Unbroken

A/N: Greetings, everyone! I'm excited to share one of two new stories I've just begun. Additionally, I'm halfway through crafting the next chapter of "The Shaman's Pet," and it should be ready for you all soon. Enjoy the journey!

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Chapter 1 - Return -

"We're just half a day's journey from our destination," the carriage driver called out to his five passengers. He avoided making eye contact or turning around.

For five days, they've been fucking at it! I can even tell which moan belongs to which slut at this point. How... just how is this the hero's party? The carriage driver thought, glad they were almost to the village.

"So, we are almost there." Spoke a half-dressed woman with messy raven black hair cut to the bottom of her neck and violet-colored eyes.

"Ah ah ah c...c...cumming!!" Echoed through the carriage

"Back to where it all began and ended for you, huh? May the goddess have mercy on their souls and grant you the strength to forgive." Spoke another half-naked woman. Her golden hair flowed down and over her shoulders as they twisted and curled beautifully. Her ample bosom constantly bounced with the rocking of the carriage or with the movement of her body. This time was no different as her golden eyes turned to the left where a man and a woman sat together, or more accurately, the woman sat in the man's lap with her hips slamming up and down. At the same time, unintelligible escaped her mouth, and her eyes rolled back.

"N..NO...ahhhh m...ahhh...ore.....ahhhh!!"

"Mercy? If your god wanted mercy, she should've told him not to come. After what they did to him, I'll be surprised if it isn't a bloodbath the second he steps off this carriage!" A third woman spoke, this one more muscular and, like the rest, half-naked. Her skin was the color of walnut brown. Her hair was jet black and unkempt. Her figure was toned while still holding onto her feminine curves.

These three women were the hero's party members: the cunning rogue Nalia, the caring Saintess Amelia, and the unstoppable berserker Nura Abu. All three women stare longingly and lustfully at the two remaining figures in the carriage.

A woman of beautiful porcelain-white skin and long flowing blonde hair shone as if each strand was made of gold when the light shone on it. Her body glistens as sweat flows over her fully nude. The sounds of her ample bottom slamming over and over into the man's lap are only overpowered by the sound of the moving carriage. Her mouth is wide open, but barely any sound escapes.

"It seems our dear leader has lost consciousness again," Amelia said as she watched with concern.

"It's truly amazing that Paladin can fight for fourteen days and fourteen nights without sleep but can barely last a day in bed with a man." The rogue teased.

"Hmph, hard to believe she is the hero chosen to kill the demon king." The berserker spoke.

With a final slam, fullly penetrating the Paladin, causing a scream of pleasure to escape her mouth as the tip of the man's member tried to penetrate the Paladin's cervix before releasing it directly into her womb.

The man pulls the Paladin off his rigid member, and with every inch pulled out of her, more of his cum gushes out of her, covering all ten inches of chocolate stick in white cream. Once he is finally free of her hole, more of his baby batter pours over his lap.

"So, who is going to come clean me up?" The dark-skinned man said as he gently laid the Paladin down on her side next to him.

The three remaining women did not hesitate as each one dropped to their knees on the carriage floor and playfully fought with each other as all three started licking his member and around his crotch clean.

So this has all come back full circle. It has been seven years since I last thought about that place. The man thought to himself as he turned to stare out of the carriage window.

"It's all clean." The elven rogue with raven black hair said as all three women looked up at him.

"Thank you. we better get more appropriate as we are almost to that town." He said, receiving a nod from all but the Paladin, who was sleeping peacefully next to him.

Shifting his attention back to the carriage window, his mind drifted back to the past events that led him here.

Seven years ago.

"Mom, sister, im back." The young man called out into what seemed to be an empty home.

"No one is here." He said, depressed, "I...I really could've used someone right now." He spoke to no one as he fell to his knees and remembered seeing the girl who was supposed to be his girlfriend fucking a random group of men. One of them was that asshole whole noble who he always had problems with and would fight nonstop.

He could feel the tears swelling. He closed his eyes before tears could flow; he fought back against the urge to cry.

"No, no, that's what they want. I will not give in. I'll get through this like I have everything else!" He said through his teeth, finally hearing a familiar sound coming from deeper inside his home.

"W..what..." he whispered as he slowly stood up and started to walk forward. As he got closer and closer to the sound, the sound of not just a woman moaning but two could be heard, followed by the squeaking of a bed and the laughter of multiple men.

Just outside his bedroom door, which was barely closed, the sounds were the loudest. Slowly, the young man extended his hand forward and pushed the door open fully. There he saw his mother and sister being fucked by a group of men.

"W..what!?" Unconsciously, he yelled out, grabbing everyone's attention but his family, who ignored him, focusing only on their own pleasure as he stepped back, his legs weakening.

"Hahaha, there's the little bitch! It took you long enough. How do you like your mom and sister? Well ex-mother and ex-sister." One man said, pulling his member out of the milfs mouth and slapping her across the face, smearing her already stained face with saliva.

"Dont you want to speak to your son?" He asked smugly.

"Ah ah ah have no son, ah ...ahnow give aghhhh itahhjn... back!!" The older woman could barely speak as she stretched her tongue out, trying to lick the member pressing against her chocolate-colored face.

"And what ab... before another man could finish his question to the sister, she yelled...

