Lillith - Chapter 42 - Reunion

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The morning begins cold, the sky still covered in deep shadows. The sun had not even given a sign of rising when Luminar was awakened by a firm knock at the door.

“Luminar, wake up, grab your things, we are leaving.”

The voice was Seraphina’s. There was no mistaking it. Luminar recognized it immediately and, by the tone, understood it was not just a warning, it was an order. His heart began to race. Even without seeing her face, just by hearing that voice, a nearly automatic sense of trust overtook him. He did not hesitate. He did not question. He simply obeyed.

With a swift motion, Luminar rose from the bed. The light fabric of his nightclothes slid down his body, and he quickly donned his tunic, tightened his leather belts. His hurried footsteps echoed faintly against the wooden floor of the room, while outside the movement of the other witches could already be felt.

Minutes later, everyone was gathered. The female figures, each with her striking presence, aligned and ready to depart. The silence of dawn was broken only by the creak of the house’s door, opened slowly so as not to wake Morgana’s sister, who still slept. Without even glancing back, they left.

The group walked through the still-sleeping streets of the village, where only the sound of their own steps resounded. The morning cold still bit the skin, and a light mist covered part of the horizon. Time seemed stagnant.

After a few hours of steady walking, the group spotted the first buildings of a city. Unlike the earlier calm, here the air was vibrant. The city was relatively large, and its essence pulsed through the air. Merchants shouted, trying to draw customers to their colorful stalls, offering fabrics, weapons, food, and jewelry. Men in simple clothes haggled loudly, and the clinking of coins echoed everywhere. The scent of spices mixed with the smell of hot iron from scattered forges.

Luminar observed every detail attentively, but his mind focused on only one point. He looked at Seraphina, took a deep breath, and finally spoke.

“All right, in theory the artifact is in that large castle.”

He pointed at the imposing structure dominating the landscape. The light stone fortress rose above all others, adorned with banners and symbols of wealth. Tall windows reflected the soft morning light, and even from a distance, the weight of its grandeur could be felt.

“It belongs to an extremely wealthy man, it seems he carries it as some sort of prize, or something like that.” Luminar continued, his voice serious and measured. “The place is protected by numerous mages, warriors, assassins… It would be difficult to force our way in. I would say we should try to negotiate and talk.”

Seraphina listened in silence, her narrowed eyes evaluating the proposal. Finally, she tilted her head slightly in agreement. There was no reason to attract more enemies. Creating chaos now would be reckless. The group then headed toward the castle.

As they drew closer, something strange caught their attention. The massive main gate, which should have been guarded by soldiers and reinforced with metal, was completely destroyed. Fragments of wood and twisted iron were scattered across the ground, as if an overwhelming force had blown the entrance apart from the inside out. The scene radiated tension.

The group advanced cautiously. Their steps echoed across the rubble, each shard of stone or broken wood crunching under the weight of their boots. The air inside the castle smelled of blood and sweat. Amid the destruction, they saw bodies.

Just ahead, an unconscious witch lay sprawled on her side. Her messy hair clung to her face, and her medium-sized breasts rose and fell slowly with heavy breathing. She did not appear mortally wounded, but she had clearly been harshly defeated. Her very presence showed she was no ordinary fighter, yet not of the highest level either.

A few meters further, another figure lay collapsed: an assassin. The female body was sprawled across the floor, blades still strapped to her waist, but her consciousness gone. Impact marks and slashes across her uniform revealed the intensity of the fight.

The group climbed the inner staircases, each step covered in stains of dust and blood, until they reached a wide hall. At its center stood a sturdy throne, now surrounded by devastation.

A disturbing sound echoed through the chamber. Not the cries of battle, but pathetic male groans. The women instantly knew exactly what kind of sounds these were… the sounds of men struck in the balls.

When they finally entered, the sight was grotesque. Men scattered across the hall—mages, assassins, warriors—all defeated. Some were unconscious, bodies sprawled. Others rolled on the floor, crying and clutching their hands between their legs, faces contorted in absolute agony. Many whimpered in high-pitched tones, as though their manhood had been crushed beyond repair.

