look of hopelessness. “Help her reach her quarters unseen… And have Salmorol treat the worst of her wounds.”
Sonog bows slightly. “And what of Milord?”
Varzath shrugs. “I’ll manage.”
Sonog and Biranal are gone before long, leaving Varzath on his own, to contempte his recent choices and actions in the vast, empty hall.
Crouching in order to grab the ring Biranal refused (after having walked after it), he wonders if he rushed things, or, alternatively, took too long before taking her there.
Perhaps they could leave the Seraphim alone and find a different source of energy… But what would be the point in deying the inevitable? Another year or two spent in preparation… Or even another century or two, would not change the fact he’ll be risking his life in the end, and it’d increase the chances their pn might leak, giving their enemies time to prepare for the day he’s no longer here to protect the Domain as its Lord.
Besides, with Saendara having promised her protection, at least for the next century, it is the perfect opportunity for a change in leadership, as the Domain’s new ruler will have more than enough time to adapt to their new powers and position under the dragon’s wing.
He’ll miss this pce though, and the comforts it offers… Even if he did grow bored of them with time.
Varzath sighs.
The day has certainly been long…
“Something the matter, Milord?”
Blinking, Varzath turns toward the hall’s entrance, finding there a tall succubus of long bck hair, tied in a ponytail, straight back, and severe expression.
“…Bulramal?”
Bulramal, the pace’s headmaid, carries a change of clothes in her arms, making no attempts at concealing her eyes as they leave a cool trail against his skin, all the way down to his exposed member.
“…When I heard Milord was leaving on a trip to Elysium, I thought something of the sort might happen. Milord’s clothes have a habit of being destroyed, or lost, whenever he visits Lady Saendara, after all.”
Varzath snorts. “Thank you, Bulramal.”
“I’ll leave these here,” she says, carefully pcing the clothes on the ground nearby, “Unless Milord wishes to have me dress him?”
“No, that’s quite all right, thank you. Just make sure nobody else comes meanwhile…”
“Certainly.”
Varzath approaches the clothes she brought as he begins to redress himself without any particur ceremonies... However, noticing Bulramal has yet to leave, he stops in order to throw her an inquisitive gnce.
“…Anything else?”
“I’d appreciate it if Milord refrained from needlessly altering the maids’ uniform in the future, without consulting me first,” she says, expression unaltered, as she meets his eyes coolly.
“Oh…” Remembering what happened before they left, Varzath smiles. “How is she?”
“Dripping,” Bulramal replies drily, “Throughout the corridors of the pace, no doubt.”
Averting his eyes from Bulramal’s as he continues to redress, Varzath ughs. “You worry too much. She’ll be fine…”
“Oh, she’s in the clouds, certainly. What I worry for is what will happen once the others grow jealous, and begin to wonder if annoying Milord might be their pass at having a taste of your attention.”
Varzath pauses. “…Sorry.”
“I’ll deal with them,” Bulramal promises, “However, I can’t promise nothing will happen if Milord continues to ignore them for much longer. Bedding some of them, at least every once in a while, would quench their fire, so to speak, and keep them from misbehaving… My ministrations can only satisfy them for so long, unfortunately.”
Right, he still has to tell her about the pn… So much happened these past few days.
Bulramal sighs. “If only they were as easily handled as the boys… I’m sorry, for having to bring this up to Milord’s attention.”
“You have no reason to apologize, Bulramal. The pace would fall apart without you.”
Having finished redressing, Varzath turns toward Bulramal, then he opens his arms expectantly.
…Is that a slight blush on her cheeks?
“How do I look?”
“Perfect, as always, Milord.”
Varzath smiles. “Come here.”
After only a slight moment of hesitation, Bulramal does so, approaching until she’s close enough to touch, moment at which Varzath steps forward himself, pnting a light kiss against her lips, then against her neck, as he pulls her body against his in spite of her weak protests.
“M-Milord, w-wait, if Milord feels so inclined, then of the girls-”
“In fact, I’ve been feeling rather horny as of te,” Varzath murmurs into her ear, before pcing a soft bite against it, “So, if some of the girls misbehave, you have permission to send them my way…”
Bulramal shudders as Varzath steps back, releasing her. Now, her cheeks are most definitely red, and she seems to struggle to stand for a moment.
“Unfortunately, I already have something for tonight, but I’ll make sure to pay more attention to our needy, underappreciated staff from now on.”
