Guinevere instantly pulled her fist back, leaping backward a full ten meters in reflex, alarmed.
Ekterina didn't counterattack. She didn't reach for her halberd. The imposing demon lord's eyes rolled back into her head, and she crumpled. She collapsed heavily onto her knees in the ash and dirt.
The battlefield suddenly went deathly quiet, save for the distant explosions in the capital and the heavy, ragged breathing coming from the fallen warrior.
Ekterina's halberd lay abandoned. Her arms, which had just been sundering mountains, wrapped around her own torso. But as she knelt there, her hands slid downward, desperately clutching tightly between her thighs. Her body writhed, arching backward as violent shivers wracked her spine.
"Haa… ahh…" Ekterina whimpered, her voice entirely stripped of its former pride, reduced to a desperate, breathy whine. Her hips bucked involuntarily against her own hands, grinding her thighs together as she gasped for air.
Then, the scent hit Guinevere.
It rolled over the battlefield in a wave. It was impossibly sweet, musky, and thick—a concentrated, cloying miasma of female pheromones. It smelled of dark wine, blooming nightshade, and raw heat. The scent was so potent it almost had a physical weight to it, making the air feel viscous and humid.
If a man smelled this, his erection would point to the sky.
Guinevere lowered her stance, her brow furrowing as the pieces finally clicked into place.
Guinevere's earlier assessment about the drug had been correct—it forced the body past its biological limits. But she had gravely misunderstood its composition. It was likely hastily made and immediately consumed despite the lack of sufficient testing.
The drug's side effect was a weaponized aphrodisiac. It traded rationality and stamina for increased power and a higher divine resistance, but the inevitable crash didn't result in mere fatigue—it resulted in paralyzing lust.
"Haa… please… N-Not again…" Ekterina sobbed out, her flushed face buried in the dirt as her hips jerked again. Her armored leggings scraped against the stone, the sound pathetic and completely devoid of the dignity she had carried into the battle. She squeezed her thighs together so hard the leather straps of her armored leggings groaned under the pressure, but it clearly brought her no relief.
Guinevere stared at the trembling, moaning mess of a woman before her. The great Ekterina, a terror of the battlefield, brought to her knees, paralyzed by her own creation.
The cultists, who were watching the fight from the castle walls, stared in disbelief at this scene.
**
Ekerina was ashamed of herself.
For thousands of years, she was a cold warrior who killed without batting an eye. She welcomed pain because a warrior can only feel alive when they bleed on the razor's edge of death. She remembered the Siege of Aethelgard past the mountains that split the continent of Diacree, where her heavy halberd alone had shattered the kingdom's supposedly unbreakable gates. She remembered the terrified, despairing screams of monarchs as she wiped entire nations off the map, leaving nothing but mountains of ash and rivers of blood in her wake. To the nine realms, she was a merciless, towering force of nature—a demon lord who felt nothing but the cold, calculating logic of war.
But as she lay trembling in the dirt, her armor scraping pathetically against the scorched earth, that grand, terrifying facade shattered.
The blunt force of Guinevere's punch had rewired her very soul. The agonizing throb radiating from her stomach didn't bring forth a warrior's rage; it brought a euphoric high. She loved it. The realization struck her harder than the Valkyrie's fist.
The burning cuts, the fractured bones, the bruising impacts she had endured over centuries of glorious combat—she hadn't just tolerated them for the sake of victory. Deep down, buried beneath centuries of icy pride, she had craved the abuse. She was a masochist, utterly addicted to the heavy, dominating force of a superior strike, a dark truth only now unlocked by the drug boiling in her veins and womb.
"Ahh… haaa… more…" she panted, her hips bucking involuntarily against the cold ground.
Her nether region was pulsating with an unbearable ache, weeping with a heavy slickness that soaked into the leather of her inner thighs. The emptiness inside her was driving her completely mad, erasing all thoughts of the ongoing war. Her shattered mind no longer craved victory or bloodshed; it desperately yearned for a man's fierce touch. She needed to be pinned down, conquered, and forcefully taken. She imagined a man's thick, rock-hard member finally stretching her apart, ruthlessly driving deep into her core to extinguish this pathetic, burning fever.
A terrifying thought flashed through the hazy storm of her fractured mind—a name that sent a different kind of shockwave straight down her spine. Arnold von Berkley.
He was a monster wrapped in human deceit, a man whose cold cruelty knew no bounds—that much she knew now. Ekterina remembered with stark clarity what he had done—how he had casually and methodically slaughtered the innocent girl the hero loved in cold blood, all just to break the boy's mind and force his awakening. He hadn't hesitated. He hadn't felt a single flicker of pity. To Arnold, lives were merely disposable tools to be ground into powder for his grand design.
If he was capable of such horrifying, dispassionate atrocity against a harmless, innocent girl... what would he do to a fallen Demon Lord?
The thought didn't fill her with terror. Instead, it sent a searing volt of electricity straight into her throbbing core, causing her hips to jerk violently against the earth. A shuddering gasp tore from her throat as the dark realization consumed her completely: she wouldn't just fear his cruelty—she would crave every brutal second of it.
Her desperate imagination painted the scene with terrifying detail. She pictured Arnold standing over her trembling, incapacitated body, his blue eyes brimming with satisfaction. She imagined him throwing his weight over her, straddling her hips to pin her firmly to the ground because she's cattle that doesn't deserve a bed, stripping away the last remnants of her pride and helping himself to her breasts. In her mind's eye, she saw his handsome face twisted into a cold, contemptuous smirk as he looked down at her flushed, tear-stained expression.
She visualized his fist raised high above her, knuckles white, holding the absolute power to ruin her, to strike her, to break her body again and again until she was entirely submissive beneath him. He would show no gentleness, no warmth and no restraint as he does with his lovers.
