Author's Note

FAIR WARNING: This particular chapter contains a decent amount of rape and two cases of gorn. Please read with caution, as it's pretty disturbing!

Slaves to Their Passions

The metronomic ticking of a clock was the only sound that resonated throughout the basement, outside of the occasional groan from the eldritch beast disguised as the castle and roaring thunder outside. Bellatrix sat on the cold stone bench, knees tucked into her chest and arms wrapped around her shapely legs. She no longer deserved a pretty dress, having been stripped nude. She gloomy gazed at her shattered reflection in a worn mirror.

Across her cell was the other prisoner, Omen, who had been quietly muttering something. His head hung low, stripped naked, arms tied behind his back.

Both could not escape with Oona and Demi-Trix when her family arrived. Though to the she-devil, that hardly mattered. This was penance for keeping Alma a secret, for thinking she was in control. If this was to be her fate, Bellatrix was consigned to it. She just hoped that over time, her sister and friends could forgive her…

She lifted her head slightly. Routinely, Douglas would arrive with modafinil to ensure she didn’t fall asleep and provide the nightmare stag with leverage. Dark circles hung beneath her eyelids, a borderline insomniac by this point.

The waiting was what drove her mind up the wall. What kind of punishment would the Baobhan Sith inflict? Sick her with those hellhounds like she had threatened? Maybe something worse..?

She gently stood up and walked over to the bars, quietly calling, “Hey… Omen?”

The grey cervine didn’t respond, continuing his dark ramblings.

Frowning, she whispered harshly, “Omen!”

His head snapped up, startling the red-skinned woman. His eyes were pitch black, devoid of any light and color. An eerie aura wisped from his sockets. He blinked a couple of times before firmly squeezing his eyelids shut, opening to reveal his maroon gaze.

“Forgive me, I was… deep in a trance,” he replied.

“Future sight?”

The buck nodded.

“And what did you see?” asked Bellatrix.

“Torches alight a starless sky… creatures dancing in the dark… bodies and blood spilling the ground… a tall woman clothed with butterflies…”

“Tatyana,” she presumed.

Another nod as the nightmare stag proposed, “The Sovereign Witch intends to bring war to the Isle of Parras. On Walpurgisnacht.”

Bellatrix curled an eyebrow. “Walpurgisnacht?”

“It is an archaic event for potent magic users. All mages, witches, and warlocks will be at their strongest on the eve of May. Tatyana will likely strike during the early hours of the morning.”

“The bewitching hour…” the she-devil scoffed. “Bitch is dedicated to metaphor, I see.”

“That’s not all,” continued Omen, his eyes narrowing. “I heard the cries of a newly born babe…”

Bellatrix's eyes widened, immediately getting the implications. “No..! No, no, no! You mean Abadonna will be-”

Their ears perked at the dungeon door creeping open, lumbering footsteps echoing through the dark corridor.

With a lower voice, she said, “You have to warn Beatrix! If she travels to the island, she’ll be empowered too!”

“That is proving to be difficult,” argued Omen. “There’s not enough sleep energy in this place! Plus, traveling during a cosmic squall of this size could prove disastrous! Not only that, she’d have to abandon her friends in Midnight’s world!”

“But if she doesn’t, she could lose her lover and child!”

“We have to be patient,” Omen affirmed. “One of them is bound to slip up sooner or-”

“Oi!” The kelpie interrupted, slamming his fist on the iron bars. “No talkin' amongst yerselves!! Filthy schemers…”

Both prisoners fell silent, avoiding Douglas' gaze while he fished his pockets for the keys. Flanked by him were gargoyles. When he found to correct key, he unlocked Omen’s cell. Walking through, he delivered a hard kick to the deer’s stomach, making him keel over.

“Get him up,” he ordered the stone sentinels, who lifted the gray buck by his con-sealed arms. “Lucky bastard got a date wit th' Faustus bitches~!”

“Where’s Alma?” Bellatrix demanded, clutching the cage bars tightly.

“Even when confined, ye still yearn fur me,” a sultry voice answered, the castle mistress waltzing her way into the dungeon. Her emerald dress glided along the floor, delicately flowing over her ample curves, mound, and breasts. Bellatrix felt herself shrink under her scarlet glare.

“A’d almost find that endearin' if ye weren’t a backstabbin' skank,” the vampiress hissed, her voice barely hiding her contempt. She turned over, lifting her curtain-lengthened auburn hair to show off her bare back, ridden with claw marks. “Left me wit such nasty scars!”

“You deserve far worse,” the she-devil glowered back.

"Maybe Ah do,” considered Alma, leaning her head closer to the succubus. “But A’ll see ye suffer greatly befur A’m dealt th' consequences. Nothin' stings more than a lover’s betrayal!”

“A bloodthirsty monster like you could never know what real love feels like!”

Bellatrix flinched back when Alma phased through the bars to slam her into the stone wall, talons digging into her throat. Yet even when the Vice Lord’s face contorted into an animalistic snarl, eyes glowing hotly, the shapeshifting succubus showed no fear. She refused to share any more weakness with this monster, who tormented her with ethereal beauty.

Pulling back her temper, Alma dropped Bellatrix and shifted through the walls, bosom rising and falling with every heave. Bitter tears leaked down her pale face before she wiped them away.

“Doesn’t matter,” she muttered calmly. “Both ov ye will face severe punishment fur defyin' th' Order ov Ròsan Dubha."

"Go to hell," spat the she-devil. “You no longer hold the fates of your prisoners over me!”

“Ooh?” Alma raised an eyebrow as she grasped Omen’s face, pulling his head up to look at her. "Not e'en yer sister an' Oona’s consort? This might be th' last time ye’ll see him again!”

Bellatrix looked at the male deer with a neutral expression and flatly lied, “He and I hardly know each other. What your minions do to him makes no difference to me.”

Her statement earned a soft cackle from the Baobhan Sith. “Didn't ye say somethin' about e'eryone in yer home was under yer protection?”

"This is no longer my house. It betrayed me," stated Bellatrix bitterly.

“Hmm. Fair enough!” shrugged the countess before snapping her fingers. “Take him away.”

Bellatrix gave Omen a small sympathetic look, but he offered a knowing grin before the gargoyles pushed him down the corridor.

Turning to Douglas, she ordered, “Now unlock her cell.”

“Erm, alright,” grunted the water horse, flipping through the key ring. “What exactly dae ye have in mind, if Ah may ask?”

Alma smiled maliciously before bringing her fingers to her lips to whistle. Bellatrix’s face fell at the barking sound, padded feet scuffling the stone floor. A pack of hellhounds strutted to the prison cell, curiously sniffing the bare naked bitch while their stubby tails wagged. Red knotted pricks erected between their legs, some even boasting two shafts from the same sheath.

“Th' battle worked these poor boys up tae a boilin' point,” Alma cooed, petting the head of a whining dog. Glaring at her pretty prisoner, she offered, “This is yer last chance tae make amends, Bellatrix. Apologize! Swear yer love an' loyalty tae me or live as a puppy factory!”

“Do your worst,” shouted Bellatrix, her face lit by a wicked smile. “Torture me! Rape me! Tear me asunder; I don’t care anymore! My friends are safe, and they will beat you and your pathetic order! You’ve lost, whore of hell!”

Alma’s right eye twitched, lips stretching into a livid snarl. Turning to the kelpie, she seethingly told him, “… do it!”

When Douglas opened the cell gate, the dual-headed hellhounds ran in with feral howls and pounced Bellatrix to the cold floor. They bit, clawed, and battered the wailing succubus until she was on all fours. The biggest canine creature shoved his pack mates away to mount her first, covering her backside with hot, runny slobber.

The she-devil winced when his twin red rods speared her lower holes, spreading them deep and wide when he knotted her. He nicked his hind legs with a victorious bark to violently hump and break in his fertile bitch.

The alpha beast only cared to state its carnal hunger, yet to Bellatrix’s shame, she felt her body respond accordingly, left to drip and constrict around the invading canine cocks. Her buttocks slapped, her breasts squishing into the cold floor with each hump, her cervix forced open once he battered his way into her slippery womb.

"Look at ye, cryin' like a bitch in heat," mocked Alma in answer to the muffled huffs as she watched with arms folded beneath her bust. "Show me who's th' real whore ov hell~!”

Bellatrix's face burned afire as she chewed her lower lip to maintain her subdued moans, betrayed by a succubi's lustful nature. Golden eyes widened, face masked by black locks.

With a final push and a victorious howl at the knowledge his bitch was claimed, the alpha's twin heads were cast back, hilted balls deep with one last, vicious hump. Cum erupted inside her fuckholes. A pop sounded after the hound withdrew, seed left to ooze with her feminine releases, which pooled below her round, red ass.

