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Another chapter is finally ready to be shared, and this is a long one. Not the longest, but it'll be quite a ride. It gets very violent, but if you've been on this ride for a while you know what you can expect. I hope you will enjoy the read, and i look forwards to hearing your thoughts and comments. Have fun.

Darkness. Pain. Hate. Old sins come back to haunt him in his darkest hour. New nightmares fill his mind. Solitude and anguish. Endless, continue torture. And yet, even while sinking into hellish darkness, he is untamed. Wounded and exhausted, but never broken. Because deep inside, in his thoughts and in his lusts, he is...

Chapter 92 -** Darker than Hell **

Galen had never before experienced a shock as devastating as the one that had just tossed the Audacious around like it was a plastic toy. The reports kept coming in from all sectors of the boat, and the number of serious casualties increased with every call. Nobody had escaped the devastating shockwave without a wound of some kind, but what was worse was that the percentage of crew members unconscious or too broken to resume their stations was far higher than Galen and Sandy could possibly be comfortable with. Submarines are always rather lean manned and nobody on board is expendable or superfluous in any way, so that for every sailor immobilized in a bunk, two more have to take up on extra duties and longer shifts.

To their credit, the crew members of the Audacious once again demonstrated their loyalty and professionalism, doing their utmost to resume their duties. Broken bones could wait, it seemed, and Galen could only be thankful for the fantastic team he had the privilege of leading. He was proud of every last one of them.

The officers in the command room had survived relatively unscathed: they had been sent flying across the room by the violence of the shockwave and had landed violently against the consoles and plotting tables, collecting bruises and wounds and a few broken bones, but overall they were still efficient. Almost everyone had limped back to his station already, even if several legs could be seen restlessly twitching, along with many other stress indicators. The modern control room of the Audacious was relatively spacious and "safe". Sandy made a grimace at the thought of what would have happened on older submarines which had the metallic tree-trunk structure of the periscope right in the middle. Smashing into that huge lump of steel would have left many of them unable to stand up again.

The Audacious's medic, himself with a broken arm hastily immobilized, was racing back and forth to visit the most serious of casualties as assessed by the other sailors on the scene. Unsurprisingly, the worst cases were localized in machinery spaces in the stern and in the torpedo room and weapons handling area in the bow, where several sailors had been sent crashing into massive, unmoving machinery or torpedoes secured in their cradles. At least a couple of sailors had died in the machinery room aft: they had been knocked across the room and sent crashing into the massive electric motor that silently drove the submarine's pump jet. Again, it could have been worse: Sandy remembered well the massive shaft that would have been found spinning at high speed to mechanically drive the propeller of older submarines, and he repressed a shiver at the thought of what the shaft, spinning under a force of over sixty thousands horsepower and stretching from the engines all the way back to the propeller, could do to a body. He had seen a couple of accidents involving men getting caught by the shaft, and the memory still haunted him after many years.

The electric motor of the Audacious was at least fully enclosed, and it had replaced the mechanical, direct drive because it was far less noisy. It was part of why the Audacious was so difficult to detect.

Galen was on the phone, talking almost literally at once with at least five different officers, reporting from various areas of the submarine where the massive shockwave had caused damage and malfunctions. Thankfully, to water egress had been reported, and the reactor had swiftly resumed working after the emergency lock down was reverted. Galen's second in command had rushed towards the stern and was supervising the efforts to bring all main systems back on line, while shutting off the emergency generator set that had kicked in when the reactor had shut down. The emergency set produced considerably more noise, and they could not risk detection when the Sentence had those colossal, super-fast torpedoes that could literally blow the Audacious to smithereens. Hell, according to Sebastian the torpedoes were so huge that the impact alone would no doubt snap the submarine in half like a mere twig.

While Galen rightly focused on getting his boat back in fighting shape and made sure to have all the crew accounted for, Sandy took over the tactical side of the battle, leaning over the plotting table and sighing as he stared at the various screens, where the coordinates constantly changed. They had been knocked around so violently and rapidly, and over such a great distance that all of the inertial systems had been badly affected and could now no longer agree on anything. The electronic moving map was also sizzling in and out of view, so that he was forced to recover the back-up paper chart from the floor, along with a pencil. The other tools, sophisticated and not, had been tossed across the whole control room and he hadn't a clue about where they might have ended up.

Their previous course and the relative position of the Sentence were clearly marked, but there was no telling where the Audacious and the Sentence now sat compared to their last known position. In order to restore the navigation accuracy the only option was going up at periscope depth and put up a satellite mast to get a new fix from the satellite... but clearly that was no option. Not with the Sentence out there, somewhere, armed and ready.

"Sonar, be my eyes. Where are we? Where is the Sentence?" Sandy calmly said, and Sebastian couldn't help but curse under his breath before explaining: "It's complicated, skipper... the change of temperature has screwed up the regulations, and I'm working to get them right again. Moreover, there is noise literally everywhere. The echoes are driving me insane."