And in the middle of the room, a well-dressed man, clad in fine garments with an elegant bearing, was on all fours. His shoulders shook violently, and his hands clutched his own balls. Tears streamed down his face, and his voice came out hoarse, broken, and repetitive.

“My balls… my balls… that bitch broke my balls…”

The sound echoed, filling the deathly silence of the hall.

At the noise of their arrival, the man lifted his face in despair. His reddened, tearful eyes met the group. He saw one man, Luminar, and six witches, each radiating an intimidating aura of power. Terror swelled in his chest.

“No… no… please… you already took the amulet, leave me be…”

His voice was weak, nearly breathless, as though speaking itself caused pain.

Seraphina slowly approached. Her steps were firm, echoing through the ruined hall. She crouched before the man, her expression stern, and spoke in a cold tone.

“Explain what happened here.”

The man, trembling, realized she was not part of the group that had destroyed him. A slight relief washed over him, and between sobs, he managed to explain.

“A group… a group of witches and warlocks stormed the castle… they defeated all my soldiers… and… and they stole a legendary artifact… and…”

Seraphina watched him in silence as he spoke. Her expression did not change, but inside her the confirmation was immediate. It was exactly what she had expected to hear. She rose, turned her head slightly toward Morgana, and spoke with icy composure.

“The obvious was correct.”

She looked once more at the men scattered throughout the hall. Some were still weeping, clutching themselves, crushed in what they valued most.

“If they are still crying over their balls, then this didn’t happen many hours ago. The group must still be nearby.”

Her eyes narrowed. Then she turned her face and fixed her gaze on Synthila.

“Any theory as to where they went?”

Caught off guard, Synthila flinched slightly. But she quickly tried to reason.

“Plans to steal artifacts… usually avoid using teleportation. That would draw too much attention. So… they’re probably heading back to their base on foot.”

Seraphina took two steps toward her. Her green eyes locked directly onto Synthila’s. Their bodies so close that their breasts pressed together, the soft pressure enough to make Luminar, standing behind them, immediately avert his eyes, unsure where to look.

“Take me to them. Now.”

The tone was deadly. Leaving no room for refusal.

Synthila swallowed hard, stammered for an instant.

“I… I… all right, yes…”

Then she began to run, darting through the castle’s side exit toward a path through the forest. The other witches immediately followed, their steps coordinated, while Luminar hurried close behind.

---

Synthila ran ahead, leading everyone out of the city. Her hair swayed with every step, the sound of boots sinking into the damp ground was constant.

Suddenly, she stopped abruptly, her body freezing in place. Her chest rose and fell in quick breaths as her eyes slowly lifted toward a tall tree ahead.

Seraphina arrived right behind, her cloak rippling with the sudden halt. She narrowed her eyes, her expression rigid.

“What’s the problem?”

Synthila did not answer immediately. Her eyes remained fixed. And then, with a tone dripping with irony and disdain, she spoke firmly:

“Well, well… look who decided to show up?”

Before anyone could ask what she meant, a soft laugh echoed from above the tree. A shadow moved among the branches. And with a graceful leap, a female figure dropped from the heights, landing lightly on the ground. The impact raised a circle of fine dust that slowly dispersed into the air.

Emma’s eyes widened the instant she saw the newcomer’s face. Her muscles tensed automatically. At her side, Lillith also recognized her instantly.

“Nyx…”

The name didn’t even need to be spoken aloud by both; their eyes already screamed the identification.

Emma’s body moved before reason could take hold. She lunged forward, arm raised, already conjuring energy. Her mouth opened in a cry filled with despair and fury.

“Show me where Armand is, now!”

Arcane flames formed in her hand, the spell seconds from release. But before the glow reached its peak, Nyx simply extended her palm. A simple gesture, almost lazy. Emma’s attack was instantly nullified, the energy dissipating into the air like smoke blown by the wind.

Emma’s heart pounded wildly. She couldn’t believe her attack had simply been erased. But before she could attempt another, Seraphina moved quickly. She grabbed Emma’s arm tightly, yanking her back.

“Don’t act without thinking!” Seraphina shouted, her voice reverberating among the trees.

Nyx smiled, her lips curving in a mocking expression. Her gaze swept over Emma as though looking at a spoiled child. Her voice came out sweet, yet venomous.