Without ceremony, another horny mutt took his place, firing his load deep inside the succubus. Then another mutt. And another, each one is lower ranked and mangier than the last. Determined to breed their bitch into complete submission, Bellatrix's skin was laced with claw marks that raked down her supple flesh, much like the ones she gave Alma. Slimy canine splooge settled and sloshed as it mixed in her uterus.

More howls of victory echoed throughout the cell walls. More unwanted cries of euphoria, despite bitter tears in the corners of her yellow eyes.

Some became impatient as one hellhound reared up on his hindlegs, his lower knot forced into her mouth and down her throat, while his second cock, warm and wet, slapped between her eyes and rubbed back and forth as his precum smeared over her sweaty features.

He barked when he came down her throat and across her face and black hair. She was forced to swallow down the salty, bitter spunk, more left to run down her features. Once he finished, another hound replaced him, their succubus bitch speared between hell beasts and battered about.

Cum dripped down Bellatrix as she almost choked on the next veiny cock pumped into her throat. After the dozenth one forced itself on her, she squirted across its furred balls, still a creature of base lust deep down, to the she-devil's humiliating dismay. Red knots impatiently slapped and rubbed her cheeks, the veiny, bony protrusions desperate to impale and fill her with puppies.

"Only a hundred more hounds tae go," murmured Alma at more packs of reddish hellhounds chained up and panting in wait to breed Bellatrix, already getting bored of this. Her eyes drifted to her fellow Vice Lord, sporting an erection from the depraved scene beneath his trousers. With a roll of her eyes, she said, “If ye want tae have a turn once they’re all finished, ye may.”

Douglas shook his head in disbelief. “R-really?! But Ah thought ye said-”

“If she won’t accept mah heart, then she can survive on yer spunk,” rebutted the vampiress, who proceeded to storm off. “She made her choice…”

The kelpie looked back at the dog pile of the triple-penetrated succubus with confliction, unsure whether he wanted the pack's sloppy seconds.

Bellatrix hacked and vomited up the latest load deposited down her throat, lacerated in paw marks across her breasts, back, hips, and buttocks. Her asshole and cunt were sore from repeated, constant use. Some of the hounds bit her neck and pulled her hair for a further display of dominance, a reminder she was their bottom bitch, a lowly vessel for their pleasure and pups.

Despite their defilement of the red-skinned succubus and how her belly rounded from an excess of cum at the constant ravishment, Bellatrix clung desperately to what little hope remained.

She would pay whatever penance was necessary for her selfish actions. So long as her friends prevailed in the end!

Fresh blood splashed about the spacious tub Esmeralda and Camellia reclined in, both denuded save for the latter's porcelain, bloody tear mask. They rested at both ends, face-to-face, and lazily splashed crimson's rich, sticky sweetness over their supple flesh.

Around the room stood rows of clockwork automaton maids that weren't destroyed in the attack, some in a full maid costume, others in various states of undress or naked, little more than perfectly sculpted marionettes for the vampire lovers to appreciate at their leisure.

"To think Bellatrix surrendered all this," mused Esmeralda in her posh voice. "Foolhardy, just like her sister!" She smeared blood across her bosom.

“For someone who wishes to become Queen of the Underworld, she's far too soft,” added Camellia, cradling one of the skulls floating in their crimson bath, taken from one of the ram warriors that dared invade their territory. She heaved a sigh. “I do miss our hunting nights…”

"I know, but look where we are now!" The smaller bat mare tittered. "We’re apex predators! What was our endgame supposed to be? We've hunted entire species of monsters to extinction! Seen and done almost all there is to do! We both know we're above the morality of mere commoners!"

"Don't forget how it used to be," reminded Camellia. "We were treated like animals. Lower than worm-infesting soil! It was easy for that old bastard Dhullex to capture me, make me his bride, mutilate my face whenever I tried to turn on the alchemist..." Her pale hands shook.

"I don’t think I could ever forget, as much as I want to.” Esmeralda frowned. “I was but a silly wench turned vampire huntress, determined to carry on my family's tradition. But instead of living up to their aspirations, I have been deemed a failure. None of them came to my rescue when the vampire alchemist captured and turned me too! I felt no remorse when he butchered them,” she said with dark amusement. “But had he not taken me, I never would have found you, love."

"Yes, you’re right. I suppose we owe the old bastard for that…” noted Camellia, her crimson eyes on the carved walls of their once beloved manor, now inhabited by an eldritch beast. “How fortunate for us that Beatrix helped us in taking Dhullex down. We might not have reclaimed our ‘Womb of Conception’ without her. Such a pity that childish witch never could understand us.”

Esmeralda swam over to her lover, between the more voluptuous thestral's spread, pale thighs. She giggled and wrapped her fingers around the white mask's straps, which she started to undo.

The usual haughtiness drained from Camellia's voice. "A-ahh! Please...no, Esmeralda. I-I-”

"I want to see all of you," encouraged the petite vampire, who removed the mask and set it aside. Her lover's face was bare, incredible, pallid beauty framed by a thick curtain of black hair, scarlet eyes, and lips...contrasted by crisscrossed, deep scars left by their master’s talons.

Camellia half-hid her face under her ankle-length mane. Her love and Alma were the only ones she'd usually let see her unclad face. Anyone else would have died at her hands, either from her elongated scarlet claws with a slight curve or the dark arts the sorceress thestral practiced. She stood taller than most women she'd encountered, a statuesque, voluptuous beauty.

By contrast, Esmeralda was more slender and, while taller than average, nowhere near reaching her partner's height. She had let her pink braids down, her similarly colored eyes alight with mirth and mischief. "Every part of you is beautiful to me. You're a lovely work of art, my beloved!"

Her nails scratched at the tub's side. "It’s just…hard to see past the scars of the past. The only solace I have in taking that old bastard’s surname is all the power and status that came with it!"

In the old days of another world now filled with clockwork machinery, she had been known as Carmilla Karnstein. And her partner went by Esmeralda Van Helsing from a long tradition of monster hunters. A thrill-seeker from an early age determined to make her mark on the world. That arrogance and recklessness had cost both women, tearing them from their everyday civilian lives, their comforts stolen away by violence.

All that training. The finest weapons and mastery of each. Anti-vampire arsenal, passed down by Esmeralda's monster slayer predecessors. All were rendered useless in an instant of confrontation.

For their ancient enemy hadn't been idle, either.

But at an opportune moment, both forced brides turned traitors on Dhullex Faustus, claimed his mansion, and became lovers. Their old lives buried, the pair had turned to the hunt of monsters for sport to ease their boredom.

"Bah! Ruminating our history again," hissed Esmeralda before kissing Camellia’s red lips, her wet flesh resting on her lover's breast. "Let it be."

"You too," replied Camellia, who returned her kiss. To lighten the mood, she changed the subject. "I do hope fear Bellatrix comes around to our mistress after her grueling punishment. It would be sinful to waste such supple flesh!”

"Maybe you and I can ‘encourage’ later?" The petite bat mare implied with fluttering lashes.

"Yuck! After hundreds of hellhounds have had their way with her? Not to mention whatever that nasty kelpie has in mind? I'd sooner bathe in the sun before I sully myself in their filthy man sludge," Camellia finalized with sheer contempt.

“Ahh, c’mon!” Esmeralda embraced her, pressed bosom-to-bosom. "We could reclaim the poor fool! Teach her how much fun she could have!”

“I suspect Alma’s blood is making you randier, my dear,” observed the scarred vampire thestral.

“Maybe a little~…” she giggled before slowly rising from the tub, using a towel to dry off the blood that lined her nubile physique. “In any case, I’ll go start Omen's punishment early. See whether I can make him crack from how appetizing I smell~!”

Camellia furrowed her brows. “Be careful around him,” she warned her lover. “The nightmare stag could still be dangerous, even with restraints.”

“Relax,” insisted Esmeralda, adjusting her frilly dress into place. “The moment something feels off, I’ll alert the guards. Don’t stay in too long, my sweet, or your fingers will dry up like raisins!”

With one last kiss, the peppy vampiress slipped towards the torture chamber, holding Omen. Yet despite the reservations, Camellia couldn't help but worry. She hadn't fallen asleep, yet the gray buck somehow knew her greatest fear.

Nonetheless, the more voluptuous vampiress sank further into the tub, wanting to relish her bloodbath a few minutes longer before joining her lover. Each time they drank from Alma, it further eroded whatever mercy and compassion were still left from their already amoral natures.

The world existed to serve them. Their personal wonderland, brought under heel by their hellish mistress, the Vice Lord Countess Alma!

Screams still resonated in the castle dungeons. Once the last hellhound finished using her fatigued body, Douglas swooped in for the taking. The kelpie quickly overpowered Bellatrix in this beaten state, far more robust than those infernal mutts that had torn up her holes.

