CHAPTER 48: [R-18] IN THE STORM, TWO QUEENS

Meanwhile, at the other end of the battlefield.

Nyss stood motionless, one hand on the hilt of her blade, the other on her hip, like a queen gazing at her domain. The blizzard whipped through her hair, the strands plastered to her pale cheeks, but she didn’t blink. Her golden eyes scanned the plain with the coldness of a housewife inspecting a room still too dirty.

Before her, the war continued to howl. Her army of black-armored demons advanced methodically, each thrust of her pike, each volley of arrows, each spell cast felling more enemies than the Saint could revive. Corpses fell by the dozens, and for every body that rose at the enemy’s prayers, three more crashed into the snow.

Nyss smiled. A slow, cruel smile, stretched like a blade.

She inhaled deeply, swelling her bare chest beneath the dark leather that held her, then released her power.

The air folded around her. Invisible, but heavy, saturated with an animal, musky, heady scent. A black wave crossed the plain. And immediately, hundreds of enemy males stopped dead in their tracks. Their eyes rolled back, their hands trembled, then their spears pivoted... against their own brothers.

The first blows were hesitant, clumsy. Then the howls erupted. White demons, bound to the Holy Domain, were killing each other in confusion, some still striking while praying, others screaming without understanding why their companions had turned against them.

"Yes..." Nyss murmured, her wings fluttering behind her. "Kill them. Tear out your own entrails for me."

Her laughter vibrated in the blizzard, even drowning out the sound of clashing swords. She raised a hand, and like puppets, two hundred males advanced as one, hurling themselves at their own lines, slicing necks, piercing chests, and knocking down riders.

Incomprehension gnawed at the Saint’s ranks. Priests cried treason, officers yelled for discipline, but nothing worked: the confusion was total.

Nyss, for her part, wasn’t observing the army. Her gaze had already settled on the white figure further away, draped in her blood-stained robe. The Saint was still chanting, her hands covered in light, forcing corpses to their feet in a desperate effort.

Nyss tilted her head, her lips curling into a demonic smile.

"Look at me, little female dog..." she hissed. "Look how I’m breaking your toys."

Their eyes met through the storm. Two predators. Two powers that twisted the flesh of males like snakes. And already, the promise of their duel filled the air, heavier even than blood.

Nyss suddenly had an idea. Her smile stretched, sensual, cruel. Her golden eyes slid towards the Saint, frozen in the distance, her lips still twisted with rage.

"Bring me the White General," she ordered in a lazy voice, as if asking for a toy.

A few moments later, Liora Veyra appeared, flanked by two demons who pushed her towards Nyss. Her torn dress hung halfway down, her armor replaced with simple strips of dark fabric, hastily tightened. Her cheeks were reddened by cold and shame, her chest swelled with exertion, and her bound wrists still bore the marks of the chains.

She lifted her chin, proud despite everything.

"You asked me..." she said in a hollow voice. "Sora told me to do what you wanted. So... I’m here."

Nyss burst into a low, guttural laugh that made her membranous wings vibrate.

"Come, my love. Come closer."

Liora hesitated, but her legs moved forward of their own accord, drawn by the succubus’s magnetism. Nyss welcomed her, grasping her waist, his warm body pressed against hers. His gaze never left the Saint, still there, a helpless twin.

"Look at me, female dog..." Nyss breathed, his lips almost pressed to Liora’s ear. "Look what I’m doing to your sister."

His clawed fingers slid down the General’s flanks, caressing her pale skin through the soaked fabric. Liora shuddered, arched her back in spite of herself, and a sigh escaped her tightly compressed lips. Nyss laughed again, a laugh full of vice.

Then she leaned down and gently bit the captive’s neck, before placing a burning kiss there.

"Nhh... aah..." Liora moaned, her legs giving way for a moment.

The succubus tightened her grip, one hand on her stomach, the other slowly moving up to her chest. His caresses were deceptively tender, almost loving, but each gesture rekindled the fire of his power. Liora’s nipples rose beneath the fabric, her hips wriggled, and her moans rose, wet and uncontrolled.

Nyss looked up, staring at the Saint.

A predatory smile played on her lips as her fingers moved lower, sliding between Liora’s thighs. She pressed gently, just enough to elicit a muffled cry, caressing her pussy through the soaked fabric.

"Mmh... yes, moan for me..."

Liora shook her head in shame, but her body betrayed her. Her thighs clenched, her back arched, and each breath brought her closer to surrender.

In the distance, the Saint howled, her incantations breaking in the wind, her eyes filled with impotent hatred.