“No elegance at all… attacking someone during a peaceful conversation is pure cowardice.”

Emma struggled, pulling the arm Seraphina still held. Her face was red, her eyes burning with rage.

“Tell me where Armand is!”

She screamed again, spitting the words with hatred.

Nyx sighed, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear.

“Ugh, what an annoying girl…”

And then, a new voice echoed. Masculine. Deep. Drenched in mockery.

From the shadows behind the same tree, a man slowly emerged. His smile was crooked, almost provoking. His steps were calm, yet every movement radiated confidence.

“So the little coven of bitch witches came to rescue the tiny professor?”

It was Torne. His words sliced like a blade, sharpened with irony.

The entire group tensed. Magical energies nearly vibrated in the air. But then, Seraphina finally spoke. Her stance was rigid, her gaze cold and calculating.

“I’ll give you two one chance. Tell us where Armand is and release him peacefully. Otherwise, this conversation will end very differently.”

Before any reply could come from Nyx or Torne, a third voice tore through the scene. Familiar.

“That won’t be necessary!”

Everyone turned at the same time, as though time had stopped for a second. The sound came from above, from the treetops. There he was.

Armand.

The brim of a witch’s hat cast a shadow over his face, partially covering his features. To Morgana, Lillith, and Esmeralda, the scene looked like nothing more than a pathetic attempt to appear stylish. Just some random mage trying to stage a dramatic entrance. Ridiculous.

But to Emma and Seraphina, time froze. Their hearts raced, every beat pounding loudly in their chests.

Seraphina stammered, her voice faltering for the first time in ages.

“A… Armand…?”

The disbelief on her face made it clear she could not believe what she was seeing.

From above, Armand smirked faintly.

“You underestimate me sometimes, Seraphina. I had already defeated Eliza once.”

Emma stepped forward, her body trembling. Her voice came out laden with despair.

“Are you all right?!”

Armand snapped his fingers, and in an instant the space around him warped. His body dissolved into particles of energy, reappearing beside the group. The teleportation was swift, precise.

“More perfect and powerful than ever.”

He raised his hand, adjusting his hat with a slow gesture. His voice brimmed with self-confidence.

“But… it’s not over yet.”

His eyes turned to Nyx and Torne, sharp as blades.

“Are you ready for a fight?”

He turned to Lillith, Emma, Seraphina, and Morgana. His tone carried command, a summons.

Emma clenched her fists, energy beginning to swirl around her fingers. The fire in her eyes was pure hatred and thirst for vengeance.

Nyx and Torne exchanged a glance, their confidence unshaken, as if Armand’s provocation meant nothing.

Armand spread his arms, his voice exploding.

“THEN LET’S BEGIN!”

The ground trembled.

In unison, Armand, Emma, Lillith, Seraphina, Synthila, and even Luminar began conjuring spells. Their hands rose, arcane symbols glowing, lines of energy forming in the air like serpents of light.

But something was wrong.

Morgana and Esmeralda sensed it first… They hesitated for just a second and…

Both realized it at the exact same time! But too late to warn anyone!

“WATCH OUT!”

Their shout sliced through the air.

Esmeralda hurled herself forward with all the speed she could muster, her body nearly flying as she grabbed Luminar and Synthila. She yanked them violently backward, knocking them to the ground before they could finish their spells.

Morgana did the same. With surprising strength, she seized Lillith and Emma, dragging both away. Her hand reached for Seraphina too, but it was already too late.

Armand’s spell completed.

He slammed his hands onto the ground. The impact reverberated.

The earth beneath each of them shattered. A surge of brutal energy erupted from below, shooting toward the sky in towering columns of blinding light. The sound was deafening, like the tearing of the world itself.

Lillith, Emma, Luminar, and Synthila barely escaped, saved by Morgana’s and Esmeralda’s quick reactions.

But Esmeralda, Morgana, and Seraphina were not so lucky.

The energy engulfed them completely, tearing through their bodies in one devastating instant. The glare swallowed them, and then only dense smoke cloaked the area.

When the brightness faded, the three remained standing for a moment. Silence reigned. Smoke drifted from their bodies. And then, almost in unison, they collapsed heavily to the ground.

