Chapter Ten: The Sacrifice Under the Night's Cover

The setting sun cast a warm golden glow on the rugged wooden buildings of the town of Stonehoof, and wisps of smoke rose from chimneys, carrying the aroma of roasted meat and ale that permeated the slightly muddy streets. After a week's journey, this "perfect" team—the brave Kyle, the mage Flora, the saint Cecilia, and the elven ranger Aria—finally arrived at this supply point on the border.

As they walked down the street, they attracted a lot of attention.

Kyle walked at the front, his posture upright, wearing leather armor that, though worn, was still clearly of good quality, the longsword at his waist swaying gently with each step. A gentle, slightly weary smile graced his face as he nodded to the townspeople who cast curious glances his way. Yet, beneath that smile lay a barely perceptible stiffness, and a lingering gloom hung in the depths of his eyes.

Flora followed slightly behind him, dressed in an immaculate deep purple mage's robe. Her hood was pulled up slightly, obscuring part of her face, revealing only her beautifully shaped jawline and lips painted with pale purple lip gloss. She walked with an elegant gait, toying with a shimmering arcane crystal in her hand. Occasionally, she would glance around, her gaze carrying the perfect balance of curiosity and aloofness characteristic of mages.

Cecilia walked on the other side, having changed out of her tattered nun's robes into a simple yet exquisitely made white dress. Her platinum blonde hair was styled into an intricate updo, revealing her smooth forehead and slender neck. Her hands were clasped in front of her, and a compassionate and gentle smile graced her face, as if she were constantly bathed in holy light. Occasionally, she would softly offer a blessing to a child begging by the roadside, a faint, reassuring glow emanating from her fingertips.

Arya brought up the rear, her dark green hunting attire impeccably groomed, her longbow and quiver on her back meticulously arranged. Her emerald eyes warily scanned her surroundings, her pointed ears twitching slightly, catching any suspicious sounds. Her expression was aloof, carrying the unique arrogance of an elf, incongruous with the noisy human environment around her, yet perfectly fulfilling her role as a guardian.

They found the best inn in town, "The Sleeping Giant." Kyle, in a steady voice, requested two adjacent superior rooms—one for himself and Arya, and one for Flora and Cecilia, explaining that it would be easier to keep watch and look after them. The innkeeper, a burly man wearing a greasy apron, looked at the extraordinary group of four, especially the two beautiful women, a hint of amazement flashing in his eyes, but more so, awe for the brave team. He quickly arranged the rooms and served them hot food and ale.

Dinner took place in the inn's lobby. Kyle chatted with the innkeeper and several curious adventurers, inquiring about the road ahead and potential monsters, his words polite and his logic clear. Flora occasionally chimed in, analyzing magical traces or elemental anomalies with a professional tone, eliciting nods of agreement from those around her. Cecilia ate quietly, her movements elegant, only offering gentle suggestions of herbs when someone mentioned injuries or illnesses. Arya silently ate fruit, her sharp gaze never leaving the doorway and windows.

Everything seemed perfect. A powerful hero, a wise mage, a holy saint, and a vigilant elf. A standard, enviable adventure team.

Only Kyle knew what a sordid truth lay beneath this perfect facade.

Night fell as scheduled.

As the last light in the inn went out and the town fell asleep, with only the moonlight filtering through the clouds and casting a meager glow, the door to Kyle's room was silently pushed open.

No lights were on. In the darkness, three slender figures slipped into the room like ghosts and gently bolted the door shut behind them.

The perfect disguise she wore during the day melted away like ice and snow the moment she stepped into the room.

Flora casually pulled down her hood, letting her chestnut curls fall loose. She stretched languidly, the collar of her mage's robe slightly open, revealing her delicate collarbone. In the darkness, her eyes no longer gleamed with wisdom, but with naked, greedy desire. She walked to the bedside, sat down without ceremony, crossed one leg, and gently swung her foot in a purple high heel.

