Chapter 82
The blood was seething!
The ritual performed and the teasing, yet unsatisfying caresses of the witches had ignited such a flame within me that a single spark from it could burn through several centimeters of hardened steel.
Evil-Lyn, leaning on the back of one of the sisters, climbed onto the bed. The eldest of the Khainite witches intended to mount me. No-no-no. In general, I have nothing against such a position, but right now I wanted to move myself. However, I did not pounce on her that very second. It cost me an immense effort, but it paid off completely.
Evil-Lyn spread her thighs as wide as possible as she sat upon me. A flash of painful pleasure in the groin arose sharply, but it had no intention of disappearing. Inside the elf, it was a tight fit. She struggled to seat herself lower and lower. A grimace of spasmodic pleasure appeared on Evil-Lyn's face. As soon as the elf seated herself firmly on me, I seized the initiative.
The witch let out a small cry. The others tried to hold me back when I turned sharply onto my side. Evil-Lyn now found herself on the bed next to me. This did not seem enough to me. After a few seconds of desperate struggle, I was already on top, feeling the nails of several witches scratching my back and shoulders. I did not care! I felt no pain. Only a wild desire to move, to possess, to give vent to the accumulated passion.
Despite the resistance of Evil-Lyn, who tried to push me away with her knees, I continued.
"You animal... How dare yo..." Evil-Lyn's attempts to express indignation were drowned in her own moans, and besides, it was somewhat difficult for her to speak right now.
She said it herself—that I should not hold back.
Through the resistance and mutual pain, I managed to go deeper and deeper. The witch's body adapted. What else was it supposed to do? The other witches stopped their attempts to unhook me from the elder. One covered my neck with kisses, others licked a mixture of blood and ritual oils from my skin.
Their hands touched me everywhere, coiling, scratching, or caressing. It was as if I had dived into a veritable whirlpool of sensory experiences. Its epicenter was the point of my and Evil-Lyn's union.
I hammered the witch into the bed. I thought that either the elf or the furniture was about to give way, but by some Khainite miracle, they were coping so far. And this was perceived by me now as a challenge. It forced me to move faster, increasing the amplitude.
Images of her and Liandra's duel of pain flashed through my head. The bruises on pale skin, the cruel mockery of the witch. Evil-Lyn might have lost back then, but she had a good time. I felt a desire to pay her back a little for that.
I temporarily ceased our union. Rising up, I used both hands to turn the flushed witch onto her stomach. I pulled her toward me, forcing her to lift her buttocks and...
A resounding slap drowned out the moans. It was unlikely that Evil-Lyn was truly in pain. She had endured worse. This was more about the psychological aspect. She had seemingly intended to dominate me, but in the end, something went off-plan.
Evil-Lyn tried to break free, but the difference in physical strength between us now was colossal. I pinned the witch to the bed and slapped her a few more times before entering her again.
What madness this was!
Dozens of scratches left by the witches' nails bled, but they healed immediately from the overabundance of life force. The very concept of fatigue seemed to have evaporated. I had turned into a perpetual motion machine. A living machine of cruel love.
When the pleasure approached its peak, I did not stop or try to stretch out the process. On the contrary. I wanted to feel the culmination, but I had to reach it through a multitude of efforts.
The sensations were like a firework explosion right in my head. My nervous system was nearly short-circuited. For an unknown number of very long moments, I dropped out of reality. Entire cavalcades of red and white sparks glittered before my eyes. The rage disappeared. It was replaced by a sense of satisfaction.
It seemed to last a very long time, but when I came to, Evil-Lyn was still lying before me, trying to recover. Several junior witches were licking the results of our exchange of biological fluids from both me and her. It was pleasant to watch, but after such a storm of impressions, I almost did not feel the wet touches of their delicate tongues. No. I needed something more powerful. New strong impressions at the junction of pleasure and agony.
By the hair, not too roughly but quite insistently, I pulled away one of the witches who was licking Evil-Lyn between the legs. On the woman's thighs, one could observe bright red imprints of my palms. Evil-Lyn barely moved. She only shifted her pelvis slightly, as if we were still continuing the union. No matter. I would perk her up now.
When it all began, the Witch Elf let out a cry of pain that turned into a vicious hiss through clenched teeth. However, she did not try to break free. Either she had resigned herself or she had decided to meet her new trial with pride.
I cannot call myself a fan of knocking at a lady's back door, but tonight is a night of madness. Such things are appropriate here. In truth, the only problem for Evil-Lyn was the difference in dimensions, yet the elder Witch Elf held on.
I gradually began to move, overcoming the resistance of our flesh. Tight, painful, squeezing and... pleasant. Why hide the sin? This was exactly the sensation that could now allow me to enjoy the process again.
"Do you need help, Mistress?" the concerned voice of one of the witches rang out. "Perhaps some lubrication?"
"Shut up!" Evil-Lyn barked at her through her teeth, her voice breaking into heavy breathing. "Shut up or I'll cut you... aaa... You will be next!"
Next? Sounds interesting. How long will I last tonight? Or rather, how many of them will I last for tonight?