Armand rose from the conjuring point, his face twisted. He leapt toward Nyx and Torne.

“Shit, did I miss?”

Nyx stepped forward, her expression calm.

“You didn’t miss… but one of them figured out your little plan and managed to protect those four idiots.”

Armand clenched his fists, teeth grinding.

“Damn it… Esmeralda was the one I feared would notice…”

On the ground, the four who had escaped tried to recover. The shock still pulsed through their bodies. Emma knelt, hands on the ground, her eyes fixed on the three fallen. Disbelief consumed her.

“Why…?”

She could barely form the words.

Armand looked at Nyx, his expression heavy with frustration.

“I thought the strike would hit all of them. That’s why I used more energy than I should have… to finish the fight in a single blow. Now I can’t fight at full strength. This one’s yours.”

He stepped back, retreating to stand beside Nyx and Torne.

Nyx raised her hand, her fingers snapping. Her gaze on the four survivors was icy, cutting.

Emma remained on the ground, too weak to react. But Luminar moved closer to her, his hand resting firmly on her shoulder.

“I know what you’re feeling… and I’m sorry. But right now, we need to fight. If we don’t, we’ll die here.”

Emma slowly lifted her face. Her eyes were wet, but a fire was kindling amid the pain.

Beside her, Luminar, Synthila, and Lillith were already rising. Their bodies trembled, but the instinct to survive roared louder.

The four now stood, facing Nyx and Torne. Emma, still shaken by the shock, drew a deep breath, her heart in pieces.

Luminar looked at the girls… just students… in this situation… his eyes cold.

“It’s impossible for us to defeat the two of them… but I have a plan. I will cast a spell... but understand... this will take me out of the fight as well. However, with it I guarantee that one of the enemies will be taken out along with me. I will be defenseless... and I’ll focus on healing the wounded teachers. The fight... will be yours."

Silence took over for an instant. Emma, Lillith, and Synthila exchanged glances, understanding the weight of the decision. The three nodded almost at the same time.

"Then do it, Luminar." said Emma, firm, though her gaze was heavy.

Luminar positioned himself beside her, closed his eyes slowly, and took a deep breath. His body seemed to tremble, as if containing a gigantic energy trying to escape. He opened his eyes, glowing green like incandescent emeralds, and his voice echoed almost like a spiritual resonance.

"Emma... turn this sadness into anger."

Emma swallowed hard. His words hit deep. She clenched her fists, feeling the weight of responsibility and pain at the same time.

From Luminar’s body, several greenish, translucent souls began to detach, floating in the air like living chains. They spread in every direction, then shot at Nyx with great speed, wrapping around her arms, legs, and torso.

"Huh? What?! Shit!" shouted Nyx, trying to break free.

Her gaze fixed on the spell. Recognition was immediate, and irritation filled her face.

"It’s too late..." she murmured, almost laughing. Then she turned her head toward Torne, as if it were a casual conversation.

"It’s on you, man... my bad... I’ll be back soon. Try to kill at least two before I return."

The souls yanked Nyx violently. She was dragged to the ground, and then her body and the spirits vanished, as if swallowed by an ethereal veil.

Silence reigned for a moment. Luminar panted, leaning on his knees, explaining between pauses.

"She’ll be trapped... in that dimension... for thirty minutes... That’s how long you have... to defeat him."

The three girls nodded, understanding. It was all or nothing.

Soon after, Luminar collapsed to the floor, fainting from exhaustion. Yet even so, he dragged his body, looking to the side. Esmeralda, Morgana, and Seraphina were still unconscious, wounded. He stretched out his arm, nails scraping against the floor as his weak voice slipped out.

"My work... isn’t done yet..."

He began crawling, determined to reach them.

Meanwhile, on the other side, Emma, Lillith, and Synthila quickly whispered, forming a plan.

Lillith was the first to move. She shot toward Torne at high speed. Her fist glowed with the characteristic energy of her Phantom Punch. The ghostly aura enveloped her hand and, as she struck, the air distorted around the impact.

But Torne dodged easily, as if he had read every move. He opened his hand toward her and launched a gust of wind that shoved her back violently, making her slide across the floor.