Despite her slightly trembling legs, Bulramal curtsies, downing her gaze in process, most likely in an attempt at hiding her blushing cheeks.
“T-thank you, Milord.”
“Don’t thank me yet. Actually, I’m curious about something, so raise your skirt.”
Bulramal blinks; However, for her credit, she hesitates only slightly before straightening herself in order to do so, revealing bck, transparent, and visibly moist panties.
Varzath takes his time, taking a long look at her exposed sex, before nodding to himself. “So, they were a part of the uniform. I don’t know how I’ve never noticed before…”
“T-they were recent adds, Milord. As a request from Master Zugdradak…”
“I’ll give it to him, they do look rather nice… But perhaps their allure comes from what’s underneath?”
Bulramal bites her lip. “M-Milord...”
“Uhm... Turn around for me, love, I must verify if the new uniform measures up to our standards.”
Bulramal complies, bending over slightly as she does so.
Partially thanks to the bck high heels which are also a part of their maids’ uniform, and considering she’s already tall to begin with, Bulramal’s legs seem to continue forever, shaking slightly as she maintains her shirt raised, and her ass exposed.
Without ceremonies, Varzath spreads her cheeks apart as he then pces two fingers against her burning sex, rubbing them up and down slowly.
Bulramal screams as Varzath continues to rub her pussy, gradually increasing the speed and strength of his fingers...
“Well… It seems cking in the defense department, doesn’t it? How will our girls protect themselves in the case of an attack?”
Bulramal moans. “M-Milord, p-please…!”
“Thought as much. At least the material seems durable. I wager I could have my cock stretch it quite far before tearing it… Should we test its limits?”
Bulramal begins to shake as her legs finally give, and Varzath has to grab her waist in order to stop her from falling… Although he continues to rub her for several moments more, until the waves of her orgasm have finally subsided.
“…Bulramal?”
Panting heavily, Bulramal throws him a look of reproach over her shoulder, dark eyes now once more gleaming coldly.
“My Lord… What if one of the girls saw us? I’d never hear the end of it…”
Varzath smiles apologetically. “Sorry. I thought they might not be the only ones feeling neglected as of te…”
Bulramal’s eyes widen. Then, hurrying to straighten herself and step away from him as she readjusts her clothes, she huffs, pretending indignation.
Varzath ughs. “You can go now. Before I give in to my desires and ask for that pair of panties… Having our head maid finish her work rather shamelessly.”
As a wide-eyed Bulramal curtsies, then disappears in a fsh of fire, Varzath growls in frustration.
Once more today, he denied himself the relief of release, and for what? A promise he made this morning to a demon the previous day he thought all but his enemy?
Grumbling about stupid soft-heartiness and how being a Demon Lord was supposed to be about his enjoyment, Varzath finally sets to talking toward his final objective for the day.
Although Hell doesn’t experience a night and day cycle in the sun-rising sense, even demons still necessitate sleep to function, albeit less so than mortals, and as such, the pace’s corridors are much emptier now than at any other point in the day.
Obviously, Varzath never pnned to take this long to return, since fighting Biranal, and losing consciousness for a while, wasn’t something he expected when he pnned out his day.
Will such a fact be enough to pcate Sunnazoth’s anger...? Probably not.
Still, Varzath finds himself standing at her door before long, although he hesitates to knock immediately.
Perhaps she has already gone to sleep… In that case, won’t showing up now make things even worse…?
Varzath sighs, then taps his knuckles twice against the wooden surface of Sunnazoth’s door.
If she doesn’t answer, he’ll just go back for now, and apologize first thing in the morning…
‘It isn’t like you to knock,’ Sunnazoth’s cold voice brushes against his mind not a moment ter, ‘You don’t really expect me to open the door for you, right…?’
Recognizing Sunnazoth’s words as the challenge they represent, Varzath smiles.
By now, his mind has recovered enough for at least this much…
Pcing his hand against the lock, Varzath sets to dismantling Sunnazoth’s magical protections (were he at full strength, he’d have simply used his Shadow Magic to appear inside), and then, once have done so, he creates a small shadow clip, using it to lockpick the door itself.
Upon hearing a small click, Varzath smiles; Despite how long it has been since he entered a dy’s room uninvited, he is gd a ck of practice hasn’t rusted his abilities completely.
Sunnazoth, wearing a rge white robe covering most of her body, sits with a book in her hands next to an empty, rge firepce, while having her nephilim sve kneel in front of her as he slowly worships her feet and calves.