A small tidal wave washed the spunk from her inflamed orifices and made the last hellhounds whimper, tails tucked when they bounded out.

"About fuckin' time! Been backed up fur too long!" Impatiently, he cast aside his clothes while he manhandled her.

Aware that if she pleaded or resisted, it would spur on the sadistic rapist further. Thus, the succubus went slack in his arms, her eyes vacant and distant while he molested her flesh and bludgeoned her thoroughly abused pussy, his size so massive she strained to take all of him.

"Ye outta thank me, slut," he chortled, the stink of brine heavy on his breath panting against her neck, fat leeches left to crawl across his barreled chest. "Succubi need dick in them tae survive, don't they? Or was it a big load ov cum fired down their gullet? Maybe a bit of both~!”

When she turned aside and refused to answer, Douglas sharply backhanded one of her pendulous tits. Bellatrix winced, nonetheless used to worse pain. Like when the Burning King ripped out her heart and would have killed her, almost crippled her for life, were it not for the manor's aid. The same eldritch beast that had betrayed them in their hour of need. Another sharp titty slap broke her reverie.

Grunts and snorts arose from Douglas' flared nostrils, fixated on smacking her bouncy titties and bit one while he fucked her raw, determined to drive some reaction from his docile prey.

He nipped on her nipple bud, distended the jiggling mound, kneaded the tip, pinched and pulled on it, and backhanded it. "Scream fur me, ye horny cunt! Let th' whole castle know who owns ye!"

Bellatrix muffled a cry from the tit punch when he pressed his lips on hers, but he dared not sink his tongue into her lest she tried to bite him. Still, the she-devil showed little fight, her thoughts on her own mistakes. At least she had saved Oona and Abadonna. She barely noticed how wet she was from the horse cock pummeling her insides, nor noticed wet squishes each time he impaled her.

Douglas sneered and sank one last time with such a brutish thrust he pierced beyond her cervix and battered the back of her slippery womb, where his tip flared, locked in place when he unloaded his salty seed. "Ahhh, there’s a good slut! Takin’ all that fuckin cum~!” Blast after blast impacted her core, still a slimy stew of soupy hellhound spunk.

To her chagrin, he was still unsatisfied when he withdrew his pulsating stallionhood, stained in mixed juices. For the next round, Douglas rolled the red-skinned woman onto her side to sodomize her, determined to claim every inch of her he could. Repeated, harsh spanks rained across her wide ass, beaten raw and redder than usual, her backdoor relentlessly brutalized.

He landed a smack across her ass. "Yeah, ye like that cock up yer ass, huh?! Fuckin' anal lovin' buttslut!"

Bellatrix drowned out every insult the water demon threw out while he ravished her asshole. Bitch. Slut. Whore. She'd heard it all before, her old fantasy as Queen of the Underworld distant.

Douglas fired his second volley into her bowels, popped free of her ruined asshole, and marked her with more cumshots that slapped across her body while she reclined and huffed on her side.

The Vice Lord yanked her silky, now messy black hair, pulling the drowsy succubus to her knees. His horsecock slapped across her face, between her eyes. "Suck me off, wench. An' if Ah feel teeth, A’ll gouge yer eyes out!" To punctuate his threat, he firmly pressed his thumbs over her eyelids.

Hastily, Bellatrix took his slime-coated cock into her mouth and slid down the shaft to the hilt until he lodged her throat. The taste of herself and his spunk still lingered. His hands fastened around her skull when he started to violently facefuck her; Bellatrix's saliva left to drip down testicles that slapped her chin each time he thrust harshly. Her cunt winked despite the circumstances as his cum oozed out her well-used holes, forced to inhale his masculine musk.

Douglas revealed in dominating her face hole, hissing out more insults under his breath. His hands tightened on her scalp and threaded her black mane. Finally, the water demon hosed down his last batch of semen directly into her belly, then whipped free to cum all over her messed-up face.

"Nice makeup,” he said while catching his breath, jerking off the thick loads that sprayed over his beaten prisoner. “Suits ye better than that dress ever did. Here, have a lil' more~!”

He came more than what seemed possible, painted the rest of her face and tits in his semen until he'd drained his balls completely. Then, the kelpie removed an ancient coin from his coat and bounced it off a heavy tit, which wobbled as the metal clinked on the floor with an echo. "More than ye're worth,” he cackled cruelly as he made his way out, slamming the doors shut.

Bellatrix slowly pulled her ravaged form up, praying the worst was over. At least for now. With her head bowed, the succubus used a basin of water to wash the semen from and off her, feeling the cool splash run down her sore curves, lost in a stupor while she cleansed herself.

She had been defiled by lowly beasts, her pride shattered, silent tears left to fall down her cheeks at how Alma ripped out what was left of her broken heart. Quietly, she sobbed to herself.

Grime and dankness surrounded Primadonna, who sank to her knees and sulked. Bite marks, scratches, and a few bruises adorned her naked red flesh. "At least I'm alone,” she lamented.

Bellatrix curled up into a fetal position, certain the countess ordered Douglas to show her no mercy, to make clear what kind of pain and humiliation remained in store after her refusal.

She slumped there a while, tempted to finally end it all. Her claws reached her throat, ready to rip it open and bleed herself out. Only thoughts of her loved ones, the feeling that she hadn't fully paid her debts, despite how much she'd already suffered under Alma's orders, stayed in her hand.

"I can't let it end like this," she told herself.

"You won’t," came a subdued, feminine voice. "Get up. You must endure whatever is thrown your way, or else Alma will truly win."

Bellatrix at first worried it was another of Alma's minions, maybe Esmeralda and Camellia come to further torment her, but somehow that melodic voice comforted her when she stirred weakly.

"Wh-who is there...?" She sat up weakly and wiped her face on the back of her hand. Golden eyes drew towards the fragmented mirror in her cell.

Within the reflection lies herself. Her angelic self that is. While darkness hid most of her features, moonlight highlights her curves, blonde curls, blue eyes, white plumage, and milky skin, confined in pale, transparent lingerie. The succubus also noticed the room reflected was not the dark dungeon but some sort of tranquil lake that reflected the black star-filled sky.

“I’m starting to hallucinate…” she muttered, her half-lidded eyes hazily focused on her double.

The holy apparition shook her head, curves clad in silky white to accentuate them. "I may seem like an illusion, but I can assure you; I am very much real. With how often the manor opens portals, it should come as no surprise something would slip through. I have been with you far longer than you can imagine, silently gathering strength for the moment I can come to your aid."

"Why do you care? No one else does..."

A light titter came from her angelic half. “Because, Bellatrix Primadonna, the end is not nigh. Your friends will never abandon you; surely, you have more faith in them than that! And you are never alone, for I have always been with you!”

Bellatrix narrowed her eyes, not sure whether to believe this manifestation. Yet her heart swelled with unbroken hope that her friends would return for her triumphantly. Curiously, she took in her beautiful double and asked, “You claim you're not a hallucination born of delirium? Then who are you?!”

Her angelic double smiled and replied, “You already know me. I can’t stay like this, or your enemies will track me down. But know that the time for our reunion is fast approaching. And through the vile and filth, I will emerge a spectacle! You must survive this hell until then...!”

She pursed her lips. “Our reunion?”

“A mother can’t be away from her children too long…~” were her parting words before the reflection faded, revealing the red-skinned, clawed, and brutish demoness in the mirror.

Bellatrix clasped the ancient coin in her fist, her determination somewhat revigorated by her presence. She wouldn’t surrender until she could make full amends for all her mistakes!

Omen had been humming while awaiting his torturer's arrival. He lifted his head when the door opened, greeted by Esmeralda’s Cheshire grin. The room confining him was dingy green; a hanging lamp above was the only light source. She nodded to the gargoyles guarding the hallway, who closed the door. They would come in and apprehend the nightmare stag should anything suspicious happen. Though the petite vampiress didn’t intend for him to leave this room alive.

“Comfortable?” The bat mare asked sarcastically, slit pupils taking in his bruised limbs and scratches at the hands of Douglas. When met by his unamused state, she tittered, “Good! Because things are about to get very unpleasant~!”

Omen arched an eyebrow. “Am I supposed to find a Lolita in rag doll clothes intimidating?”

“Ooooooh~! Sassy tonight, aren’t we?” Esmeralda said, swaying about provokingly. “You must think you're so big and scary, huh, Mr. Nightmare Stag? Well, your tactics won’t work on me because I'm not afraid of anything! I’ve hunted and slain several monsters far more terrible than you!”

A stiff chuckle arose from his throat. “Everybody’s got something they're afraid of. It’s only a matter of time until I learn what lurks under your bed~.”