"I dont give a damn. I only care about getting fucked! Now come inside moreee ahhhh!" She screamed, not even bothering to look in her brother's direction.

"And there you have it," the man sneered, "commoners should know their place, and this wouldn't have happened. Just because you can wield some magic doesn't elevate you above being a commoner, just like this bitch." He delivered another slap to the milf's face with his member.

"She thought that her skills as a healer, even aiding some of the aristocracy, gave her influence. But, remember, you're all just pawns, expendable when the nobles tire of you."

The men surrounding them laughed as the young man sank to his knees. Inside his mind, he questioned, "No, why is this happening? I only wanted to follow my parents' teachings, helping those without power. So why, why is this happening?"

"Hahaha, he's crying!" the men jeered as tears streamed down the young man's face. He turned and fled, escaping the house and the town and disappearing into the dense woods, his destination uncertain. He sprinted until he collided with another person, both tumbling to the ground.

"Who dares!" a woman's voice exclaimed as the young man gazed up at her face just as his vision blurred into white.

Return to the present.

We made it, said the Paladin, who was now fully dressed in a striking half-plated battle gown. The upper portion of the gown was crafted with gleaming, intricately detailed silver plates contoured to her form for protection and grace. These plates covered her chest and shoulders, forming a formidable breastplate.

Below the waist, the gown transitioned into a flowing, deep midnight blue skirt, allowing freedom of movement while maintaining an air of regal femininity. Silver trim adorned the edges. Her arms were encased in articulated silver gauntlets that accentuated her strength and dexterity. She carried a sword and shield at her side, ready for battle and elegance. This half-plated battle gown embodied the perfect fusion of style and utility, empowering her for any combat or courtly encounter.

Her golden blonde hair cascaded down her back like strands of spun sunlight, catching the glint of the sun's rays. However, at the moment, her hair was artfully tied into a single-knot ponytail, showcasing her graceful neck and the regal lines of her half-plated battle gown.

Her piercing blue eyes were like sapphires set against the canvas of her fair complexion, framed by long, dark lashes that intensified their brilliance. If anyone saw her now, they would not believe that she was the same woman who was fucked silly just an hour ago. Now, she looked like a completely different person, with her head held high with confidence and determination in her gaze.

And the other three were no different.

Nalia wore a dress tunic crafted from a rich, dark fabric that seemed to absorb the surrounding light; it draped gracefully over her lithe figure. The tunic's design featured a deep V-neckline framed by intricate embroidery in a subtle silver thread that added a touch of subtle glamour for seduction attempts with her c-cup bosoms. It cinched at the waist with a black leather belt adorned with petite, concealed pouches for her rogue tools. The skirt of the tunic flowed down to her upper thighs to add to when she needed to use her feminine wilds to manipulate her target. She wore knee-high, soft leather boots designed for silent footsteps and a hooded cloak that matched the tunic's dark hue.

When not wearing her hood, her raven-black hair hung straight, reaching the bottom of her neck with a glossy, polished finish. Each strand lay perfectly in place, framing her face perfectly and enhancing the captivating allure of her violet eyes and pointed elf ears.

Amelia adorned the robes of a saintess, a symbol of purity and divine devotion. Crafted from the finest, ethereal fabric, these robes radiated a pristine luminescence that seemed to glow softly as if touched by the divine.

The robe featured a modest and flowing design, with long, billowing sleeves gracefully draping to the ground. The neckline was high and demure, covering the chest and shoulders chastely and hiding her DD-cup breast. At the same time, a subtle silver or gold trim added a touch of regal elegance.

The fabric was soft and lightweight, allowing for ease of movement and comfort during long hours of prayer and service. It had a pearlescent quality, catching the light in a way that made it appear almost otherworldly. The saintess's robes seemed to shimmer with an inner radiance, reinforcing her spiritual aura.

Her eyes were a captivating shade of gentle amber. They held a serene and compassionate gaze that seemed to reflect the kindness and wisdom of a pure soul. These eyes sparkled with a subtle brilliance, radiating a sense of inner peace and divine grace.

Her beauty was almost angelic, enhanced by her cascading golden hair. Her hair flowed like liquid sunshine, a shimmering cascade of pure gold that fell in gentle waves down her back. Each strand captured the sun's radiant glow, casting a warm, ethereal aura around her.

Then there was Nura Abu; out of all of them, the ebony beauty barely looked any different than she was before. Her chest was covered by a small leather top with a daringly deep V-cut neckline, revealing her formidable physique and toned abs. Leather straps wrapped around her torso and shoulders, securing the top in place. A leather loincloth hung low on her hips, offering freedom of movement during battle. Connected to this loincloth was a leather g-string revealing the majority of her toned behind. Leather straps wrapped tightly around her hands and feet, enhancing her grip on the massive great axe she wielded.

Her face was a striking reflection of her fierce and wild spirit. She had jet-black hair that tumbled untamed around her shoulders, giving her an untamed and unkempt appearance.

Her brown eyes, the color of rich earth, held a deep and piercing gaze. They were windows to her determination and an unyielding will to conquer whatever lay before her. In the midst of battle, those eyes would blaze with an intense fire. Her milk walnut brown skin bore the marks of past battles with scars and battle-worn blemishes that told stories of countless encounters that couldn't be fully healed.