“A minute ft; Impressive as always,” she murmurs, without dignifying him even a gnce as she turns another page of her book.
“I didn’t know you were into reading.”
“I’m not. Typically, I like to spend my nights at our dungeons, torturing prisoners purely for the sake of my ego,” Sunnazoth retorts dryly.
Varzath smiles as he approaches, unceremoniously dropping on the couch beside her in spite of her grimace as he does so.
“Do you often imagine me in his pce whenever you have him degrade himself...? Also, what is the point of a firepce in Hell, exactly?” Varzath asks, nodding toward the nephilim who seems determined, or has been ordered, to ignore his presence as he continues to work his tongue tirelessly.
“Who said I’m having him degrade himself? My feet were tired, after I was stood up and made to wait for my date for several hours.”
Smiling somewhat ashamed, Varzath drags his fingers against her cheek, moving a lock of dark hair to rest behind her ear as he finally has her almond eyes shift to meet his.
“I’m sure your date didn’t mean to have you waiting on your feet…”
“Maybe I was nervous,” Sunnazoth replies, almond eyes now gleaming slightly.
“Maybe they had a good reason to not show up,” Varzath counters.
Sunnazoth snorts, shifting her eyes away once more. “Spare me... I already heard about what happened. How is she?”
“Biranal? She’ll live. In fact, some might say I’m the one who almost died…”
“...Shame.”
Rather than ask which one Sunnazoth wished dead, Varzath swiftly changes the subject as he continues to py with her hair and caress her skin, “Why do you hate her so much, anyway?”
“Why do you think? Maybe because any time we meet, she stares at me no different than I would a particurly disgusting insect crawling at my feet? Or maybe because she’s had all of our Lord’s attention from the moment she joined our merry party, having done nothing to deserve it...? Should act coyer from now on?” Sunnazoth finishes bitterly.
Varzath hums. “You know, you’ve had a certain Lord’s attention all to yourself for a while now. Maybe he could make you feel better, if you let him…”
“And all I’d have to do is swallow my pride…”
Sunnazoth abruptly closes her book, all but kicking her nephilim away, then rises as she heads toward a rge bookcase nearby, which Varzath never realized existed… Huh. Maybe she has more than one reason for being angry with him, after all.
“It’s te, and I can tell you’re tired, Milord.”
Varzath sighs. “Not even a peek? I assume you’ve put on whatever is beneath that robe for my sake, anyway.”
“Wouldn’t you like to know,” Sunnazoth says, stopping as she then points toward her room’s door, clearly having given their conversation for over.
Varzath frowns.
He could leave, of course. Find some of the pace’s maids and have them prepare him a bath… But leaving now would mean all but giving up on his pn to have Sunnazoth as the Domain’s new Lady.
No, leaving now won’t do, even if it’d be the nice thing to do.
And since when has he become nice, anyway?
Smiling sadly as if having admitted defeat, Varzath rises, bringing a nearly imperceptible look of relief to fsh throughout Sunnazoth’s expression, even as she continues to firmly point toward her door.
What is she so afraid of, anyway?
What was it that Saendara said?
His foolish pride was a death sentence, and so I stripped him of it.
Yes, that was it.
In a swift movement, Varzath grabs the nearby nephilim by his blond hair, summoning a bde of shadows which he unceremoniously pces against the other man’s throat.
Sunnazoth freezes, almond eyes widening, then quickly regaining their cool as she pretends confusion.
“Lord Varzath? What is the meaning of this?”
Varzath returns her confused gaze in kind, as though not understanding why she’s making a big deal out of it. “I told you before, he reminds me of a life I’d rather forget. Sunnazoth… You can’t mean to tell me you actually care for this creature?”
“C-certainly not. But training him to this extent was-”
Varzath snorts. “You may train as many new pets as you want once I’m no longer here to witness it.”
“Wait! If it's sex you want, then…!”
Varzath pauses. Throwing the wide-eyed nephilim in his grasp a gnce, then shifting his eyes toward Sunnazoth once more, who has now abandoned any pretenses of not caring as she bites her lips nervously, he ughs incredulously.
“And I thought I was the one who had grown soft over the years.”
Sunnazoth clenches her teeth. “Lord Varzath, your actions have gone beyond the scope of a mere joke. If I’ve made you upset by refusing you, then-”
“Spare me, Sunnazoth. This is no longer about our ruined date, this is about the fact you care for a nephilim, a son of our sworn enemy, as more than a mere toy… And to think I considered having you inherit the Domain.”