Her smile turned into a vicious scowl when she stomped her heel onto his stomach, getting a weak grunt out of the gray deerman. “Can’t do that when I’m awake… or so I thought! There’s no way you could have known Dhullex still terrorizes Camillia’s mind without her sleeping!” The thestral vampiress then demanded, “How did you do it!?”

A smile stretched the male cervine’s snout. “You’re familiar with my common moniker, but my reputation has earned me another title,” Omen explained. “The Seer of Black Dreams. Visions often come to me whenever I sleep, foretelling events that have yet to occur. But should I concentrate hard enough, they’ll sometimes give me a glimpse of other people's dreams. Such as a certain young woman being haunted by her old husband’s domestic abuse.”

Esmeralda shot him a toothy scowl. “So you used those breaks we afforded you to look into her past? Clever bastard…” she admitted bitterly.

“Dreams are often the windows to the mind, after all,” Omen stated. “Not to brag or anything, but I have a good read on people.”

Esmeralda kicked him hard in the stomach again, causing him to choke out blood. A twisted grin replaced the thestral’s frown. “How about that, huh? Did your little future sight predict I’d kick your shit in, you pretentious prick!?”

When Omen failed to retort, the petite vampire shoved him and the chair he was bound to onto the floor. She stood over him, hiking her skirt to reveal her lack of panties, a silver dagger fixed to her thigh by a garter belt. A pink patch adorned her muff, the mound adorned by a succulent slit.

Seating her nubile rump on the deer’s torso, Esmeralda said. “That psychic vision won’t be useful once you’re dead. Which is a shame because I really enjoyed your cooking. Played nicely, and I might have let you dine on an exquisite meal~” she scooted over to present her bare mound closer to Omen’s face, droplets of her juices staining his snout, making his nostrils flare. “That’s it, beast, breathe it all in! It’s the closest you’ll come to this sweet pussy. Alive, that is~!”

With an amused cackle, she lifted herself to slip out the knife strapped to her thigh. The petite bat mare sliced a bit of his cheek and ran her tongue along the bloody steel, savoring his warmth and taste as her honeypot soaked his face. “Mmm, scrumptious~! Camellia thinks your head will look nice mounted above the fireplace. But if you ask sweetly, I’ll make you my personal thrall. You can continue your existence crafting our meals and helping me sate my urges. A rare honor, as I don’t let just any man touch me~!”

Omen didn’t respond, his maroon eyes looking away. Infuriated, Esmeralda pressed her small body into his, holding her silver knife against the nightmare stag’s jugular, threatening to cut his neck open. Her eyes glowed, her face flustered as she reached back to stroke his cock with her free hand and growled, “Beg…. Go on! Beg! Beg me to spare your worthless life! Do it, or I’ll slit your throat here and now!”

She stroked him harder, yet the proclaimed ‘seer of black dreams’ didn’t give in to her demands, defying her with silence, even while precum drooled down the hand that rapidly rubbed up and down his rigid shaft.

Esmeralda raised her slender hips, lined up, and skewered herself on the beast's narrow cock with a whorish moan, the blade at his throat; while she started to ride him with such intensity, one of her handful-sized breasts popped free of her frilled dress.

Her hips rolled, and her skirt hiked up while she fucked and threatened her prey. "Naahahh~! Last chance, Omen! G-give into me or I'll..! I-I'll, mmmn~!"

It wasn't unusual to play with her prey, to have whatever she wanted, but he refused to take notice of a huntress that shamed herself.

With seething rage, she ran her dagger across Omen’s neck, blood gushing like a fountain. Then, grabbing his antlers while she continued to ride the beast, she pulled and ripped his head off the body, letting the crimson contents pour all over her while she noisily slurped and lapped.

In the throes of death, Omen fired off into her moist cunt, which squeezed around him when she squirted over his lap. She huffed and rode out her climax. Dropping the disembodied head, she gazed hatefully down at the deceased Nightmare Stag, spitting at his corpse while rubbing her mouth with a bloodied sleeve. "Stupid fool," she lamented with a hiss.

Esmeralda rose with a pop to free his cock from her, smoothed down her skirt, and placed her loose tit back in her top as she steadied herself and proceeded to make her way out of the room.

But when she twisted the handle, the door didn’t budge. She gave it a jerk, yet it refused to open.
“What the-hey! What’s the big idea?” She slapped her hand on the frame, addressing the stone sentinels that loomed outside. “Hello? I know you blockheads can hear me! Open this door!! Now!”

The lightbulb within the lamp began to flicker. Esmeralda tried yanking the damn thing off its hinges with her enhanced strength, yelling, “This isn’t funny! Let me out of here this instant!”

“ꄲꋪ ꅐꁝꋬ꓄?” A chilling voice spoke from behind, the sound making the vampire flinch. Her pupils shrank, breathing pitched when she slowly turned around, the silver knife back in hand.

The light was buzzing, glitching on and off like crazy. Omen’s decapitated head decayed rapidly, maggots wriggling around while they ate away his flesh, up to the bones. His body steadily stood upright on gangly limbs, growing in size with every sickening twist and crack. Black gunk oozed out the orifice of his neck, a twisted shadow cast about the dreary, confined interior.

Realization dawned on Emeralda, and panic began to settle in, making her attempts to open the door more frantic. “N-no, That’s impossible!” She said rejectingly. “I can’t be asleep! You're nothing but a terrible dream! This isn’t real! It isn’t real!!”

“꒐꓄’ꇙ ꋪꏂꋬ꒒,” rebutted Omen, his massive head reduced to its skull and jaws. Elongated fingers picked them up and placed them back on his neck. Malicious red orbs shimmer within the sockets. “꒐ ꁝꋬ꒦ꏂ ꄲ꓄ꁝꏂꋪ ꂵꏂ꓄ꁝꄲ꒯ꇙ ꓄ꄲ ꒐ꋊ꒯꒤ꉔꏂ ꇙ꒒ꏂꏂꉣ. ꋬ꒒꒒ ꒐ ꋊꏂꏂ꒯ꏂ꒯ ꅐꋬꇙ ꋬ ꂵꄲꂵꏂꋊ꓄ ꋬ꒒ꄲꋊꏂ ꅐ꒐꓄ꁝ ꌦꄲ꒤. ꋬꋊ꒯ ꌦꄲ꒤ ꍌꋬ꒦ꏂ ꒐꓄ ꓄ꄲ ꂵꏂ ꄲꋊ ꋬ ꇙ꒐꒒꒦ꏂꋪ ꉣ꒒ꋬ꓄ꏂꋪ~.”

The nightmare stag hunched over due to how small the room was, branch-like antlers scraping the ceiling as he slowly approached the terrified vampiress. Feebly, she slammed her head into the door frame to wake herself, crying out for her lover and mistress. “Somebody wake me up!!”

Clawed hands forcibly pulled Esmeralda off the exit, forcing her to confront the boogieman she unintentionally trapped herself with. The lamp flickered out completely, leaving the room in perpetual darkness, save for the monstrous cervine’s menacing gaze. “ꉔꄲꂵꏂ,” commanded Omen after his skull-like face peeled apart like flower petals, revealing a gaping void of endless teeth. An ominous red aura pulsated from the back of his throat. “ꍌ꒐꒦ꏂ ꒐ꋊ ꓄ꄲ ꊰꏂꋬꋪ. ꇙꁝꄲꅐ ꂵꏂ ꅐꁝꋬ꓄ ꒒꒐ꏂꇙ ꒤ꋊ꒯ꏂꋪꋊꏂꋬ꓄ꁝ!”

With a scream, Esmeralda managed to wriggle out of his grip and slammed her entire body into the door to finally break out of the room. The petite thestral spread her wings and made a break for it, not daring to look over her shoulder. “Camellia! Alma!” She called. “Omen’s escaped!”

But the further she flew, the more out of breath she felt. Her chest felt like it was on fire, and the vision in her pink eyes grew unfocused. Eventually, she collapsed to her knees, strain, and fatigue spreading throughout her slender limbs. “A-auuugh… what’s happening to me..?!” Esmeralda wheezed with a deeper voice, not her own.

Looking at her hands, she found the horrific answer. Her once fair skin now took on a corpse-like paleness, clinging to her bones like shriveled raisins. Her petite frame grew frailer and frailer, shaking uncontrollably. And running her hands through her mane showed that strains were falling out, pink hair rapidly becoming white.

Esmeralda let out a banshee-like wail, scuffling away while her clothes dragged due to her size being much shorter. A sickening crack forced the vampiress to arch her deteriorating spine. Then, she saw the feet of her lover and mistress, looking up at them frightfully. But they only looked down on her with repulsion.

“Yeeeugh! Who let this hag in mah castle?!” Alma sneered.

“She’s so ugly looking,” agreed Camellia. "Grotesque to match the worst monsters."

