The silence of the prayer hall still clung to Elias like a cold layer of guilt. Every word Elizabeth spoke—every disciplined command, every scolding, every reminder that he was nothing but a boy who must obey—echoed inside him long after he stepped out.
His heart hurt.
But something else… deep inside the darkest corner of him… liked it.
**A twisted warmth curled in the pit of his stomach whenever he replayed Elizabeth grabbing his robe, her hot angry breath washing his face, those massive fat boobs heaving against tight robe with rock-hard nipples scraping fabric. That part of him—the same demon that crawled out during the women's bath—wanted to grab her thick hips brutal, rip robe expose soaked pussy mound cameltoe begging filled, ram cock balls-deep her virgin cunt while choking swollen tits purple till stern Sister Elizabeth breaks screaming whore mercy.**
But Elias… the real Elias… felt like he was drowning in shame.
He walked back through the long stone hallways, whispering to himself under each shaky breath.
"Why did I do that…? Why was I even there? That wasn't me… I would never…"
He pressed a hand to his forehead.
"This place… something is wrong with me…"
When he finally reached his shared room, Aron was gone.
Elias let out a slow breath of relief and sat beside his small bed, opening the suitcase with trembling fingers. He took out the fresh Sancthorn uniform—the black and silver cloth folded neatly, the mark of the Foundation Circle stitched on the chest in pale white thread.
He undressed slowly, but flashes kept hitting him—
**His mind spun back to the bath girl, her wet skin glistening under soft downy pubic hair barely claiming womanhood, that full dripping pussy lips puffy swollen throbbing raw desire, juicy thighs parted flashing tight virgin hole begging stretched. Her young perky boobs bouncing water droplets racing rock-hard nipples desperate sucked raw, fat ass cheeks clenched plump perfect handfuls screaming spanked spread wide. Soap scent mixed wild pussy musk burned senses—demon craving pin her stone ram cock balls-deep sopping cunt wreck virgin asshole gaping while choking boobs till pure sister begs cum-filled ruin.**
**And Elizabeth—the vision bowing low, black robes clinging perfect sinful curves, massive heavy boobs pressing sharp tight fabric swollen nipples rock-hard poking desperate pinched sucked, thick hips swaying cameltoe outline soaked pussy mound dripping slick thighs unconscious wetness radiating fuck heat. Demon throbbed bury face pussy-musk thighs, shove throbbing cock down throat gagging while fingers wreck clit asshole, turn disciplined Sister filthy cock-whore leaking seed prayers turned screams.**
Every memory stabbed him with guilt.
He shook his head violently and forced himself to finish dressing.
He lay flat on the bed, staring at the ceiling.
The massive Sancthorn clock echoed its ticking across the halls—
each tick like a warning that noon was approaching,
that he couldn't fail again,
that Elizabeth was expecting him.
He couldn't bear the idea of disappointing her again.
He couldn't bear the idea of her cold eyes looking at him like he was useless.
He wanted her to see he was different.
He wanted to prove himself.
He wanted her to trust him.
The clock's sharp BONG hit once—
11:20.
Elias jumped up.
There were forty minutes left, but he refused to repeat the morning disaster.
He hurried down the hallway, walking faster and faster, repeating:
"Don't get lost… don't get lost… don't get lost…"
Sancthorn's maze-like corridors twisted in every direction.
Tall stone walls.
Dim lanterns.
Countless archways leading to identical halls.
He tried asking others.
"Excuse me, can you tell me where the gathering hall is—?"
But the passing sisters didn't even turn their heads.
They walked in strict silence, eyes forward, like he didn't even exist.
Panic built in his chest.
His hands grew cold.
The ticking of the faraway clock grew louder.
He felt like the walls were closing in.
And then—
a glimmer of light.
Far down the hallway, he spotted it—
the grand doors of the gathering hall.
Elias let out a breath so deep it almost hurt.
He took one step forward—
and his feet froze.
A chill ran up his spine.
