Salt shards pelted my chest, each one a tiny needle of corrosive agony that fizzed against my flesh before dissolving into a bitter residue.
Calliope stood at the edge of the bubble, midnight gown rippling like spilled ink. Her deep blue eyes locked on mine through the translucent barrier.
"Five minutes," she said. I could hear her perfectly despite the storm. "Prove you're worth more than a generous cock that leaks for anyone who smiles at you."
I looked around me. There was still a segment of Miners out there who were focused on battering down the shield, but three of them took a break from their duties and turned their attention to me.
They took the hoods off their robes, revealing faces of otherwise normal looking people if you didn't account the salty crevices of their skin and some parts of their faces where they were missing it entirely. It was like they had some kind of leprosy.
The self-proclaimed Salt King hovered at the center of a group of his minions. "Ah, the Sugar Well himself! Delivered on a platter. Boys, bring me his sweet Mana! Drain him dry!"
One raised a hand, and a whip tipped with a sharp salt crystal lashed out, cracking the air with a sound like breaking bones.
I dodged left, the whip grazing my robe and tearing a strip away. Where it touched my skin, it burned. It wasn't fire, but more like a sucking dryness that pulled at my moisture. My arm went numb, veins standing out like they'd been vacuum-sealed.
He grinned mischievously, pulling the whip back to himself and taking a lick of the tip of it. There was a moment of concern on his face and then suddenly his tongue fell apart like dust. He pointed angrily at me, confused.
Right, I thought. They think I've got Mana in me.
Another shard grazed my shoulder and it came with the same sucking burn. My robe was in shreds now, hanging off me in tatters that barely covered anything. The storm whipped the fabric against my thighs, my cock swinging free and half-hard despite the situation.
The Miner who'd just lost his tongue lunged at me with both hands outstretched, fingers crystallizing into jagged salt claws. I twisted at the last second, letting the jagged tips rake across my bare chest instead. Fresh lines of burning bloomed across my pecs, but the pain was distance.
They were starving for Mana. Desperate. Every attack wasn't just meant to hurt me but meant to feed them. Like they were some kind of Mana vampire.
Well, sucks to suck.
The second Miner circled to my left, hands already weaving another salty artifact. I grinned despite the burn in my lungs.
"Come get it, then," I called, spreading my arms wide. I stepped slowly toward the edge of the railing. And I made sure Calliope was watching. The tattered robe fell completely away, leaving me naked in the storm, cock traitorously thick. "I'm right here. Sugar Well. Prime vintage. Listen to your boss man and drain me dry!"
The tongueless Miner hesitated, claws trembling. His eyes, hollow white pits now, darted to the bloody trails on my skin where their attacks had landed. It was all just ordinary sweat and blood mixing with salt residue.
Confusion rippled through their ranks.
"He's... he's not leaking. Why isn't he leaking?"
"You punks thought you could steal Sugar from the next Sugar Patriarch that easily?" I asked, reminding myself internally that I needed to be careful to not go overboard with the bragging. "I've got it all locked away deep inside. You'll have to try harder than that!"
Panic suddenly skyrocketed up my chest as I remembered I had tried a gambit like this before, way back when I had first met Matterhorn. I had baited him to charge at me so I could dodge and run at the last second. It hadn't exactly worked the way I had planned. I had to think of a few different tricks.
It was too late to think any more about it.
The whip cracked again, wrapping around my thigh this time. The burn was intense, like salt in an open wound, or on a canker sore. I gritted my teeth and pulled instead of resisting. The Miner yelped as I hauled him toward me, his feet skidding on the Mana-slick platform.
Panic set in for the Miner with the whip and he released it, stumbling back, but I was already on him. I wrapped the whip around his neck like a noose, wrapped one end around the railing (another thing I learned how to quickly do while I was on my adventure with Matterhorn) and let him drop over the side. I heard his neck pop.
Two left.
The Miner who was materializing Salt formations had hung back to intensify his briny swirl. My cock was smaller from the dryness, but I was proud to say that that I refused to wilt completely.
Calliope continued to watch from the bubble's edge.
The Miner became visibly frustrated that his Salt wasn't absorbing the Mana he thought it should.
"You really are dry... how?" the Miner rasped. "The King said—"
"The King's a simp who got played!" I shot back, voice rough but steady. I lunged at him, ignoring the sucking pull of his Salt magics and headbutted him square in the nose. Salt exploded in a gritty cloud, stinging my eyes, but I didn't stop. I drove a knee into his groin. He folded with a wet gurgle, the Salt formations falling apart around us. Up close, I could see the desperation in his cracked face.
I finished him with a punch to the glowing fissure in his chest. My knuckles sank in, and he burst apart like a sandcastle under a wave.
One more. This one had lost his tongue earlier.
He charged at me with reckless abandon, claws extended like desperate hooks. His mangled mouth gaped wide, trying to roar, but it came out as a hollow rasp.
I didn't back away. Instead, I planted my feet on the slick platform, muscles coiling like springs. The Sisters had sculpted my body for more than just sexual stamina. This was a body that could dominate. My abs tightened, my thighs flexed. My cock bobbed.
He slashed wildly. I grabbed his wrist mid-swing, twisting it with a sharp jerk. Bone crunched under my grip. He wheezed, staggering, and I followed up with a brutal uppercut to his chin. His head snapped back, more dust exploding from his ruined mouth. I followed up by slamming a knee into his midsection.
He doubled over, and I wrapped my arms around him in a chokehold. "You wanted a taste of this?" I asked.
He thrashed, claws raking my back, but each scratch yielded zilch. No Mana rush for him. With a final, dusty gasp, he shattered in my arms.
I released my hold, stepping back as the empty robe fluttered to the platform. Panting, chest heaving, I stood there naked and victorious, salt residue clinging to my sweat-slicked skin like a warrior's badge. My cuts stung, veins throbbing from the dehydration, but damn if I didn't feel alive.
The Salt King roared. "I swear! If you want something done right, you have to do it yourself!"
I turned to face him and braced myself, raising my fists, completely and situationally oblivious to my complete lack of Mana. I could handle the Miners, as long as they were left confused and sluggish because they couldn't Mana drain me, but the Salt King was his own beast. Large, bloated... floating. I could feel the bitterness emanate from him.
I felt a touch on the back of my shoulder. It was Calliope.
"Five minutes," she said. "You did well."
"Mistress," I said, "get inside the bubble!"
"No," Calliope said. "It is time for us to come inside mine."
She raised her hand like a princess, and when I grabbed it, the world disappeared.
I was inside Calliope's domain.