Sandy said nothing. He could imagine the difficulties and knew that it would take a moment to take new measurements of the water's new temperature and salinity, and program the sonar's computer system accordingly. There was no need to urge Sebastian any further: he was without a doubt already hard at work, just like everyone else on board.

"Skipper, I hear explosions to our South-East... If it can help with establishing our position, I think Lunis is... probably 40 or so miles to the south -east, on a 142 bearing. Very rough estimate, skipper. I'm going by the explosions. There are ships sinking out there. They are noisy enough that the noise bounces along the convergence".

Convergence zones are areas of the sea in which water conditions make noise generated dozens of miles away surprisingly audible. Sound propagates in liquids as a wave, bending between the surface and the depths. In some areas, it is possible to listen to sounds bouncing between the surface and the depth layer, by distances far greater than normal.

Sandy nodded to himself and used Sebastian's estimate to calculate a rough new position for the Audacious, and his mind raced to try and make sense of the numbers spewed out by the inertial system as it desperately tried to calculate the absurd movements the Audacious had made while pushed around by the terrifying shockwave. They had been blown more than thirty miles out of their previous position, and it was a true miracle that they hadn't sunk right to the bottom or crashed into something.

"The Sentence has been knocked out of position as well, skipper. I can hear her on a bearing of 3-2-5, six miles to the north-west... her active noise cancellation system is messed up, skipper. I think... I think some of the unmanned vehicles arrayed around her have been blown right into her side. She's generating a fake echo that is completely out of tune with every other noise."

Sebastian smirked, looking at the large screen of the sonar console with vengeful satisfaction: the system that had been designed and built to make the Sentence undetectable now was quite literally broadcasting her position by stubbornly attempting to reproduce the cacophony of echoes coming from every direction. Some of the drones that used to be carefully arrayed around the Sentence were now missing, washed away by the gigantic shockwaves, and several others apparently had crashed right into the vast flank of the submarine, judging from the confused, metallic noise coming from them. The flowing graphic on the console's screen was flooded with the lines caused by countless different noises, but the Sentence was now clearly recognizable, a lump of wild peaks of noise, all out of tune with each other due to the missing drones. She stood out like a sore thumb, and tracking her was now the easiest job Sebastian had ever had to do in his career. What a contrast from just a few minutes earlier, when she had been a ghost in the depths of the ocean, almost completely silent and undetectable.

"It won't last, skipper. Certainly their own sonar operators will realize how much noise they are giving out, and they will turn the system off." Sebastian cautioned, and Sandy quietly agreed. They had to make good use of that moment, because the table had turned and now the Sentence was blind and noisy, while the Audacious was impossible to locate, hidden in the cacophony that echoed against the seabed.

"Bearing 3-2-5, and give me the max speed." The old admiral commanded, and the maneuver officers worked on the joysticks to give the hydroplanes the correct angle, turning the Audacious around until it was aimed straight at the Sentence. The speed of the submarine built up quickly as power was squeezed out of the reactor, and Sandy picked up his chronometer, making a rapid calculation of the time it would take to catch up with the Sentence. It all depended on her own heading and speed, so he enquired: "What are they doing?"

Sebastian tapped his pen against the little block notes covered in scribbles, and made a bit of a grimace. It wasn't easy to provide an answer. The Sentence was now producing so much weird noise that he struggled to determine her course. It took a few moments of careful listening, and an exchange of opinions with the sonar operators he commanded and coordinated. "They are drifting, skipper. Their own reactor must have gone into emergency lock down when the shockwave hit them." He worked on the commands, enhancing the quality of the sound coming to his earphones and deleting some of the background noise, until he began to pick up some signatures that, finally, he could recognize. The first thing he heard was the noise coming from emergency generators. Big ones. And at least four of them... definitely something never seen before. How big is this thing...?

"If we still had doubts about the nature of the Sentence, now I'd say they are all gone." Sebastian calmly commented when he finally managed to recognize the low, constant noise of the pumps that kept the reactor coolant circulating. "Gotcha!" He whispered under his breath, grinning in intense satisfaction. For uncountable hours he had listened, wondered, cursed, lost the contact, acquired the contact, made hypothesis and dropped others, and now he had finally nailed the most elusive target he had ever had to deal with. For a sonar operator who, at the end of the day, loved his job, that was an immense satisfaction.

"It is a nuclear submarine, for sure. It appears to have no less than four separate reactors, and I suspect they might each power a separate, independent power circuit, including hotel loads and propulsion."

"Four reactors...!" Sandy exclaimed, making a grimace and shaking his head slowly. "The RA is insane."

Sebastian grunted in agreement at that, and he wished for a way to look through the hull and see the Sentence in the distance. He was so very curious to discover how that impossible machine had been built, what kind of propulsion it used, etcetera. He suspected that it would make for an astonishing sight: nothing about the Sentence was common in any way. Then, a variation in the sounds coming from the Sentence made him frown, and he listened carefully, pressing the earphones against his skull. When he finally understood what was happening, he announced: "They are slowly turning around, probably to bring their side sonar arrays to bear. They are searching us, skipper."