“N-no..!” Cried Esmeralda with a withered voice, reaching out for her black gown. “Camellia, it’s me!! The one you love-”

“Don’t touch me!” The voluptuous vampiress growled, tugging her dark dress away. “Filthy vermin! Remove this trash from my presence!”

“Could someone please collect th' old crone before she stinks up th' entire hallway?” The Baobhan Sith ordered, summoning two gargoyles to lift the age-ridden Esmeralda into their rocky arms and hoist the mummified crone away.

Though her eyesight dwindled, she spotted Omen at the castle entrance, a satisfied smile stretching his bony maw. “W-wait! Stop! He’s getting away!!” Esmeralda coughed weakly, pointing a shaky finger. The nightmare stag conjured some sort of artifact in his palm. An ancient-looking hourglass, black sand filling one end while the other half steadily emptied.

“꒐꓄ꇙ ꋬꇙ ꒐ ꇙꋬ꒐꒯,” Omen spoke to her without moving his mouth. “꒐꓄ ꅐꋬꇙ ꄲꋊ꒒ꌦ ꋬ ꂵꋬ꓄꓄ꏂꋪ ꄲꊰ ꓄꒐ꂵꏂ. ꒯ꄲꋊ'꓄ ꅐꄲꋪꋪꌦ, ꂵꌦ ꒯ꏂꋬꋪ. ꒐'꒒꒒ ꃳꏂ ꃳꋬꉔꀘ ꊰꄲꋪ ꌦꄲ꒤ ꇙꄲꄲꋊ ꏂꋊꄲ꒤ꍌꁝ.”

"N-no..! NOOOOOOOOOO!!"

"ꇙꏂꏂ ꌦꄲ꒤ ꒐ꋊ ꌦꄲ꒤ꋪ ꒯ꋪꏂꋬꂵꇙ~!" With a foreboding chuckle and a mocking wave 'goodbye,' the nightmare stag dissolved into black particles and drifted out of the castle, leaving Esmeralda alone to suffer in her nightmare, so brittle she all but crumbled to dust. Where she could do nothing but scream…

The mechanical coffin hissed phantasmal vapors after the lid creaked open. Triad blinked his eyes open, his nude musculature submerged in the cool black blood when he sat up. As he pulled himself out, it dawned on the black stallion that he somehow had arms. "They're back!? No..."

His new attachments were purely mechanical, no doubt the work of that demented plague doctor. The memory of their loss still lingered in his mind. Still, upon testing basic strikes and upper martial arts, the kitasan found his well-muscled arms moved much faster than before.

“A welcomed improvement, If I do say so myself!”

Triad shuddered at the digitized voice behind him. His head turns to see Varys approaching, carrying a sheathed katana. “I also took the liberty of enhancing your sword,” the Vice Lord added, tossing it to the stallion, who caught it instantly. “A blade is a samurai's soul, after all.”

"So the legends say," replied Triad as he slowly unsheathed the cutting instrument. The kanji-inscribed blade faintly glowed under the lights. His eyebrow quirked. “Infused with magic? You surprise me, Varys. I was always under the impression that the arcane was beneath you.”

“It has its uses, even in the field of science and engineering,” the bionic devil admitted, pulling out the skin-layered cover of the Necronomicon. “For all its temptation and evil, this tome has given me the knowledge to make my dream a reality. Years of calculation, experiments, and building will all be worth the many I’ve sacrificed!”

The swordsman did his best not to express how repulsive he found Varys’ proclamation. And his suspicions about the Vice Lord’s ‘side project’ only escalated. Clearing his throat, he bitterly complimented, “Nonetheless, I can’t deny that these augmentations are more than adequate.”

The avian-faced scientist chuckled as he pointed towards a conveyor belt transporting many malfunctioning biomechanical zombies into a squared-off room. “I have a few automatons scheduled to be scrapped and recycled. Why don’t you test the blade in there? You’ll also find a new suit tailored to your specifications.”

“And where are you headed?”

“I still need to patch up Penny Dreadful before your master arrives,” answered Varys, already walking away. “Won’t be able to properly counter the demi-humans without the aid of my-.”

“I have to ask,” the black stallion interrupted as he examined the arcane katana. “What is your obsession with the demi-humans, anyway?”

That question made the Varys pause, turning his neck slightly to peer at Triad through the visors of his mask. “Tell me…do you believe in god?”

Triad blinked perplexedly. “No, not particularly…”

“And why is that?”

He shrugged when replying, “The idea of worshiping a faceless deity whose existence remains dubious sounds redundant. Religion is all but dead in the cyberpunk world I come from.”

“It is fascinating,” the cyber demon mused. “Not enough substantial evidence exists, yet you’d be surprised how badly people cling to the idea of a higher power that can fix their imperfections.”

Triad’s frown deepened, not liking where this discussion was headed. “Do you believe in god?”

“As a matter of fact, I’ve met him,” corrected Varys. “I was once a disciple to a celestial being of unearthly origins. He blessed those who followed his word with divine wisdom and power. I was heavily sick at the time, kept alive by insufficient medicine. I believed that by singing his praises and giving him my faith, he would ‘fix’ my body. Bless me with sacred immunity from the cancer slowly eating away my lungs and heart.”

The black stallion noted his talon hand tightened into a fist, trembling from the memory. “As you’d imagine, that did not happen. I soon learned that the ‘benevolent’ idol I worshipped wasn’t even a god at all! No more than a cruel alien Shepard masquerading as a deity to ensure all the sheep in his flock don't stray far. No one was going to help me. I would have died withered and alone if I hadn’t found solace in machinery's perfection.”

Varys looked down at his palms, admiring the little details of the plating and circuitry. “These hands have ruined countless lives in trying to save my own. Had I kept any semblance of humanity, all the death and sacrifice I’ve wrought would have taken its toll on my mind…” He squeezed his mechanized hands together again. “…but I’m so close now! The perfected blend of flesh and machinery is within my grasp..!”

Triad continued to observe with utter disdain, unmoved by the cyber demon’s dilemma. He found Varys no different from the people responsible for his life in captivity. This vile monster deserved not a single ounce of sympathy or woe! “Tell me, what does this have to do with Zeloph and the other Demi-humans?”

Varys looked back to the kitasan swordsman and resumed his spiel. “Not long after the loss of paradise, the Divine Father set a plan in motion. The rise of superior beings meant to surpass mankind. Those chosen would become demi-human and erase all traces of Terrans and their inherent free will through fornication and massacre. Metatron sought to bring humanity to the brink of extinction. And he would have succeeded…were it not for two miscalculations.”

“Zeloph and Anarchia…”

The Vice Lord nodded. “Unlike the other disciples, who bought into his lies, I was always observant and investigated how those two came to be. That’s when I discovered the truth; a descendant of Lilith was responsible for spawning the neon demon, while an unnamed angel gave birth to the future fallen one. Both would eventually prove to be the Divine Father’s undoing.” He scoffed and said with a slightly spiteful tone, “Serves him right. In his arrogance, he allowed half-human hybrids to foil his plan. He denied me health and immortality. But in the end, he left me with the means to achieve our next step in evolution..!”

Triad took a moment to let this information sink in. And upon deducing what the mechanized scientist was getting at, he gasped and declared, “…so you intend to replicate that plan! That’s why you need to collect the demi-humans!!”

“Precisely,” affirmed the plague doctor, smiling behind his mask. “Through the Necronomicon’s magic and my biomechanical science, I will liberate their souls and put them into perfect technorganic bodies! No longer will anyone fear the fragilities of disease, age, and pain. A brand new sapient race, with me as its paragon! And I will finally be spared from life’s greatest restraint… death itself!”

“So you are trying to become god,” accused Triad, gripping the handle of his magic katana. “But you’re an even bigger fool than this ‘Metatron.’ Now that I know what you’re up to, my master and I will nip this nefarious plot in the bud!”

“Spare me, your insignificant squabble,” dejected Varys, waving off his spiteful threat with a spiked metal tail. “Both you, Quicksilver, and Mortis are not long for this world. I suggest you use your time wisely and keep to your master, like the hapless lapdog you are. Because after you've finally expired? I’m taking my technology back…”

Kitasan glared coldly as the plague doctor vanished into the thick steam of his facility. Triad went the opposite direction, already deciding to gain further insight into Varys’ project. Even the tiniest tidbit of information could prove vital for his master to help foil the Vice Lord!

Triad wandered the factory, where rows of conveyor belts rolled their treads and machinery quaked in metallic slams. Sparks popped, blowtorches hissed, and machinery was configured by mechanical hands on an assembly line. Turrets connected to cameras lined the industrial corridors. He saw the marked room where Varys indicated, but before Triad entered, he opted to explore deeper, despite his assumption the cameras constantly tracked his movements.