As Varzath shakes his head disappointingly, Sunnazoth’s blood leaves her face.
“Oh my, what would Ig'droren say? At a minimum, she’d have you skin the creature alive with your own hands for such a pathetic dispy of emotions.”
“…Ig’droren has been dead for nearly two thousand years. The only pathetic emotions here are your remaining hatred and fear when you were the one to kill her yourself! And to think, this whole time, I assumed I was the one she had thoroughly broken!”
One look at Varzath’s expression, and Sunnazoth seems to realize her speech was the wrong thing to say.
“W-wait, Lord Varzath. Please, allow me to make it up to you… I promise I’ll release him first thing tomorrow-”
“Release him?! Are you hearing yourself?!”
Sunnazoth flinches.
Varzath can scarcely believe his eyes.
“…Of my, oh my, now, isn’t this a rather interesting development? Hell’s number one bitch, fallen for a nephilim… Her sve, no less!”
The nephilim’s eyes widen further in virtue of Varzath’s words, while Sunnazoth herself seems to have been physically struck by them.
“F-fallen? Certainly, Milord jests… I won’t deny I’ve grown somewhat attached… Perhaps unhealthy so…”
Pulling the nephilim’s head back, Varzath draws a small cut against his neck, causing Sunnazoth to visibly recoil.
Having all but confirmed his suspicions, Varzath shakes his head in disbelief.
“This is... Not even in a million years would I’ve imagined it. However, while I’d love to hear the story behind such sweet, forbidden love, I believe you mentioned something about making it up for me…”
Sunnazoth pauses. Realizing she has been driven into a corner, her expression grows meek (most likely deceivingly, if Varzath has come to know anything about the demon during these past millennia), as she then lowers her gaze in submission.
“If Milord agrees to keep quiet about this, then…”
Now, to see how far she’s willing to go…
“Well… Fine then. Lower your Mind Shield.”
Sunnazoth freezes, then immediately abandons her coy act as she smiles at him sardonically. “I see you’re determined to make the most out of this, Milord.”
“What? Don’t tell me you expected me to take no precautions? Well… We could always pretend this never happened… Show me you’re still a demon by killing your toy yourself, and I’ll reconsider your punishment.”
“Mistress… Forget about me… Just… Kill him… Without his magic, he’s vulnerable…!”
Gncing toward the hostage nephilim in his grip as he struggles to speak through the bde against his throat, Varzath raises an eyebrow. “How noble... Though I suppose I should’ve expected as much, considering his heritage.”
Sunnazoth shifts her eyes from the struggling nephilim to Varzath, clenching her teeth in visible frustration as she does so.
“If… If I do this, Milord must promise me you won’t harm him.”
“Sunna… Mistress…!”
Varzath rolls his eyes. “Very well. I shall allow you to release him, quietly, onto a Mortal Pne come morning… We both know this cannot be allowed to continue, Sunnazoth. Even in my absence, the others would tear you to pieces.”
Sunnazoth closes her eyes, as though attempting to escape reality… However, once she reopens them, they gleam at him daringly.
“Give me your worst, Milord.”
The moment Sunnazoth’s magical defenses drop, Varzath clutches her mind in his grasp (magically speaking), taking a firm hold of it as her emotions strike him all at once; Fear, anger, shock, disgust, and, faintly, almost entirely hidden, a spark of uncertainty.
Shoving aside his hostage, Varzath smiles devilishly as he unsummons his magic bde and drops against the couch at his back.
At this point, Sunnazoth makes no attempts at hiding her thoughts of hatred and revenge, as they burn at the forefront of her mind almost as if purposefully projected in his direction. However, Varzath is far too experienced as a Mind Mage to fall for such tricks, immediately setting aside her foremost thoughts in pro of searching beneath them.
“So much hatred,” Varzath says, clicking his tongue as he pces a hand against his heart as if having been hurt by her thoughts, then sighs sadly, “Like this, you’ll make me out to be the bad guy here…”
Sunnazoth attempts to resist him, projecting random thoughts and memories in his way, and even going as far as trying to expel him from her mind, but… A contest of this nature is a simple matter of skill, not raw power (not that he’d have had a problem with the former; Forthermore, his exhaustion is not helping here), and by virtue of allowing her opponent into her mind, to begin with, Sunnazoth has already put herself at an extreme disadvantage.