Sandy's brain raced, searching for the best possible reaction to initiate. Normally, a submarine in the Sentence's delicate situation would try to go silent and deep, evade the area of the fight undetected, and then drift along to try and re-establish contact without being heard. The Sentence, of course, was so enormous, unsinkable and heavily armed that it clearly didn't even consider the option of withdrawing. The Sentence was not afraid of anything, and Sandy expected the great submarine to switch its enormous sonar arrays to active mode as soon as they managed to re-active one of the reactors. At that point, one big ping from the Sentence's enormous sonar system would pin-point the Audacious's position with utmost accuracy. A few seconds; their torpedoes fly against us at 450 knots and, within seconds, we are all dead.

"Prepare false target for launch." Sandy ordered, and then quietly added, speaking in the microphone to the benefit of Sebastian and Galen only. "Let's give them something to shoot at, or they'll be tempted to take an active sweep with their sonar. If they do that now, we are doomed."

"They have turned off their active noise cancellation system, skipper." Sebastian announced, and the admiral bit his lower lip to silence a curse. It was fully expected, of course, but he would have loved to be given a few moments more of that thing malfunctioning, as it was producing a whole lot of noise that allowed the Audacious to move at max speed without fear of being heard.

"Slow down to 20 knots." He immediately ordered, and the Audacious began to lose speed... but also noise, becoming one with the dark waters as the multitude of weird echoes around them began to die away.

"False target ready in tube 2, skipper."

"Come to 3-0-0 and open tube 2." Sandy ordered, and then waited for the submarine to veer onto its new bearing. The sub tilted slightly on its side, but the admiral's legs compensated the inclination so naturally that he didn't even notice. "We are going for a swim-out", he announced, and the warfare officer confirmed the order received. The swim out was an alternative method for a torpedo launch, which replaced the expulsion of the weapon from the tube with a slower, less noisy movement of the torpedo leaving under its own power. A bit more risky as the torpedo propulsion was initiated inside the tube, but it made it far less likely that the Sentence would hear anything.

Sandy waited for the Audacious's turn to end, cursing the seconds that passed and that seemed endless. The Sentence still hadn't pinged and they were still gaining ground on her, but that could change in any moment, without warning. Finally, once the bow had turned to face the open ocean well westward of the Sentence, the admiral ordered to swim-out the modified torpedo, but to keep its noise generator turned off for the time being. The massive torpedo, externally almost indistinguishable from a normal round, swam forwards dragging its guide wire behind itself, and the Audacious's warfare officers controlled its moves, step by step.

"Load a false target in tube 3." Sandy ordered. They could not reload tube 2 until they severed the command wire, closed the tube and pumped the water out of it, but he wanted to have a second decoy in case anything went wrong. The torpedo contains a spool of fiber optic cable, very thin but sturdy and able to carry a lot of information, and a second spool is on board the submarine. Connected, the two give a combined reach of more than twenty nautical miles. The submarine is relatively free to move while a wire is still in use, but there are limits which, once surpassed, cause a wire rupture and force the torpedo to become autonomous. Sandy wanted that to happen only when the false target was a safe distance away from the Audacious, so it could serve its purpose fully but luring the Sentence's attention in the wrong direction. Immediately, Sandy ordered to turn the submarine back towards the Sentence, and pick up speed. The warfare officers looked up with a bit of silent concern, knowing that the command wire was likely to soon break as they turned on a new course and accelerated towards their top speed all at once, but they said nothing. Sandy was clearly aware of the risk and had already worked the figures out in his mind. As the Audacious rapidly picked up speed and assumed its new direction of travel, the admiral nervously checked the wire safety limits rapidly approaching. He wanted to keep direct control of the false target for as long as possible, guiding it on a parallel course to the west of the Sentence, at high speed, but he could not just stay put and focus on the decoy. He was creating a window of opportunity for a great escape, and needed to exploit every second.

"Conn, here sonar." Came Sebastian's voice, and Sandy immediately acknowledged, already certain that the incoming news would not be positive.

"The explosion that slammed us around, whatever it was, also blew the storm away. The weather is now calm on the surface, and I can already hear helicopters and aircraft taking off from the Judge. They have started dropping sonobuoys on three bearings: north, north-east and north-west. They are clearly seeking us, skipper. They are still several miles away, and don't have a clue about our current position, but they keep expanding the search area. I already have at least twenty different helicopters dropping buoys on a vast front."

"It was bound to happen, at some point..." Sandy muttered, trying to accept that uncomfortable reality with as much serenity as he could put together. The helicopters and anti-submarine aircraft were a huge threat and now that they were back in the air they could rapidly form long barriers of passive and active sonobuoys that would make it impossible for the Audacious to move freely. They were cleansing the waters next to the Judge and the amphibious assault vessels, but already several flights of helicopters were pushing northwards to try and find them. The admiral expected the aircraft, faster and longer ranged than the helicopters, to fly right ahead to assume patrol orbits out over the ocean to deny them any chance of retreat. The only way to survive the chase was to hide under the Sentence herself, hidden by her mass, her noise... perhaps her active noise cancellation system, even, if they ever managed to re-activate it.