"A dojo. Of course…" It was an exact replica of his old abode on a boat. The one Kitsune and Wispy Willow infiltrated, where a party was thrown at his domain, and the kunoichis assassinated him. He'd dueled Kitsune's blade, and it cost him his head. He rubbed his neck at the painful memory.

"Mortis saved me," he reminded himself. "Resurrected me when my former benefactors sacrificed me." Inky splotches made up of kanji sprawled across the sliding doors. Clockwork automatons, constructed to resemble the geishas that once served as his lovers and bodyguards, filled the interior. Kimonos were draped over their artificial curvature while they giggled. They danced around him in a sea of silk, some of their faces hidden beneath fox-like white masks...like they were there to remind him of his executioner.

“Varys has a terrible sense of humor,” the black stallion snorted with a flare of his nostrils.

“Actually, this was all my doing,” a warm voice told him. Triad spotted Penny’s tulpa, Professor Kilroy, standing in the corner in a button-up white lab coat. Round spectacles shrouded the bald stallion's eyes, his light smile enhanced by a trim beard that made the old horse appear friendly. “I hope you don’t mind the customization, son! I’d hate to offend you.”

“You haven’t,” insisted Triad as he approached. “But listen! It’s not safe here for you and Penny!”

“Really now,” the tulpa mused, his meaty hands resting deep in his pockets. “Do tell!”

"Varys is using you," he warned. "After he's mined all your knowledge about clockwork technology, he won’t hesitate to dispose of you. Or worse…he'll change you into something else!”

“Ha! That’s mad Scientology 101, my boy,” hooted the bald stallion.

“I’m being serious! He’s been harvesting souls for something he calls ‘Project: Nephilim!’ I just finished listening to him go on a mad tirade about an extinction plan! We have to stop him! Otherwise, who will protect your 'daughter' then?"

"Who, indeed?" Kilroy said as his smile disappeared. He looked around the dojo to ensure no one was within earshot before whispering, "Can I count on you to save her, son?"

Triad furrowed his brow. "Me!?"

“I never trusted that depraved psychopath for a second,” the professor began hastily explaining. “But my poor daughter doesn’t know any better; so enticed by the fancier gadgets and gizmos Varys has shown her. Ooh, I fear his methods to supplant Penny as we speak!”

“All the more reason to shut him down,” urged Triad quietly. “Is there some way we can sneak past all the cameras and turrets?”

“As it turns out, I can manipulate some devices due to being made from his technology!” Pressing his fingers to his temple, he focused on the camera system. The blinking light of their receptors temporarily went offline before reactivating. “There! I’ve momentarily blocked his feed so we can feed it fake footage. But that won’t fool his A.I. for long, so we'd best hurry before his suspicions are aroused!" The professor clicked his fingers, and the clockwork geishas shrieked like banshees when they leaped into action, with various weapons hidden under their silk kimonos drawn with a metallic swish.

Triad hadn't even had time to claim his new pin-striped suit, his inscribed katana raised to block a blade that slashed at him. While he carved a path across the dozens of marionettes that poured from behind the revolving wooden doors, the cut-down dolls often stripped naked under his precise strokes, he noted their anatomically-correct forms were almost indistinguishable from the women that died the night he had when the kunoichi assassins attacked. Likewise, broken masks fell aside to reveal coldly debonair faces.

His glowing sword arced, his cybernetically-enhanced reflexes enabling him to dodge the hail of shuriken and kunai lobbed in his direction. The stylized blades embedded into the walls with a thunk, the heads, and limbs of broken dolls removed in an instant under his precise strokes.

Kilroy mused, "Remarkable, aren't they? But I have no lurid interests in them. Not anymore…”

“How come?”

The tulpa looked away, a glint of shame in his eye. “I used to imagine a world where technology and mortality thrived as one, much like Varys. But instead of bio-fusion, I theorized brain surgery was the way to do it! Transfer them into dolls shaped to one's chosen specifications! Penny Dreadful, my masterpiece, was supposed to make that possible! But like me, she was 'slain' by Esmeralda and Camellia when they teamed up with that meddlesome Beatrix Belladonna!"

Triad beheaded a denuded doll and then yelled, “No wonder your daughter was so easily drawn to Varys. You're both complete lunatics!”

"Consider this paying for my mistakes; by ensuring Varys doesn’t win!" he assured him calmly. "You may not show it, but it’s obvious that you have some affection for my daughter. I understand you're both on borrowed time. But if there is one thing I wish I could mend, it is that Penny’s last moments be at peace! Please, Triad! You’re my only hope...!”

"I...I will do what I can," swore Triad, as he diced into the last line of marionettes dancing around him, stripped marionettes toppled like dominos.

"Time's up!" At the same time the black stallion finished the final automaton, Kilroy directly sent coordinates into his brain through a device on his person. "Get dressed, my friend. We must make haste before Varys uncovers my diversion!"

"At least I’ll get a decent workout," noted Triad, whose lean flesh was a sheen of sweat. Resheathing his blade, he got dressed in his black pin-striped suit. He wondered whether this zombie body could mimic this function due to Mortis' sorcery. Marionettes were piled around the dojo, some of the lovely geishas fully intact and others reduced to cogs and gears. Undoubtedly, the heaps of scrap would soon be further broken down and recycled into advanced weaponry.

Tailed by Professor Kilroy, Triad followed the coordinates out of the dojo. While the swordsman needed to be quick in reaching his destination, he also needed to look natural, lest he raises suspicion from Varys’ security system. He couldn’t afford such an interruption to his tour, so he made it appear he 'stumbled' on whatever awaited. Thankfully as a former politician, he was used to casual displays of confidence and maintained his firm stride.

The duo ventured deeper into the factory; it wouldn't have been difficult for his augmented senses to pick up an unusual but familiar energy field. Triad tracked the source to a vast room below, and his eyes widened at what he saw.

There, beneath the end of the conveyor belt, was a massive vat containing soul essence. Rotating robot arms stirred the chemical liquids, various hues and colors shimmering while they churned the futuristic cauldron. The Vice Lord must have collected over a thousand souls!

“Wait,” Kilroy said, pointing at the vat. “There’s something at the bottom! Can you see it?”

Triad narrowed his gaze, leaping down to get a better view. He peered into the pool of souls, the ripples hiding a large, murky oval shape object. “I think it’s… an egg?”

“What in the world?” The tulpa blinked to ground level, surveying the cylinder-shaped container. “Oh, here! There’s a computer!”

Triad jumped down while the older bald stallion hacked through the security measures to gain excess to the mainframe. Once clearance was granted, vital signatures and a diagram of the egg popped up. The outer shell was inorganic, yet fleshly veins pulsated around the base. An infrared scan highlighted the developing lifeform from within, absorbing the soul essence for nutrients, like an artificial womb.

“PROJECT: Nephilim,” Professor Kilroy read. “Soul acquisition: Achieved. Incubation status: Stable. Estimated Time of Emergence: Thirty-two minutes and sixteen… fifteen seconds! My word-!”

“Of course! Varys mentioned the demi-humans were strongest when naturally made,” recalled Triad. “So instead of infecting everything with a technorganic virus, like he tried with my world…”

“… He’s going to repopulate with a species that’s purely biomechanical!” Kilroy speculated uneasily. “His methods are unsanitary, but by golly, is he getting results!” Noticing a section labeled [Bio Material], the tulpa mumbled excitedly, “Hmm… let’s see what this monstrosity is made of!”

Clicking on it brought up a new window, binary code rapidly running down the screen. Then, images of creatures popped up with estimated percentages of genetic code taken. “That’s quite the collection of animal samples. Amphibian…Reptilian... Avian…and-Oh! It appears he used two different mammalians as parent agents. I wonder who-!” He gasped, his face completely pale when he clicked on the file for further details.

Triad was equally disturbed, eyes pinpoint. “No..!”

Two depictions were of a male demi-human and an anthropomorphized equine mare; their percentages evening out to fifty percent organic matter. “T-there’s no denying it,” the professor stammered. “That DNA sample is likely Belladonna’s! And should this monster possess her arcane prowess, it will inherit her… h-her-”

“We cannot allow that egg to hatch!” proclaimed Triad when he drew out his enchanted katana. “Quickly! Find a way to drain the vat, so I can-”

A faint female scream that would have been undetectable to normal ears pricked at the black stallion. A bout of suspicion momentarily wondered if the intertwined souls screamed at him. But another elated screech made him realize… "Penny!” he exclaimed before hurrying off to find the source of her exhaustive cries.

“W-wait! What about the-“

But before Kilroy could react, the screen glitched into a vibrant red and yellowish green pupil staring down the tulpa. “Source of infiltration: Detected,” announced I.V.O’s artificial voice. “Subject: Professor Benedict Kilroy. Observation: The subject has threatened the full completion of PROJECT: Nephilim. Commencing with immediate termination.”

