Final Part - 06 | Until Only Ashes Remain

. . .

Pursena stands idly by the wall. As composed as, say, a maid might be to her master, she carries herself in utter silence, hands folded in front of her legs, tail limp, eyes on the white-bearded man hunched over the desk in the corner of the room.

And then her eyes land on the bed behind him. Atop those sheets, she has been reduced to nothing more than a sex doll, fruitlessly squirming beneath the weight of Augustus too many times to count. By now, the sheets must smell like her. Her hair, which Augustus himself has tended to in order to keep it clean, tidy, and smelling vaguely of sweet hazelnuts. Her sweat — that comes naturally when his mass fills the space on top of her, almost suffocating herself. Her tears.

The side of Pursena's lips quirk up into an uncomfortable smile at the memories.

Sixty times in the bed. Three months of torment.

And now, she can't even begin to resist. She stares at the symbol on her lower half, the sigil perfectly depicting a woman's womb, flashing a steady pink every now and then under her gaze. It's new — fresh — a byproduct of Augustus' magic, and with it, she will never again be in control of her desires. At least, that's what Augustus tells her.

And yet...

Pursena has never felt emptier, as though those "desires" are not hers to begin with.

Augustus can feed her all the food he wants; baked goods made in ridiculous quantities by the women forced to slave over the stove, homemade desserts, and sometimes per request, Pursena will find herself munching on her favorite sticks of jerky. The kind she used to chew on in class. They don't taste the same as they used to.

Augustus can exert all his energy thoroughly bathing her body, top to bottom, and concealing her perfect skin in frail garments.

Augustus can... make love to her, night and day, for hours on end, feeding a false sense of love into her as if she's important to him. Yet she knows, all he craves is her body and, very soon, her willingness to conceive.

It all makes no difference.

Once she is forced to settle back into his chambers and he speaks those vile words like poison into her sensitive ears—

Puppy.

Good girl.

—her soul will feel crushed, her heart will ache, and the memories of standing alongside someone who truly cared for her will flash fleetingly across her eyes. So very far out of reach, the desire to wrap herself in their arms and hear their voice once an assuring feeling that it may come back to her. And a feeling that slips through her fingers at the same time.

She keeps it to herself, lifting her head and breaking the silence within the bedroom.

"Master," she begins, still struggling to come to terms with saying that word, "when can I see my sister?"

"Hm? Linia dug her own grave," Augustus says, standing from his desk. "She won't be coming back, and I don't think I'll be letting you see her."

Pursena's tail twitches, almost starting to wag, then falters again as she hears his declaration. She stares at her feet. "I-I see."

A grin crosses Augustus' lips. He approaches the canine girl, staring smugly down on her delicate face. "That being said, continue performing well in bed and I'll consider permitting a quick visit between you."

Pursena can only nod. Acknowledging the man's lust is the last thing she wishes to do. "Yes, Master."

"Good." Augustus places a hand on her cheek, caressing gently the contours of her features. Their eyes meet. "Now, what do you say you and I have some more fun, hmm?"

"My... my legs are sore," Pursena says, her eyes darting away for a moment to avoid the man's glare. "I don't think I can go again for a while."

"Hmm." His hand still on her cheek, Augustus grips her face harder, digging in until her skin turns red and she lets out a little yelp. "Is that refusal I hear, girl?"

"N-No! I..."

"Maybe you forgot who your owner is."

"You are, Master, you are."

"Don't test my patience like that. I don't take no for an answer."

Pursena begins to nod, but she's cut short as Augustus' large hand clasps onto her torso. With the iron grip of an eldritch horror, he easily tosses her body toward the bed. Pursena grits her teeth in pain, a whimper slipping out of her as her balance is thrown off and she topples over into the sheets. In the position she's in, Augustus finds himself licking his lips, his eyes swimming over Pursena's rear and how it just barely sticks out of her gown.

He walks forward, his fingers on his waist in preparation to unbuckle his pants.

Right when he's about to, the door comes open behind him. A look of disdain burns into his face. He glances over his shoulder, bitterly grinding his teeth at the lone soldier filling the doorway.

"Sir!"

Augustus' voice gnaws into the soldier's ears, making his body quake beneath the armor. "What do you want? Can't you see I'm busy?"

