A whore and her pimps set up an ambush, they fuck with the wrong demon

THE WHORE'S RECKONING – A STREETWALKER'S DAMNATION

The alley was a festering wound in Torino's underbelly—stench of stale urine and rotting garbage mingling with the cloying sweetness of cheap perfume and the metallic tang of fresh blood.

"Damn it... I understand we have gotta choose quiet spots to do our... jobs... but what the fuck is this dump!?" A soul fragmment, yup dripping with nauseous corruption, the pale vixen was the perfect bait indeed. Stefano couldn't help but muse to himself.

"I guess there is no need to feel guilty if we test out some of the Osiris' powers tonight. Holy shit, these are some nasty ass souls..."

The blonde whore, her stage name "Bianca", real name: Giulia Mancini, age 28, three outstanding warrants for fraud, leaned against the graffiti-stained brickwork with practiced nonchalance.

"At least she is pretty..."

Her fishnets were ripped at the thighs, the petite beauty's faux-leather miniskirt barely covering the rose tattoo above her bubble butt—a tramp stamp she'd gotten in prison. The heavy makeup Maybelline foundation two shades too light, smudged black eyeliner couldn't hide the track marks on her slender neck or the yellowing bruise around her left eye from last night's dissatisfied client.

"The streets aren't merciful with the weak, did you know men make up over 80% of homeless people?"

Her pimps—"Snake", real name: Marco Ferrara, 34, wanted in five countries for human trafficking, and "Razor", real name: Boris Mikaliev, 29, ex-mercenary turned enforcer for the Bratva—lurked in the shadows like jackals.

"How hideous, let's end this charade... I can't believe the police ain't on their asses yet, maybe someone is covering for this little operation."

Snake's switchblade, a cheap Chinese knockoff, glinted under the flickering streetlamp, while Razor's knuckle-dusters, custom-made in Moscow, steel spikes filed to razor points, creaked as he clenched his fists.

Stefano let them see him first—a tall, well-dressed mark with a Rolex that probably cost more than their entire operation made in a month.

"Looking for company, handsome?" Bianca purred, her voice dripping with faux sweetness as her nicotine-stained fingers reached for his belt. The stench of stale menthol cigarettes and day-old vodka wafted from her chapped lips.

Stefano's grin was a devil's promise.

"Oh, tesoro… you have no idea."

THE FIRST KILL – SNAKE'S GUTTING (OSIRIS RING: +15% DIVINITY)

Snake struck first—blade flashing toward Stefano's kidney in a move he'd used to shiv twenty-three men in prison showers, the pimp's low baritone was full of mockery,

"Are you lost, motherfucker?"

Stefano moved.

"Heheh..."

His right hand morphed—fingers elongating into obsidian talons that sliced through Snake's wrist like a guillotine. The severed hand thumped onto the wet pavement, fingers still twitching around the knife handle.

"C-Cazzo—!" Snake screamed, stumbling back as blood painted the alley walls in crimson streaks.

Stefano pounced.

The incubus' left hand—palm glowing with the Osiris Ring's necrotic energy—plunged into Snake's gut.

"FUCK!!!"

The gangster's corrupt soul slithered out like spoiled sausage links, steaming in the cold night air.

"Y-you—" Snake gurgled, the unlucky bastard's face turning ashen as Stefano's demonic claw squeezed his pancreas into paste. The Osiris ring glowed in the dark alley as Stefano activated the fallen divinity's powers.

Soul Absorption

Corruption Level: 89% (Human trafficking, ****, ****-for-hire)

"Osiris Judgment."

Life-**** Extraction: The antediluvian relic pulsed as Snake's blackened soul unspooled from his screaming mouth—a writhing, tar-like essence that coiled around Stefano's arm before being absorbed

"Heheheheheehehehhehehhehhheheh!!!"

Divinity Boost: The ring's hieroglyphs flared crimson, the fallen divinity's essence sang as Stefano feasted on the pimp's wicked soul.

*Thud*

Snake's mummified corpse collapsed like a deflated balloon, the corrupt pimp's empty eye sockets dripping black ichor.

"Now, let's see if the other bastard pissed his pants or was smart enough to flee... nevermind, we have a daredevil on our hands."

THE SECOND KILL – RAZOR'S MIND RAID (SKILLS ACQUIRED: [ADVANCED HAND-TO-HAND, BASIC HACKING, ADVANCED GAMBLING])

Razor was smarter—he lunged low, knuckle-dusters aimed for Stefano's groin in a brutal Spetsnaz groin strike that had crushed many a testicle.

"I've gotta thank you, demon!! I couldn't stand that bastard, let me reward you for this favour..."

Stefano laughed.

His knee smashed upward—crunching into Razor's nose with the **** of a freight train.

*BANG!!*

Cartilage exploded in a wet spray, the Russian thug's septum piercing his frontal lobe as bone fragments ricocheted inside his skull.

"B-Blyat—!" Boris choked, blood bubbling from his ruined face as the ex mercenary collapsed to his knees.

Stefano grabbed his head—both hands clamping like a hydraulic press as his incubus psychometry activated.

Mind Raid Papyrus

Neural Infiltration: Stefano's consciousness speared through Razor's dying brain—a psychic violation that tore through memories like a chainsaw through tissue paper. The corrupt bastard's screams reminded him to never try this on normal people.

"AAAAAHHH!!!"

Skill Theft:

Advanced Hand-to-Hand Combat, Spetsnaz close-quarters training, downloaded as muscle memory

Basic Hacking, Bratva cybercrime tutorials, assimilated

Advanced Gambling, Casino money-laundering techniques, absorbed

Final Extraction: Stefano ripped free just as Razor's brainstem ruptured, leaving the Russian twitching in a pool of his own blood...

Two lives taken so easily, indeed with great harems come great powers.

"Such is the way, stay in school kids..."

THE WHORE'S CORRUPTION – BIANCA'S BREAKING

Bianca scrambled backward, her fishnet-clad legs tangling as the pale vixen pissed herself in terror. The stench of ammonia mixed with her cheap perfume as Stefano loomed over her.

"P-please! I-I didn't—!"

Stefano grabbed the sinful slut by her slender neck, lifting the slender vixen until her stiletto heels dangled two feet off the ground.

"Nnngh!!"

His free hand ripped her dress down the middle—buttons popping, the cheap fabric shredded to reveal a lace bra, stolen from a Via Garibaldi boutique, stretched taut over silicone-enhanced DD-cups.

"You owe me now," he growled, the incubus' deep baritone dripping with infernal promise.