- Reunion -

Chapter Two- Reunion -

As the morning light painted a gentle tapestry over the town, an unsettling contrast unfolded within the hero's party. Despite the sun's warm embrace, it failed to thaw the hearts of the four women standing in solemn vigil. Their gaze was fixed upon a heart-wrenching scene—a dark-skinned man tightly cradling another woman of similar complexion. Yet, the light of day revealed more than just physical presence; it exposed the haunting imprints of the night that the Saintess, in her initial discovery, could not perceive.

The rescued woman's body told a harrowing tale of **** and ****—etched piercings and degrading writings bore witness to a life not merely subjected to exploitation but marred by unspeakable humiliation. The extent of the suffering eluded even Zasalamel's imagination. While Amelia, with her healing abilities, had mended most of the physical damage inflicted upon the captive, the night held a lingering grasp on her spirit.

Despite the Saintess's efforts, the woman lay still, her eyes refusing to open. The only sign of life persisted in the gentle rise and fall of her chest, punctuated by sporadic screams of terror, remnants of nightmares that haunted her even in the solace of slumber. The morning, casting its light upon the town, seemed unable to penetrate the darkness, still clutching the rescued souls.

"This...this burden is mine to bear! I should never have fled. I failed her, I failed my mother, my sister—everything my father instilled in me. I should've died protecting them; instead, I ran..." A cold aura of fear spilled forth as he clutched the girl tightly.

The conscious and semi-conscious women in the vicinity paid little heed to the unfolding drama. Their attention wasn't on him at all. Fear gripped them as the ominous aura enveloped them. It prompted simultaneous screams as they desperately tried to crawl away from the necromancer. However, the fear's reign was short-lived. Like a beacon of hope piercing through the darkness, the Paladin began to radiate a brilliant light, countering the necromancer's malevolent energy.

Alice stepped forward, approaching directly behind the necromancer. She fell to her knees, wrapping her arms around his shoulders and resting her head against his back.

"You did everything you could, and that's enough. It wasn't fair that you tried to do the right thing and had to sacrifice everything for it," she reassured, tightening her grip and pressing her head against his back.

"We're here for you, and there's a future ahead. As long as she lives, there's a future for all of us, and we'll build it together as one big, happy family."

The aura of fear crumbled under the Paladin's words and comforting touch. Yet, they weren't enough to vanquish the necromancer's sorrow. A single tear escaped, splashing down onto his sister's cheek, a silent testament to the weight of his emotions.

7 Years Ago:

"Ugh... Mom... sister..." The young man tossed and turned in bed until he eventually threw himself out, hitting the floor and jolting awake.

"Ahhh, where am I?" He screamed, sitting up and surveying the unfamiliar surroundings—a single-room cabin, not his own.

"Shut up, why are you so nosy?" An annoyed, feminine voice retorted from the other side of the cabin.

Seated at a desk was a woman with midnight-black hair cascading in bewitching waves just past her shoulders. She wore a black-laced corset accentuating her curvy hourglass figure, with only a thong and flowing cloth covering her lower half. Fishnets adorned her legs up to the mid-thigh, and her moon-pale skin contrasted sharply with crimson-red eyes. Perched on her shoulder was a raven with abyssal-black feathers and blood-red eyes.

The young man couldn't look away, captivated by her enchanting presence that beckoned attention and desire.

"No matter the age, men never change, huh," the mysterious woman remarked, setting aside her pencil and turning toward the young man.

"Now, who are you? Why did you crash into me, and why have you been asleep for three days?" She inquired.

"I...I've been asleep for three days?" he questioned in surprise.

"Yes, I spoke clearly! For three days and three nights, to be exact. Always tossing and turning, calling out for your sister and mother. It only stopped when I shared the bed with you to sleep," she said, her eye twitching. "And I always woke up with you clinging to me in one way or another."

The young man's eyes shot open, and he began apologizing for taking her time and bed as well as for any inappropriate touching that might have occurred.

Apologies spilled from the young man's lips as he struggled to make sense of the last few days. The mysterious woman listened, her irritation shifting to a bemused smirk.

"Save your apologies, kid. You were clearly wrestling with something in your dreams," she said, the raven on her shoulder cawing in agreement.

"Tell me who you are and what you are doing in my woods?" She said, stepping directly in front of him, emphasizing her swaying hips as she stopped right before him and shifted her pose to one with a gentle hip arc.

The young man gulped as he looked up at the woman from her crotch height. After a minute of silence, he began to recount the story of how he ended up in her presence.