The soldier, sweating hardly enough to notice, looks over the scene unfolding in the bedroom. Pursena casts him a long, almost pleading gaze, whereas Augustus is simply waiting for the man to disappear so he can get on with his business.

The soldier shakes his head, his eyes returning to the bearded beast. "Two silent spell casters are attacking the grounds. Our watchtower and barracks have been destroyed, and a lot of our forces are currently moving into formation to confront them... but..."

"You can't handle some fancy magic users without crying for my help?"

"Sir." The soldier balls his hands into fists, his voice shaking. "They've killed... so many."

"What?" Augustus pauses for a moment. "You're all my trained, seasoned fighters, and you're telling me you're incapable of—"

"Sir, please! There's no time! Our men are dying and the intruders are pushing further in as we speak! Truly, I hate to call on your battle prowess, but I'm afraid these are no ordinary foes by any means!"

Augustus turns away from the bed, but not before settling his lusty gaze on Pursena's body. The girl trembles. The simplest of stares makes her feel like he's already forced his way into her body. But soon, this lust dissipates into a seething anger.

Augustus approaches his soldier, his crystal blue eyes glimmering with rage.

"Very well," says the man. "Fetch me my blade."

Behind him, Pursena is quietly turning toward the window. She stares beyond the glass at a dead gray sky peppered by snowflakes. The sight would have been completely serene, soothing even, if not for the room she lies in and the bed she occupies.

Her eyes, wracked with depression, sweep over the white stars falling from the sky — the beauty of winter that no longer brings peace to her heart.

And then her eyes widen.

Outside, there is the vague strobe of hot red light radiating against the backdrop of snow. No one else would bat an eye, not if they had never experienced the horrors of being kidnapped from the warmth and safety of their village as it all burned down to the ground around them.

The light outside... Pursena recognizes it vividly.

Embers drift into the sky, painting it a brilliant red.

Her tail gently begins to wag.

Fire.

. . .

The snow at your feet has become decorated in blood.

Another soldier comes rushing at you, brandishing a sharp silver blade and howling a battle cry to the skies as he takes a mighty swing. You continue to do as you have done ever since you stepped foot close to this slave mansion: evade, counter, destroy.

You duck out of the way and collect a sum of mana into your palms. The magic expands, becoming solidified against your skin, and you quickly harness it, imbuing your fists with wind energy and striking the swordsman with a swift uppercut.

The impact sends him flying, and his sword with him.

More blood splashes the snow.

Your clothes, too, are stained red. But that is the least of your concerns.

Rudeus releases a guttural shout, casting a gargantuan ball of fire down upon a group of the soldiers. In an instant, they are burned to ash. As the fire burns and their skin melts down to the bone, you can faintly hear their ghoulish screams penetrating the veil of flames.

He doesn't look exhausted in the slightest. If anything, he's far too focused on raining hell down on this stretch of land to be concerned with his own health. You feel the exact same. If these men really are holding hundreds of women hostage, brutally torturing them in ways unimaginable, you will continue to show them no mercy.

And if it's true that Linia and Pursena are here as well, you're willing to bring the giant mansion down in flames.

You cross the field quickly, careful as to not fall and sink into the deep blanket of snow, and you kneel beside one of the last vaguely conscious soldiers on the ground. Without hesitation, you slap his face and shake him by the arm.

"Hey! Hey! Listen to me!" you demand. "Is there a pair of beast-folk sisters in there? Grayish hair, feline and canine, one's really feisty..."

The man is unresponsive, so you smack him again.

"Answer me!!"

Slowly, his eyes close and he draws a final breath. Your answers slip away. Both desperation and frustration build inside you, rising like bile, and you tear away from the dead man to try and pick the snowy field for more survivors. Two men try desperately to reach their blades once more, but their wounds are far too severe. They pass away before your eyes.

Another man attempts to stand. He manages it at first, holding his sword loosely, only swaying a little as he stands in place. Fresh blood trickles down his chin. Cold sweat piles up on his brow. His eyes are sunken and his face is horribly pale.

You ask him about the Doldia sisters, even as he is poised to strike, but...

Nothing.

You watch his body fall limp again, crimson blood seeping out into the snow.

"Goddamn it!" you shout, unable to restrain yourself. Tears come to your eyes. You've come this far, you've had to kill so many, and yet it never seems to end. If you just got your answer, if only you knew if the sisters really were in your reach, perhaps... perhaps you would be finished here already.