Evil-Lyn held out until the end of the second round. Perhaps I even underestimated her ability to enjoy pain, and the whole process brought her far more pleasure than it did me.
After the second round, the witch literally crawled out from under me, and two other handmaidens had already laid a fresh one out before me. The very talkative one who wanted to help with lubrication. She had black-gray hair, not the white typical for witches. Perhaps a neophyte. In the girl's eyes, a mixture of apprehension and excitement could be read.
"Do it from the back right away," said the witch holding her by the left leg with a smile.
Not a problem.
This turned out to be even easier than with Evil-Lyn. The secret was simple—foresight. Apparently, hearing the elder witch's threat, the second in line had followed her own advice in advance—she had lubricated herself well with one of the fragrant oils.
The second girl, the third, the fourth...
Faces and bodies flashed by, trying to satisfy my insatiable desire, fueled by the magical nourishment. The line between madness and happiness had never been so thin.
I was distracted from the endless orgy by the voice of Loom-Pia.
"Your foolish fussing should be stopped, or at least interrupted. Your body has already lost too much fluid, warm-blood. This is not yet dangerous, but soon I will have to use magical reserves to maintain life functions, rather than on strengthening the organism and increasing its efficiency. This is unacceptable as it runs contrary to our goals."
"Yes... Of course..."
Shaking off the delusion, I ignored the two as-yet unserved witches and went to look for water. I was sure there must be a supply nearby. That proactive one might have thought to prepare more than just lubricant in advance. And, indeed, I soon began to replenish the moisture deficit with greedy gulps.
Gods...
Perhaps it was the tastiest water of my life. While I was moving, I did not notice the thirst. But in reality, my body had expended a great deal of fluid. A massive amount of sweat alone had come off me.
The next few minutes I spent coming to my senses, drinking water and wiping myself with a wet towel while the witches gradually left our arena of bed pleasures.
I cannot say that I was tired, but my head was empty. The recent peak sensations overshadowed any thoughts. I simply lay there, feeling that I still had plenty of strength, but my brain needed to rest.
An hour or so later, one of the Witch Elves came to me. Did she want a continuation of the banquet? It turned out not. She had come to announce the end of the entertainment event.
"The temple guards and assassins will lead you to the Tower of Doom," she announced. "Your companion will remain with us until morning and return tomorrow."
Should I worry about Liandra? I think not. She is, after all, under the protection of the Iron Edict.
When I returned to the Drachau's tower, I managed to fall asleep quickly, despite the foreign life still seething inside.
In the morning I woke up, or rather, came to, feeling as if my whole body was burning on a slow fire. However, I cannot say it was unpleasant. Warmth is better than cold. So it always seemed to me. And an overabundance of strength is better than a lack of it.
Yesterday's storm of energy had swept through my internal reserves. Loom-Pia had done his best to direct these forces to our benefit.
First and foremost, I tried to summon the already familiar image of the Bloody Vessel. It did not happen on the first attempt. It was as if new information was slowly loading into my subconscious.
"Their barbaric, ridiculous ritual, coupled with many useless practices, has brought us some benefit," the Hypnotoad announced to me. "However, its side elements have led to an imbalance of internal systems. I will require some time to put everything in order. Serious magical influences should be avoided for now. They could exacerbate the situation."
"Understood. And what about our energy accumulation reservoir?"
The haze before my inner eye finally cleared and the image of a whole ritual pool or sacrificial well emerged. The vessel had become not only taller, but also wider. Instead of six segments, I saw... twelve! Has my ability to absorb and accumulate energy become twice as strong?!
The first five segments were standard. Just segments of the energy reservoir. The sixth, as before, retained holes in it, which means an accelerated loss of strength in exchange for constant regeneration even without absorption, plus a nice backlight. However, something had still changed...
"Now, if necessary, the effect of the sixth segment can be reduced to a normal one," Loom-Pia explained.
In other words, close the holes at my own will. There is no more regeneration, but the energy does not leak out.
"And will it be possible to open them after accumulating several segments above?" I asked.
"Yes. Such a possibility exists, warm-blood. You will begin to heal your wounds, but at the same time you will lose the accumulated strength until it drops to the upper boundary of the fifth segment."
"Hm... And is it possible to, so to speak, crack open the tap, heal a bit, and restore the integrity of the sixth again so the energy doesn't leak out?"
"No. Changing the properties of the sixth too often will not work. It can be opened instantly, but closing requires time."
Eh. A pity. However, even so, the possibility is interesting. If I receive a serious wound, I can choose not to absorb the vessel entirely, but to open the sluices of the sixth segment.
However, I was far more interested in the very top of the sacrificial blood reservoir. There, above the twelfth segment, hovered a transparent rhomboid crystal. Like two pyramids joined together at their bases.
"And what is that thing?" I inquired. "It's not just a decoration, is it?"
"Senseless decoration is foreign to me. This element symbolizes an additional energy reservoir that can be used when the main one is filled. In such a case, the concentration of life force within you and its internal pressure will allow some part of it to be transferred outward."
Loom-Pia gave this answer and fell silent, as if everything else should be clear to me of its own accord.