"Zasalamel, are you coming?" The Paladin called out. The carriage had already stopped, they say, in the town square; it seemed almost the entire town had come to greet them.

"Zasalamel, are you coming?" the Paladin called out. The carriage had already come to a halt, and the entire town appeared to gather in the town square to welcome them.

"Yes, my apologies. But remember, don't consume anything that Amelia hasn't purified. This place remains as corrupt as it was seven years ago," the man cautioned, receiving nods of understanding from the four women. He signaled for them to disembark first, and he would follow. As the four women stepped out of the carriage, he followed suit, concealing his head beneath his hood.

Outside the carriage, he stood silently behind the four women, a figure of commanding presence. His tall, imposing, and muscular build filled the space around him. He was cloaked in a long, flowing, hooded, sleeveless coat, the fabric a deep, ominous shade. This coat was cinched at the waist by a thick black belt adorned with numerous veils, pouches, and bags, each containing its mysterious purpose.

He wore fingerless gloves in a stark black hue upon his hands, their backs adorned with metal plates that spoke of protection and arcane purpose. His pants matched the inky darkness of his attire, snugly fitting at the abdomen and gradually billowing as they descended toward his ankles. These pants were meticulously tapered down by strings, accentuating the precision of his movement.

Atop his feet rested black shoes, providing both comfort and stealth. His skin, partially exposed by the sleeveless arms of his coat, boasted a rich, milky chocolate hue, a contrast to the somber.

"Ah, heroes and party, welcome, and thank you for coming," a voice greeted them as a regal man in his forties or fifties stepped forward to address the group.

Zasalamel instantly recognized this man as Duke Villainthorn, the father of the person who had caused so much pain and turned his mother, sister, and girlfriend into sex slaves. He tried to avoid eye contact, fearing his anger might get the best of him.

Just when he needed it most, a soft, delicate hand slipped into his own, and he turned to see Amelia, the tall, muscular woman, offering him a warm, reassuring smile. "It will be okay; we're here for you, so you don't have to worry anymore," she spoke with a motherly tone, her natural calming aura putting his restless heart at ease.

"We're here by the king's request, informed of demonic activity in this area and sightings of behemoths. Any information you can provide would be greatly appreciated," the Paladin asserted with a commanding voice.

"Unfortunately, the only information we have has already been sent to the capital," the Duke replied, shaking his head.

"Well, that's too bad; we must begin as soon as we establish ourselves." She said, turning away from the Duke, her battle gown taking the form of her well-defined ass, causing almost every man's eye to fall on it and linger, the Duke licking his lips like a hungry dog ready to eat.

The Duke, a physically repugnant figure, served as the epicenter of corruption in the entire region. He maintained a sinister harem of women, regardless of their willingness to be a part of it. Those who dared to refuse him faced dire consequences, with their families bearing the brunt of their daughters' supposed selfishness.

How he was ever able to reproduce was shrouded in a cloak of influence, wealth, and power, all of which he wielded with unbridled authority, amassing them in abundance.

"Alright, Nalia, you'll take care of accommodations. We don't know how long we'll be here, so I'd prefer we secure a place to stay as soon as possible." Before the Paladin could move on, the Duke interjected.

"Please, allow me to assist with that. My manor has more than enough room to accommodate all of you, and we have plenty of food and water. Join us," he said, offering a smile that sent shivers down spines.

"I'm grateful for the offer, but we wouldn't want to impose," the Paladin responded, attempting to conceal her obvious disgust.

"No, no trouble at all. In fact, I insist! You all are very important guests, after all," the Duke insisted with a creepy grin, his eyes lingering on each woman before pointedly ignoring Zasalamel.

"Very well. Nalia, take Amelia and see what information you can gather in town. While this may not be a metropolis, it's not a small town, so there must be something to learn," the Paladin commanded. The rogue and saintess simply nodded in agreement.

"Very well. Nura Abu, you and you will search the outer forest, but avoid engaging with anything too dangerous, especially demons or massive beasts." The two dark-skinned individuals nodded in understanding.

As they were on the verge of continuing, a voice from the side shattered the moment, demanding, "Why are you here? How dare you return!"

this voice... a woman emerged from the crowd, her fiery red hair flowing in untamed curls down her back. She donned a crimson dress that clung sensuously to her form, provocatively hanging off her shoulders, offering a tantalizing glimpse of her fair skin and the freckles that adorned her chest and décolletage.

With anger in her eyes, the woman strode forward, her gaze locked onto Zasalamel. "Did you think I wouldn't recognize you, Zasalamel?"

She brushed past each member of the heroes' party to confront the dark-skinned man directly.

"How dare you come back here, after you fled... after you abandoned us... abandoned me..."

"Abandoned you?" An eerie green glow emanated beneath his hood, causing a worried murmur from the saintess beside him.

"Zasalamel, don't!" Yelled the Paladin

"ABANDONED YOU?" The green aura intensified, enveloping his entire being.

Before anything else could transpire, Nalia and Amelia quickly touched Zasalamel, speaking in unison, "Calm down... it's okay." Their soothing voices attempted to diffuse the tension.

Simultaneously, the Paladin grabbed and gently pulled the red-haired woman, Rose, away for her safety.