Perhaps you wouldn't feel like the world is falling away between your fingers.

You look up, your body tensing at the sight of fire all around you.

A sea of flames consumes all that is visible to the naked eye. The soldiers' watchtower toppled over, charred and blazing a bright red hue, now splayed across the field before you.

The barracks have gone up in flames, still burning away until the icy smell of winter is washed out by the rotting aroma of metal, smoked wood, and scorched corpses.

Only now do you realize something.

The sky has turned completely red. Under its bloody gaze, you stare and feel absorbed in the horrific sight. Gray clouds stir, colored faintly scarlet, the snowfall having gone from looking like a graceful dance of pearly white snowflakes to spots of blood twirling down from the heavens. The firelight paints the world red, and with it, your face, too, is illuminated by the blaze.

This is my doing.

"Keep moving!" Rudeus shouts, pointing his staff at another swarm of soldiers emerging from the mansion. "The quicker we finish these guys off, the quicker we can head inside and look for that girl!"

He waves his gorgeous blue-jeweled staff and summons a burst of magic. A spiral of fire sweeps across the field, cutting through the soldiers' formation in an instant.

Taking a breath, Rudeus looks at you again, stunned by your unresponsive face. "Can you hear me? Are you okay?"

You blink. The smell of fire is hard to swallow, but you'll manage. You pull yourself up, shaking your head. "I'm good, sorry."

"I promised this would be a quick operation, and I intend to keep that promise. Keep moving. We'll find her, I swear on my—"

A projectile bolts through the air at Rudeus.

It's fast, would most likely be a quick kill if it made contact, but somehow Rudeus is faster. Before the projectile — a massive, jagged icicle — can hit him, he swings his staff up in an arc, summoning forth a wall of rock. It blocks the ice dagger without fail, then dissipates into dust.

The two of you stare through the scarlet snowfall, your eyes finding a young boy emerging from the mansion doors.

Enveloped in an aura of ice and snow, the dark-haired boy, vaguely familiar to you, stands guard — far more intimidating than the likes of the soldiers you previously mowed down.

"What bad luck," the boy sneers, throwing a hand into the air. Magic forms at his fingertips, fluttering out into a blast of icy wind directed right at you. You hold your ground to the best of your ability, and so does Rudeus, the two of you now just trying to keep yourselves standing upright.

"I guess I should learn to eat my words," he continues, "I really wasn't expecting that catgirl's guardian angel to show up on cue."

Hearing this, a rush of adrenaline surges through you.

Catgirl?

Linia!

That adrenaline pushes you forward. You propel yourself through the incredibly thick gusts of wind with a violent burst of your own magic, jumping far enough to swing your wind-infused fist at the boy's face.

He evades swiftly, casting another bout of magic in the form of numerous jagged icicles behind him.

"You won't be getting any farther than this!" he shouts.

"Like hell I won't!" you shout back, watching as the icicles come darting for your face. Take one hit from them and you have no doubt your brain will easily be impaled—

Unfortunate for this boy, you don't plan on dying until you see Pursena and Linia.

Your wind-clad knuckles swirl with a fiery energy, green and red sparks of mana bouncing from your fists like fireworks. You didn't think it was possible, but you've managed to blend your fire with your wind, and that means...

My close-ranged magic technique really works!

You step back and swing at the icicles, one by one. When your knuckles make contact, they aren't shredded apart by the pointed icy tips. Rather, the icicles themselves shatter and melt against the impact of your flaming punches.

The boy gasps, casting more before your eyes with a desperate look on his face.

"Close-range magic?" he mutters, then speaks up louder. "Hah! See if that'll get you anywhere, bigshot!"

His hand swirls against the air, threatening to command more of his magic toward you, and frankly you're running out of breath pretty quick. You've got to be lightning-fast to break each and every sharp blade of ice, and that comes with a debilitating cost.

The boy starts commanding his array of ice...

Only for Rudeus to shoot him down with a beam of fire.

You look to your side, watching Rudeus expertly wave around a surge of fire and earth magic in order to barrage the boy. Everything lands; threads of searing flame, dense clumps of rock and mud.

As the boy is stuck getting assaulted by the magic, you take this open opportunity to charge and clock his jaw with a haymaker that echoes across the field.

