After the confrontation, the room slowly began to settle—though the tension never truly left.
It didn't disappear.
It simply sank deeper, like something heavy dropped into still water.
Aron let out a long, exaggerated yawn and stretched his arms wide, his joints cracking softly. He rubbed his eyes and climbed onto his bed, kicking off his boots without much care.
"Tomorrow's going to be rough," he muttered lazily, already halfway asleep. "I swear, the bread was tasty today…"
Within moments, his breathing grew slow and uneven.
Ivan, on the other hand, had turned his back to both of them long before that. He lay facing the wall, arms crossed over his chest, posture rigid even in rest. His breathing was calm. Controlled. As if sleep itself had to follow his rules.
As if nothing that had happened mattered to him at all.
Only Elias remained standing.
For a brief moment, he stayed frozen where he was, listening—measuring the room, the silence, the distance between breaths. Only when he was certain no one was watching did he finally move toward his bed.
Every step felt heavier than the last.
He removed his coat slowly, carefully, folding it with shaking fingers. His hands felt clumsy, unfamiliar—like they didn't fully belong to him anymore. He knelt beside his suitcase, telling himself again and again to be quiet.
*Don't draw attention. Don't make mistakes. Don't exist too loudly.*
His fingers unlatched the case.
Just a little.
Moonlight slipped inside.
And Elias froze.
There—caught in that pale silver glow—were Alessia's panties, he recognized instantly.
Dark.
Soft.
Carelessly folded.
Still wet—damp crotch panel glistening with her mature pussy nectar, faint creamy streaks dried from secret milk-squirt sessions, demon darkness surging to snatch them up and bury face-deep inhaling warrior cunt musk while cock throbs imagining stuffing the sticky gusset into her shocked mouth mid-armor removal.
His mind rejected it at first.
No. That's not— It can't be—
Then his chest tightened violently, as if something had grabbed his heart from the inside.
Why are they here…? I completely forgot about them.
The memory struck him all at once—too clear, too sharp.
His breath hitched.
Before the thought could finish forming, Elias snapped the suitcase shut with all the strength he had—
THUDD!!
The sound echoed far too loudly in the quiet room.
Instantly, both Aron and Ivan stirred.
Ivan opened one eye.
That alone was enough.
His gaze locked onto Elias—sharp, annoyed, dangerous.
"What now?" Ivan growled, his voice low and rough.
Elias's heart jumped straight into his throat.
"I—I'm sorry!" he blurted out, the words tumbling over each other in panic. "There was—there was a spider inside!"
Ivan stared at him for a long second.
No reaction.
No surprise.
Only judgment.
"…Pathetic," he muttered, turning away again and closing his eyes.
Aron leaned closer from his bed, covering his mouth as he whispered, trying not to laugh.
"Elias, you're really a coward, you know that?" he teased softly.
Then his tone shifted—lighter, warmer.
"But it's okay. If you stay with me, no one will scare you. I'm the strongest here."
Ivan's eyes snapped open again.
That glare cut through the darkness like a blade.
Aron immediately pulled the blanket over his face.
"Sleeping," he said quickly. "Already sleeping."
Silence returned.
But Elias remained kneeling beside his suitcase, his pulse racing.
Because he knew.
There was no spider.
And those panties were not supposed to be there.
***
Night settled over Sancthorn like a heavy curtain being pulled shut.
One by one, the lamps along the outer corridors dimmed, their light shrinking into small trembling halos against the ancient stone walls. Somewhere far above, a bell rang softly—slow, deliberate—marking the final hours before rest.
Inside the shared room, silence took shape.
Aron slept deeply.
He lay sprawled across his bed, one arm hanging off the side, breathing loud and uneven—the sleep of someone whose mind carried little weight. Occasionally, he mumbled something meaningless and turned over, the wooden frame creaking beneath him.
Ivan slept differently.
Flat on his back.
Arms crossed.
Face calm—but never relaxed.
Even in rest, discipline held him tightly.
Only Elias was awake.
He lay on his bed, staring up at the dark ceiling, eyes wide and unblinking.
Too awake.
The room felt smaller than before.
The walls closer.
The silence pressed against his ears until it felt louder than noise.
He turned onto his side.
Then onto his back again.
The sheets twisted beneath his restless body, but no position brought comfort. The unease followed him—clingy, heavy, tightening around his chest.
His thoughts wouldn't stop.
They refused to obey.