"Dipping sonar in the water, 5 miles South-East of our position." Sebastian warned, and almost immediately afterwards he added: "A second sonar being lowered 4 miles south-east... and a third. Their helicopters have begun an all out search."

Sandy and Galen had both experienced submarine warfare from both ends and could easily imagine the large helicopters, armed with torpedoes and depth charges under their stub wings, flying low over the sea, sweeping the surface with their sensible radars, looking out for periscopes or masts... and could picture with great detail those three machines slowing down, going into a hover a few dozen meters from the top of the waves, keeping station while a sonar array was lowered into the sea, hanging at the end of a long cable. The dipping sonar could be lowered a few hundred meters under the surface and then used to ping actively or listen passively.

"The dipping sonar in the middle has started pinging." Sebastian urgently added, before reassuring: "Still too far away to get a good echo of us."

One pings, two listen to the echoes. If they get close enough, they'll have us painted bright on their screens.

"Sonobuoys splashing in the water two miles westwards." Sebastian announced. He had heard the first two splashes as the buoys, dropped by an anti-submarine aircraft, hit the water and jettisoned the parachutes that had brought them down. The cylindrical body of the buoy separated from a floating element that functioned as antenna, and it sunk rapidly, deploying a long array of hydrophones that immediately started listening for the sounds of the ocean. Other buoys were deployed at regular intervals, forming a long barrier, and a few of the buoys soon began pinging.

"More sonobuoys to the east... and a helicopter has just started hovering two miles ahead of us." The sonar team warned, and the plotting table rapidly filled up with markers that formed long "walls" that the Audacious absolutely had to avoid in order to escape detection. The helicopters were pulling up on all sides, and the one two miles ahead was already way too close for comfort.

Galen, alarmed, walked rapidly through the control room and pulled up by Sandy's side, trading a worried look with the admiral. They were moving relatively fast, and producing more noise than advisable. Normally, they would have dived as deep as possible and slowed down to make themselves completely silent, but there were just too many buoys, too many helicopters and too many aircraft, and more kept coming. They had to leave the area, quickly. Going deep and silent was not going to save them in that particular and terrible situation, with the RA's vast fleet mercilessly hounding them.

"Activate the noise generator, set it for fast cruise mode." Sandy ordered, and the warfare officer transmitted the command to the modified torpedo, which began to produce a track that simulated the sounds produced by the Audacious moving at over 20 knots. "Let's give them something they can believe to."

20 knots was still within the "silent" speed range for the Audacious. It could be heard, but only from pretty close ranges. It was a compromise between max speed and max stealth. Sandy and Galen hoped that the helicopters would pick the contact up and interpret it as genuine.

"The helicopter ahead of us is reeling up its dipping sonar. Another two are sprinting forwards from the west. I think they heard the false target, sir." Sebastian announced after a moment, and Sandy clenched a fist in a mix of satisfaction and relief.

"The first helicopter has repositioned, and is lowering the dipping sonar less than five hundred meters to the east of the false target. They have it, skipper." The sonar operators announced, before adding: "Fixed wing aircraft overhead, losing altitude... it started a search pattern. Turning over the false target right now."

"MAD search." Galen whispered, and Sandy nodded in agreement. The MAD, Magnetic Anomaly Detector, is a device contained in the long, stinger-like extension of the tail of anti-submarine aircraft. It can measure the variations in the electromagnetic field of the sea, and detect "anomalies" such as those induced by the huge mass of metal that makes up a submarine. The special rubber overcoat of the Audacious greatly reduced the electromagnetic signature, while the false target had a small signature as a consequence of its tiny dimensions when compared to the real sub. They could become suspicious if the MAD lecture is unsatisfactory... if they understand that they are chasing a decoy, we are screwed...

"You think they will go for the bait...?" Galen quietly asked, giving his teacher a look of admiration and curiosity at the same time.

"I hope they do." Sandy honestly replied, shrugging a bit. "I want them to hear the false target and focus on it. If the Sentence gains the contact on passive sonar they might not feel the need to ping. I really don't want them to ping." The admiral made a grimace at the thought of the earlier torpedo attack. They were way too close to have any hope of avoiding an incoming barrage of those super-cavitating monstrosities, and at the same time too far away to be in any way safe from the helicopters drawing nearer by the moment.

Galen grunted in agreement, feeling exactly the same violent emotions as he gripped the rail in front of the command chair, squeezing on it hard enough to crumple the solid steel like paper. He didn't even notice, because his eyes were fixed on his officers working at the consoles that controlled the Audacious's many systems. He felt genuine admiration and affection for all of them, and he was painfully aware that their survival depended on his and Sandy's split-second decisions.

"Conn, here sonar. One of the Sentence's reactors is coming back online. I can hear it rather clearly." Sebastian urgently announced, and Sandy traded a gaze with Galen. A sonar ping from the Sentence's gigantic and incredibly powerful sonar arrays could now come literally at any moment.

