The torchlight flickered wildly as the procession wound deeper into the bowels of the earth. Stone walls pressed in on every side, damp with age, the heavy scent of rot and wet stone lingering thick in the air. Footsteps echoed strangely, like whispers fleeing before them.
Malrik walked with slow, deliberate steps, his loincloth dragging against the rough stone. I'm hungry. Is Velmaria done yet? he thought, idly playing with the rings on his fingers. His eyes darted around the cavern in slight paranoia, every step drawing soft, wet sounds that echoed faintly in the darkness.
The passage opened at last into a cavern, wide and low, its ceiling lost in shadow. It was here the true stink thickened—a nauseating mixture of blood, afterbirth, and something fouler still, primal and old.
Near one of the cave's "rooms," illuminated by a cluster of guttering torches jammed into crude sconces, and a stone door half-blocking the entrance, lay a pitiful figure.
A woman, her brown hair matted to her sweat-slick forehead, sagged against the rough wall. Her arms were chained above her head with rusted iron, the manacles biting deep into her swollen, bruised wrists. Where her legs should have been, angry stumps, red and inflamed, jutted out—raw flesh knitted only partially over the wounds, the skin weeping clear fluid in places, crusted with dried blood. Her breath came in short, ragged gasps, her bare torso smeared with sweat and other fluids, her once-pale skin now sickly, blotched with fever and exhaustion.
At her feet, the scene was even more grotesque: a litter of tiny goblin newborns, slick with blood and birth-membrane, squirmed weakly atop soiled straw. Their mouths opened and closed in thin, reedy wails, little claws scratching blindly at the cold, uncaring air.
Velmaria knelt beside her, the blood pooling at her cloak like a fresh wound. She moved with a dispassionate precision, pulling another squirming creature from between the woman's legs. Blood poured freely, pooling beneath the broken woman's body. Velmaria caught the newborn creature in her gloved hands, quickly clearing its mouth and tapping its back until it shrieked its first thin, ugly cry.
The woman moaned weakly, her head lolling against the wall, barely clinging to consciousness.
"Good," Velmaria murmured, more to herself than to the mother. Her voice was soft, almost warm, but there was no kindness in it—only cold satisfaction. She smiled thinly at the newborn, then placed it beside its mewling, scrabbling siblings on the stone floor.
The woman's dull eyes tried to focus on Velmaria, tried to form words, but only a hoarse, broken sound escaped her lips.
Velmaria's sharp eyes caught the movement. She leaned close, lips brushing the woman's ear.
"You should be proud," she whispered. "You've become a mother. A healthy litter of goblins~."
With a final, deft motion, she pressed her hand against the woman's distended belly, feeling the last spasms of empty contractions. Satisfied, she rose to her feet, wiping her gloved hands clean on the hem of her cloak.
Behind her, in the deeper darkness of the cave, something moved. Heavy chains rattled. Shapes, half-seen, shifted just beyond the reach of the torchlight—waiting.
Velmaria smiled thinly.
"Good morning," she said as she turned around, her lips curling into a cold, controlled smile. "My lord."
Malrik stood at the entrance, his eyes locking onto hers. Goblins shuffled behind him—some limbless or wounded, chains digging into their necks—but none of that stilled their frantic need to charge into the room. Their instincts were raw, driven by whatever primal urge clung to them.
As the creatures surged forward, Malrik's fingers stilled. He stopped fiddling with the rings on his fingers and gave the chains a sharp pull. The goblins screeched, their momentum halted in an instant, caught in the tension of the iron bindings.
"Hold still," Malrik muttered, watching the one on the left struggle. "And you too, stay put."
He said to the other one, his adolescent voice ringing out like a child scolding his pets. In this case, it was more like a toddler scolding his mutilated goblin. "Hungry," Malrik muttered, his eyes drifting toward the center of the room. He briefly looked at the newborn goblins, their wide eyes staring at him, before turning his gaze to Elira.
Her lower half was a mess—blood and filth pooled on the ground. Bruises marred her face and body, the damage unmistakable. Velmaria's work, no doubt. She's really becoming more violent when I'm not around, he thought absently. Though he wasn't sure if the bruises were fresh; this was only his second time seeing Elira since they had moved caves.
"Would you like to eat deer today?" Velmaria's voice broke his reverie, and Malrik glanced at her. She stood nearby, a playful glint in her eyes as she watched him hold the two goblins back. "I could start up a quick fire and roast the meat we have~"
Malrik didn't respond immediately. His gaze flickered between Velmaria and the room, noting the disarray. His attention returned to Elira. He felt a cold detachment—he had long since learned to block out the carnage around him. This wouldn't be the last time he saw her like this, and deep down, he knew it was better to pretend it didn't matter if he wanted to get stronger.
And the heroes had made that decision ten times easier. Malrik's fingers released the chains, and his hand moved back to the silver ring on his middle finger, ignoring how his "pets" rushed toward Elira the moment they were freed. "Deer? Hmm, that sounds good," he muttered, as though the whole situation were nothing more than a trivial decision.
"I'll get on preparing the food then," Velmaria replied, standing up and moving out of the way. The goblins wasted no time in mounting Elira, showing no hesitation as they made her their plaything.
