NTR & Heartbreaks (Thorjen Last Verse) Part 2

The crowd roared in anticipation as the doors slowly opened, revealing the tall and voluptuous Elven woman. Her thick blonde hair cascaded down her bare shoulders, framing her sharply cut features and piercing eyes. But what caught everyone's attention were her obscenely large breasts, barely covered by golden clasps that seemed to struggle to contain them. Her entire body was adorned with gaudy gold jewelry, including a sheer thong that left little to the imagination.

the crowd erupted into applause, mesmerized by the sight of this beautiful being. At the end of the altar stood Marco, his eyes filled with lust as he watched Eleanor approach him, her voluptuous curves jiggling and bouncing with each step.

He discreetly adjusted his throbbing member, trying to hide how turned on he was by her provocative attire.

"You look incredible," he managed to stammer out. "I knew wearing that would be the final cherry on top, my love. Come here."

Without hesitation, Eleanor obeyed, wrapping her arms around Marco as they indulged in a wet and lewd kiss for all to see.

Unable to contain himself any longer, Marco grabbed a handful of her bare ass, his fingers digging into her flesh and playfully prodding her anus, while the crowd erupted into whistles and cheers.

As they pulled away from each other, Marco leaned in close to her ear and whispered,

"I can't wait to enjoy your asshole later."

Eleanor blushed at his words but couldn't conceal her excitement as a short man dressed in pale robes appeared beside them, holding a tall wizard's hat and a large book.

"Shall we begin the ceremony... Ser?" he asked.

"Of course," Marco replied with a smug grin. But before they could continue, his gaze flickered upwards to a dove perched above them - the same dove that had been following him for weeks now. With a flick of his hand, he sent a devastating burst of Qi towards it, causing the bird to crash to the ground, lifeless.

But it seemed the dove had no fear of ****, for it welcomed it and understood it all too well. Marco couldn't help but feel a momentary twinge of regret as he turned back to Eleanor, ready to claim her as his bride.

********

The air around me was bitingly cold, a stark contrast to the warm confusion and betrayal swirling within me. I couldn't even begin to process what I had just witnessed. The woman in that obscenely elaborate attire – she was undeniably my mother, yet in a context so alien and disturbing, marrying... Marco. My stomach churned with nausea, a physical manifestation of the turmoil in my mind.

'This is all an illusion, a false future spun by the fates,' I reminded myself, trying to anchor my thoughts in reality. My fingers involuntarily caressed the thorny rose mark on my chest, a constant reminder of the pact with Rose and the growing determination to shatter the fates' illusions.

Pulling myself from these thoughts, I realized I was kneeling on frozen snow, my hands numb and aching from the cold. As I lifted my helmet, a scene of desolation unfolded before me. The ground was littered with corpses, a macabre tapestry of **** painted on the snowy canvas. The scent of decay permeated the air, and the distant crackling of fire eating away at the forest added to the hellish landscape.

Rising to my feet, I prepared to step forward when a shadowy figure emerged from the smog. At first, the silhouette was obscured, but as it drew nearer, I recognized the tall, legged figure in embarrassingly skimpy leathers. Relief washed over me as I recognized her face. "M-mother," I uttered instinctively, though something felt amiss.

She was different – her skin a golden bronze, her face adorned with unfamiliar makeup and jewelry. As she approached with measured steps, I realized with a sinking heart that this might not be my mother after all.

Her eyes, brimming with tears and a fury I had never seen, bore into mine. "M-mom... it’s me... wh-why are you dressed like that?" I barely managed to articulate my confusion when she did the unthinkable. With a swift motion, she hurled a dagger infused with Qi directly at me, leaving me stunned and struggling to comprehend the intentions behind her unexpected, aggressive gesture.

The dagger's impact was like a searing bolt of lightning, the burning metal piercing through my shoulder with a brutal ****. I stumbled, barely keeping my balance on the frozen snow.

"Mother... why?" I gasped, the surrealness of the situation gnawing at me.