**A tall woman passed beside him—every inch warrior carved fire storm, golden hair tumbling thick wild over battle-scarred shoulders framing massive heavy boobs barely contained cracked bloodied armor, fat ass cheeks straining torn plates begging spanked spread, thick thighs rubbing soaked pussy mound cameltoe through sweat-soaked leather, battle-hardened curves screaming fucked raw. Fresh wounds arms blood sliding fingers mixed metallic scent wild pussy musk sweat dripping fuck-meat perfection.**
Fresh wounds along her arms.
Blood sliding down her fingers.
Her attire wasn't Sancthorn clothing.
It looked like battle gear from outside the walls.
She walked with slow, serious steps, each one echoing as though she carried storms behind her.
Elias stared—
and something in him cracked open.
A familiar darkness.
A whisper inside him.
A hunger.
His left eye flashed faintly red.
His lips stretched into that unnatural, evil smile that never belonged to him.
"That… body…"
The voice inside him purred.
"That scent…that heat.."
His gaze devoured the powerful sway of her hips beneath torn plates, the sharp line of her neck, the subtle rise and fall of scent-laden flesh no armor could conceal. He felt the pull of something primordial awaken—a fierce, animal longing to claim and consume.
The real Elias tried to move back toward the gathering hall.
He fought.
He pushed.
He begged his body to obey.
But the other him—the demon lurking beneath—
dragged his feet in the opposite direction.
He followed the woman quietly, like a shadow slipping after prey.
Quietly.
Softly.
Like a shadow.
She entered a large, old chamber and shut the door.
Elias stood before it, trembling.
The real him was screaming inside.
He wanted to turn around.
He wanted to run back to Elizabeth.
He wanted to be on time.
But his body didn't listen.
The evil presence inside him smiled wider, twisting his face.
He checked both sides of the hallway.
Empty.
Silent.
No footsteps.
Very slowly…
he pressed his hand to the door…
And opened it.
Barely a sound escaped the hinges.
Inside was darkness.
Dusty shelves.
Ancient armor stands.
Old tomes stacked in corners.
Bowls filled with strange glowing liquids—magic remnants untouched for decades.
Elias moved quietly and hid behind a huge wooden wardrobe.
Behind an old torn curtain…
the golden-haired woman stood.
He could see her clearly through the gaps.
Her back rose and fell with slow breaths.
Her armor was cracked, bloodied.
Her bloodied armor bore witness to countless battles, but now her hands moved with languid, deliberate grace.
Slowly—agonizingly slow—she unbuckled the straps binding her torso.
Each piece of worn leather and dented metal fell away, revealing sun-kissed skin dappled with scars and streaked with grime.
Elias' demon surged, panting with want.
**The exposed curve of her shoulder gleamed under faint light, leading down massive heavy boobs sagging perfect battle-ripened handfuls, rock-hard nipples poking through torn gambeson desperate sucked milked, sweat-streaked cleavage valley begging motorboated tongue-fucked, bruised tattoos tracing fat ass crack leading virgin pussy mound cameltoe throbbing battle heat.**
Her long fingers traced along the cracked breastplate's edge as if savoring the moment.
Then her hands slipped beneath the collar of the torn gambeson.
The fabric loosened… slipped… and a glimpse of creamy skin, taut and bare, flashed beneath.
Not fully naked yet.
But the promise was electric.
Her breasts, just barely revealed at the top, rounded softly—nipples already hard and itching beneath the smooth, unblemished skin.
Elias' demon moaned inside him, starved and frantic to see more.
Every pulse of breath, every trembling muscle called to the hunger lodged deep within him—a vicious, terrible craving to strip her bare and drown in the wild heat that surely waited beneath.
His eyes flicked upward, mouth parting with a silent groan of need.
He was caught, lost between terror and lust, plaything of the darkness clawing to devour.
And the scene ended—teasing, sparking the fire that burned deeper in his soul.
Elias' real mind shattered in panic—
but the other him leaned forward silently, eyes gleaming.
***