"Put the false target on a 2-8-5 course. Push it to max speed and activate the noise generator." Galen ordered, and Sandy nodded with a little smile. He let Galen step back in full command without saying a thing. The younger submarine had clearly understood the plan and his order was exactly the one Sandy would have given. It's his ship. It's his crew. It's only right that they hear his voice.

Galen seemed to realize after a moment of silence that he had almost literally stepped all over the admiral's shoes, and he turned around to apologize, but Sandy waved a hand dismissively and simply announced: "You have the conn and deck."

"I have the conn and deck. Thank you, admiral." Galen replied, smiling for a brief moment before listening to the warfare officer as he announced that the false target was operational and moving on the desired bearing. With a nod, he ordered: "Cut the wire and close tube 2."

The false target sprinted ahead, rushing at max speed towards the open ocean as if to run away from the pursuing enemies, and the helicopters immediately hounded it, catching its noise signature loudly and clearly on their sonars. The Audacious, in the meanwhile, broke all contacts with the false target and headed in the opposite direction.

"Manoeuvre, turn for 3-2-5 and make all speed for the Sentence. We'll only be safe once we are right beneath her fat belly." Galen ordered, before turning to gaze at the old admiral with a little, nervous smile, idly wondering: "Do you think they have torpedo tubes in the stern...?"

Sandy snorted in wry amusement, replying easily: "For sure. But I'm banking on them not having any kind of weapon aimed straight down through the keel. Certainly not even the RA is that weird and insane."

"Let's hope so. Once we are beneath her keel, though, she could just dive deeper." Galen observed, and Sandy nodded with a bit of a grimace. He was well aware that the Sentence pretty certainly came with a much sturdier hull, which could venture down to far greater depths without being crushed. There was the very real risk that, if they were detected slipping under the Sentence, the RA super-submarine would simply head towards oceanic depths and flood her tanks, forcing the Audacious to rush out of hiding.

"That will be the complex part." The old admiral admitted, before falling silent. The truth was that they both were nervously waiting for the Sentence's reaction to the noisy fake submarine that was apparently running away on a north-western course towards the open ocean. Would the officers on board the Sentence be tricked, or would they see through the ruse and order a sweep with their immense active sonar...?

"The Sentence is turning around, skipper, aiming westwards for 2-7-0. A second reactor is going back online, but still no active sonar... they are opening the torpedo tubes!" Sebastian announced, and admiral and captain traded a little grin. The Sentence had heard the false target on its passive sonar and was about to blow it into pieces, believing it to be the true Audacious. And at least one of the helicopters added its own payload for good measure, dropping two torpedoes in the water, almost right above the false target, in what was a perfectly executed attack.

The sea filled with noise as the gigantic torpedoes of the Sentence rushed out of the tubes and the two far smaller rounds dropped by the helicopter began pinging against the false target, firmly acquiring it and rushing forth for the interception. In the middle of that cacophony, Galen immediately ordered the Audacious to pick up even more speed, using every last bit of installed power. The sooner they could vanish under the Sentence, the safer they'd be.

The old admiral, however, was not at all confident that they could get all the way to the Sentence without being heard, and his mind raced as he tried to put together a plan for that eventuality. He rapidly concluded that they needed to inflict some damage to the Sentence. They could not sink her, at least not without hitting her multiple times and on both flanks, something that was pretty much impossible, but if they could inflict some serious damage on her hull, maybe they could discourage the crew from attempting to dive deeper down into the ocean for fear of having the increased pressure blasting through the damaged zones.

Alternatively, they needed to convince the Sentence that they were dead. Ideally, they had to do both.

He scrambled for a piece of paper and a pen, and began to scribble the scheme for a hasty and improvised modification to a torpedo to transform it into a timed bomb.

Galen, in the meanwhile, used his chronometer to measure the time it took to the Sentence's gigantic torpedoes to cover the distance to the false target. Mere seconds, which wouldn't have given the Audacious any chance of survival. They all heard the multiple, gigantic explosions in the distance as one of the gigantic torpedoes passed close enough to the false target to either hit it directly or be triggered by the magnetic and acoustic signature that the modified torpedo so accurately reproduced. A silent shiver ran through the Audacious from bow to stern, because every last sailor on board now knew very well just how serious their situation was.

"I hear at least three helicopters circling the area of the explosion. Another pair is flying northwards; I believe they will lower their sonars in a moment, to verify the kill." Sebastian said, and Galen nodded slightly to himself. They will be puzzled by the lack of noise associated with a large hull sinking and then collapsing at crush depth... sure, the Sentence's torpedoes are so gigantic that probably they don't really expect much of the hull to remain at all... but the false target did not try to evade and did not deploy any decoy. Surely they have noticed. I bet they are wondering...

"Two helicopters hovering two miles north of the explosion point. Dipping sonars being lowered... and two more dipping sonars two miles to the west. They are listening, skipper." The sonar officer reported, leaning onto his console and making a grimace. They do have suspects.

Within a moment, another pair of helicopters moved southwards and deployed their own sonars, uncomfortably close to the Audacious's position, while the surveillance aircraft from early made another low pass to "sniff" for metal with its MAD sensor.