Attack drones descended from the rafters, cannons flipping out to lock on their target, tiny red lasers pointing at his head. “Oh, bullocks!” He cursed, blinking away to avoid the blast.

Sirens began to wail, the red lights pulsating in rhythm. Fortunately, Triad had managed to find the room those screams were coming from before the noise started. And upon his arrival, he was greeted with the absolute last thing he expected to see. The black stallion always knew Varys was fucked up. But he failed to comprehend how fucked up he truly was!

The plague doctor had Penny Dreadful suspended from the ceiling by wires and mechanical arms, her limbs dismantled from her naked torso and abdomen. A line opened between her breasts, leading down her belly and ending right above her mound, exposing her clockwork chest cavity, innards, and sex organs.

The griffoness cackled and sobbed hysterically, her crazed eyes hazy and tear-stricken. Tubes attached to her neck suggested the Vice Lord pumped her bloodstream full of drugs to numb the excruciating pain she was feeling. Her head swayed, unable to understand what was happening to her, laughter mixed with her wails.

Varys took out one gear, studying it for a second before replacing it with one made by his tech. He ran his fingers over her delicate insides, fondling her frantically beating heart. “Quite an unusual form of craftsmanship,” he noted. “Everything is so delicately placed, so there isn’t any risk of an external puncture! Kilroy’s foundations of clockwork tech are nothing short of remarkable. But I shall further enhance them!”

His claw extended to lightly prick into Penny’s uterus, causing her to screech deliriously. The cyber demon injected a small dosage to transmute the griffon’s vagina, which he thrust a phallic-shaped object repeatedly into in a steady, harsh rhythm.

Triad’s stomach turned, hand grasping his snout to hold back the bile rising up his throat. It didn’t help that Penny’s screams kept alternating between bliss and agony while the bionic devil cruelly manipulated her sensory system.

What made this defilement worse was that it wasn’t done out of ego or passion, like how Natural Selection casually boasted about dominating mares he took as trophies. There was no arousal, zero sounds of sadistic pleasure emitted as Varys violated the griffoness’s pussy with his prop. Just cold, morbid fascination.

It made Triad wonder if the zebra princesses from earlier were forced to go through this process before their horrific conversion…

Finally, after what felt like hours, Varys pulled out the tool from her stretched cunt and gave the trembling clockwork assassin a moment of reprieve. Penny whimpered and breathed shakingly while he analyzed his bludgeoning tool, covered with teeth-shaped dents. “Hmm, an interesting response. Wouldn’t you say… Triad?”

The swordsman stiffened upon the vile villain, casually acknowledging him, and immediately rushed into action. He leaped over to the control panel and split it in a shower of sparks. The chains dropped Penny Dreadful's pieces, which flopped onto the floor, making her squawk.

Triad lunged for the Vice Lord’s head… only to find his body halting when he held out his hand. The black stallion snarled with disdain, yet his newly implanted cybernetics kept him from attacking their maker. "Damn...you...!"

“This is getting irksome,” the plague doctor sighed, twisting his palm to force Triad to his knees like his body was being weighed down by a giant magnet. “When will you learn to show your superiors respect?”

“You are not my master!” spat the swordsman, his brown eyes narrowed. “You’re just a sick freak pretending to be a doctor! I know what you're planning. And when Mortis finds out, he and I will end you for all your atrocities against nature!”

The cyber demon chuckled in amusement. “Perhaps I was being too considerate with your augmentations. Clearly, I should have reformatted your brain when I was working on your arms. Would have saved me the unnecessary drama of your disobedience!”

Weighed down, he proclaimed, "You can twist me into any amalgamation you want, but I will always have my spirit! And it will never be broken!”

"Hmph! You overestimate your value. But don’t worry; you’ll understand your place," promised Varys as he extended a syringe-like talon, pointing it at Kitasan’s forehead. Triad held his defiant glare, breath hitched when he felt the metal beginning to pierce into his skull until…

“Warning! Spatial breach detected!” I.V.O’s voice spoke through the intercom. “Interdimensional travel: Incoming!”

“I’m out of time,” scowled Varys, retracting his claws. His vermillion visors glared back at the swordsman. “It doesn’t matter. We will be parting ways shortly.” Releasing Triad from his ferromagnetic hold, Varys stepped away from the room while his sentry turrets and drones were hunting for Kilroy’s unique energy signature.

Putting away his sword, the black stallion raced towards Penny and collected her severed pieces. He struggled to put her arms, legs, and wings back into place on her nude body. But thankfully, with a bit of work, the parts snapped in quickly enough, like the clockwork woman was made to be disassembled and reassembled at will.

He caressed her cheek and felt the downy turquoise feathers that padded her soft skin. If he were faster, maybe he could have gotten to her before… Sluggish murmurs arose from her beak, the griffoness stirring. "Penny? Penny, wake up!”

"Uuungh…?" Her eyes swam back into focus, groaning. "Everything hurts!" Her chest cavity closed, perky breasts lifting and falling with each strained breath. "O-ohh, Triad!”

“I’m right here,” he comforted, smiling slightly.

“Oohhmm, my hero~,” Penny purred before pecking him on the cheek. When he helped her to her feet, she teetered before leaning on her partner for support. “Guess my limbs haven’t fully synced up yet. But gagh! I had the most bloody awful dream! It was that monster Varys, h-he-”

“Shhhh,” hushed Triad, petting her feathery back. “We can discuss that later. Right now, there are more pertinent matters we must tend to!”

She held a hand to cover her head, the alarms and lights blaring loudly. “Aaagh!? What’s happened here? And where’s father!?”

“It’s Varys. He’s-”

Before he could explain, something bursted through the wall with sickly green flames. Varys crashed into the control panel while the walls collapsed, revealing the pair’s deathly master, swatted in tattered black robes, hovering towards them. Three pairs of eyes peered through the vapor as a serpentine shape lumbered through the portal, with Quicksilver not too far behind.

Triad stared in astonishment. “Is that a dragon!?”

“Blimey! Sucker has three heads,” Penny praised.

“Our latest acquisition proved very fruitful,” the lich elaborated, whose ghastly gaze remained fixated on the vile plague doctor while Varys shakily rose from the destroyed circuitry.

“He’s called Andrei,” introduced Quicksilver, a rifle held ready, decked in a duster. “Apparently, he was a real menace in life.” The skeletal hydra snorted, discolored steam pouring out his maws.

Mortis announced, “And he shall be a loyal servant in death. Unlike you, Varys…”

The Vice Lord patted the embers smoldering his green cloak before addressing the undead unicorn. “So, I’ve been found out. And here I thought you were just a pile of bitter bones.”

“I know a treacherous soul when I see one,” proclaimed Mortis, pointing a skeletal finger accusingly at the cyber demon from his tattered black shroud. “The only reason you still stand is your expertise in combating the demi-humans. But I no longer require your services. Henceforth, our partnership is terminated!”

Varys smiled behind his vulture-esque visage. “Couldn’t have said it any better myself!”

He reached out for Penny and Triad, activating the subroutines he installed in their cybernetics to place them under his control. Like unwilling marionettes, they awkwardly stood before their master and the gunslinger, struggling to regain bodily functions while they were overridden.

“Bastard!” Declared Quicksilver, aiming at the bionic devil and firing a round. Yet thanks to the hypersensitive parasyte implanted in his spine, Varys dodged with little effort. He used Triad to deflect the next shot with his enchanted katana.

The swordsman demanded, “Release us!”

“M-master! Daddy!! Help me!” cried the griffoness, protruding her feather missiles at the cloaked wraith despite her desperation to resist him.

“Is your vendetta worth your minion’s unholy lives, Mortis?” The Vice Lord asked cruelly. “Surely, you don’t need them now that you have a dragon to do your bidding? Leave my laboratory, and I will grant them swift freedom.”

“Don’t listen to him, master,” pleaded Triad. “Destroy us if you must! We exist only to serve you! But do not let this mad demon live to-”

“Quiet, lap dog!” Varys snapped, cybernetically commanding his arms to press the sharp blade against his neck. Glancing back at Mortis, his expression unreadable, he restated, “What will it be, revenant? Vengeance or comradery?” He then coyly added, “Show them you’re not above using their souls to slake your appetite. Just. Like. Her.”

Deathly magic flared in the skeletal unicorn’s hands and horns, preparing to obliterate the dastardly doctor for having the gall to compare himself to the hated betrayer, Shadow Scythe.

Suddenly, Varys let out a pained screech, back bending at an unnatural angle before he dropped forward with a sickening cracking sound. Behind him was Professor Kilroy, fingers on his head to telepathically tamper with the scientist's systems.

Triad and Pennydread could once again move freely and drop their guard. The clockwork assassin exclaimed, “Way to put it to him, daddy~!!” The nude bird woman punched the air.