"My name is Zasalamel, son of the Shaman Zalasir, the healer Niaara, and elder sister to Zaharae. We lived in the nearby border town that connected these two countries. My father spent his time working as an adventurer, while my mother, as you might have guessed, was a healer helping the sick regardless of status or name.

This would often cause my family to clash with the local noble families. One of the most significant issues was the treatment of commoners and serfs. Being a healer, my mother saw firsthand the brutality that nobles committed against the commoners. The **** of women and **** and beatings of men just for their enjoyment. While most commoners were scared to stand against the nobility, we were not!" Zasalamel said, his head now hanging low, tears pouring out of his eyes.

"We may have been considered commoners by this country's standards, but where my family is from, power, not bloodline, rules everything, and we were not without power. A powerful shaman who fought and died protecting that town and a beloved healer who has easily treated the entire town on more than one occasion, be it sickness or mortal injury. We believed the commoners would stand with us as we stood up for them... but... but not only did they abandon us, they betrayed us!" He said as he started punching the floor, thinking about what was currently happening to his sister, mother, and childhood friend right at this moment.

The witch's countenance remained cold and unreadable as she loomed over the boy. "Tell me, boy, what is it that you wish for?"

"I... I want... them back! Mom... sis...g," before he could finish, the witch interrupted.

"That doesn't sound at all possible," she said with a lack of emotion.

"Then... I want ****... I want them to suffer," he replied.

"And what are you willing to give for that?" She asked, a sinister smile appearing on her face.

Young Zasalamel paused, his head lifting to meet the witch's eyes.

PRESENT DAY

"I really don't know how we are going to handle this," Nalia said.

"Well, we just can't leave them here!" Amelia responded.

"And who's going to feed and protect them all? You saved them, and you have healed them! You've done your part, but we can't protect these women indefinitely. We have a job to do, dammit!"

The sultry rogue and the sexy Saintess argued back and forth about what to do with all the broken women while Nura Abu simply watched, not taking sides.

Zasalamel still held his **** sister, facing away from the rest, as he stared at her face, running through his mind with every atrocity he wanted to commit on the village. Yet, he hasn't. Despite the hatred in his heart, he still had three safeguards stopping him. Those safeguards went by the names of Alice, Amelia, and Nalia.

Zasalamel's grip tightened on his sister's **** form, his internal struggle evident in his jaw clenching. The village tormentors deserved retribution, and the seething anger within him demanded release. Yet, as his thoughts swirled in a tempest of ****, the grounding presence of Alice, Amelia, and Nalia held him back from the precipice of darkness.

Alice stepped forward, her voice cutting through the heated debate. "We can't abandon them, but Nalia has a point. We need to relocate them to somewhere safer than this horrible place. Somewhere, their minds and spirits can actually start healing.

Amelia, though still visibly frustrated, nodded in agreement. "Fine, but if that is our course of action... then why not the Church of Meridianne? She is, after all, the goddess of Mercy, Forgiveness, and new beginnings, and as her chosen, I can make sure her worshippers properly take care of these women."

"Last I checked, there isn't a church or temple dedicated to your goddess anywhere near here, so even if we agreed, how do you expect us to get all twenty of these women there?" Nalia questioned skeptically.

Amelia turned towards Zasalamel and walked slowly over to him. She placed one hand on his upper arm, gently gripping it, and another on his heart, just above his sister's head.

"Zasalamel, darling... I have a favor to ask you. To save these women... to save your sister. You'll need to open a spirit gate," she said.

Alice spoke up once again, concern lacing her voice. "A spirit gate? Do you realize how much mana will cost to use, not to mention maintaining it depending on the distance?"

"Of course I do. It's part of the reason we didn't ask him to just bring us here with it in the first place, but just like with past emergencies, this is a big one," Amelia argued.

"It's fine... I'll do it," Zasalamel responded. "You just make sure my sister is taken care of..."

A heavy silence settled over the group as the weight of the impending task hung in the air. Zasalamel set his sister down on the ground before, preparing to channel the mana for the spirit gate, knowing the toll it would take on him.

Alice exchanged a glance with Nalia; the fate of the broken women and Zasalamel's sister rested on the success of this endeavor. As the arcane energies began to stir, the heroes prepared themselves to rush each woman beyond the spirit gate as fast as they possibly could, hoping that the actions that they could move fast enough before their necromancer teammate could no longer hold the two gates open.

As the arcane energies stirred around Zasalamel, an ethereal gate three times the size of the average man opened before them, showing the large cathedral with several clerics staring in their direction; some were shocked and confused, while others showed fear. The necromancer focused on maintaining the connection between the two locations, with the strain on his magical reserves becoming apparent.