The boy goes skidding into the snow, dropped to his back, and you start to rapidly approach, only for him to recover quicker than anyone might have expected. He hops to his feet, shouting wildly as more of his magic collects into his palms.

"Watch out!!" Rudeus screams, but you're busy attempting to close the gap in a last resort of magic prowess.

"I told you!" shouts the boy. "You won't be getting ANY further!!"

His wrist snaps into the air.

His mouth hangs open, emitting a violent laugh.

And then — before you can strike him again — a wide explosion of icy-blue magic geysers out of his risen palm. The beam of magic penetrates the red clouds, swirling high above this bloody battlefield, then suddenly the wind picks up.

Another strong gust of wind pushes you back, preventing you from reaching the boy even as your hand is outstretched for him.

"He's creating a storm!" Rudeus shouts to you, and you notice he's fallen to one knee. "He's gonna trying burying us in a blizzard!"

As he says this, the clouds pour out incredible amounts of snow. The once-gentle snowfall has become a winter hurricane, spinning and undulating sharp winds you can barely shield your face from.

"A-Aaah—!"

Your vision slowly falters as the world becomes veiled in white. Like a blanket has been cast over the field, you can't see anything but the vague shape of Rudeus and the boy who has brought this blizzard down upon you.

Then, you hear Rudeus' voice. Muffled by the howling wind.

"I'll take care of this guy! Find Augustus! He's in your hands now!"

You feel yourself trembling. "My... hands?"

Before you can finish any of your thoughts, another gust of wind magic hits you. This time, it's concentrated, punching your gut directly with enough force to send you flying backwards. You try to collect yourself mid-air but it's far too late.

You end up crashing through one of the mansion's windows.

"No!" you shout, scrambling to your feet and peering back out into the blizzard. Beyond the whirlwind of snow and ice, you barely see Rudeus and the boy standing off against one another. Another crazed laugh hits your ears, and you watch a burst of fire glitter through the storm — although not strong enough to break past the storm's walls. "Damn it, Rudeus..."

He used his magic to blow me into the mansion. He's slick...

He can handle himself. He'll be fine. I have my own job to handle here...

You tear your eyes away from the window and go sprinting down the hall. Every door you see, you peek into, finding nothing and no one of value.

You're breathless, going from room to room, door to door, bolting down boundless halls and climbing stairs that never seem to lead anywhere.

Until—

You find it. A small entryway, paved out of dark bricks, another staircase spiraling down into an area that is not built of shimmering oak wood.

Bracing yourself, you descend.

An unbearable chill nips your body the deeper you rush. Dungeon walls stretch far across a single hallway, seemingly endless, and on every side is a set of rusty cell bars.

Behind them?

Too many women to count. All dressed in ugly robes, tattered rags and the like. Each of them cower at your presence, yet it seems they're all already devoid of emotion.

You can't blame them.

For however long they've been held captive, they have been tortured to no end. Starved, beaten, battered, raped. None of them show true emotion aside from fear — but that fear is permanently instilled in their expressions.

You catch your breath, slowing your pace to a walk as you skim through every cell down the hall.

None of them hold the people you're looking for, so you decide to break the silence.

You voice echoes through the entirety of the dungeon. No one is spared from the sound.

"All of you. I'm not here to hurt you. I'm here to get you out and handle that man — Augustus — for good."

Some of the women stop and look at one another, too afraid to respond. They seem to be mulling over your words, even in utter silence.

"I've come here with the help of a skilled silent caster to put an end to Augustus' tyranny, but before I can do anything... I need to know one thing."

The women all look to you.

"Their names are Pursena and Linia. They come from a beast tribe. Gray hair, typically always sticking together. Where are they?"

Without uttering a word, a small woman points to a door far down the hallway. You follow her finger and swallow your fear, nodding gratefully to her as you rush off to the door and throw it open with zero patience in your stride.

...

A rather expansive dungeon room awaits you. The walls are lined in chains, the floor is spotted in flecks of dried liquids you'd rather not identify.

There's the smell of body odor and stale earth.

And there, you see her.

Chained to the wall, stripped of her clothes and any innocence she may have had left.

She hangs her head for a while, but when she hears that door burst open, she lifts her chin and — strangely enough — manages to grant you a genuine smile.

"I... missed ya, Boss."

You can't hold them back. Tears have started welling in your eyes now that you have heard her voice again after all these months.

"I missed ya... so much, meow."