Of course, there are still ways she could use to defend herself, such as releasing a strong pulse of raw mana against her own mind... But such an extreme measure would most likely lead to the destruction of it sooner than shake off an opponent as skilled as him.
Barely seconds have gone by since their mental contest began, and Sunnazoth’s body already shakes in its entirety.
“Let it go, love. It isn’t happening.”
Sunnazoth clenches her teeth.
“You’ll hurt yourself…”
At st, after one st struggle, Sunnazoth finally relents, dropping her resistance completely. Her feelings of defeat are as bitter as they are apparent, making it clear, this time, that she is not pretending.
As Varzath smiles triumphantly, Sunnazoth averts her eyes.
“See? I knew there was a good girl, somewhere in there... Deep. Now, why don’t you tell me what you meant when you mentioned making it up to me?”
Sunnazoth cringes. Her cheeks redden slightly, and her fists close, as each word spoken seems to cause her extreme pain, “Milord’s… Milord’s feet must also be tired… After the long day…”
Sunnazoth’s shame is palpable, her thoughts bordering on madness... Her vengeful fantasies are also quite vivid, and they seem the only thing keeping her from snapping. Simirly, she makes no attempts at concealing the fact she’ll search the Cosmos for his Soul if she must, in order to realize them.
The nephilim, after having been released by Varzath, watches the unfolding scene with obvious frustration and hatred in his eyes. If Sunnazoth told him about Varzath’s magic capabilities being essentially depleted for the day, then he must also understand what a Mind Mage could do to an unprotected mind…
Varzath wonders how much he will endure before snapping.
“Yes?” Varzath prompts, pretending to not understand what she’s getting at. “My feet are indeed tired… They’re also dirty, I suppose, though I was about to invite you for a bath together before you so rudely refused my apologies for what was a more than justified dey.”
“No… There’s no need… I’ll clean… Clean them myself.”
Containing his ughter, Varzath blinks, pretending shock. “Well…”
“Be silent…” Sunnazoth murmurs through clenched teeth as she slowly removes her white robe, revealing a bck, netted skin-tight costume underneath which does absolutely nothing to hide the naked body beneath it. “Don’t even dare pretend… You aren’t enjoying every second of this…”
Sunnazoth’s nipples stand to attention as she meets his eyes, then gradually kneels, crawling in his direction.
Oh, Sunnazoth’s shame is most definitely intertwined with excitement; After all, this was her suggestion to begin with, even if he forced her to express it. Being at his mercy, being made to humiliate herself so thoroughly…
Sunnazoth’s sex burns no less strongly than her cheeks as she slowly lowers herself and pces a soft kiss against the bridge of his foot, then a second one.
Varzath himself isn’t having an easy time containing his urges from taking over, as his own erection has been raging against his pants for a while now. Still, he forces himself to not rush things, allowing Sunnazoth to continue kissing for several seconds more until she finally straightens herself again, kneeling before the couch as she stares into his eyes almost daringly.
“Hands behind your back,” Varzath orders, somewhat hoarsely, “Knees apart, standing on your toes… Tell me what you want.”
Sunnazoth assumes position obediently, now panting slightly, as she licks her lips nervously and smiles. “Other than slowly skinning Milord, then burning your skinless body gradually as you beg for the sweet relief of dead…?”
Rolling his eyes, Varzath pces his foot against her face.
“No hands now, since this is what you asked for.”
Sunnazoth shudders. Her thoughts grow hazy as her shame, and excitement, seem to take over during the brief moment of hesitation before she finally extends her tongue forward, drawing a line of wetness and warmness against Varzath’s sole.
He has to give it to her, other than an initial moment of hesitation, she delivers on her promise of cleaning his foot herself, one painstakingly taken lick at a time.
By the time she has begun with his toes, slowly sucking them into her mouth, Varzath is barely able to contain himself.
This is torture, but how is he the one being tortured?
Releasing his pinky, now wet, Sunnazoth runs her tongue through the space in between his toes, meeting his eyes shamelessly as she then pces a soft kiss against the arch of his sole…
“Is there… A problem, Milord…? You look… Uncomfortable…”
You know what? Fuck this shit.
Clenching the couch as he smiles at her, Varzath abruptly pulls back his foot as he rises and pulls down his pants, grabbing Sunnazoth’s hair as he then shoves her face against his raging erection.
Heart beating fast, Sunnazoth raises her eyes to meet his, then slowly closes them as she carefully caresses her cheek against his dick and inhales deeply.