Amelia was the first to rush through the gateway; the clerics and priests instantly recognized the Saintess and didn't hesitate to follow her lead. Within moments, clerics and paladins were running through the gate, each carefully guiding the women back into one of the buildings connected to the main cathedral.

Just as the final girl was pulled through the gate and the hero's party gathered back on the current side, Zasalamel lost consciousness, causing the gates to collapse.

"Zasalamel!" All four women yelled, rushing to his side.

---

Alice sat in a chair beside the bed where the necromancer lay ****. Two days had passed since then. The women tried to alleviate their worries by continuing the quest they were there to do while one remained behind to watch over him.

A knock echoed at the bedroom door, prompting Alice to pause for a few seconds before a second knock followed. She glanced down at her **** companion before rising from her seat to answer the door. Waiting on the other side was Lucius, the fat and repulsive son of the nobles, garbed in guard armor that seemed comically undersized for his fat body.

Alice's face didn't hide her obvious disgust, but she refrained from letting it slip into her words as she closed her eyes and slightly looked away.

"What brings you here, Lord Lucius?" the Paladin asked.

"Oh, just here to speak with the heroine who will defeat the Demon King. How could I pass up such a chance? You are an inspiration to us all, after all," he claimed, but his eyes stared at her like a piece of meat, drool running down the corner of his mouth as his tongue hung out.

"Well, I'm currently busy at the moment, so please come again... preferably never," she said, attempting to close the door on him, only to have him stick his foot in the way.

"Oh, dear heroine, I implore you! We got off to a bad start, and I brought a peace offering," he said, holding up a bottle of expensive wine and two glasses.

"I don't want our first meeting to give you the wrong impression of me. I've been under a lot of stress lately and haven't had a positive outlet for it, so it's been coming out in a bad way," he explained, giving her a dopy grin that she could only assume was his attempt at appearing sad and sincere.

Alice stared at him for a moment before sighing and letting him into the room where Zasalamel lay **** on the bed.

I'm willing to bet the wine is ****. I'll play along for now, and I will make him suffer when he tries something.

Lucius stepped into the room, his eyes lingering on Alice in a way that would make any woman's skin crawl. She maintained a polite but cold demeanor, careful never to take her eyes off him.

"Thank you for your understanding, dear heroine. I believe a toast is in order to mend our unfortunate introduction," he suggested, pouring the expensive wine into the glasses.

Alice reluctantly accepted the glass, holding it without taking a sip. However, Lucius wasted no time taking a large gulp from his own glass. He continued talking, attempting to sound genuine while his eyes betrayed his true intentions. When his eyes weren't trying to undress her, a slight glow happened in her hand as she silently cast purification on the glass of wine she was holding.

"As the heir to the noble house and captain of the watch, life can be quite overwhelming. The pressure to maintain our status, expectations, and all, plus trying to protect everyone... It becomes a heavy burden," he explained, his words oozing with insincerity.

Alice maintained a vigilant watch on him, silently crafting her next move. The most straightforward resolution would be to end him, but even as the hero, slaying a noble posed complications she couldn't easily evade. Yet, yielding to his desires was never an option she would entertain.

"I've heard of the challenges you face, Lord Lucius, and I sympathize with the burdens you bear," she responded, her words laced with a measured tone. "However, my companions and I have pressing matters to attend to. Your visit comes at an inconvenient time."

Lucius, seemingly undeterred, began to exhibit signs of agitation, his breath growing heavier and his repulsive complexion taking on a flushed reddish hue. Alice maintained a poised exterior, wary of the situation escalating.

"I un...understand ...the urgency of your quest..dear heroi..." before he even finished his statement, he launched head first at the Paladin with his entire body weight in an attempt to **** her onto the ground.

Alice swiftly unsheaths her longsword and strikes the disgustingly fat noble directly in the neck with the bottom. Of her blade, sending him flying back into the door with an impression of the sword's hilt on his neck. The room filled with the clatter of armor and the sound of his heavy breathing. Maintaining her composure, Alice stood her ground as she feared neither demon nor man.

"Lord Lucius, I suggest you reconsider your actions," Alice warned, her voice steady and resolute. The tension in the room escalated, the air thick with the imminent clash.

Luscius stood back onto his feet, the blow seeming to actually do nothing to him. His breathing got heavier, his pupils more dilated as he started pulling his armor and clothes off and throwing them onto the ground, revealing his fat and sweaty body. He had a hard erection pointed at her. In terms of the size, it was much smaller than Zasalamel in length but did make up for it in girth.