It passed right above the Audacious on the way out, while yet more helicopters rushed towards the scene, scouting the waters on every side.

"The Sentence is resuming its previous bearing, skipper. 3-2-5, going northwards. I make her speed as... twenty knots, and rapidly increasing. Skipper, she is very quiet. I hear no propellers of any kind, so she definitely uses some unconventional propulsion system. I can hear the cooling pumps of her reactors and little else." Sebastian cautioned, tapping a finger on the small table ahead of him while using the other hand to regulate the sonar settings. "We'll lose the contact if she put a couple more miles of distance between us."

I can't slow down, or we'll lose the Sentence's trail. And if I keep this speed, they are going to hear us for sure. Actually, they should have heard us already. "My father has chosen the best of moments to go AWOL." Galen quietly muttered, in a voice low enough that only Sandy, standing right beside him, could hear it. The admiral didn't know what to reply to that. He had been promised that help would swiftly come their way if they just prayed for it, and that was not happening. They had been given some literal miracles, but the RA fleet was still out there, hounding them, so the relief had only been momentary. The sudden growth in the sea's level, the sudden brutal rising of the waters' temperature and the immense explosion that had almost sunk them, however, made painfully clear that god was clearly dealing with something really, really complex in that same moment.

"He'll come to our aid for sure." The admiral finally whispered, with sincere belief. However, he urgently seized Galen's wrist and dragged the much larger male around to show him the rough sketch he had prepared. "Don't comment. I know how insane this is, but we need an option to stage our own death in a convincing way in case the Sentence hears us coming... and we both know she will. We have to go too fast to catch up with her to believe that we can do it stealthily all the way. We have only gained some time."

Galen nodded, admitting the sad truth of Sandy's words, but his eyes widened as he looked over the sketch, which depicted one of their torpedoes literally sabotaged in order to turn it into a floating, timed bomb. The device that measured the distance traveled by the torpedo and activated the fuze once the weapon war far enough from the launching submarine had to be turned into a timer with a fixed, and short, countdown to run before detonating the warhead. The propulsion system at the back was deliberately disabled to ensure the torpedo would not go far at all, instead floating in the water with buoyancy set so that it would keep its depth unchanged.

"You are basically turning a torpedo into a bomb. For sure you know that we risk blowing ourselves up by messing up the weapon in such a way. What for...?" Galen investigated, and his voice remained amazingly calm even when exploring the very real possibility that his beloved ship could be destroyed by an accidental explosion while the crew opened a sealed torpedo body and modified it in very forbidden ways.

"We need the Sentence to hear a loud explosion, one convincing enough to trick them into believing us gone. This torpedo and a whole lot of decoys to generate bubbles are the only tools we have to put up that show."

"And even then, it will only work if they hear us late enough to give us a chance of evading their torpedoes." Galen mumbled, making a grimace. "We don't have the best of odds, huh...?"

"No." Sandy simply admitted, before letting out a quiet sigh as he looked at his own sketch. "But we currently have no alternatives. We will be sunk for sure if they understand where we are. It's the only way." The admiral paused for a brief, nervous moment, then put his notes under his armpit and turned to make his way to the torpedo room. "It is my idea, so I must be there when they open up the torpedo and modify it. With my hands right in there, in case it goes wrong. Wish me good luck."

"Good luck, teacher." Galen respectfully replied, with sincere admiration for the old man's courage in taking full and direct responsibility for his idea. Sure, if something went truly wrong and there was an explosion, Sandy would only precede him into Hell by a few minutes at most: even if the explosion didn't doom the Audacious whole, the Sentence or the helicopters would quickly finish the job.

"Torpedo room, interrupt Tube 2 reload, and open up the torpedo inspection panels. The admiral is coming in to instruct you." Galen announced through his little interphone set, trying to ignore the nervous look he got from a couple of officers nearby as they heard his words. He could only try and imagine the confusion and surprise of the weapon handlers down in the torpedo rooms, too... but he tried to push those worries out of his mind, at least for the moment. He had his own task: bringing the Audacious under the Sentence, in a way or another.

Sebastian, in his small cubicle, with his shirt stuck to his sweaty body and his eyes hurting horribly after staring at the sonar console's screens for so long, spying every little line of noise, let out a sigh and shifted uncomfortably in his seat. His shift had ended hours before, in theory, but he clearly couldn't leave his position at such a critical juncture... nor did he want to. He had rarely felt as excited in his entire career, even though he had been in a number of highly dangerous sea battles. The Sentence was a target never before tracked, one that had been designed and built to be impossible to locate, and the challenge of defeating her stealthness was immensely stimulating. Fear did the rest. His levels of adrenaline spiked whenever one of the helicopters above repositioned and dipped its long sonar array into the water, because they were so damn close. The Audacious was in deep water, under the layer, but it was racing at its max speed and it was almost unbelievable that they hadn't been caught yet. Every time a helicopter passed above them, Sebastian had to repress a shudder as his mind filled with the image of torpedoes falling from the rotorcrafts... He tried to keep those horrible images out of his head by focusing on the unique noises coming from the Sentence. Some, like the reactor coolant pumps, he could understand and recognize, but others, the propulsion noises, were still a mystery. How did they make you so quiet...?