"I take it that you are Rose," the Paladin asked her focus still on Zasalamel.

"Yes, I am, but why is Zasalamel with the hero of all people?" Rose inquired, her voice tinged with confusion. The crowd watched the unfolding scene, some in awe. In contrast, others seemed bewildered, and a few couldn't help but snicker, recalling past events involving Zasalamel from seven years ago.

"...He's with me because he's an important member of my party, our group's wizard," the Paladin explained. "But it would have been better for everyone if you had stayed silent and not appeared before him."

"That... that won't be possible... I've been living and working in the Duke's manor for the past seven years... you, he would've had but to see me since you all are staying there."

The Paladin let out a weary sigh, then turned her gaze toward Rose, realizing that Zasalamel was slowly regaining his composure.

"Zasalamel? That trash? It's been a while," remarked another figure who emerged as the ground gave way beneath him. It was none other than Lucius Malachai Villainthorn, the Duke's son.

Lucius was just as fat and repulsive as his father but differed in attire. While his father favored the finest silks and garments, Lucius wore an ill-fitting, tarnished plate armor that had been crudely altered to accommodate his large frame. The metal creaked and contorted in places, and his helmet, too small for his head, exposed his pockmarked face, emphasizing his unpleasant appearance.

"Oooh, who are these bitches? They look tasty." He said as he walked over to Amelia, grabbed a handful of her behind, and molded it in his hand, causing her to shrug.

"Ooh, she got a nice ass; I bet it ripples perfectly when being fucked. Her voice isn't bad either, and she's obviously a screen..." But before he could finish his sentence, Zasalamel punched Lucius in the face causing him to step back, releasing the glorious ass he was just groping.

To the astonishment of the hero's party, the corpulent noble did not crumple. Still, Zasalamel's fist left an unmistakable imprint on his face.

Damn, it felt like punching a solid stone wall, Zasalamel thought, wincing at the impact.

"How dare you, you wretched peasant! Not only have you dared to the captain of the guards, but a noble as well! It seems that the fucking your wretched mother until she killed herself and the fate of your sister thrown into the free-use pits, wasn't sufficient to instill a lesson in you!" The enraged noble's voice thundered through the air.

Nura Abu readied her mighty great axe for battle while Amelia gripped her staff with determination. Nalia deftly unsheathed her twin enchanted daggers, and the Paladin drew her gleaming longsword, positioning herself alongside her companions.

"Guards, seize this bastard!" He bellowed, his voice echoing through the tense air as the guards converged on their target.

"Alright... just try not to kill...any..." the Paladin began, her words trailing off as her gaze shifted toward their berserker companion.

"Everyone, just aim not to take lives!" she declared before shouting, "Charge!"

"Stop!" bellowed the Duke, leaping in front of the heroes and their guards.

Duke Basturd Malachai Villainthorn approached his son, an expression of irritation on his face. "Idiot, what do you think you're doing?"

"F...father," Lucius stammered, surprised by his father's intervention.

"Idiot, don't attempt to engage the hero's party. Do you honestly believe you or the guards stand a chance in a direct confrontation?" the Duke fumed.

"Furthermore, do you intend to confront the behemoths out there? No? And what about the demons?" he continued, his questions rhetorical.

Lucius shook his head in the negative.

"Then cease your provocations against those who will!" the Duke thundered once more.

The Duke's words hung heavily in the air as the civilians and guards exchanged tense glances. The hero's companions only turned their heads towards her for her command. After a minute of observing the situation, she sheaths her sword.

"If this scene is over, we have a job to do, and I think it's best if my party stays at an inn." The Paladin shifted her attention back to her companions.

"You each have your duties. Let's reconvene at the local tavern in four hours. Stick together, and try to avoid any trouble for the time being." With nods of agreement from everyone, the group dispersed.

Nura Abu placed a reassuring hand on Zasalamel's shoulder, a mischievous grin on her face. "Come on, I'm sure we can find something to kill in the forest. It should help calm your rage, even if only for a short while."

As Nura Abu and Zasalamel made their way toward the forest, Lucius Malachai Villainthorn couldn't hide the intensity of his glare aimed at the back of the departing man's head.

"You fool, you've just ruined everything! It would have been much easier to turn them into sex slaves if they were staying in the manor!" the Duke seethed, his voice a low growl.

"Sorry, Father. I just can't stand that man. I thought I was finally done with him after we chased him out the first time," Lucius huffed.

"Well, the peasant is back, and he brought us four new pieces of meat to enjoy," the Duke replied, signaling to the inn owner who stood in the crowd.

The inn owner nodded before dispersing along with the rest of the crowd.

"Now that I've had a moment to step back and think about it, we stole his mother, sister, and girl," Lucius said, staring at Rose, who eventually noticed his gaze, smiled and walked towards him.

"Now we get to do it again, but this time with his companions."

"Don't be foolish. This isn't like that damn healers or those defenseless girls. They are stronger than you, capable of defending themselves, and they will end you if you're careless. I don't know how strong that boy is, but those women are the real deal. We need to be strategic about our moves now," the Duke advised sternly.

"If he's their companion and they're on his level, they can't be all that strong. I barely even felt that stupid bunch of his," Lucius laughed.