Tch... what the? There's no way this walking sack of fat has the power to withstand my strike... why is he like th... the wine! I **** it! Then why did he drink it as... Before she could finish the thought, the ****-up noble charged her again.

In a swift and precise motion, Alice delivered another strike to the noble's neck. However, to her astonishment, he didn't recoil as before. Instead, he absorbed the blow head-on and surged forward, toppling onto her and forcing her to the ground.

As the weight of the repulsive noble bore down on her, Alice grappled to break free from his clutches as he pulled at her armor, trying to tear it from her body.

____

A shadow weaving through the dim-lit room, Nalia swiftly and silently moved through Duke Villainthorn's private office. Her objective remained uncertain, yet the confidential letters and documents scattered around hinted at the Duke's involvement in various illicit activities—****, theft, ****, and even ****. The very foundations of organized crime intertwined with the nobility.

The elven rogue was stupefied at how effortlessly she infiltrated the mansion in broad daylight, the guards preoccupied with their hedonistic pursuits rather than fulfilling their duties.

"Ahh, no stoaaaaa!" The distant sounds of maids subjected to the Duke's guard's debauchery echoed through the mansion, revealing the moral decay within its walls. As Nalia uncovered more damning evidence, her disdain for the town deepened, surprising even herself, given her already low opinion.

Delving deeper into the office, she stumbled upon a trove of older documents, their age setting them apart. Intent on unveiling more secrets, she delved into her exploration, only to be startled by the subtle creak of the study door knob. Instinctively, she leaped into the shadows, melding seamlessly with the darkness next to the desk against the wall. The key to avoiding detection lay in her elven agility and the concealment of the shadows.

The door swung open, revealing Duke Villainthorn as he forcibly dragged a struggling woman into the room against her will. With a single mighty yank, he tossed her into the study, her body landing unceremoniously on the floor on the opposite side of him. Locking the door behind him, the Duke began the unsettling process of undressing, his actions dripping with a predatory intent.

"****, magic, ****, and ****... all that stuff is good for getting you sluts to know your place, but nothing beats just good ol plane **** a screaming struggling slut." The room echoed with the Duke's vile words, a toxic concoction of arrogance and depravity. His callous admission of using ****, magic, ****, and **** for control hung heavily in the air. However, the Duke reveled in proclaiming that nothing surpassed the raw brutality of **** a screaming, struggling woman. He callously seized the woman's leg, forcibly yanking her closer as her **** pleas for help reverberated through the room.

The elf remained cloaked in the shadows, an impassive observer of the spectacle before her. The pained cries of the girl echoed in the room, but they reached not just the ears of the rogue but also the second pair that seemed immune to compassion. Despite her mission to investigate the Duke, the relentless and forceful thrusts, despite his age, held her gaze captive.

Nalia's eyes remained fixed on the sordid scene unfolding before her. The rhythmic cadence of the Duke's actions carved a grotesque dance, his lust-driven exertions causing her loins to heat up and grow wet.

As the girl's pleas intensified, Nalia's heart remained cold. Still, she couldn't help but remember Zasalamel and their first time and how rough he was with her. The room, filled with the stench of debauchery, seemed to close in on her, making her mouth water as she swallowed hard. Despite her desire to maintain detachment, her innate will to become submissive to a dominant male slowly started to surface.

The woman on the floor continued to endure the Duke's ****, unaware of the silent presence in the room. Nalia, entangled in the complexity of her mission, weighed the consequences of her next move, knowing that whatever choice she made would leave an indelible mark on the path she trod.

As the woman's cries intensified, echoing through the chamber, Nalia realized that she might be here for a while. Ensuring she remained concealed, she closed her eyes, seeking solace in thoughts of Zasalamel.

---

Nura Abu and Amelia were assigned the task of scouring the forests surrounding the town for any traces of demonic entities. Following the appearance of the great white wolf, nothing noteworthy had surfaced, leaving the Berserker Nura Abu bored and the presence of the Saintess Amelia seemingly unnecessary.

Despite the monotonous search, Nura Abu's keen senses remained on high alert, her eyes scanning the dense foliage for any flicker of killing intent. On the other hand, Amelia felt a bit out of place, her divine abilities seemingly redundant, especially considering Nura Abu was the only companion who preferred not to have the saintess' support spells cast onto her.

As they delved deeper into the woods, Nura Abu's restlessness grew, her impatience evident in the rhythmic tapping of her fingers against the hilt of her weapon. Sensing the Berserker's frustration, Amelia tried to engage her in conversation.