Without wasting time, he raised his other hand and conjured several sharp stone stakes. They rose from the ground, floating, aimed directly at Lillith.

But Emma appeared just in time. Using two of the stone stakes as improvised steps, she launched herself into the air and conjured a flaming fireball.

"Go!"

The fireball hit Torne’s body squarely, exploding into a blazing wave that raised a huge cloud of smoke. The impact echoed through the chamber.

However, when the smoke began to dissipate, it became clear: Torne had suffered almost no damage. The energy mantle surrounding his body had absorbed part of the impact.

But the smoke was still an opportunity.

Inside it, sounds were muffled. Synthila took advantage of the cover and moved silently behind him, aiming a precise kick at his groin.

However, Torne heard. Her heels hit the floor, echoing, and his reflexes reacted before the strike landed. He dodged to the side, narrowly escaping, and emerged from the smoke.

As soon as he emerged, he extended his arm and his voice echoed in a cold tone.

"Electrification."

All the smoke around him sparked, converted into a field of electricity. The particle cloud became a conductive net. Synthila, still inside, was struck in full. Her body convulsed violently, and she fell to the ground, trembling.

Lillith had already stood back up. She conjured a glowing green sphere and hurled it at Torne. He dodged, but the sphere didn’t need to hit directly. As it passed close to his head, it burst into multiple vegetal vines, wrapping around his face, trying to suffocate and bind him like a living trap.

Torne’s face was covered, the branches tightening over his vision.

Emma didn’t hesitate. Running straight at him, she conjured an arcane blade, red and pulsing, forming in her hand. She tried to cut him, aiming at his shoulder, but he dodged and was already preparing a fire spell.

His arm extended. Emma raised the blade in a defensive stance, bracing for impact.

But then Torne, in a brutal act, aimed the fire at his own head, setting the vines ablaze. The smell of burnt flesh filled the air for a few seconds. His skin partially charred, exposing muscle.

Emma stepped back, surprised, but before she could strike again, a dark energy covered the burn. Within seconds, his skin fully regenerated, as if nothing had happened.

Emma clenched her teeth.

He kicked her stomach hard, the blade slipped from her hand and dissolved into energy.

Lillith appeared again, striking with Phantom Punch in a rapid sequence. The first strike missed. The second too. The third was dodged. Torne seemed to move in perfect cadence with her, as if predicting everything.

He raised his hand and a wind rune began to glow.

Emma, rising to her feet, noticed the magical pattern. Her eyes widened. She concentrated energy and conjured an ice thorn spell, which materialized floating around her.

But there was a problem. Lillith was too close to him. If she fired now, she might hit her own teammate.

She hesitated for just an instant.

Torne smiled. He knew exactly what Emma had planned. The wind rune was ready. He had options. He could redirect the spell toward Emma, blocking the thorns. He could fling Lillith away, making space for the thorns to come.

Or he could do something even more unexpected.

The rune glowed. He extended his hand.

Instead of pushing Lillith away, he pulled her.

Her body was sucked toward him, and Torne grabbed her by the neck with force.

But Lillith reacted instantly. Being pulled close, she seized the opportunity and drew a hidden dagger, stabbing it into his stomach.

At the same time, Emma’s ice thorns arrived. They pierced Torne’s body, but also struck Lillith, who couldn’t escape.

"Ahhhhhh!"

Emma screamed in despair.

Torne released Lillith, pulled the dagger from his body, and yanked the thorns out as well, tossing everything to the ground. His skin regenerated once more, as if untouchable. He laughed.

Lillith, on the other hand, collapsed to the floor, crying in pain, blood soaking her clothes.

Emma looked at Synthila, who was still trembling but slowly standing. They locked eyes and silently agreed.

Emma conjured a wall of wind that surged toward Torne. He merely ran alongside it, matching its speed until it dissipated, smiling.

Emma then charged without hesitation, trying to keep him busy. She hurled another fireball. He absorbed it. She tried a sweep. He leapt. As he landed, he channeled wind into his arm, and when he punched, the force was multiplied.

The blow struck her abdomen full on. Emma hit the ground, spitting blood.