"Idiot, didn't you hear that Paladin? She called him their party's wizard. You felt the punch of a wizard, not a knight or fighter, you fool. Now, let's go. We have much to plan for," the Duke declared before walking off, his son and Rose following closely.

Unbeknownst to them, a purple-eyed, black-haired elf stood unseen in the shadows, having listened to everything they said.

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A pack of wolves closed in on Nura Abu and Zasalamel.

"Now, this is what I'm talking about!" the berserker exclaimed, eagerly anticipating a wolf's lunge. She expertly swung her great axe, slamming it down onto a wolf's head, crushing its skull.

"Sorry, Zasa, but I don't think I'll leave much for you to handle!" she shouted in the midst of battle, the heat of the fight fueling her fervor.

Zasalamel extended his hand, weaving dark energy into a concentrated orb that surged toward one of the wolves, extinguishing its life without altering its physical form.

"Reanimate dead!" he commanded, and the recently fallen wolf stirred, returning to a twisted semblance of life. Now, under Zasalamel's control, the undead creature turned on its former pack, becoming an unexpected and malevolent ally during the chaotic skirmish.

Chaos ensued among the remaining living wolves as the reanimated wolf turned against its pack. Snarls and yelps filled the air as the undead creature, now a puppet to Zasalamel's dark command, tore through its former pack.

Nura Abu paid no attention to the spectacle; the heat of battle had already claimed her focus, and every wolf became a target for her great axe. With each swing, wolves fell to her blade – with one swing, two wolves lay dead; with two swings, three more wolves were cut down, and two others were injured. Despite being consumed by the chaos of battle, Nura Abu remained her regular battle-hungry self, not succumbing to berserk fury yet.

As Zasalamel's annoyance gradually morphed into subtle satisfaction, the deathly silence after the final wolf's demise was shattered by the sudden appearance of a great white wolf. Towering as tall as Zasalamel himself, it emerged from the forest, its eyes expressing fury at the genocide of its fallen pack members. The confrontation had taken an unexpected turn, and the duo braced themselves for the fight that stood before them.

Nura Abu, her great axe still dripping with the blood of the fallen wolves, locked eyes with the enraged white wolf despite the battle haze that clung to her.

"Mine!" Nura Abu bellowed, a thunderous battle cry echoing through the forest as she charged directly at the majestic beast.

Zasalamel, both hands outstretched, unleashed a torrent of negative energy as the reanimated wolf surged behind the berserker.

"Darkness!" the necromancer intoned, triggering another spell. A shadowy mist poured from the great white wolf's eyes, shrouding its vision in darkness. However, the massive beast, guided by keen senses and primal instincts, eluded the impending danger just in time as Nura Abu swung her great axe upward, aiming to decapitate it.

With a dancer's grace, the great white wolf leaped backward, narrowly escaping the deadly arc of the great axe. Undeterred, Nura Abu seamlessly transitioned the upward strike into a powerful downward swing, aiming the lethal blow directly at the majestic creature's head. The clash between the relentless berserker and the great white wolf had entered a critical moment; each movement could be a matter of life and for the two combatants.

The great white wolf, swift and agile, dodged the downward swing with a nimbleness that defied its size. Landing gracefully on all fours, it retaliated with a counterattack, snapping its jaws at Nura Abu. Instinctively, Nura Abu deflected the wolf's bite with the haft of her great axe, narrowly avoiding the sharp teeth.

Zasalamel commanded the undead wolf to attack the great wolf's legs as he summoned forth spectral ghost claws to strike at the great wolf.

As the sun filtered through the dense canopy, casting an ethereal glow on the battleground, the outcome of this unexpected encounter hung in the balance.

Undeterred by the initial clash, the great white wolf lunged forward again, aiming to overwhelm Nura Abu with its sheer strength. However, the berserker, fueled by battle instincts, sidestepped the attack, narrowly avoiding the wolf's powerful charge.

Zasalamel continued his arcane . The undead wolf, heeding its master's command, targeted the great white wolf's legs, attempting to destabilize the majestic creature. Meanwhile, spectral ghost claws, summoned by the necromancer, struck with eerie precision, adding a layer of ethereal menace to the battleground.

In this dance of primal forces, the forest seemed to come alive with energy. Despite its formidable defenses, the great white wolf began to show signs of weariness under the relentless .

Seizing the opportunity, Nura Abu launched a ferocious series of strikes with her great axe. Each swing was wild and uncontrolled, aiming to overpower the great wolf with sheer strength in the heat of the battle. The great white wolf, now pressed on multiple fronts, struggled to maintain its ground.

As the sun continued to filter through the dense canopy, the battleground echoed with the clash of forces, and the outcome of this unexpected encounter teetered on the edge of resolution. The forest, an ancient witness to countless struggles, held its breath, waiting to reveal the destiny of the combatants entwined in this fierce dance beneath the dappled sunlight.

"Spectral chains!" Zasalamel called out, his incantation slicing through the air. However, with a snap of its mighty jaw, the great white wolf swiftly put the undead wolf down for good. But the timing worked in Zasalamel's favor. The spectral chains emerged, wrapping around the wolf's mouth and binding it closed. Ethereal chains extended, intertwining around each leg and securing its main body, forming a supernatural restraint that held the majestic creature in place.

"No, not like this! Give it the respect it deserves and let it die fighting to the very end!" Nura Abu's voice resonated through the forest, a plea for a warrior's demise.