Malrik didn't spare a second glance at the goblins. His fingers continued to fiddle with his ring, an absentminded gesture. Velmaria would need to move the newborns somewhere else and get cleaned up, so the meal wouldn't be ready anytime soon. But it didn't matter. He simmered in his newfound hatred for the heroes, letting it consume him.
His eyes glowed with a crimson light as he walked through the tunnel, the memories of that day still vivid in his mind. It was the day he had ordered Velmaria to cut off Elira and Stella's limbs. He wasn't sure if it was karma or bad luck, but that day had become his worst nightmare.
He remembered it with painful clarity—the weight of his blade cutting through the flesh of one of the goblins sprawled across the cave, as Velmaria guided him. The unsettling feeling of being watched, creeping under his skin.
The burning heat inside his body, the searing pain of thousands of needles pricking through his flesh, muscles, and organs. His own scream as his body thrashed in agony. And the eyes—the hundreds, if not thousands, of eyes searching through his being with a holy light, each of them inflicting physical damage as they probed into him.
His health dropped dangerously low. His vision blurred. And just before he lost consciousness, he caught a fleeting glimpse of the culprit—the hero—who had unleashed that torment upon him.
──────
Name: Fujikawa Airi
Race: Human (????)
Class: ???
Level: 150 ([????] -??? )
EXP: 4500 / 5000
Alignment: Lawful Good
Affiliation: ???
Title(s):
???
???
???
the Hero of Veyrunth.
???
──────
HP: 3500 / 5000 (???)
MP: 30,000 / 30,000 (???)
Stamina: 1200 / 1800 (???)
Strength: 5 (???)
Dexterity: 20 (???)
Vitality: 30 (???)
Intelligence: 450 (???)
Charisma: 50 (???)
──────
BLESSINGS:
??? (Passive):
????
??? (Active):
????
??? (Active):
???!
??? (Passive/Active):
????
──────
"Fujikawa Airi," Malrik cursed, his blood boiling. "I'll get stronger and return that humiliation tenfold."
His thoughts burned with determination as he walked toward Saelira's room, his tail swaying with enthusiasm. "I guess I'll check up on my wives while I wait~"
As he spoke, a translucent, silver-threaded map materialized before him, the threads shimmering in the air. That includes you too, Airi~ he thought, a smirk curling at the corners of his lips.
──────
Name: Malrik Thorneveil Tenebris
Race: Incubus Scion (Demon lord)
Class:
Level: 16 {+11} ([400] - Locked)
EXP: 386 / 800
Alignment: Chaotic Neutral
Affiliation: ??? →Demon Lords
Title(s):
Spawn of Abyzrakul Tenebris
Son of Thorneveil Abyzrakul Tenebris
Thamor, the Lord of Consorts
──────
HP: 1,370 / 1,370 (4,148) {+70} {+880}
MP: 1,998 / 1,998 (4,130) {+40} {+1780}
Stamina: 1,097 / 1,097 (6,310) {+65} {+740}
Strength: 31 (333) {+6} {+13}
Dexterity: 38 (416) {+7} {+16}
Vitality: 30 (253) {+10} {+14}
Intelligence: 86 (251) {+9} {+72}
Charisma: 83 (495) {+13} {+58}
──────
ABILITIES
Spade Tail (Passive):
This specialized tail functions as both a sensory organ and a reproductive appendage. It can shift its shape to resemble a vaginal canal, allowing the user to store sperm within for future use. When used in intimate or persuasive interactions, it enhances Charisma-based effects due to its adaptability and subtle sensitivity.
Incubus's Hunger (Active): Consume bodily fluids to restore HP and MP.
Lust Sense (Passive): Can sense nearby targets' desire or fear; grants advantage in manipulation.
Spell Sight (Passive):
Can see the threads of all magic, enchantments, and spells with crystal clarity.
Mana Transfer (Active):
This allows the user to channel their own mana into others, replenishing or empowering them beyond normal limits.
──────
AUTHORITIES
Malrik Thorneveil Tenebris (Authority):
Grants the user a silver ring that splits into a pair—one bearing the name Malrik Thorneveil Tenebris, the other engraved with the name of a chosen woman. When she wears the ring, the user gains her current level, stacking it onto his own, along with access to her racial traits and learned skills.
Oath of Devotion (Authority):
When the user's wife swears a oath of eternal love and protection, the divine bond forged between them grants a portion of her lifespan, adding it to his own. This extension of life remains as long as their bond endures, and as long as she lives, so too will the user's existence continue.
Lovers I (Authority):
Allows the user to perceive and locate the exact position of his wives, by focusing on the bond between their matching rings, the user can summon a translucent, silver-threaded map overlay showing their precise coordinates, emotional state, and relative surroundings.
The farther the distance, the brighter the guiding thread, ensuring that no barrier, distance, or realm can truly separate them.
Lovers II (Authority):
Allows the user to mark each of his wives onto a translucent silver map, appearing as personalized chess pieces bearing their likeness. By focusing on a piece, the user may view their current surroundings and observe their actions as if standing beside them.
The pieces move in real time across the map, updating their position regardless of distance or terrain. Though he may watch, no emotions or thoughts are transmitted—only what the eye could naturally see.
Even should mountains, oceans, or vast wilderness lie between them, the link remains unbroken.
──────