"Uuuuhhhh, that one landed... Looks like the fight’s over, huh?"

Emma wiped the blood from her mouth, trembling, and slowly stood back up. She looked past him and smiled.

"No... it starts for real now."

Torne rolled his eyes. He charged, punching her stomach again. Emma coughed blood. He grabbed her neck and lifted her into the air.

"Don’t play tough... you..."

The sentence was cut off. A familiar sensation hit him. The grip. The searing, suffocating pain in his groin.

He froze.

"Torne... darling... I’ll say this once... let her go."

The voice was Synthila’s.

He slowly turned his face, sweat running down his temple.

She stood a few meters away, poised on her classic rune formed of blood... the same blood from the dagger Lillith had used.

His eyes locked on hers. But they didn’t stop there. They slid down slowly to the sphere in her hand…

His mind collapsed. Inside his head, like an endless drum, there was only one scream:
SHIT. SHIT. SHIT. SHIT.

Sweat began to drip down his temples. His racing heart pounded in his ears.

He reasoned in a fraction of a second. Cast a quick spell, a direct attack at her? No. If he tried, she would just crush the sphere before the spell was complete.
And worse. She could use the sphere as a shield, absorbing any attack, turning his pain into a physical nightmare.

Rush at her? Terrible… He knew he wouldn’t even make it halfway before she dug her nails into the sphere.

It was the end.

Torne took a deep breath. His body shivered all over with the realization. Once a woman had a man’s testicles as a hostage, he was one hundred percent at her mercy. No power, no magic, no title could change that.

He released Emma’s neck.

Her body collapsed to the ground, kneeling and coughing violently, air rushing back into her lungs in painful bursts.

Lillith, limping, finally managed to get up. Blood stained her clothes, but her eyes were steady. She staggered slowly toward Synthila’s position, glaring at Torne with contempt.

Torne raised his hands, showing he had surrendered, hoping she would let him go and spare him pain.

Synthila smiled. The corner of her lips curled in amusement.

She gave the sphere in her hand a playful squeeze.

Instantly, Torne’s hands dropped, clutching between his legs in an involuntary reflex. He groaned, doubling over.

Synthila laughed, almost sing-song.

“Funny… Eliza never let me play much with this little golden ball… Normally only Nyx and she had that right. In the end, all I could do was have fun torturing my brother’s balls.”

Her laughter echoed through the hall.

“But look at this… now I’ve got such a powerful mage… literally in the palm of my hand.”

Emma coughed one last time, anger blazing in her eyes.

“Synthila, stop playing around! Just destroy that ball already! End his magic now!”

Synthila’s expression shifted. The smile vanished, replaced by cold seriousness.

“That’s not a good idea.”

Emma’s eyes widened.

“What? What do you mean not a good idea?”

Synthila sighed, staring at the pulsating sphere between her fingers.

“He can heal… somehow. If I destroy the ball, it’ll just come back.”

Emma grew even more confused.

“But that makes no sense! Healing powers need magic to work. If his balls are destroyed, there’d be no magic for him to heal. How is that possible?”

Synthila shook her head.

“I don’t know the answer either.”

Silence hung for a few seconds.

“If I destroy the ball, the spell will just dissolve. I’d have to rebuild it from scratch.”

Emma stared in disbelief. Torne, even in fear, took the chance to smile. A mocking, provocative smile, even in the midst of pain.

Synthila noticed the smile.

Without hesitation, she squeezed the sphere hard.

His scream filled the room.

“AAAAARGH!”

Torne dropped to his knees, clutching between his legs.

“Don’t get cocky. I might not destroy this ball… but as long as it’s in my hands, you’ll stay on your knees. Exactly how every man should be before me.”

Torne tried to take a deep breath, recovering. He braced one hand on the ground and slowly began to rise.

Emma watched, still stunned.

“So what do we do now?”

Synthila raised the sphere, her eyes shining with challenge.

“We keep fighting. Until he passes out.”

Torne’s eyes widened. He took a step back, startled.

Emma steadied her gaze. She channeled energy into her fist. A red aura pulsed, amplifying her punches.

She lunged forward.

Torne dodged the first blow. He ducked, letting her fist sweep over his head. Dodged the second, retreating quickly.

