"What is the Dao?" murmured a voice that seemed to be whispering those words right behind his ear.
Another, different voice—one he couldn't recognize, even though he had heard it just a moment ago—replied: "The Dao is simply a question."
"What question?"
"What is life, to you?"
"Then does each person have their own Dao?" the first voice responded, this time somewhat more diffuse than before, as if those were the last words it could let slip before vanishing.
"Perhaps, but that isn't the real question, is it?"
Light flooded Ducanor's eyes, and he felt a sensation of absolute pleasure upon opening them to see a pair of light blue eyes returning his gaze.
It wasn't her; it was...
"Who are you?" he asked, dumbfounded, but then he realized he could only see and speak, not move.
And he was by no means alone: dozens of pups and brothers were all around him, unconscious or being seduced by the exact same voice he was hearing.
"Father..." he growled in an attempt to break free from the influence of whatever was restraining him.
But he watched as the enchanting figure of the female, completely naked, with golden fur and an intoxicating scent, filled his vision, making him ignore how that same figure mounted and pleasured other pups; all of them with the same light blue eyes and golden hair.
"It's an illusion, it's fake," he growled to himself.
Her touch was enough to collapse the will of any mortal, but Ducanor hadn't fallen yet. Because he hadn't yet succumbed to the orgiastic frenzy like the rest of his brothers.
"Why are you still conscious?" the female voice asked curiously. He couldn't put a face to the woman; it changed constantly, but it was always the same: the face of all the women he had ever known and loved at once, and at the same time, of none.
Music was filling his mind, the sound of war trumpets and drums in a soft rhythm that made men want to sink into its depths.
"Sink, desecrator. I am defying time; you see my transgression, it is swearing to have you," her voice, oh, her voice was the only thing he needed.
Men only needed music and peace. Those words only made him feel increasingly detached from his body, increasingly detached from...
"I desire you," Ducanor growled, to the woman's surprise. His eyes were fire and his mind a whirlwind, but even so, his manhood, enslaved under the profane touch of the wolf-woman, did not reach its climax; he resisted. "Oh, let heaven understand my obsession."
"You are reaching your limit," the woman replied in her sweet voice.
To which Ducanor answered: "The desert doesn't seem so... doesn't seem so bad."
Her lips tempted him as she licked his stomach; her tail caressed his toes while her hands and breasts touched his manhood. The softness of the warm mixture of her fur was intoxicating.
She was a goddess.
But a goddess of death. He saw it, oh yes he had seen it: death surrounded him. The illusion around him had vanished long ago, and there were only corpses.
The few survivors continued to lose their vitality, siphoned away by an illusory mist emanating from the woman. Her true body was lying on the ground, draining the remaining life force, while behind her stood a red tree.
Father was nowhere to be found. But he doubted his father was unaware of this.
An attack, there was an attack. Do they plan to harvest us? he thought angrily, but he couldn't move despite having seen through the truth.
Resistance was still futile.
But even so, he wouldn't lose; after all, he was quite confident in his skills in bed.
In an instant, the wolf-woman's mouth enveloped Ducanor's manhood, making him freeze momentarily when even visualizing the ugliest of all women wasn't enough to withstand the supernatural pleasure he felt.
The woman's rough tongue sent shivers down his spine as it traced from the tip of his member to the inside of his urethra, cleaning away the remains of the whitish liquid that had disappeared into her mouth.
"First shot, darling. It seems you have an enviable vitality. How long will it take for you to drop exhausted, as dry as the corpses of your brothers?" the wolf-woman mocked.
"Try it," Ducanor growled in defiance. He couldn't even move, so those words of bravado only served to widen the unknown woman's smile.
"I like it when they resist," the woman replied, amused. "Tell me your name; I'll write it down after I burn your corpse."
Anger surged from Ducanor's heart. Men had pride, and women arrogance; both were equal but different, equal and complementary.
After saying those words, without waiting for an answer, she buried Ducanor's manhood deep into her throat, leaving him stupefied by the pleasure and also by the surprise.
After all, like any Feysir, he took pride in the size of his manhood, which he had always joked was the size of a small child's arm. And now the woman had that arm buried deep in her mouth, unable to breathe.
But the liquid didn't come. Dumbfounded, the woman realized that the man had curiously held his breath; he hadn't closed his eyes or distracted his thoughts, he had simply held his breath and stopped the flow.
Which caused the climax that was about to occur to freeze, leaving her stunned.
