The dark ritual attacts the Abyss Hunters' exorcist

The Osiris Gambit – Xibalba’s Embrace

"We have company tonight..."

The air in the Egyptian Museum’s hidden crypt was thick with the scent of myrrh and something far older—something that slithered between dimensions.

He could sense someone was tracking him down, but Stefano didn't bother losing the pursuers.

"Let them come."

The milf curator, Veronica was waiting for her master.

The voluptuous milf’s breath came in ragged gasps as she led Stefano deeper into the subterranean labyrinth, her once-proud posture now bent under the weight of the Osiris Ring’s corruption. The serpent mark between her thighs pulsed in time with Stefano’s heartbeat, her body no longer her own.

“H-Here,” she whispered, pressing a trembling hand against a section of hieroglyph-covered wall. The stone groaned open, revealing a descending staircase carved from black basalt. “The Canopic Jar of Seth… it’s down there.”

Stefano’s golden eyes gleamed in the darkness. “And the exorcist?”

Veronica shuddered. “Waiting.”

The Descent Into Xibalba

The moment Stefano’s boot touched the final step, the air changed.

A voice—smoky, contralto, dripping with the cadence of ancient jungles—echoed through the chamber:

“Tanzil’Uddunya, sixth form: Xibalba’s damnation.”

The world ripped apart.

One moment, Stefano stood in a crypt. The next—

Hell.

Or at least, the Mayan rendition of it.

The chamber had transformed into a cavernous underworld, its walls slick with blood-red vines, its ceiling lost in a swirling miasma of obsidian smoke. The ground beneath his feet was a living thing—a writhing mass of skeletal hands and serpents, their hisses harmonizing into a chorus of damned souls.

And standing at the center of it all—

Mirabella.

The voluptuous Brazilian beauty was a sight to behold, her wide childbearing hips lit a fire in the incubus' loins. Had the exotic spiritual master been surrounded by anything different than chattering skulls that is.

The Exorcist Unveiled

She was a vision of divine wrath and sinful temptation—a paradox carved in flesh. Clad in a Mayan warrior’s battle regalia that clung to every curve, her sinful body was a weapon as much as her rituals.

"Damn... Focus Stefano, breeding, later, breeding, later..."

The amazonian beauty's obsidian-tipped spear gleamed under the hellish light, but it was her eyes that arrested Stefano—pools of liquid amber, burning with the fury of a thousand exorcisms.

“Stefano Bianchi,” she purred, her smoky contralto charged with hypnotic charisma. “The Vatican’s archives warned me you’d be trouble.”

Stefano’s shadow clones hissed at his back, their forms flickering like candle flames in the psychic storm of Xibalba.

“Mirabella,” he murmured, tasting the name. “Abyss Hunter ****? I’m flattered, seems Enrico didn't spare anything...”

She twirled her spear, the motion making her full breasts sway hypnotically beneath the jade-adorned leather of her corset. “Don’t be. I’m here to end you.”

The Dance of Blades and Souls

The first strike came faster than thought.

Mirabella moved, her spear lashing out in a silver arc. Stefano barely dodged, the obsidian tip grazing his cheek—and the wound burned, holy energy searing his corrupted flesh.

“Fuck—!” He backflipped, landing atop a mound of skulls as his shadow clones lunged at her.

Mirabella laughed, her hips swaying as she spun, her spear cleaving through the clones like smoke. “Cute trick. But Xibalba eats shadows for breakfast.”

Stefano bared his teeth. “Let’s try something real then.”

The Osiris Ring flared, and the ground erupted with spectral hands—the souls he’d harvested, now given form. They clawed at Mirabella’s legs, their moans a symphony of the damned.

For the first time, she faltered.

“Necromancy?” Her eyes widened. “You’re digging your grave deeper, professor.”

Stefano lunged, his claws aiming for her throat—

"What the fuck!?"

The Hypnotic Turn

He had been confident in his skills, the Osiris ring had never betrayed his trust.

"Damn it!!"

Until now that is.

The incubus' claws had been inches away from the Brazilian beauty's jugular, yet the distance seemed to be a moat that no amount of superhuman strength could overcome.

"It would have worked on a lesser... being, but I am no common wench demon. This is my spiritual realm, enjoy it."

The attack was splendid.

—Yet it froze mid-air.

Mirabella’s amber eyes glowed, her pupils elongating into serpentine slits. The Mark of Ixchel—the jaguar goddess’s blessing—burned between her breasts, its power slamming into Stefano’s mind like a tidal wave.

“Look at me,” she commanded, her voice now a honeyed poison.

Stefano’s muscles locked. The Eye of Horus in his left pupil fought the compulsion, but Xibalba was her realm. His body wasn’t his own anymore.

Mirabella stepped closer, her spear clattering to the ground as she cupped his face. “All that power,” she murmured, her thumb tracing his lower lip. “Wasted on vengeance.”

Stefano’s breath hitched as her other hand slid down his chest, her nails scraping his abs. “You could’ve been magnificent.”

Her hips pressed against his, the heat of her making his cock throb despite himself.

“Instead,” she whispered, her lips brushing his ear, “you’ll die hard.”

The Corruption Reversed

But Stefano grinned.

“Wrong.”

The Osiris Ring exploded with dark energy, its power reversing the hypnosis—not breaking it, but twisting it. Mirabella gasped as the serpent mark on Stefano’s finger replicated itself on her inner thigh, its coils sinking into her flesh.

“W-What—?”

Stefano’s hand fisted in her braids, yanking her head back. “You thought Xibalba was yours?” He licked a stripe up her throat. “This is my hell now.”

The ground shuddered as the Canopic Jar of Set—hidden beneath the altar—shattered, its dark essence flooding the chamber.

Mirabella screamed as the energy hit her, the voluptuous woman's back arching as Stefano’s corruption flooded her veins.

“S-Stefano—!”

“Say my name again,” he growled, grinding his hardening cock against her. “Louder.”

The Climax

The battle became something else entirely.

Mirabella’s spear lay forgotten as Stefano tore through her warrior’s leathers, his claws leaving red trails down her caramel skin. She fought—oh, how she fought—but every strike, every curse, only fed the antediluvian relic’s fallen divinity.

"W-Wait!! I'm sorry, ok? I'll put a good word for you, f-fuck!!!"

When he finally took her—bent over the sacrificial altar, her massive ass bouncing with each brutal thrust—the exotic exorcist's screams of rage melted into moans.

“Y-You bastard—!”

“And yet,” Stefano laughed, sinking his fangs into her shoulder as he hilted himself to the root inside the Brazilian beauty's tight pussy, “you’re dripping.”

The moment he came—flooding her with tainted seed—Xibalba shattered.

The crypt returned.

The Jar’s power, Seth divinity was his.

And Mirabella?

She knelt at his feet, the curvy woman's amber eyes now golden, her luscious lips parted around a single word:

“Master.”