Cecilia's compassionate and gentle smile vanished, replaced by an almost indifferent calm, her blue eyes like frozen lakes in the darkness. She gently loosened the sash at the waist of her white dress, letting the hem flare out, the movement carrying a subtle provocation that was the complete opposite of her sanctity.

Arya was the last to enter. She locked the door behind her, her emerald eyes gleaming like a feline's in the darkness. She took off her longbow and quiver, leaned casually against the wall, and began to unbutton her hunting attire with swift, decisive movements, exuding a wild, impatient air.

Kyle sat stiffly on the edge of the bed, his back to them. Even after a week, even after repeating this nauseating ritual every night, he still couldn't get used to it. Hearing the rustling sounds behind him, sounds that represented the peeling away of pretense, his stomach clenched.

"Let's begin, Hero." Flora's voice rang out, a lazy urging breaking the suffocating silence in the room. "Don't disappoint us with today's 'offering'."

Kyle took a deep breath and **** himself to turn around.

The moonlight barely outlined their silhouettes. Three beautiful bodies exuded an alluring aura in the darkness, but Kyle could only see the three greedy, ugly souls beneath them.

There were no extra words, no foreplay, not even eye contact. It was just a transaction, a contract he had to fulfill, a contract he had to pay with his body.

Flora was the first to approach. She reached out her nail-painted hand and deftly unbuckled Kyle's belt. Her cold fingertips occasionally brushed against his abdominal skin, sending a shiver down her spine. She leaned down, her chestnut hair falling and brushing against his thigh, and then, without hesitation, her lips, which had once chanted incantations, took his half-awake desire into their mouth.

Warm, moist, tight… the unique sensations of a woman's mouth enveloped him, accompanied by awkward yet earnest sucking and licking. Kyle closed his eyes, clenched his teeth, and tried to banish the thought "This is Flora" from his mind, regarding it merely as a pure, physical stimulation. But the feeling of being defiled remained, like a persistent, intractable ailment.

Cecilia came over and sat down beside him. Unlike Flora, she wasn't direct. Instead, she reached out the hands that had once cast healing spells and gently stroked his chest and arms, her fingertips cool to the touch, tracing the contours of his taut muscles. Then, she lowered her head, her soft lips kissing his neck and collarbone, leaving a moist trail. Her movements were slow, carrying a paradoxical quality—a mixture of sanctity and desire—that only intensified Kyle's sense of unease and a deep-seated, unsettling feeling.

Arya stood before him, looking down at him. She had removed most of her hunting attire, wearing only a close-fitting shirt and trousers, the slender, agile curves of her elf body faintly visible in the moonlight. Her emerald eyes were fixed on every change in Kyle's expression, watching his brow furrow slightly as Flora's oral services pleased him, watching his body stiffen as Cecilia kissed him. She did nothing, but that possessive and scrutinizing gaze itself was an invisible pressure.

Under the dual stimulation, Kyle's body quickly responded honestly. His breathing became heavy, and a suppressed growl escaped from deep within his throat.

Sensing his change, Flora exerted herself even more, letting out muffled moans from deep within her throat, trying to push him to his climax. Cecilia's kisses also became more passionate, her arms encircling his waist, her sacred body pressed tightly against him.

But Kyle suddenly opened his eyes.

He couldn't end it so quickly. The contract demanded "satisfaction," "fulfillment." Premature release would only invite more ridicule and increasingly demanding exploits. More importantly, deep within him, a twisted, dark thought, one he himself refused to acknowledge, was growing—he wanted ****. He would use what they craved as weapons of punishment.

He roughly shoved Flora's head away. Caught off guard, the mage let out a short gasp, a trace of silvery saliva still clinging to the corner of her mouth, and stared at him in astonishment.

Kyle ignored her and turned his gaze to Arya, who stood before him. He stood up, his desire burning and hard like a drawn sword. He grabbed Arya's arm, pulled her violently to the bedside, and then mercilessly pressed her face down onto the disheveled sheets.

“You…” Arya (Skullcrusher) seemed to want to say something, but Kyle didn’t give her the chance.