Nyss burst into triumphant laughter, continuing his caresses, his other hand firmly gripping Liora’s throat to force her arch her back.

"Look, my sweet sister... Look how I make her mine before you."

And every moan from Liora, every twist of her body under the succubus’s grasp, was another slap against the Saint, prisoner of her own helplessness.

The Saint no longer had eyes for the battlefield.

Her incantations had fallen silent, her lips spitting out only mute insults. Her clenched fingers still trembled with energy, but she no longer invoked anything. Her gaze burned, fixed on the two figures entwined in the snow. She walked feverishly, her teeth clenched, ready to kill anyone who dared to come between her and this vile spectacle.

Nyss, however, didn’t stop. Her hand still slid between Liora’s thighs, jerkily caressing the soaked fabric that already clung to her innermost being. His lips nibbled at the nape of the White General’s neck, then moved down to kiss her collarbone, her throat, until they reached her mouth.

"Nhh... aaah... Nyss..." Liora moaned, her hot breath breaking in the icy air.

Their tongues mingled, Nyss kissing her with a deliberate, exposed, almost theatrical passion. Each of Liora’s moans vibrated in his mouth and echoed in the blizzard, like a provocation.

Nyss barely sat up, letting a low laugh escape against her lips.

"Yes, my dear... let it happen. Give me everything, in front of her... in front of your helpless sister."

Liora tried to turn her head away, but her flushed cheeks and her eyes, clouded with desire, betrayed her.

"Please..." she gasped. Leave her alone... at least... Sora promised... he said she would live...

Nyss burst into cruel laughter, her wings spreading behind her like the shadow of a bird of prey.

"If Sora said so, she will live, my sweet. You have nothing to worry about. But you... you, you just have to abandon yourself. Abandon everything... your honor, your dignity, your body... abandon them to me, while she looks at you."

"Aah... no... I... hhhnn...

Her protests broke into moans as Nyss’s fingers pressed harder, rubbing her pussy through the soaked fabric. Her pelvis arched in spite of herself, her thighs tightened, her sighs formed white clouds in the icy wind.

Nyss placed his mouth to her ear, his voice lower, vibrating with sadism:

"Listen to yourself... your sister hears you moan... you think you’re protecting her, but all you’re doing is turning her on. Look at her... look at how she’s boiling, unable to look away."

Liora opened her eyes, meeting the Saint’s crazed gaze. A sob escaped her, immediately stifled by another cry of pleasure when Nyss pinched her erect nipple through the fabric.

"Nyss... stop... I can’t..."

"Yes, you can, my dear... you can come again and again..." breathe, moan, surrender... while the snow drinks in your pleasure and your sister screams in helplessness.

"Aaaaahh... nnnhhh... haaaah...!"

Her breathing grew heavy, each exhalation a white cloud that crashed against Nyss’s chest. Her legs buckled, her pelvis twisted in the embrace. She was already half lost, surrendered, trembling.

Nyss looked up one last time, seeking the Saint’s gaze. And her smile widened, a smile that was no longer human.

Nyss let her fingers linger one last time on Liora’s burning skin, drawing another wet moan from the General, her body tense with shame and desire. Then, without giving her the slightest respite, she grabbed her hair and pulled her up against her, forcing her heaving chest to press against her own body.

The Saint, opposite her, was nothing more than a monster of rage. Her scarlet eyes glittered in the wind, her lips tore into silent insults, and her footsteps sank into the snow with each stride. She no longer recited a single prayer; her incantations had long since fallen silent: all that remained was a sister mad with anger, ready to destroy everything to take back what had been stolen from her.

Nyss laughed, low, grave, almost tender. She placed a firm kiss on the back of Liora’s neck, who moaned and half-struck, then turned to the steward stationed at her side.

"I’m going into the tent," she said, her voice cracking like a sentence. "Let the Saint pass. Let her come for me. This war isn’t a war anymore... it’s a one-sided massacre."

The demon nodded stiffly, unable to meet her burning gaze.

"Very well."

Nyss smiled, his white fangs gleaming between his lips. His eyes never left the Saint’s as she violently pulled Liora, dragging her behind her like a captive lover. The General’s legs trembled, her cheeks were flushed, and her hot sighs formed clouds in the icy air.

"You see, your sweet sister?" Nyss called, his voice carried by the wind. "If you want to save her... come. Come into my web."

The Saint howled, a guttural cry that made even the demons around her shudder, and accelerated further, her horns and robes flapping in the storm.

Nyss, however, didn’t wait. She yanked the tent aside, her cloak flapping behind her, and disappeared inside, pulling Liora against her.