Eyes widening, Varzath pushes her back, commanding coldly, “Ass fucking up, head down.”
From the ground, Sunnazoth licks her lips as she stares up at him slowly, and her thoughts of triumph are Varzath’s only warning before his vision spins, growing hazy, and he finds himself falling, staggering, and then being punched again.
Varzath’s back hits the ground at the same time as he feels his grip over Sunnazoth’s mind slipping, and not one second ter the room explodes in a bst of white and coldness as Varzath feels his body being thrown across it, then enveloped by something as he finds himself pinned against the wall by a thick yer of ice.
“Give me…! Give me one fucking reason not to…!”
Blinking as he swallows a mouthful of blood, Varzath raises his slightly clouded vision until it centers a furious-looking Sunnazoth, hand still raised in his direction as her eyes glow a cold tone of whitish-blue.
Varzath smiles at her. “How about… My undeniable handsomeness…?”
Sunnazoth purses her lips, and Varzath flinches as a small spike of ice penetrates the wall uncomfortably close to his cock.
“I won’t miss a second time,” Sunnazoth promises coldly.
Oh, Varzath doesn’t need to read her mind in order to know she’s serious, non-standing the wide-eyed nephilim at her side, fists still closed and still dripping with some of his blood.
“No…? Then how about… The fact there will be no safe pce for you or your pet in the Cosmos… Once they find out you’ve killed me… For a fucking nephilim?”
“I’ll think of an excuse,” Sunnazoth says through clenched teeth, “They’ll never find out what happened.”
“You can’t seriously think you’ll come up with a convincing enough lie as to why I’ve been assassinated by ice magic, while in your room, to persuade the others you had nothing to do with it…?”
Varzath raises an eyebrow at her, bringing Sunnazoth to grimace further. Shifting her eyes toward the nephilim beside her, her anger seems to subside somewhat, and she breathes deeply, before meeting his eyes once more, now with disgust.
“I was wrong about you. You’re no different than the rest of them.”
Varzath smiles. However, when he speaks, it is not Sunnazoth he addresses, “Hey, that was a nice punch, for a half-blood... How is it they called you? Before… Before you ended up a sve, that is.”
For a moment, Varzath wonders if the creature will simply ignore his question, but then he looks toward Sunnazoth, as if asking for permission, and she nods at him curtly, bringing him to speak.
“Ketol,” he says, in a voice surprisingly deep voice, “They called me Ketol.”
“Heh.” Varzath ughs, then closes his eyes, as if preparing himself. “Once they catch up to you, I hope you’ll at least able to die in each other’s arms.”
However, even after waiting for several moments, nothing happens, bringing Varzath to open his eyes once more as he stares in confusion toward Sunnazoth, who seems to struggle with something as she maintains her hand, now shaking slightly, extended in his direction.
“Why don’t we… We could pretend this never happened,” she eventually murmurs, eyes gleaming with tears, as she smiles at him, seeming to not believe her own words even as she forces herself to speak them, “You’d go on your stupid mission, and the others won’t suspect a thing…”
“You’re a good actor,” Varzath admits, “But the others will realize it eventually. You cannot hide something like this forever.”
Sunnazoth lowers her gaze, and then her hand, biting her lip as her expression reveals unconcealed fear.
“Sunnazoth,” Ketol murmurs, stepping in her direction as he pces a hand against her arm, however seeming to hesitate on going forward and embracing her.
“He’s right…” she whispers, smiling hopelessly, and tears finally begin to stream down her face, “They love Varzath, and for something like this, they won’t simply kill us… They’ll tear you to pieces, and force me to watch…”
Varzath sighs. “Release me.”
Shifting his eyes from Sunnazoth to Varzath, Ketol steps forward, pcing himself in between the two of them protectively. “Be silent! Sunna, listen to me, we’ll make this work… We’ll hide the body, or destroy it…!”
But Sunnazoth is already shaking her head. “They’ll know the second he passes. They’ll feel it. I’d be surprised if we managed to exit the room, let alone the pace.”
“Release me,” Varzath repeats, more firmly this time, “Before somebody decides to check on what this whole commotion was about.”
Ketol clenches his teeth, seemingly ready to tell him off again, but Sunnazoth merely averts her eyes, embracing herself.
Before long, the ice pinning Varzath in pce begins to melt, and he releases a small sigh of relief upon being able to stand on his own again.
Staring toward the couple of deviants as he runs his tongue through a cracked tooth, he murmurs dryly, “How touching.”