He used his knee to **** her legs apart, which were clad in deerskin trousers. Without any preamble, he lowered his waist and, with an almost punishing ****, penetrated her hard and thoroughly!

"Ugh—!" Arya's body arched violently, her supple elf waist taut to its limit, and a muffled groan, a mixture of pain and intense stimulation, escaped her throat. Her legs, encased in thick stockings, kicked weakly, the deerskin boots on her feet making a soft rustling sound on the sheets.

Kyle began his ferocious conquest. His movements were swift and sustained, each impact carrying a vengeful ferocity, as if he wanted to unleash all the humiliation, anger, and helplessness he had suppressed during the day into the elven body through this most primal means. The bed creaked under the weight, its sound particularly clear in the silent night.

Flora and Cecilia watched from the side. Flora licked her lips, her eyes gleaming with excitement and anticipation. She began to caress herself, kneading her soft breasts through her mage robes. Cecilia maintained her calm expression, but deep within her blue eyes, a flame of desire was quietly burning. She gently tugged at the neckline of her white dress, exposing more skin to the cool air.

Arya initially tried to resist, biting her lip to keep herself from making too much noise, but Kyle's relentless and powerful thrusts quickly eroded her will. Unfamiliar, intense pleasure surged through her like waves, mixed with the humiliation of being conquered and the instinctive reaction of her body. She began to let out intermittent, tearful moans, her fingers gripping the sheets beneath her so tightly that her knuckles turned white.

Kyle, like a tireless beast, vented his desires on Arya. After an unknown amount of time, when he felt the body beneath him had completely gone limp, leaving only **** spasms and whimpers, he finally let out a low, wounded roar and violently poured a torrent of hot fluid into the deepest part of her body.

Arya let out a long, sharp wail, as if her soul had been shattered. Her body convulsed violently a few times before collapsing completely and losing consciousness.

However, the contract has not yet been finalized.

Kyle withdrew, ignoring Arya's limp body, and turned his gaze to Flora and Cecilia, who were already deeply aroused.

He grabbed Flora's wrist, pulled her in front of him, and made her lie face down on the still-warm bed with her back to him. Then, using the lubrication and remaining traces, he thrust into her again.

"Ah...!" Flora let out a satisfied sigh, leaning back to meet him, her chestnut curls swaying with each thrust. Kyle held her waist tightly with one hand, while the other roughly kneaded her ample breasts beneath her mage robes, his movements still fierce and persistent.

After Flora also reached a breakdown and incoherent climax, it was Cecilia's turn last.

The holy maiden, her long dress half-undone, her eyes glazed, was pinned against the cold wall by Kyle, who entered her from behind. Cecilia tilted her head back, her platinum-gold hair disheveled. No longer feigning gentleness, she let out a moan that sounded like a prayer, yet was filled with lust. Her body pressed tightly against the cold wall, enduring the final, violent thrusts of the hero behind her.

When Kyle injected Cecilia with the third, thickest stream of life essence that night, she slid down the wall as if all her strength had been drained, collapsing to the ground, her chest still heaving violently.

The room was filled with a strong, sweet, pungent smell, the kind of smell that comes after passion, and the heavy, disordered breathing of the three people.

Kyle stood in the center of the room, moonlight illuminating his sweaty, muscular body. He looked down at the three beautiful, broken doll-like figures sprawled at his feet, his eyes vacant.

He used his "power" to fulfill the contract.

He temporarily "fed" them with his semen.

But when will this sacrifice under the cover of night end?

Outside the window, Stonehoof Town remained asleep, oblivious to the sordid transactions taking place within the inn. Only the cold moonlight, like a silent witness, gazed upon this endless cycle.

A beautiful, doll-like exterior, with empty eyes.

He used his "power" to fulfill the contract.

He temporarily "fed" them with his semen.

But when will this sacrifice under the cover of night end?

Outside the window, Stonehoof Town remained asleep, oblivious to the sordid transactions taking place within the inn. Only the cold moonlight, like a silent witness, gazed upon this endless cycle.