Zasalamel, after a contemplative minute, sighed, closing his eyes and shattering the spectral chains that held the majestic beast.

"Argh! Come show me your pedigree!" roared the berserker, her eyes ablaze with a fiery red glow. At the same time, her musculature surged, becoming even more defined.

The great white wolf and the berserker locked eyes, a silent exchange transcending the barrier of understanding between man and beast. Then, in a primal agreement, they charged at each other, the berserker raising her great axe high and the wolf baring its fangs.

It was over within seconds. Nura Abu's great axe swung with unstoppable , cleaving the tremendous white wolf in half horizontally. The top half of the majestic creature soared farther behind her than the lower half did, both halves collapsing onto the forest floor.

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The Paladin warmly waved at nearby children who had stopped in awe at her presence. The young, golden-haired woman had devoted the first hour consistently rejecting and turning down the Duke's relentless attempts to sway her into staying at his manor. After successfully evading his persistent sniveling and begging, she dedicated the second hour to strolling through the town, meticulously observing the community around her.

Upon reaching the park, she discovered a peaceful bench nestled under the shade of an ancient oak tree. With a sense of relief, she gracefully settled onto the seat, allowing the park's serenity to envelop her.

"Tell me what you've learned," the Paladin spoke softly, closing her eyes and leaning back as if on the verge of dozing off.

"My lady, Zasalamel, was correct. I overheard the Duke and his son discussing turning us into sex slaves. It appears the inn owner is complicit as well. I strongly advise following Zasalamel's suggestion not to eat or drink anything in this village without purifying it first. Fortunately, both you and Amelia can cast Purify. In her berserker state, Nura Abu might be able to resist any or poisons used. My elven physiology should grant me some level of immunity," spoke Nalia, the elven rogue, standing in the shadows of the tree away from prying eyes.

"My observations of this town suggest there's more beneath the surface. On the exterior, it appears ordinary, but the more I observed, the more evident it became that all women—without exception—are submissive to men, even those who are not their husbands. I witnessed mothers and sisters being subservient to their sons and brothers. Considering what the trash son yelled earlier, it's clear women are treated as objects owned by men," continued the Paladin, maintaining a facial expression of peaceful content.

"Your orders?" inquired the elven rogue.

"Continue shadowing the Duke, but do not engage. We still need to find out if there are demons or S-ranked monster threats near this town," the Paladin instructed, pretending to stretch. "But first, we all need to meet up at the inn. I'll head there now; you arrive fifteen minutes late from the opposite direction. Now go."

"Yes, my lady!" The stealthy rogue vanished from the shadows, leaving the Paladin to rise and make her way toward the designated meeting point with her companions.

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Amelia deftly maneuvered through the town alone, aware that Nalia had a secondary objective. The saintess engaged in what she did best—extending help to the less fortunate. Her path led her to the most impoverished part of the town, a desolate landscape of dilapidated buildings, -addled souls, and open sexual slavery without even being concealed behind a thin veil of pretext.

Walking down the dirty and dingy road, Amelia sensed the gaze of every man, seen and unseen, upon her. She was the most conservatively dressed among the heroes; her robes concealed that she possessed the most curvaceous figure—in both the top and bottom. Unlike the others who showcased a toned and muscular physique, her body exuded a supple and soft quality. Yet, this intimate detail was known only to the one man she had chosen to give herself to—Zasalamel.

As Amelia ventured deeper into the impoverished part of town, her compassionate nature kicked in. She approached the downtrodden with a warmth in her eyes, offering words of solace and a healing touch to those sick or hurt with her divine magic.

Her journey led her to a place where desperation and vice intertwined. Behind the façade of crumbling buildings and the murky and sex-filled air, she could hear the constant nonstop moans of multiple women who no longer had any mental fortitude to think properly.

Amelia entered the building and was more shocked than she was prepared to be. What she saw from wall to wall was women's backsides hanging out of the wall and being ravaged nonstop.

The room was filled with women screaming in pleasure, moaning, and crying out. She stood there momentarily in shock before regaining her composure and grace. Amelia was no stranger to the sounds of slapping flesh and moans filling her ears, especially after Zasalamel had joined the hero's party and as she made her way around the crowd towards the back, where guards set their eyes on her. Their eyes announced their hunger, but she paid it no mind like she ignored the frequently increasing hand grabs at her supple breasts and behind.

She finally reached the back and found herself in front of three guards watching her intently.

"What is going on here?" She asked.

"What the fuck does it look like? These whores are being used for the only things these whores are good for." One of them answered.

"Do you want to join them? I bet you'd be a nice fuck before you become a used-up whore." The third guard said.

"I'm afraid not, but these poor people need healing, not this. This is just being used to keep them numb from all the problems and issues that need to be dealt with," the saintess asserted to the three guards, who responded maliciously. The disconcerting sound of slapping flesh echoed in her ears, followed by nonstop moans of pleasure from all the women stuck in the walls. Her legs began to rub together as the intimate sounds made her womanhood heat up and grow increasingly wet.