He was trying to determine the nature of her power system, which almost certainly was buried deep within the hull to prevent noise irradiation, when he suddenly heard another weird noise, very quiet and muffled. He frowned, listening with great curiosity, and his fellow sonar operators did the same, until one of them said: "The noise does not come from within the Sentence. I think we have finally picked up one of her accompanying drones."

Sebastian gripped his shoulder and squeezed in congratulations, offering a thumb up and a big smile. "I think you have it right. I can hear a similar noise from further east, too. Another drone, probably."

They fell silent for a moment, and studied the noise coming into their headphones until it became clear that the Sentence was reactivating her drones one by one and maneuvering them into position around her gigantic hull. "Within a few moments, you can bet she'll vanish." Sebastian muttered, leaning back into his chair and sighing, rubbing tiredly at his sore eyes... and when he opened them again, he spotted admiral Hawkwood marching past the open door to their sonar cubicle, tossing a curious gaze inside. Sebastian traded a look with the admiral and hinted a greeting, expecting Sandy to come inside... but the admiral stormed right past instead, clearly in a hurry.

Sebastian had a moment to wonder where he was going, but then the Sentence, all of a sudden, vanished, her sound signature abruptly cancelled and replaced by nothing but the sea's natural sounds. Here we go again. Let's look for creaks in the reproduced noise... "Conn, here sonar. The Sentence's active noise cancellation system is back on line."

Sandy heard Sebastian's words just as he progressed past the veritable forest of computer towers that were the brain of the sonar system, and he cursed under his breath, picking his pace up until he was almost jogging. The vanishing of the Sentence added even more urgency to their actions, because they risked losing the contact definitively. What if she turns for the open ocean, we don't hear a thing and keep racing in the wrong direction...? Oh, that would be such a stupid way to be sunk and die. It would make us all look like proper idiots.

He left to his right the small maintenance workshop that repaired components during the long deployments and then rapidly descended one of the incredibly steep ladders that are typical of warships and that scare landlubbers unused to their punishing shape. He emerged into the main block of accommodations of the submarine, on the middle deck of the three that composed the Audacious, and rushed past the empty bunks of the junior ranks until he met another ladder, which he descended with the rapid, expert step refined in decades of service at sea. On the bottom deck of the Audacious, he finally reached the thick watertight armoured door leading into the weapons storage compartment, and one of the handlers received him, holding the door open. They closed it carefully behind their backs, and Sandy took a moment to admire the orderly set of racks filled with massive, intimidating torpedoes. Full racks were a reassuring sight for a submariner, especially after they had run completely out of rounds and had been saved by a literal miracle. He couldn't help but reach forwards to touch one of those miracle-weapons, created out of thin air by Killer's power, and the weapon handler behind him smiled in entertainment and confirmed: "They are true, sir. Amazing as it still is to think, they are solid and true. And they work."

The admiral nodded quietly, slowly caressing the massive weapon as he walked along the corridor in the middle of the compartment until he reached the fairly open space in front of the six sealed torpedo tubes, with their massive steel hatches that had to withstand all of the pressure of the water pushing in when the other extremity was opened for firing a weapon. The tube 2 was open and empty, and the weapon specialists were gathered around the torpedo ready to be pushed inside. It sat on its storage cradle, which moved forwards thanks to clever hydraulic arms that could move each weapon from its storage position to any one of the tubes. And a good thing it was, because each torpedo was more than seven meters long and weighted close to 3 tons.

A couple of inspection panels had already been carefully removed, exposing some of the torpedo's innards, and Sandy saluted the specialists with a respectful nod before opening his sketch and notes right on top of the torpedo's long body. "This is what we need to do. Please, don't argue the matter, difficulties and risks argue for themselves. As insane as it seems, this might be our only chance to complete this mission in one piece."

The handlers traded an uneasy look, but then the officer in charge of the team spoke for everyone when he picked up the sketch and resolutely said: "We can do this. Give us a moment."

The minutes that followed were full of tension as the technicians sabotaged and modified the safety device of the torpedo to enable it to do a very dangerous, very forbidden thing. Sir John stood nearby, providing whatever help they required, but mostly just giving them berth. They were the weapon specialists after all, while he hadn't actually worked on a torpedo in years. He knew the theory, of course, but they were the true masters of the trade.

Back in the control room, Galen continued to stare at the plotting table as the position of the Audacious gradually drew closer and closer to that of the Sentence. For whatever reason, the RA crew had been slow in reactivating the reactors and so the gigantic submarine had spent many precious minutes moving very slowly, almost drifting in the water. Lucky for the Audacious, because the Sentence could run at least as fast as they could, and probably even faster. If their approach became a race, they were probably never going to make it under her keel.