Images rose without warning.
Elizabeth—tall, composed, guiding him through Sancthorn earlier that day. The calm authority in her voice. The way her robes shifted when she turned—
strict hips swaying with hidden authority, demon purring to corner her in shadowed alcove and hike robes high exposing severe ass cheeks for spanking-red handprints while choking pearl necklace to force gagging confessions of repressed cravings.
Then Hailee.
Her laughter.
Her breathless voice.
The warmth of her presence in the bathing hall.
The way she moved—pure thighs rubbing slick during panicked run, promise-bound innocence ripe for "request" command to spread legs wide in empty chapel exposing downy virgin slit for teasing fingers tracing puffy lips until faithful tears mix with forbidden dew.
Elias squeezed his eyes shut.
"No," he whispered.
But another image replaced it immediately.
Alessia.
Her armor loosened.
The faint glimpse of skin beneath.
Those marks.
Not scars.
Marks—purple bite-bruises framing massive leaking tits, damp armor plates hiding swollen nipples dripping holy milk nectar begging rough suction while stolen panties prove her nighttime fist-fucking shame.
His breath caught sharply.
His heart began to race—not only with unwanted desire, but with something darker. Sharper. Fear mixed with heat, spreading through his body, settling low, making his muscles tense and his fingers curl into the sheets—
This isn't me.
His chest tightened painfully.
"I don't want this," he murmured. "I don't think like this."
But his body didn't listen.
A strange pressure built inside him, deep in his chest—like something was pushing outward, squeezing his heart from within. His breaths became shallow. Each inhale felt incomplete, as if the air wasn't enough.
The room felt wrong.
Darker.
Hotter.
Smaller.
His heartbeat grew louder.
Faster.
Painful.
*Thump. Thump. Thump.*
Too fast.
Too loud.
Elias pushed himself upright, gasping quietly so he wouldn't wake the others. His vision blurred, the room swaying gently as if the world itself had lost balance.
"I—I need help," he whispered.
He swung his legs off the bed and stood. His knees felt weak, barely holding him up. The cold stone floor bit into his bare feet as he took a step toward Aron's bed.
Another step.
His balance wavered.
"Aron…" he murmured softly, reaching out. "I—I don't feel—"
His hand trembled as it stretched forward—
Then—
**THUDD!!**
The world vanished.
His body hit the floor hard.
The sound echoed unnaturally loud.
And then—
Nothing.
No pain.
No sound.
No thought.
Only darkness.
Cold.
Empty.
***
A sensation.
Cold drops touched his face.
One.
Then another.
Raindrops.
Slow.
Steady.
Elias's eyes fluttered open.
His vision blurred. Shadows stretched and warped as he tried to focus. His head throbbed faintly as he pushed himself up, wet stone pressing against his palms.
Stone?
His breath caught sharply.
This wasn't the floor of his room.
As his vision cleared, the truth struck him like ice.
He was outside.
Beyond the inner grounds.
Beyond the sanctified walls.
The massive borders of Sancthorn loomed behind him—silent, towering, cutting into the night sky like dark teeth.
Rain soaked his clothes, clung to his skin, ran down his face.
And then—
He saw it.
A body.
Lying only a few steps away.
A Sancthorn guard.
Or what remained of him.
The body lay twisted unnaturally. Armor cracked. Limbs stiff.
And—
No head.
Elias's breath stopped completely.
His stomach twisted violently.
"What…?" he whispered.
His mind refused to accept it.
Footsteps echoed nearby.
A voice called out from the darkness.
"Who's there?"
Another guard emerged between the outer watch posts, lantern raised. Rain glinted off his armor as he stepped closer.
He froze.
The lantern shook.
"By the Holy—"
His eyes locked onto the headless body.
Then—
They moved.
To Elias.
Elias followed his gaze slowly.
And screamed—without sound.
In his hands—
He was holding the severed head.
The guard's face was frozen in terror. Eyes wide. Mouth open. Blood mixed with rain, dripping between Elias's fingers—warm against his skin.
His whole body began to shake.
"I—I didn't—" he tried to speak.
Nothing came out.
The guard stared at him, horror etched into every line of his face.
"What… are you?" the man whispered.
Elias dropped the head instantly and stumbled backward, gasping for breath.
"I don't know!" he cried. "I don't know how I got here!"
Rain kept falling.
The darkness watched.
And deep inside Elias—
Something smiled.
***