The trio crested the final rise of cracked black stone, the border where the slums ended and the hill began. The hill itself rose like a broken spine from the dark city, steep and unforgiving, crowned by the Bright Castle. Even from this distance the fortress looked obscene in its grandeur—ivory walls glowing with stolen starlight amongst the starless sky, towers sharp as teeth, torn banners veiled crimson in blood snapping in the sour wind. Below it, at the hill's filthy ruins, broken homes, scattered rubble and monstrous carcasses with a few campfires like oasis in the desert. the slums sprawled like an open wound.
Young men and women—barely more than teenagers, most of them—scurried through the dirt and wreckage. Some carried monster meat, others dragged makeshift sleds of scavenged wood. Their armour memories were damaged, faces gaunt, eyes wide in constant fear. A few clutched weapons that looked more like kitchen tools than blades. The air stank of fear-sweat, unwashed bodies, and the copper tang of recent blood.
Effie stopped at the edge, arms crossed, mace resting on her shoulder like a casual accessory.
"Looks like the slums got hit again last night," she said, voice flat. "Some Nightmare Creature—probably a fallen one or worse—slipped through the square. Tore through the buildings. That's why they're scrambling like ants. Food stores gone, water barrels smashed, half the shelters collapsed. Same shit, different night."
She gave a brief, bored rundown of the Dark City's rotten underbelly—the fee for the Castle, Gunlaug's iron rule, the Host's brutality, the harem rumors, the endless cycle of hunger and violence—then shrugged as if it were all background noise.
Sunny and Nephis stood shoulder to shoulder, silent, taking it in. Sunny's hand rested low on Nephis's back, thumb brushing the seam of the Starlight Legion Armor, feeling the faint warmth of his own dried cum still trapped beneath the plates. Nephis's silver eyes swept the crowd below, expression unreadable.
Effie turned to them, grin sliding back into place.
"Okay, kiddos. Tour's over. Don't bother me after today." She winked at Sunny, slow and filthy. "But you, doofus… feel free to invite yourself over to my place anytime."
Without missing a beat she raised her fist in front of her mouth, formed a perfect 'O' with her lips, and pumped her hand up and down twice—crude, unmistakable mimicry of a blowjob.
Sunny's eyes widened a fraction.
Nephis's reaction was instantaneous.
Her hand shot down, fingers digging into the meat of Sunny's ass with bruising force. Nails bit through fabric, squeezing hard enough to make him jolt and hiss. The possessive grip yanked his attention away from Effie like a leash.
Sunny's head snapped sideways, cheeks flushing, gaze locking onto Nephis's face instead. The Changing Star's expression remained perfectly serene—cold, regal, untouchable—but her eyes burned with something sharp and territorial.
Effie laughed, loud and delighted.
"Looks like someone's got a leash on you already, cutie." She slung the mace over her shoulder and sauntered off down the slope, hips rolling. "See you around… or not. Try not to die."
Her footsteps faded into the slum din.
Sunny exhaled shakily, still pinned by Nephis's grip. He didn't dare pull away.
Nephis leaned in, lips brushing his ear, voice low and dangerous.
"Eyes on me," she murmured. "S-U-N-N-Y."
Her fingers eased, but only slightly—enough to stroke once, teasingly, over the handprint she'd just left.
Sunny swallowed hard, cock twitching traitorously beneath his trousers.
"Yes, ma'am," he whispered.
Below them the slums seethed, hungry and hopeless.
Above them the Bright Castle waited, glowing, cruel, and impossibly far.
The gates of the Bright Castle loomed ahead like the jaws of some gilded beast, ivory stone veined with threads of pale gold that caught the candlelight and made the whole place shimmer unnaturally. Guards in polished plate armor—members of Gunlaug's Host—eyed them with bored suspicion but waved them through after a cursory glance at the Starlight Legion Armor clinging to Nephis like molten moonlight. No one asked questions. In the Dark City, shiny armor usually meant you were either useful to be under someone's protection or strong enough to protect yourself and your valuables. Either way, it was better not to poke.
Inside, the corridors were oppressively clean compared to the slums: white marble floors, tapestries depicting heroic battles, braziers burning with flame that gave off no heat. The air smelled of incense and candle.
Sunny and Nephis walked side by side, his hand hovering at the small of her back, never quite touching. Beneath the flawless silver plates of her armor, his dried cum still clung to her skin in sticky, cooling patches; every step made the mess shift slightly, a private, filthy reminder that had her thighs pressing together more often than necessary.
They followed the signs toward the "Guest Registry" and approached a long, low desk of dark wood. Behind it sat a thin, frail man who looked like a strong breeze could snap him in half. Pale skin, watery eyes behind cracked spectacles, thinning hair combed desperately over a bald spot. He was hunched over a stack of parchment, quill scratching mechanically.
And then the sound started.
"Gwack… gwack… gwack…"
Wet, rhythmic, unmistakable. Coming from under the desk.
Sunny's eyebrows climbed. Nephis's expression didn't change at all, but her fingers flexed at her sides.
Harper—the receptionist, presumably—didn't even look up. His cheeks were flushed, his breathing a little too even, but he kept writing. The slurping sounds continued, accelerating slightly.
After another few seconds of increasingly obscene noise, Harper cleared his throat, set the quill down, and pushed back from the desk with a small, embarrassed cough.
A girl emerged from beneath the table like she was rising from a nap.
She was short, curvy, dark-haired, lips swollen and glossy. She wiped her mouth with the back of her hand, gave Sunny a slow, knowing wink, and purred, "Hey, cutie. Name's Sid. You look new here come find me later if you want a proper welcome."
Sunny opened his mouth. But before he could answer.
Nephis's boot came down on his foot—hard.
The stomp was silent, precise, and crushing. Pain lanced up his leg; he bit the inside of his cheek to keep from yelping. His eyes watered, but he kept his face neutral.
Harper, oblivious or pretending to be, adjusted the front of his trousers with a quick, nervous tug, smoothed his tunic, and finally looked at them properly.
"Uh… welcome to the Bright Castle guest wing," he said in a soft, reedy voice that cracked on the last word. "I'm Harper. I handle the paid lodgings. One Awakened soul shard per person per week. In advance."
He sounded like he was reciting from memory, eyes darting between them without quite meeting either gaze. There was something pitiful about him—thin shoulders hunched, fingers trembling slightly on the parchment. He was clearly only alive because someone higher up had taken pity and shoved him behind this desk instead of letting the slums or the monsters finish him off.
Sunny, still recovering from the stomp, managed to speak first. "We'll take it."
Harper blinked. "How many rooms?"
"One," Sunny and Nephis said in perfect unison.
The word hung in the air for a heartbeat.
Harper swallowed, nodded quickly. "Right. One room. West wing, third floor. Decent view of the inner courtyard, private bath, two beds—though, uh, most people push them together." He blushed scarlet, then hurried on. "The conditions are… quite good. Considering. Hot water every day, meals in the common hall, no curfew but don't wander the upper levels without invitation."
He stood, wobbly on his feet, and gestured toward a side corridor. "This way, please."
As Harper shuffled ahead, Nephis fell into step beside Sunny. Sid lingered behind the desk, blowing him a kiss.
Sunny kept his eyes straight forward.
Nephis didn't say a word.
But the hand that brushed his ass as they walked was gentle this time—almost tender.
Almost.
Beneath the armor, another slow trickle of his spend leaked down her inner thigh, warm and sticky against the silver greave.
She didn't bother hiding the tiny, satisfied smile that curved her lips.
The west wing waited.