"Look at her, she's starting to blush and fidget," the guards jeered. Laughter erupted. "Yeah, you see, the slut is more into it than she wants to admit," one of them mocked, the crude remarks followed by unsettling laughter. Another guard invaded her personal space, stepping into her face. "How about I hook you up and give you a nice long fuck? You'd like that, wouldn't you?" he sneered, the atmosphere thick with discomfort."

Amelia reached into her robes, producing a mace from within. "How about I send you to the embrace of the gods much sooner than you were supposed to meet them," she threatened, her voice steady and resolute, the mace glinting ominously in her hand.

Momentarily taken aback by Amelia's assertiveness, the guards exchanged uneasy glances. The room, once filled with their taunting laughter, fell into an uncomfortable silence filled with the sounds of sex around them.

Amelia, undeterred, gripped the mace with unwavering determination. "I suggest you don't mistake my kindness for weakness," she warned, her gaze piercing and unyielding. The kindness that once filled her eyes vanished, replaced by something much darker.

The guard who had invaded her personal space hesitated, his bravado faltering. He took a cautious step back, and his companions, sensing a shift in the dynamics, followed suit.

"You should be thankful it's me you've been trying this with because literally every other member of the hero's party would have outright killed you," Amelia declared, her eyes ablaze with fiery resolve. The room, once filled with the guards' crude behavior and the laughter of those around her, now hung in suspense, waiting to see if they would try to the saintess or heed her warning.

"Enough of this; I'm teaching this girl a lesson now. Plus, I'm tired of waiting for one of the public-use cum dumpsters to open. If it means we get a fresh, unused slut, so be it!" declared one of the men in the public meat toilet lines. He grabbed a piece of 2x4 from the ground and advanced toward the saintess.

"You have only yourself to blame, woman, for not knowing your place," he sneered as he prepared to swing.

"May the goddess of light have mercy on your soul, for I shall not," the saintess retorted, raising her hand and conjuring a magical ward between her and the oncoming swing. The room tensed as the clash between malevolence and divine protection unfolded.

The man swung the 2x4 maliciously, aiming to strike down the saintess who stood resolute against the impending threat. However, the magical ward, a shimmering barrier woven from divine energy, intercepted the blow, absorbing the impact with an ethereal glow.

Yet emboldened by the first man, one of the original three guards that now stood behind her attempted to grab her and pin her to the ground with a disgusting grin on his face. It goes without saying the saintess was one of the most beautiful women these men had ever got or was ever again going to see, and as the realization came across more and more men's heads, more and more started to gang up on her not wanting this opportunity to escape them.

Emboldened by the first man's failed attempt, one of the original three guards, now standing behind her, attempted to grab Amelia, aiming to pin her to the ground with a disgusting grin on his face. The saintess, undeniably one of the most beautiful women these men had ever encountered or would ever encounter, faced the realization that they would never have a chance to a woman like her again. More and more men joined in on the . The opportunity to exploit her beauty and body sparked a collective intent, drawing additional assailants into a group eager not to let this chance slip away.

As the vile intentions multiplied, Amelia found herself surrounded by a growing number of assailants, each driven by a distorted desire to her. The air became thick with malice, and the room pulsated with an unsettling energy.

Undeterred by the increasing odds against her, Amelia unleashed a cascade of divine spells with a swift and practiced motion, each word spoken resonating with power. "Blessing of protection! Blessing of strength! Shield of faith! Cleansing flame!" Within the span of a breath, she wove a tapestry of magic, magically enhancing her physical strength, fortifying her defenses, shrouding herself in a protective aura, and infusing her mace with a divine flame that burned away corruption and darkness.

With a single swing of the mace, she struck the guard holding onto her. The impact was formidable, sending him and the few men behind him hurtling across the room as if caught in the wake of a celestial tempest. The sudden display of divine might left the assailants disoriented and reeling, giving Amelia a momentary advantage in the tumultuous confrontation.

The assailants, now confronted by a saintess ablaze with divine strength, hesitated. The room, once echoing with the sounds of women being fucked and the intent attempt to , fell into an uneasy silence.

"What's wrong? I thought you were going to me, whether I wanted it or not? Don't change your mind now because, as I said, may the goddess have mercy on you, for I shall have none!" Amelia's voice cut through the air, each word resonating with a cold and uncaring emotion one wouldn't expect from the saintess.

Amelia's actions stood as a testament to the unyielding power of her faith as she advanced towards the men who had initially sought to her. In a display of divine strength, she faced over twenty to thirty assailants, rendering them beaten, bloodied, and battered. Their bodies lay lifelessly scattered across the now even more damaged building.

With resolute determination, Amelia freed the 'public use toilets' from the walls, carefully laying all the thoroughly used women down on the ground. She then used her healing touch on the abused women, offering solace and relief. Even though she tended to their physical wounds, the mental injuries were something she could not heal as she had to listen to them beg for more dick and pleading to be fucked again.

"These poor women, who know how long they've endured this," she mused silently. "Most may never recover mentally, even if I heal their physical wounds. Some are even pregnant, and these men didn't care, not even when one of them carried their child. Disgusting!"

As Amelia finished healing the women, she noticed she had surpassed the agreed-upon reunion time by thirty minutes. Torn between her responsibility to report back to the party leader and her desire not to abandon these women, she felt the weight of a difficult decision.

While tending to the final girl, she overheard her mumbled apologies amidst tears, "I'm sorry... I'm sorry... Please don't abandon... brother... I'm sorry..."