Although Ketol seems about to charge him once more, he is stopped by Sunnazoth’s hand against his arm, who shakes her head bitterly.
“Stop, please. You’ll only make things worse… We were at his mercy from the moment he realized I care for you.”
Varzath snorts. “True enough, though it took you long enough to realize it... I could’ve managed without the ice, love.”
Sunnazoth clenches her teeth. “Just get it over with… Keep me as your sve if you must. But, if you’ve ever felt even an ounce of something other than hatred for me, then please… Please allow Ketol to survive this.”
Ketol’s eyes widen.
Varzath rolls his eyes. “How dramatic. It isn’t like you to beg, love. But I’m curious about something. What has kept you from killing me? I figured you’d at least have a chance to send your beloved through a portal before they caught up to you, and once on the other side, he’d have a good chance at remaining out of their reach. Furthermore, your attempt failing, or succeeding, you’d be able to suicide before being caught, either on your own, or together… I know you’re not afraid of death enough to forgive me.”
Sunnazoth stares at him with eyes filled with hatred, and reddened by unfallen tears. Then, she averts her gaze.
“I… couldn’t bring myself to do it. Satisfied?”
“How does it feel?”
“…What?”
As Sunnazoth once more meets his eyes, now in confusion, Varzath smiles. “Love, of course. I’ve seen it countless times, used it, and often distorted it for my own benefit. But, funnily enough, I’ve only once, thus far... And I’m not sure that could be called love. So... How does it feel to love?”
Sunnazoth grimaces, then, to his surprise, shares with him a series of memories through a mind spell.
She walks through a humid passage, surrounded by dirt. Having succeeded in her mission to infiltrate and kill a noble demon from a distant Domain who took an unhealthy interest in their succubi, she now only needs to evade her pursuers, and teleport using Sonog’s magic artifact…
But her wounds are severe. During a moment of carelessness, she gave herself away and had to face her target head-on, instead of executing the pnned assassination. It is a miracle she even managed to kill him and escape.
Her consciousness grows hazy. How long she has been walking for now? Hours? Days? She cannot teleport until they give up the chase, or they’ll simply follow, and find her hiding stop nearby… Then, the succubi she came to save would simply die with her.
But…
This is fine. She cannot cim she lived an upstanding life. In fact, since Varzath freed them from servitude, all she has done is kill, hate, and then kill some more; She often wondered if he ever regrets having freed such a monster to begin with... No, she knows for a fact he regrets it, from the way he looks at her.
Dying in a ditch somewhere, having completed her mission, suits a demon, a monster like her, just fine…
And yet, she continues to step forward. Why?
Oh... She sees it now.
Her hatred moves her forward, as strong now as it was the day her chains were broken by a bloodied, smiling incubus who promised her the world, but instead delivered her the moon.
If only she ever allowed herself to feel anything other than hatred, perhaps she might’ve been able to enjoy the kingdom he created.
Isn’t it time to let go?
Sunnazoth finally smiles as she feels her knees buckling, and the sweet embrace of darkness…
But it wasn’t meant to be. Monsters don’t deserve such a thing as a happy ending, after all, and her pursuers caught up to her before she managed to die.
Too weak to suicide, she was then dragged back and thrown into their dungeons, where she was tortured for information regarding the succubi she helped escape, and Varzath, the upcoming Lord of Hell’s Seventieth Circle.
The only words to ever leave her mouth were “fuck you”.
She had a cell companion. A nephilim so battered and malnourished, she at first thought him dead.
It was strange.
They never spoke a single word to each other, since they were both too weak to speak more often than not. But having someone in the same boat made the living hell of their circumstances bearable, even considering their hatred for one another.
And Sunnazoth found herself swearing that were she to one day escape, she’d bring him the head of their captors, even if only to gloat about being the one to have done it.
The time she spent in that cell felt like years, but ter, she’d come to know not even a full month went by before a series of murders led the Domain to fall into a panic, and a search party used the commotion in order the storm their dungeons, killing everything on sight until they were able to find her.
On a whim, she asked them to rescue her cell companion as well, using as an excuse the fact she’d make him her personal sve for having contributed to her torture…
Varzath gave her the look of disgust he usually reserves for when he thinks she’s being needlessly cruel, but then shrugged, ordering the nephilim to be brought with…
As the memory fades, Varzath finds himself standing in Sunnazoth’s room once more, stared at by the couple he once helped save from the clutches of death.