"Nura Abu, you're concerned about him too; we all are... If I knew that the mana drain would've been this devastating, then I wouldn't have pleaded for him to do it," Amelia said, folding her arms and looking away guiltily.

Nura Abu shook her head, disagreeing with Amelia's assumption. "I ain't worried about him. Zasalamel's not one to fall so easily. He'll find his way back to us, just like he always does."

Amelia's gaze lingered on Nura Abu, a conflicted expression etched across her features. "My heart wants to agree with you, Nura Abu. We've seen Zasalamel fall or be struck down in battle before, and he's always come back. But this time... it's different. He hasn't opened his eyes for two days of complete mana exhaustion. It worries me more than I care to admit."

Nura Abu acknowledged the severity of the situation, her stoic exterior revealing a glimmer of concern. "Speaking of Zasalamel's resilience, I've always wondered about that. No matter where he's struck, even if it's supposed to be a killing blow, he gets back up a few seconds to a few minutes later. It defies any natural order I've seen."

"One of his necromancer spells; I don't know the full mechanics since I don't study the magic, but it has something to do with not allowing his soul to leave his body on ****," Nura Abu explained, her words carrying a sense of mystery that matched the arcane nature of Zasalamel's abilities.

As the two adventurers conversed, Nura Abu effortlessly cut down any random stray wolf that dared to attack them.

"Speaking of the current situation, Nura Abu, what are your thoughts on it?" Amelia inquired, her gaze shifting from the forest's shadows to her Berserker companion.

Nura Abu's response was blunt, carrying the weight of her frustration. "It's all rotten—this town, its people, everything. It might be easier to destroy the town, kill everyone, and let the aftermath be the true cleansing of this place from its corruption."

Amelia couldn't help but furrow her brow at Nura Abu's stark assessment. "I understand the frustration, but wiping out an entire town seems ****, even for us. There are innocents here who don't deserve such a fate."

Nura Abu grunted, her gaze hardened. "Oh? Where were those innocent people when those girls you saved needed them? Or how about Zasalamel?" She replied, cutting a random wolf notably harder than usual, causing the sheer **** of the swing to split the world entirely in two.

Amelia winced at the brutal display but held her ground. "I know it's unfair, and it makes me angry, too, but we can't let that anger blind us. We must find a way to fix this mess without causing more suffering."

Nura Abu remained silent for a moment, her grip on her weapon tightening. "Anger is power, anger is strength. These people lacked anger, so they were weak, and because of that, corruption won."

Amelia looked at Nura Abu, troubled by the intensity in her eyes. "But doesn't that cycle of anger and **** just perpetuate more suffering?"

Nura Abu's gaze didn't waver. "The strong don't suffer; the weak do."

Amelia simply sighed. As the chosen Saintess of the goddess of Mercy, Forgiveness, and New Beginnings, she could never fully grasp her companion's mindset that power rules everything.

"Tch, another pointless search out here in the woods, and the sun is starting to set. Let's head back to the inn and see if there have been any new happenings," Nura Abu said, stretching a little before turning around and walking back toward the town.

____

"...what happened?" The Saintess Amelia asked, looking at the scene before her.

Alice sat in the middle of the room, half naked, half dressed, with bloodstains on her sabaton and her battle gown, calmly and uncaringly sipping a cup of wine. At her feet lay what one could only assume was what used to be a human. Instead, now it was just a pile of mutilated meat and blood.

"A lesson on not trying to take what you aren't strong enough to handle," Alice responded before taking another sip.

"That's the Duke's son, isn't it?" Nalia asked in an uncaring tone.

"It was," Alice responded just as coldly.

"You know I can't resurrect him if his body is this mutilated," Amelia said in an exasperated tone.

"Why isn't that a shame? What will we ever do?" Alice replied almost mockingly.

"You know this will create problems for us if it gets out," Amelia continued.

"Let it, I'll just leave this country and never return. I'm still the chosen, after all. Any country will house me. Nura Abu will follow or go back to her own country," Alice said before trying to take another sip, only to realize the cup was empty.

"You're damn right, and I'd love to see any of these weak men try to stop me!" Nura Abu grinned.

"You are the Saintess of the Church of Meridianne. Meridianne is one of the seven gods of this country's religion. Coming after you would be self-destruction for even the crown to attempt, and I'd love to see them try to catch Nalia! You all aren't members of my party because we are all women; you are my comrades because we stand at the top of our perspective skillsets... and we all get along so well despite our differences in ideas or beliefs." Alice replied with a grin