The girl bore a striking resemblance to Zasalamel, sharing similar skin tone and hair color, creating a poignant connection that tugged at Amelia's heart. She also reeked extra pungent of semen and sex. Her body had stretch marks, bite marks, bruises, piercings, and even was branded on her crotch with a seal.

No, this couldn't be her... could it... the saintess thought, her mind grappling with the possibility of an unexpected connection.

The saintess ensured the girls were lying at least semi-comfortably on the ground before rushing out of the damaged building. Turning towards it, she uttered a prayer.

"Oh radiant Goddess of Light, in this sacred moment, grant the power to invoke Sanctuary. May your divine radiance shield all within, a haven untouchable by darkness. Illuminate the path with wisdom; let this Sanctuary be a beacon of hope. In your name, I beseech. Amen. Sanctuary!"

The destroyed building began to glow with a divine light as if touched by the goddess herself. All within the building would be healed and protected from the elements and anything outside that would dare to try to harm and corrupt.

"Benevolent Goddess of Light, extend your celestial grace. Summon forth the Guardian Angel, a sentinel forged in your light. Entrust them to safeguard with wings of protection. Illuminate the path; let this celestial guardian be a beacon of hope. In your name, I beseech. Amen. Guardian Angel!"

The clouds parted as a single beam of light fell through the opening. Descending from the heavens with grace beyond mortal comprehension, a six-winged seraphim embodied celestial splendor. Its form was radiant, bathed in ethereal light that seemed to emanate from within. Feathers of purest white adorned its colossal wings, spanning vast distances like an aurora of divine elegance.

The armor, a glistening masterpiece forged from starlight, clung to the seraphim's celestial physique. Each piece bore intricate engravings reminiscent of constellations, weaving a cosmic tapestry that whispered of ancient wisdom. A flowing robe, resplendent in hues of celestial blue and gold, billowed around the knight as if caught in a perpetual celestial breeze.

The seraphim's countenance bore an otherworldly beauty, its eyes aglow with the luminescence of distant galaxies. A halo of shimmering light crowned its noble visage, casting a radiant glow that transcended mortal perceptions.

In one hand, the seraphim cradled a sword ablaze with divine fire, a manifestation of celestial justice and righteousness. As it descended, its presence invoked a sense of awe and reverence, as if a piece of the heavens had descended to walk among mortals, a guardian of ethereal realms gracing the earthly plane.

"What have you called me for, oh favored one of the goddess of light?" As she spoke, her voice commanded respect and authority.

"Protect these women until I have returned, please. The men in the building will soon be fully healed and regain consciousness. While Sanctuary may protect them from outside threats, it does not shield them from threats already there when it was cast."

The seraphim simply nodded, remaining floating in the air over the building. The saintess, now knowing that the women were at least temporarily protected, made her way to catch up with the rest of the hero's party.

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"So, that's how each of your first forays into this town went—an A-ranked beast encounter, sexual slavery, and a duke looking to turn women who come here into sex slaves," the Paladin said as she sat on the bed, attentively listening to each member of the party recount their tales.

Nalia, the elven rogue, leaned against the wall next to the door, simultaneously keeping an ear on the conversation and another ear out for any potential eavesdroppers or unwelcome intruders.

Nura Abu stood by the window, arms crossed. While not actively scanning for spies, her gaze assessed random passersby, mentally gauging their potential in a fight against her.

Amelia positioned herself to the side of the Paladin, listening intently to the events recounted by others. She withheld information about the girl who might be Zasalamel's sister, deeming it wiser to share such crucial details once emotions had settled.

Zasalamel stood across from the Paladin, recounting the less eventful parts of their encounter with the great white wolf.

"With that said, is there anything else? If not, I say we rest for the night and reconvene in the morning," the Paladin suggested, glancing around at everyone.

"Well, there is one thing left," Amelia interjected, turning her attention to Zasalamel. "...I think I may have found your sister." Her words were delivered in a calm and soothing voice, hinting at the gravity of the revelation.

Zasalamel's eyes widened at Amelia's revelation. The room fell silent as everyone's attention shifted to the necromancer, awaiting his response. His eyes begin to glow green as necromatic energy begins to surround him.

"My sister?" Zasalamel finally spoke, his voice betraying a mixture of sadness and pain. The emotions swirling within him were evident, though he maintained a stoic exterior.

Amelia nodded gently. "Yes, I can't say for certain, but the girl I encountered fits the description you provided a while ago. She mentioned a brother and muttered something about not being abandoned."

Where is she?" Zasalamel questioned.

"She's in one of my sanctuary spells, a haven I crafted in a nearby building. Protected, healing, and under the watchful gaze of a seraph," Amelia reassured, emphasizing the layers of safeguarding around Zasalamel's potential sister.

Zasalamel's eyes held a mix of gratitude and uncertainty as he turned towards the Paladin. "Alice..."

"Yes, I know. We'll go first thing in the morning. She's safer now under Amelia's spells than anywhere else," Alice, the Paladin, said softly as she rose and walked over to Zasalamel. Her hand gently caressed his face, a gesture filled with affection.

"Remember, we will always be on your side, even when we don't always agree." She offered a warm, loving smile, reinforcing the unity within the party.