"You... you are not my son. My son would never... I must do this, for the world... to stop the demon," she choked out through her tears. Her bizarre attire faded into irrelevance as her familiar maternal anguish shone through, making me forget the fates' twisted game momentarily. My sole concern was the pain etched on my mother's face as she attacked me.

More daggers flew, each one finding its mark. I managed to deflect the fourth, but the damage was done. Blood pooled from my wounds, my mind a whirlwind of confusion. 'If I die here, do the fates win?'

Then, a familiar voice whispered in my mind, "Thorjen... do not resist. Let the chaos within you take control. It's the only way to defeat them."

'Mastra... Mundus?' I thought, recognizing the voice I hadn't heard in so long.

“RAaaaah Die, demon!” My mother's roar snapped me back to reality as she charged, sword in hand.

'No, please... mother...' I pleaded silently.

"WAKE UP, BOY! FIGHT BACK! CLAIM YOUR BIRTHRIGHT... NOW!"

The turmoil within reached its peak, and the red bead in my gut burst, unleashing a wave of dark energy. Without thinking, I shouted, "CHAOS REND!" A dark violet arrow ripped through the air, engulfing everything in electrifying darkness, halting my mother's charge.

My scream echoed to the darkened skies. Then, amidst the chaos, I heard a groan, followed by thunder and a burst of golden sunlight. As the dark illusion dissipated, I found myself atop a golden hill under a white sky, overlooking an endless, pale golden sea.

"Did I die?" I wondered aloud.

Suddenly, an overwhelming pressure **** me to my knees. With trepidation, I slowly turned around, preparing to face whatever new challenge awaited me in this surreal landscape.

"N-no...no way..." Thorjen's voice trembled as he gazed up at the colossal silhouette looming in the skies. Its face obscured by a thick veil of clouds and smoke, the titan's immense presence dwarfed everything Thorjen had ever known or imagined. He had heard tales of great beasts, but this entity was beyond any legend, making him feel utterly insignificant.

As he sat there, paralyzed, a thunderous voice echoed through the air.

"My greatest disappointment... to think the last of our people rests on your shoulders, bringing such calamity to sacred grounds."

The voice filled Thorjen with a sense of foreboding.

Turning, he was stunned to find Mastramundus beside him, his expression one of sheer terror.

"I was chaotic in my youth, cast down from the heavens for meddling with mortals. But I never forgot who I was. For the blood in your veins, I'll help you remember who you are. The rest is up to you."

Thorjen's mind was suddenly overwhelmed by an invasive ****, a torrent of knowledge and power. He wanted to scream, to escape, but darkness enveloped him once more.

Dao of Hope & Harmony cross route skilled acquired = The Warg

"Thorjen can now see through the eyes of animals of a level beneath them, but as his power grows, who knows what other beings he may control."

Time lost its meaning, and Thorjen found himself back in the grey realm, now drastically altered. The remaining doors and walls were crumbling.

"Thorjen! You're back! What's happening?" Petra's voice rang out.

"I... I don't know... But I think... I think I did it," he replied, a sense of accomplishment amidst the chaos.

"Petra, come with me. We can finally leave this place," Thorjen urged, his voice filled with newfound confidence.

"Thorjen... I... I don’t know if—" Petra hesitated.

"Trust me. I think this might work." Thorjen tucked the brooch into his pocket and focused. Extending his hand into the air, he closed his eyes, surrendering to the chaos within. His eyes snapped open, glowing with energy.

"Dark Ball!" A red orb materialized and hurtled towards a grey door, ripping a tear in reality.

"Thorjen... you opened another door?" Petra sounded amazed.

Without wasting a moment, Thorjen rushed towards the tear in reality and leaped through just as it was closing.

On the other side, he was assailed by a cacophony of sounds and a kaleidoscope of colors. When the chaos subsided, he found himself in a familiar cave, separated from a group of people by a shimmering golden barrier. Their movements and voices seemed distorted, slow, and muffled. As Thorjen pondered his next move, a voice, unexpected and clear, reached his ears.