If he could show no mercy to even his fellow humans, what would he do a demon who invaded his country?
He would use his strength to dominate her entirely, overpowering her physical might before forcefully taking her, driving deep into her weeping core to extinguish the maddening fever consuming her.
But no, he would just treat her like a toy whose sole purpose is to pleasure him.
"Ah… Arnold…" she whimpered into the dirt, her fingers digging hopelessly into her thighs.
The phantom image of his raised fist and mocking smirk hung over her mind like a dark salvation. Her body arched involuntarily, her nether region pulsating with a desperate heat as her mind fully surrendered to the thrill of his unimaginable cruelty. The great, merciless conqueror of kingdoms had been reduced to a weeping mess, utterly intoxicated by the thought of being broken by a man far more monster than human.
**
'What… just happened?' Guinevere witnessed all Ekterina's squirming before she fell unconscious.
She's not innocent so she knows that Ekterina definitely masturbated.
She whispered Arnold's name for some reason before a second round of liquid shot from between her legs. After that, she fell unconscious, an ugly satisfied expression on her face.
'…That drug made things easier for me… Anyway… Arnold requested that I take Lilith and Ekterina alive for some reason.'
His clone said the two are needed for some grand plan with Freya. Since Guinevere had a good impression of Freya, it wouldn't be bad to listen to the request. She could also form a relationship with Freya by being involved with their plan.
Guinevere knelt in front of Ekterina, who was sleeping like a baby… Well, her legs were spread wide so that wasn't really the right description to use.
"E-Ekie!? What's wrong with you!?" Lilith's panicked voice came from above as she was fighting the angel, "Get up! That woman is going to kill you!"
The angel could dodge most of her spells but Lilith probably couldn't use a big spell here since Ekterina and the Perdition Core would get caught in the blast.
Also, this angel wasn't weak by any means. Guinevere used the soul of her comrade from a thousand years ago—who never wanted to stop fighting—to create this Valhalla Angel.
Over the centuries she's been fighting as a Valkyrie, many of her fallen comrades had that wish. They didn't want to continue to the afterlife of gods. They wanted their souls to continue fighting even if their consciousness fades away.
Guinevere knew more than anyone how precious life and one's wishes to continue living, even if as just a soul, are.
Thinking useless thoughts, she pulled out an artifact—a ceremonial dagger meant to seal away demons upon their deaths, crushing any means of reincarnation.
Recognizing that dagger, Lilith's eyes widened.
After making the angel retreat to her side, Guinevere sent the dagger into Ekterina's sea of consciousness.
Doing this guarantees that the demon gets sealed away.
"What did you do!?"
"If you want her to live, you will follow me quietly."
She reluctantly descended with a scowl on her face, "…Why are you using such tactics? Aren't you supposed to be righteous!?"
"I'm following the order of the man who I owe my life to."
"What? Who?"
Guinevere ignored her and looked towards the castle ruin.
'That boy hasn't come out yet.'
She had a bad feeling about this so she wanted to go check what's happening inside.
She could feel a strong demonic energy coming from under that castle ruin so there was probably a portal down there. If Greater Demons come through the portal to defend the artifact, Arthur will be in danger even with the Holy Sword.
"—You restrained them before I could…" a voice came from above before a powerful signature even entered Guinevere's warrior sense, perfected through two thousand years of fighting, "Red hair and a purple dress… Are you… Guinevere?"
Guinevere looked up at the voice. This signature was familiar to her.
It felt like Promethius was floating above her, which made her body go stiff.
But what she saw was a young boy who was only 15 years old, already in the plane of demigods. Though he was far weaker than Guinevere and even Arnold for that matter, his signature surpassed them both in intensity and scale.
If you were to peer into the dimension of one's warrior sense, all you would see is gold engulfing the signature energies.
That gold is Luke von Berkley, Promethius' successor.
"…My name is Guinevere, yes. Are you Arnold's little brother, Luke?"
He descended to the ground, "I am. You can leave those two up to me."
His attention was solely on Ekterina, not even registering Lilith in his mind, as she had the stink of a demon lord on her. Said person was sleeping soundly with one breast out and her legs spread after having the biggest release of her life.
Luke was about to walk past Guinevere with his sword drawn but she held out an arm, stopping him.
Eyes wide, he slowly looked up at her, "What are you doing?"
"I'm sorry but I can't let you kill them."
"…What did you just say?"
"I need them alive for something important. Until then… please grant them mercy."
His fingers twitched hearing her plea but the one holding his sword gripped it firmer.
"Why…? Why should I give them mercy after what they did to Norn and the empire? Why can they live but not the people who were turned into monsters? Why are you siding against me when we are the same!?"
His golden aura pushed Guinevere with so much force, her feet dragged across the ground.
Lilith slowly retreated since she was in such close proximity of that golden aura, causing his eyes to dart towards her.
As if he recognized an old foe, his eyes widened and the light vanished from his eyes. in his eyes was a darkness Guinevere recognized, as that was the same gaze she had upon seeing her children being devoured by their own father.
Guinevere's body shook as those memories returned in those brief seconds.
"You… You!" in a blur, Luke appeared before Lilith, about to slice her head off.
She tried to conjure a spell but nothing would withstand the strength of an awakened hero. Maybe if he was of a sound mind, she could use her natural charms to put him in a daze but that's out of the question right now.
Guinevere did something she's never done before in her life.
A rumble shook the lands, reaching even the empire's walls.
"What are you doing!? She's the one that killed Norn!" Luke screamed at Guinevere who was desperately holding his hand. Even though she was burned by his divine energy, she pulled him into a hug.