Ahh~... what a lovely experience it was to feel and see Beatrice, the proud and powerful succubus, reduced to a trembling, whimpering mess in my arms.
She was no longer the cunning seductress or the ruthless manipulator. She was just... raw emotion. A vessel overflowing with the collective soul of her people.
And I was the anchor.
The one who held her together, who let her feel without being consumed.
I liked it.
I liked it a lot.
"Hehehe—"
SMACK!
A sharp spank was delivered to my round, perfect ass, leaving a bright red handprint on my already red skin.
"Hey! What was that for?" I yelped, glaring at her over my shoulder.
"For some reason, I didn't like the look on your face," she said, walking past me. "It was a bit... too arrogant."
She was back to her usual self. Well, almost.
Her movements were still a bit stiff, but her eyes held a new light. A depth they didn't have before. She looked... older. Wiser. And pissed off.
Clearly, she didn't like me taking the lead, seeing and exposing her vulnerability.
'I made a new enemy,' I thought, rubbing my sore ass. 'But it was worth it.'
She turned around, and her eyes locked onto mine.
"Thank you," she said, her voice soft but firm.
'Wow... she said "thank you."
I was so shocked that I didn't even think of a sarcastic comeback.
"Come, we need to reach the bottom." She then turned to face the tunnel ahead.
...
It took us about thirty minutes to see the end of the living tunnel. There were many fleshy rooms filled with... 'art pieces' that I had no desire to describe.
The only thing that I could tell was that none of the captives were... complete.
Anyway, after Beatrice and I exited the tunnel, we found ourselves in a surprisingly stone-made corridor. The walls were smooth, the floor was even, and the air was... clean.
It was a jarring contrast to the organic nightmare we'd just left behind.
"Hide!" Beatrice suddenly said, pulling me into the wall. She swiftly dropped her cloak and cast an Illusion—not on us, but on the empty space in front of us. A perfect duplicate of the stone wall, hiding us completely in plain sight.
Two figures emerged from a side passage ahead.
They wore red priest-like robes, their faces hidden by deep hoods. But their aura was... strange. More evil than a demon, but with a hint of something... else. Something that felt familiar, but I couldn't place it.
They were pushing a large, wooden cart. The cart was filled with... jars. Glass jars, each one containing a... floating organ. Hearts mostly, but also livers, kidneys, and even brains.
"The 'harvest' is ready," one of them said, his voice a dry, sibilant whisper. "The Master will be pleased."
"The 'new batch' is almost ripe," the other one replied. "In a few days, we will have enough for the final ritual."
"Good," the first one said. "The Master is impatient. Too much pressure was put on him these past days."
They then continued their way, disappearing into another passage on the other side of the corridor.
As soon as they were gone, Beatrice dropped the illusion.
"We need to follow them," she said, her eyes gleaming with a dangerous light.
With a nod, we crept after them, sticking to the shadows, our footsteps silent on the cold stone.
The red priests didn't notice us. They were too busy talking amongst themselves, their voices echoing in the empty corridor.
"Did you hear about the riot in the courtyard?" one of them asked.
"Yes, the fools are killing each other over nothing," the other one replied, a hint of disdain in his voice. "It's a good thing the Master has us. We are the only ones who truly understand the grand design."
"Indeed," the first one agreed. "The others are just... tools. A means to an end. But we... we are the chosen ones. The ones who will witness the birth of a new age."
"An age where the women are finally put in their place," the other one said. "Where the strong men rule, and the weak women serve. As it should be."
'Sick bastards,' I thought, my hands clenching into fists.
I don't really care about the men vs. women shit that was happening in Hell, but no matter what, you can't just use others like some fucked-up disposable fleshy Legos for your sick, twisted game.
Beatrice shot me a warning glance, telling me to stay calm and focused. We were here for a reason, and getting into a fight with these two would only complicate things.
We followed the red-robed bastards at a careful distance, the echo of the cart's wooden wheels tapping against stone like a slow, mocking heartbeat.
The corridor gradually widened, branching into a vaulted passage lined with cracked pillars and faded sigils carved deep into the walls. Whatever place this was, it had once been important. Sacred, even. Now it felt… repurposed. Defiled.
The priests stopped before a pair of massive iron doors etched with runes that made my skin crawl. They pulsed faintly, as if the metal itself were breathing.
"One more delivery," the first priest muttered, setting his shoulder against the door. "Then we can go and have some… fun with the new batch."
"I call dibs on the redhead," the other sneered, licking his lips. "She looks like she'll scream for a long, long time."
Beatrice's breath hitched beside me. A sliver of cold fury leaked from her, sharp enough to make the air taste like static.