“How does it feel to love?” Sunnazoth repeats, voice heavy with emotion, “It’s scary. It makes you realize your fws, and then work to better them... Or break in the process. It makes your stomach churn over the thought of them being hurt, and that’s when you realize you couldn’t bear the thought of living without them… It’s stupid, and irrational. But it takes one time of waking up next to them… To make it impossible to go back.”
“…I see.”
Varzath smiles, then walks forward until he’s standing next to Sunnazoth, pcing his hand against her shoulder.
“Do you remember what Ig'droren used to say about love?”
“…She called it a curse.”
“Exactly. And that’s why…”
Filling a mouthful of blood, Varzath spits on the ground.
“…Fuck her.”
Sunnazoth’s eyes widen.
“You know, were you to Ascend as the Domain’s new ruler, no one would be able to question who warms your bed,” Varzath continues, meeting her shocked gaze with a sidelong gnce, and his best devilish grin, “Give it some thinking.”
Without waiting for an answer, Varzath heads through the now wet suite, opens its door, and steps outside.
…It isn’t until the door is closed at his back that he realizes he left his pants inside.
He’s cold, naked (again), and horny.
Oh, and let us not forget he’s now missing a tooth.
…Damn soft, stupid bleeding heart.
JBDantas
Additional Info I: Yes, Varzath has remained barefoot since chapter one. He considers shoes bothersome and refuses to wear them unless strictly necessary. As he is a demon, I feel it'd be almost weird if he wore shoes everywhere... Like, what sort of demon wears shoes? Also, the others are often barefoot as well, although they don't hate shoes as much as Varzath seems to.
Additional Info II: Not sure if this was obvious or not, but Varzath didn’t force Sunnazoth to do anything with Mind Magic (since mind control is not really possible anyway) as much as he bckmailed her into striking a deal and then used Mind Magic to keep her from attacking him.
Additional Info III: Okay, this talk has been a little overdue, so let's talk magic for a bit. In case it wasn't abundantly clear, magic is divided into primary categories (Fire, Water, Spacial, etc...), and most things can also be combined with something else in order to create something new, and the more combinations, the more complex the formu necessary to make it work. This is not a matter of mana, mind you, but talent, memorization, and practice... Although having a rge mana pool certainly doesn't hurt. Now, for the casting of spells in specific, what I call "formus" are sort of commands to control, and transform, the mana necessary for casting a particur spell (and the more complex the spell, the more transformations, and the more refined the control necessary, therefore creating increasingly complex formus; Again, not a matter of having more mana or not). Of course, mages might miscalcute a formu during combat, or practice, in which case the spell fizzling out of existence is the best they can hope for... Lastly, most categories of magic possess things they're better at doing over the others (Water for healing, for example), and things they're terrible at, or simply unable to accomplish.
Ps: Will make another, more complete post about the magic of the universe a couple of chapters from now.
Additional Info IV: Since Mind Magic in specific pyed an important role this chapter, I'll be expining it separately. For starters, it is an extremely cheap magic to use, at least in terms of mana usage... However, even the simplest Mind Spell has an extremely complex formu, making it nearly unusable for anybody without a high talent for it. While any mage can, and should, build a Mind Shield (which is mostly a matter of simply creating a Mana Shield around one's head, and not really considered a Mind Magic spell per se), Mind Mages will naturally have better Mind Shields (actual Mind Magic spells), that can detect, counter-attack, etc, the attempts of an enemy Mind Mage. As for what Mind Magic can do, well, let's start with what it cannot: It cannot brainwash someone, or alter their memories (It just doesn't work that way, as convenient as that would be... And scary). It can, however, read their memories, as well as read their surface thoughts, emotions, and intentions (doing most of these requires already having bypassed the target's defenses, of course).
More commonly, Mind Magic is used to share thoughts among allies, or memories... And stly, the mind is a fragile thing, meaning; And incompetent Mind Mage will most likely break their target's mind much sooner than they'll extract something from it.
Additional Info V: Also been putting this off for a while, so here it goes: There are currently no known spells that can completely repce sleep. Strange, I know. But it seems living bodies, even those of legendary creatures, eventually reach their limits, needing rest in order to recover. Several potions, and spells, might work as what are essentially fantasy energy drinks, but they'll only dey the inevitable.
Additional Info VI: It is indeed possible to follow a teleportation spell for a while after it was cast (even in the case of an artifact being used to do so), but not easy.
[colpse]