"Come on, surrender to profane pleasure, to this ritual of blood and this sacrificial altar of flesh and desire."
Her hands cupped his balls as her naked, sweaty body began to emit an intoxicating scent. And even though Ducanor knew it wasn't real, his senses couldn't distinguish the deceit.
But despite this, he couldn't hold out much longer and the second climax arrived, but much deeper this time, causing the wolf-woman's cheeks to fill as her tail and ears twitched wildly upon also reaching her climax.
And as if that were a signal, Ducanor suddenly found freedom, as the figure of the woman simply vanished along with his restraint.
And with his legs trembling, as naked as a newborn, he faced the challenge before him.
..... .....
The echo of their own footsteps reverberated in the distance, but that didn't alert Ulrika; there was no point in acting stealthily now.
They knew about their arrival.
"How disgusting," Benia growled as she observed the corpses scattered everywhere. Her expression was tense, and her own wasn't much better.
It was full of corpses: men, women, and even...
"Shit, how can they...?" Tolrik could barely walk as the horror of the sight before him washed over him. "They can't be saved."
The corpses of the Lycans were covered in corruption. She didn't know if it was gnosis or another force, but this wasn't normal; corpses covered the entire room and she couldn't help but feel guilty.
Not all of them had died by their hands; several had been killed by their own kin, who in their madness had tried to devour each other to grow stronger. But that didn't erase the guilt they felt.
With a sudden tightness in her chest, she heard breathing. It was slow and weak. She approached it with her sword drawn; then she saw her, it was a female.
Or rather, a woman. She had been a mortal once, but her features had warped into those of a feline; her body was covered in blood, bites, and scratches covered her stomach. She was dying.
But despite that, she fiercely clung to an object: it was a fur cloak. Benia approached her with clenched fists and hesitated.
Ulrika would have hesitated too, but there was no choice. She was contaminated; they couldn't leave survivors, anyone could spread this chaos to the surface again.
Things had to be cut off at the root.
"May you find happiness in your next life," Ulrika murmured as she pulled Benia away, who already had tears streaming down her face.
She looked at her with a blind gaze; she couldn't see well, one of her eyes had been destroyed, but the other looked at her pleadingly. But just as the sword was about to descend and end her life...
A terrifying aura seeped forward and in an instant, the sword in her hand moved like a whip, blocking the attack.
"Auuu!" a severe voice growled.
Dozens of Lycans emerged from the caverns and in an instant a new battle had begun. If it weren't for the fact that suddenly, pushing its way through them, a beast much larger than all the rest emerged.
A Lycan that easily towered over all the others.
"Tsk, tsk, tsk. Do the Wardens have no heart, killing innocent women and even children?" the Lycan said cruelly.
His words made the entire pack roar with anger; their eyes turned red as their skin swelled and foam appeared at their mouths. They were losing what little sanity they had left, and that was enough to pressure the trio of Wardens who had already faced dozens of opponents.
"Trash!" Benia shouted furiously. "You corrupted and violated the flesh of mortals and turned them into monsters. Every death weighs on you!"
"Hahaha, on me? On me? Hahaha." His laugh reverberated in the cave, before transforming into a roar. In an instant, the pressure caused the trio to be thrown into the distance; blood flowed from their throats while their organs felt an unparalleled crushing weight.
"A Mortal Lord with a Divine Intention..." Ulrika groaned, dumbfounded, as she tried to wipe the blood from her mouth.
But then she couldn't move. The difference between a Noble and a Mortal Lord was absolute. No matter how powerful she was among the nobles, Ulrika and Benia couldn't face a Mortal Lord.
Especially one with an Intention.
"Diabolic Intention," the Lycan corrected them. "I don't like it when my celestial binding is compared to those divine bastards. But well, I suppose you're afraid now."
"Never!" Tolrik roared as he tried to stand up. "The Wardens would die before surrendering!"
"Who said anything about surrendering, brat?" the monstrous Lycan mocked as he licked the blood off the floor with an expression of bliss. "I'm talking about killing you and devouring your corpse, or maybe violating your friends and then devouring them, and then you, or turning you into my son and letting you do it for me."
His words caused an expression of bewilderment and fear to appear on all three of them, while tears threatened to spill from Benia's eyes.
But even so, no one begged. Nor would anyone beg.
"Hahaha, I knew you wouldn't give up so easily. But I'll play a game with you; after all, I have to go because someone invaded my hideout," he said, laughing. "But first I'll give you a gift or two, maybe a story. I like stories."
And without waiting for an answer, he began.