"I’ve been expecting you, 10th brother... apologies for such an abrupt introduction," the voice resonated in Thorjen's mind, causing him to tense up. 'How can I hear a voice inside my head?'

"I wish we had time for a proper conversation, but time is a luxury we don't have now. Your awakening of the fate stone, a relic dormant for centuries, has drawn the attention of experts across the Lucien Kingdom. I've manipulated time to bring you here swiftly. You see that spinning golden vortex to your right? Walk through it to return to safety. Tell no one of what you witnessed in the stone. When things settle, I will seek you out. It's my duty as the head of the company to welcome new arrivals. Farewell for now."

Thorjen's heart was awash with questions, but one name floated to the surface of his thoughts. 'The headmaster?'

Stepping out of the golden vortex, Thorjen found himself spilling onto sandy ground. Disoriented from traversing so many strange portals, he took a moment to sit and appreciate the stability of his surroundings. Looking around, he realized he was in an alleyway near the Moonjin Tea House.

Brushing off his clothes, he walked towards the tea house, feeling a strange sense of eeriness in the air. The streets were more deserted than he remembered. As he turned a corner, he froze at the sight of someone approaching him.

"Ar-arya?" he called out, his voice snapping the short girl out of her reverie. Her face, etched with terror, shocked Thorjen. "Y-you're alive?" she gasped, then closed the distance between them, throwing herself into his arms.

"Thank the gods, Thorjen! Where have you been? It's been almost two weeks... Do you know what's happened? The citadel was attacked by a horde, the princess ventured into the secret realm, the knights have..."

"Wait-wait Arya, stop. Two weeks? I was gone for two weeks?" Thorjen interrupted, his voice laden with disbelief.

"Yes, where have you been? We searched everywhere for you. Then the Princess was summoned to lead her party into the secret realm. She didn't want to go without you, but had ****. Ness and your friend Threyja went with her, but..."

"But what, Arya? What happened?"

Arya's eyes were filled with worry and fear, hinting at a turmoil much greater than Thorjen could have anticipated. The reality he had returned to was far different from the one he had left, and he braced himself for the revelations that were about to unfold.

Arya's expression turned somber as she conveyed the grim situation. "The beast horde struck, and there's been no word from any team that ventured into the realm. The Queen has sent Golden ranked knights, but fears are growing that even that might not be sufficient. And with the Golden Tempest ill..."

Thorjen's heart skipped a beat. "The Golden Tempest? My mother is ill? Where is she? What happened?"

Arya looked taken aback at first, but then her expression softened with understanding. "It's best you see for yourself," she said.

Following Arya, Thorjen was staggered by the devastation. The citadel, once a beacon of splendor, lay in ruins. The streets were filled with cries of despair and frantic efforts to salvage what remained. Thorjen couldn't believe the transformation from just two weeks ago.

His thoughts were consumed by his mother's condition. A year had passed since he last saw her, and now she was unwell.

Arriving at a relatively unscathed part of the city, they stopped outside a well-maintained cottage. Arya hesitated at the door, a look of sadness crossing her face.

"Why have we stopped? Is my mother here?" Thorjen implored.

"Thorj...she returned a week ago, but something was different. They said she..." Arya trailed off, unable to finish.

Thorjen, driven by urgency and concern, burst into the cottage. Inside, he found a room lined with beds, reminiscent of the infirmary where he had awoken after the arena. And there she was, his mother, looking as ethereal as ever, gazing vacantly out the window.

"M-mother..." Thorjen choked out, tears welling up as he rushed to her side. He embraced her tightly, overcome with emotion. "I missed you so much..."

But something was amiss. As he pulled back, he saw confusion, even fear, in her eyes.

"Mother...what's wrong?" he asked, his voice laced with concern.

She turned towards Arya, who was slowly approaching, and uttered words that sent Thorjen reeling.

"Who are you? And where is my beloved... Where is my husband?"