“How did you bypass the parasyte?” wondered the black stallion.

“From what I witnessed, it only responds to physical movement,” the tulpa explained when he floated to their side. “I thought that if I kept my distance or if Varys was distracted, I could hack into the parasyte without setting it off. Thank the stars, my hypothesis proved correct!”

“You’re a brilliant man,” praised Triad.

The bald stallion chuckled. “I may come from an older era, but there are plenty of common practices I’m certain thugs like Varys wouldn’t waste time understanding. Such as how arcane magic, when imbued correctly, can also interfere with even the most advanced tech available!”

“You’ve done well, professor,” said Mortis. “I always knew you’d be a vital asset when the time came. But as for you, Varys…” he directed Andrei forward, the dragon emanating a low growl when ghoulish light flickered within his trio of throats. “…your time is up!”

Struggling to pull himself back up as they closed in, Varys hunched over the railing, exhaling erratically. “You forget… whose house you're in! I.V.O! Initiate protocol: Deathwarden!”

“Acknowledged. Eliminating all undead and incorporeal lifeforms!”

At his psychic command, the factory began to rumble loudly. Machinery shifted into overdrive, the conveyor belts rotating at a brisk pace. Mechanical arms with saw blades lowered from the ceiling as dozens of more aerial drones soared toward Mortis and his zombie minions.

Andrei shielded the undead trio with his armored scaled hide while Mortis erected a barrier, his bone horn alight. The floor they stood on jerked as the platform began lifting. Everyone jumped off, but the three-headed dragon couldn’t take off in time. He released fiery roars as his body was pinned to the ceiling, left to thrash and spit fire while his tail lashed violently about.

Bedlam ensued once the entire facility came to life. Sentry turrets on tripod legs crawled across the steelwork walls. Automatons marched toward their deathly signatures, armed with plasma weapons. Triad, Penny Dreadful, and Quicksilver launched into the attack while Mortis melted the metallic abominations from afar.

Spent shells bounced across the iron platform, ruby lasers hissed through the air, and cones of fire scorched steel into molten puddles. Triad conjured his tattoo-shaped familiars, a dragon and tiger, to aid him in cutting down every robot and cyborg running at him. Penny fired feather missiles at the aerial drones, each plummeting into the hellish abyss below. Kilroy did his best to support them but found there were far too many mechanized units to hack.

Eventually, Varys recovered enough to call a few drones to support him, lifting his crooked body into the air. Quicksilver noticed this and shouted, “No, you don't!” Taking aim, he shot one flying robot, then the other, watching the screeching Vice Lord hit a couple of railings on the way down. "Take that, you damn buzzard!"

As more automatons flooded the chambers to aid their master, Triad carved in halves a drone and yelled, “After him! We’ll cover the rest!”

The gunslinger led the reaper down to where Varys fell while ducking from the spinning buzz saws overhead. Triad's blade shined with an eerie, phantasmal wisp. Penny's eyes darted between everyone, uncertain what to make of this standoff-turned-violence, hands poised on her feathered hips. "Triad dear, be careful!"

"Look after yourself!" Triad silently ordered the tattoo phantoms to protect the clockwork lady.

While the two cyber assassins were locked in combat, the tulpa professor focused on lowering the platform, trapping Andrei, lowering it just enough for the undead drake to squirm free. Wings unfurled, he took flight and began incinerating the place with ghostly flames, the atmosphere corroded by smoke and sulfur.

At ground level, Varys limped his way over to the soul vat. While he managed to straighten his fractured spine enough to walk, the bionic plague doctor suffered greatly from the fall. Pieces of his steel-plated body were broken, sparkling wires loose, his joints struggling to stay together. His mask had been compromised, the beak severed to his panting chapped mouth, brittle teeth on blackened gums exposed. Decrepit pale hair spilled over his features, one of the visor lenses missing to reveal a lone, glassy pale eye. Each forced, tired step threatened to prove his last.

“Warning: Chemical radiation levels ri-ri-ri-rising-rising,” his A.I. warned him through glitching speech. “Syyyyyystems failing. Proposal: e-e-evacuuuuuuate the premises at o-o-o-once!”

“No,” the cyber demon wheezed, his raspy voice filtered with digitization. His tail used to help support him. “Must protect… PROJECT: Nephilim!”

When Quicksilver and Mortis arrived, they found their adversary leaning against the glass container, muttering a string of words neither could understand. It almost sounded… latin.

“End of the line,” stated the elderly stallion, who aimed his rifle. Even when the Vice Lord summoned a shield to block the high-powered bullets, the magical construct, made of silver, still managed to penetrate the weakened defenses. Blood and oil erupted from the cyber demon, yet he strained to keep himself upright. Another round dislocated his shoulder, but the mad scientist still persisted, coughing out his insides when a hail of bullets released in rapid-fire.

“Just fucking die already, you idget!” Quicksilver bellowed irritably, unloading two more rounds until Varys finally collapsed onto the floor, his bloody hand leaving a trail on the steel container.

Guillotine-like, rust-colored scythe in his bony hand, the wraith looked over the dying cyber demon, watching the life slowly leave his disheveled body. But to his bewilderment, the reaper felt no presence of a soul for him to collect. Not even a tiny fragment!

“Varys... What were you really?” the lich wondered out loud.

“Master,” Triad yelled when he, Penny, Andrei, and Kilroy descended from the chaos behind them. “There’s an egg buried inside, assimilating those stolen souls! You have to destroy that vat!”

“An egg?” Questioned Penny Dreadful. “Shouldn’t we harness it? Maybe it could be useful for our-”

“No,” the lich rejected calmly. “I don’t want any part of that traitor surviving.” Turning his attention to the dracolich, he commanded, “Andrei. Drink it dry and replenish your strength.”

The trio of heads loomed over the vat and thirstily dove into the multi-colored liquids, swallowing the essence with thick gulps. Slowly, the container drained until every drop was depleted. Invigorated energy washed over the mighty dragon, and his power increased ten-fold when a renewed furnace burned in his belly.

“Now raze this entire place to ashes!”

After that, the tri-headed monster rose to carry out his task; the lich launched a wave of black magic to make the vat explode, fire and smoke enveloping the metallic egg inside. A blaze crackled and smoked about the immolated ovum.

Mortis turned to the black stallion, resting a cold, bony palm on his toned shoulder. “You have shown me unfettered loyalty, Kitasan. It will not go underappreciated. I swear you will be eternally rewarded when my revenge is complete.”

“Thank you, master,” Triad said humbly, his head bowed in reverence as the pillar of fire burned.

Casting his hollow gaze at the griffoness, the lich added, “You’re free to come with us and help fulfill my vendetta, should you still wish.”

“Yes, please! Get me out of this place. I’m dying to try out my new upgrades on Beatrix and her sorry friends~!” Penny hooted maliciously.

“Then the time has come to end Atalanta and Zeloph! Once and for all!” Declared Mortis, his bony fist tightened. Under the galvanized Andrei’s rampage, the whole factory began to implode, metal pieces and machinery falling off their hinges as putrid green, vermillion flames ate at the iron interior. Triad also figured that, as a result of Varys’ demise, the tech that empowered Zebrica would be dampened in its effectiveness.

Mortis opened his ghastly rift and passed through, followed by Quicksilver. Penny looked around, noticing Professor Kilroy’s absence. “Daddy? Where’d you run off to!? Dad!”

“We can’t stay here, Penny! This whole place is about to blow!” urged Triad, tugging on her feathered arm as the nude woman pulled away.

“But what about my dear father!?”

“I’m sure he’ll pop up later. Now c’mon!”

"And our coffins...?"

"I'm sure our master has an alternative in mind! He's obviously far more powerful than before!"

Reluctantly, the clockwork griffoness followed her partner through the portal as Andrei finished his immolation and sailed through. The portal shimmered for a moment before it died away.

Kilroy watched them leave, his hands in his pockets. Without the Varys’ aid, he doubted the others' belief in him was strong enough to maintain the tulpa...yet he had no regrets. "Take care of my dear daughter, boy." A smile crossed his face when the ceiling caved in with a crash, his old body crushed and buried under the fiery beams that rained down in a thunderous thud.

Alarms died when the iron facility finally collapsed. Hours passed before the fires burned away across the ruins. Smoke continued to rise from the wrecked factory, pieces of seared metal shards cast across the barren rocks with finality.

It wouldn’t be long until scouts from the Zebrican Empire would notice and investigate the wreckage, as their machines started to lose control without the network to aid their tech.

Yet within the smoldering rubble, against all likelihood, stood the biomechanical egg, unharmed by the flames and explosions alike.

And with a slight twitch, cracks began to form on the outer shell under a hellish blood-red sky.