The doors groaned open just wide enough for the cart to pass through, and for a brief moment, I caught a glimpse of what lay beyond.
A chamber drenched in green light.
The red-robed priests disappeared inside. They were so relaxed that they didn't sense us following behind into the room. The doors swung shut with a deafening boom that echoed long after they'd sealed.
I took it all in.
A sea of glass vats, each one glowing with that same sickly luminescence. Suspended inside them were bodies—women, mostly. They floated in viscous fluid, their eyes closed, their limbs limp. Some were whole. Others were… incomplete. A torso without legs. A head without a body. A pair of wings fused to a human spine.
And one vat, right at the center of the room, held a single, twisted monstrosity.
A big, bulky green torso of an orc—muscular, scarred, and powerful. And atop that torso, two heads. One was female, with a pretty face and long, flowing silver hair. The other was male, with a square jaw and a cruel sneer.
The right arm was that of a crab—massive, chitinous, ending in a pincer big enough to crush a man's skull. The left arm was a sleek, feminine limb, slender and delicate, with long, sharp claws instead of nails. One leg was a goat's hoof, hairy and cloven; the other was the scaled leg of some reptilian beast.
A living Frankenstein's monster.
The thing in the central vat twitched.
Just… slightly.
Enough to notice.
The green fluid around it rippled, bubbles crawling up the glass as the crab arm spasmed, then relaxed.
"Ugh!... this place always gives me the chills," one of the priests said, shuddering as he pushed the cart towards a workbench at the far end of the room. "I don't know how the Master can stand it."
"I find it... comforting," the other priest replied, his voice a dry, sibilant whisper. "It's a reminder of what we can achieve. What we 'will' achieve. Soon, the women will know their place. Once and for all."
They began to unload the jars, their movements efficient and practiced.
Once they were done, they pushed the empty cart and left the room, leaving us alone with the... 'art pieces'.
As soon as they left, Beatrice let out a long, slow breath, her illusory male form wavering slightly before solidifying again. She then turned to look at me.
"Let's search for some clues," she said.
I nodded, and we began to move through the room, our footsteps silent on the cold stone.
We searched the workbench where the priests had placed the jars. It was cluttered with scrolls, books, and strange-looking instruments. Most of the scrolls were filled with diagrams and notes written in a language I couldn't understand.
But one of them caught my eye.
A magical circle.
It was a complex, intricate design, filled with symbols and runes that seemed to shift and writhe before my eyes. The general shape was familiar—it was a dodecagram.
A 12-pointed star formed by overlapping triangles, a shape common in high-level summoning and binding rituals. But this one was different.
It was twisted, corrupted. The lines were jagged and uneven, the symbols were dark, menacing, and seemed to be… bleeding into the parchment.
In the center was another symbol—a serpent eating its own tail, the Ouroboros.
"Bea... look at this," I said, pointing at the scroll.
Beatrice walked over, and her eyes widened as she saw the magical circle.
"This is..." she said, her voice barely a whisper. "Shit!"
"What?" I asked, my heart starting to pound. "What is it?"
"A cross-dimensional binding circle," she said, her voice filled with a dread I'd never heard from her before. "This is some serious shit. From the complex nature of this circle, I can tell that it's designed either to pull something from another dimension and bind it to a host."
She then pointed at the Ouroboros.
"Or use a host to create a bridge between dimensions."
"A bridge?" I asked, my mind racing, taking another look at the scroll now that I knew what I was looking at. "Maybe... both?"
Beatrice looked at me, her eyes wide.
"Both?" she repeated, her mind clearly trying to process the implications.
"Yes... both," I said, my eyes scanning the rest of the scroll. "Maybe they are trying to summon this Ouroboros thing and then use it to open a portal to... somewhere else."
"The dream of all demons is to escape this forsaken land and breach the mortal realm," Beatrice said, her gaze fixed on the scroll. "But this circle... It's not designed for just that. It's too complex, too powerful. This is... world-ending level magic."
"Hisss?"
A chill ran down my spine. I've faced a lot of shit in my old life. A Demon King and goddesses, wars that raged across continents. But something about this felt… bigger. More final.
"We need to stop—"
Click!
The metallic click of the lock disengaging on the main doors cut me off.
We froze.
We weren't alone anymore.
"Hide!" Beatrice hissed, grabbing my arm and pulling me behind one of the large, glowing vats.
We crouched down, our bodies pressed against the cool glass, our breath held in our lungs.
The doors swung open again.
This time, it wasn't the red-robed priests.
But another fucking monstrosity.
"Ugh... I'm gonna be sick."