"Fine. An additional reservoir that opens after the main one is filled. What does it do? What happens if it is filled too?"
"Such a super-concentration of life force will allow me to create a surge of highly active energy in order to use special properties of your essence, however, in doing so..."
"What. Does. It. Do!?" I questioned much more pointedly. "Describe the final effect. Will I grow a tail or start shooting lasers from my eyes?"
"I was just moving to that part, warm-blood. Exercise patience, for it is rational, and therefore virtuous. When the additional reservoir is filled, the opportunity will open for me to carry out one magical influence, while not risking the destruction of our entire structure."
"Meaning you can cast one thing? Summon a meteor or create a shield?"
"It is not that simple. The Winds of Magic will still be closed to me, however, for my charms I will be able to use the surplus of energy you have collected."
So he will cast something, but not with the Winds of Magic familiar to this world. He will use the collected life force, like, for example, the acolytes of Khaine. This will limit the potential variety of effects. Most likely, Loom-Pia will be able to heal some allies, strengthen them, or attack enemies. However, no meteors falling from the sky.
"Close your eyes and listen to the beats of your heart. Remember the moment when you were recovering after the victory over the Champion of the Ruinous Powers. Now the threat is manifoldly smaller, but vigilance should be maintained. Calm down. Do not let the foundations of your mind collapse under the pressure of new forces."
I followed the Hypnotoad's instructions, trying to distance myself as much as possible from the storm raging inside me. Alien, yet so pleasant rage and malice periodically tried to seize my attention. On the border of wakefulness, visions of large-scale battles came to me. It was difficult to make out the details, but it seems I was observing battles between the still-united Elves of Ulthuan and the hordes of Chaos, and then the civil war of the pointy-ears.
Through the crimson-fire haze of alarming visions, the snarling face of the statue of Khaine seemed to loom. The eyes of the cruel god burned with rage. The gaze scorched my soul, forcing my fists to clench involuntarily even on the verge of sleep and wakefulness.
The voice of Evil-Lyn from the recent past reached me:
"Perhaps you were not his chosen one before, but today you certainly became one."
A knock on the door returned me to reality. I immediately realized it was Liandra. She knocked at my door with the same rhythm every time. It already worked like a password.
"Enter!" I said, louder than I expected, abruptly getting out of bed.
Damn nerves are shot with all your bloody orgies.
Liandra opened the door. The girl looked slightly sleepy. I wonder how much longer she stayed with the witches after I was let go. I wouldn't be surprised if it was until the very morning.
In the corridor behind the dark elf's back, I noticed her bodyguards. The girl unceremoniously closed the door right in front of them, entering my room.
"And how did it all go?" I inquired.
"Successfully," Liandra replied meaningfully.
I wouldn't be surprised if Evil-Lyn tried to take it out on her after the defeat by arranging another BDSM session for her. However, the witches would not have caused her serious harm.
"A small gift from the Cult of Khaine," Liandra handed me a heavy silver flask, made in the shape of a snarling monster's face.
"What's in it?" I asked, accepting the gift.
"A special potion. It can help you pull yourself together before a fight. Try it now, but only a small sip."
"No more than a drop the size of a bird's claw," Loom-Pia added his advice.
Among the cutlery left over from yesterday's snack, I found something like a teaspoon. Uncrewing the cap of the flask, I smelled a heavy scent saturated with hints of various herbs. It slightly resembled Riga Black Balsam. A tiny drop of the potion on the teaspoon looked dark red.
As soon as I dropped it onto my tongue, it was as if my taste buds were struck by a battering ram. For a few seconds, my body could not tell if this crap was disgusting or, on the contrary, very much liked. During this time, a wave of warmth began to spread from my throat to the rest of my body, but the main thing...
"Holy crap!" I couldn't help but say, a smile involuntarily appearing.
"Did it work?" the dark elf asked curiously.
"Yes."
The potion didn't just perk me up. Albeit just a little, a few drops of energy hit the very bottom of my sacrificial vessel. The potion contained the essence of life force. However, it was not just that. I felt my pulse quicken, and a wave of tension pass through my muscles. I urgently wanted to move, to fight, to kill someone.
Frenzy—there is no other way to name such a state.
And that was only a single drop. What would happen if one took a proper gulp? There is a non-ironic chance of losing control of oneself. To turn into a veritable Berserker, ready to throw oneself at those around to satisfy a bloodlust.
"I could go for the arena right now..." I sighed.
"That can be arranged," the dark elf replied. "However, do not expect anything special. Today during the day there will be the usual baiting of beasts. And afterward, we will set about gathering a squad. We have only a few days left before the march to the Underworld Sea."
"Fine."
The witch's potion could be used as a way to warm up before a difficult fight. To get a starting charge of energy for the Bloody Vessel. The main thing is to maintain self-control overall. Otherwise...
No-no-no, Jurg. Calm, only calm.
I have no intention of going mad and turning into a bloodthirsty Berserker. And now to the arena. Just to relieve stress and stretch. Just a little morning exercise, coupled with the mass murder of lower life forms. I am still a normal person, right?