But Synthila squeezed the sphere hard.

“AAAAAAAAAGH!”

The scream burst out instantly.

He froze, hands clutching between his legs in a desperate reflex.

Emma took advantage.

She punched his stomach hard. The impact reverberated. Air shot out of his mouth in a spray of blood.

“URGH!”

He grabbed her arm, trying to counter. But Synthila dug her nails into the sphere, pressing it mercilessly.

His scream was deafening.

“AAAAAAHHH!”

The pain forced him to release Emma.

She spun and kicked his face. The impact cracked sharply, snapping his head aside and sending his body rolling across the floor.

Blood splattered the ground.

He dropped to his knees again, clutching between his legs, his face twisted in agony.

“My balls… my balls…”

The classic scene of any man struck in that point.

Emma walked calmly toward him. Her eyes brimmed with hate. Normally she sought to end fights quickly, but now there was anger, there was bitterness. Torne was one of those responsible for what had happened to Armand.

She grabbed his hair, forcing his head up.

Then she started punching.

The first blow rocked his head.
The second sent blood streaming from his nose.
The third was even stronger, but her hand was stopped.

Torne caught her fist midair, panting. He spun and grabbed her from behind, locking his arm around her neck.

Emma began to lose air, her breathing cut off again.

Synthila didn’t hesitate.

She squeezed the sphere hard.

Torne’s body shuddered. He clearly felt it. But he didn’t let go of Emma.

She pressed harder, her nails digging deep.

“AAARGHHHH!”

He screamed again, yet still resisted.

Synthila realized she could just keep crushing until he gave in. But that would take precious seconds. Seconds in which Emma could lose consciousness.

She made a snap decision.

She slammed the sphere to the ground.

Torne convulsed, his whole body contorting.

Before the sphere could even bounce, Synthila lifted her foot and crushed it under her high heel.

The agony was instant.

She raised the heel and stomped again.
Raised and stomped again.

First time.
Second.
Third.
Fourth.

Torne resisted, muscles tense, sweat dripping down his face.

On the fifth time, he finally collapsed.

He released Emma, who dropped to the ground, coughing and gasping for air.

Torne fell to his knees, clutching himself, holding back cries of agony. He crawled on the floor like a wounded animal.

Synthila bent to pick up the sphere again.

But when she looked, she saw Torne rising, his face twisted with hate.

He recovered quickly. Probably due to the healing working inside him.

She glanced at the sphere in her hand. Looked at the heel on her foot.

An idea sparked.

She positioned the sphere under her heel, between her foot and the sole.

And pressed down.

His scream was piercing.

“AAAAAAAAHHHH!”

His body collapsed again.

Synthila laughed loudly.

She loved how simply walking became torture for him.

Torne’s face twisted in pain, but seconds later, rage erupted.

He screamed and charged at her.

“Oh, shit!”

Synthila blurted out, stomping again.

He froze, trembling in pain. But he took a deep breath and ran again.

She stomped again. He froze. Then ran again.

Fear crawled into her chest.

So she decided.

She jumped.

For Torne, everything happened in slow motion. Her body rising, breasts bouncing in the air, her silhouette framed against the light of the hall.

Then gravity pulled.

Despair shot down his spine.

The impact brought the first wave of pain… but nothing could prepare him for what followed…

Her heavy breasts finally added weight to her body…

POP!

“AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!”

The scream was so loud it echoed through the castle.

Synthila looked down and realized the mistake.

The sphere was deformed, crushed under her foot.

“Ah… damn…”

She whispered, surprised.

She quickly turned to Lillith.

“The spell’s gonna break! Move fast!”

Lillith was already ready. Her eyes blazed purple. Her raised hands formed a massive magic circle above her head.

Torne, staggering, lifted his face.

And all he saw was a giant sphere of purple fire descending on him.

“BOOOOM!”

The explosion hurled his body away, smashing him through the rubble and slamming him into the hall wall.

Smoke filled the space.

When the dust cleared, Torne lay unconscious, utterly battered in a corner of the field.

Synthila took a deep breath.

“Even with his fast healing… he probably won’t wake up anytime soon…”