Galen nervously tapped his finger on the metal railing, leaning onto it and pretty much ignoring the existence of the command chair behind him. He had never experienced another mission as dangerous and terrifying as their current desperate struggle against overwhelmingly superior forces. The Sentence was still apparently convinced that the Audacious was gone, because it was taking its time putting back into action the last of its nuclear reactors, and it had calmly resumed its bearing, heading northwards into the open ocean. In itself, that was weird enough, since the battle for Lunis was far from finished. Sure, the RA forces were winning, but why was the Sentence going her own way without a care in the world...? The Audacious's mission included finding that out. Killer had made it very clear that what he wanted was information about what the RA was up to.

Unfortunately it is far from clear, and we have little chance to communicate anything anyway... My god, my goddess, if you can hear my prayers, we need help. We are heading northwards from Lunis and we are about to do something truly crazy.

Still no news from the torpedo room. Sandy had been down there for a while, and Galen experienced true horror whenever he thought of what the admiral and the weapons handlers were doing in that precise moment. The risks were enormous, far greater than he'd accept taking in less desperate circumstances, but the RA helicopters and aircraft were getting more and more dangerous. Sebastian provided a running commentary of their moves, and Galen didn't like their moves one bit. They were drawing closer and closer, and there seemed to be an aircraft, in particular, which was flying low over the waters, following the Sentence on a parallel route, a few miles to the west but within range of Extremely Low Frequency transmissions. Clearly, that aircraft was the literal "guardian angel" of the Sentence and it carried the enormous antenna needed to relay the ELF communications to the submerged Sentence. ELF signals are powerful enough to penetrate water and reach significant depths, but they are incredibly slow and require antennas literally stretching for miles, strewn between towers on land or towed behind an aircraft and behind the submarine itself. The Sentence likes to stay in touch with the outside world... first through the Judge, now through this. I so wish we could tap into their communications, see what they have to say...

"The Sentence is picking up speed, skipper." Sebastian warned, and Galen huffed quietly. It was unfortunate, but expected. They only had to go a few more miles, though. Almost there, and she's not heard us yet. A miracle, considering our current speed. Father, my king, my god... thank you. Whatever you did when you repaired our hull, it is working great.

"Galen, the special torpedo is ready." Sandy announced, and Galen acknowledged before sighing in true relief. He had waited for that message for many uncomfortable minutes, tormented by the idea that he might suddenly feel the Audacious trembling and hear an explosion coming from the bow. "We are loading it into the Tube 2. How are our friends doing?"

"Picking up speed, but still no sign that they have heard us. We are in line with their stern, according to Sebastian." Galen calmly replied. The sonar operators were back to guessing the Sentence's position by listening to the slight noise discrepancies between true, real-time noise coming from the sea and whatever little natural life was left in it after the apocalyptic explosion and climate change earlier; and the same noise copied and re-broadcasted by the drones arrayed around the RA's boat. It was an extremely complex job, and the worst part was that it reduced even more their warning time in case the Sentence opened its rear-facing torpedo tubes. Their first warning risked being the torpedo breaking through the wall of false noise.

The following minutes were nightmarish, but they continued gaining terrain on the Sentence. Most of the helicopters started dipping their sonars well ahead of the Sentence and out on either flank, clearly intent on making sure that the waters were safe for her passage, but other aircraft and rotorcraft continued to fly in close proximity to the Audacious's position as well, clearly still unconvinced of their victory.

Galen was terrified of running straight into the miles-long Extremely Low Frequency antenna that the Sentence was without a doubt towing; or perhaps into the equally dangerous towed sonar array. There were also an uncertain number of drones, probably tethered with their own cables, orbiting all around the Sentence, which meant that colliding into something was almost a certainty. They could only hope it would be a light enough impact to be without consequences. Galen kept the route, only doing his best to position the Audacious beneath the assumed depth of the Sentence, where it was, at least in theory, somewhat safer.

Sebastian and his operators, in the meanwhile, did their best to estimate the distance from their target, to avoid crashing right into its stern, or banging the turret into its keel. A very difficult job, considering that they only heard tiny fractions of noise and, from those, they had to somehow draw estimates without even knowing what shape the super-submarine had. At least we are pretty sure she does not have spinning propellers at the back. It would really suck to have our hull torn into shreds by a gigantic propeller.

Galen sat down in the command chair almost without noticing. He leaned back in it and picked up his cup of coffee, gulping it all down even though it was cold and miserable after waiting for him for a long time that he no longer could properly estimate. He waited, because there was nothing else he could do. He waited for the Audacious to be found.

"The Sentence is sprinting!" Sebastian suddenly warned, and Galen immediately sprung to his feet, realizing with horror that he had closed his eyes and fallen asleep for... a few moments? He didn't know. He cursed himself for it, though, and immediately ordered: "Open torpedo tubes for snap-launches!"

"Torpedo tubes opening on the Sentence, skipper!" The sonar team announced, and Galen immediately ordered: "Tubes 1, 4, 5 and 6, fire!"

The Audacious shuddered as the four torpedoes were expelled and raced straight forwards. It was a blind launch, as they didn't have a clear idea of the Sentence's position. She was right in front of them and just a few hundred meters away, but that was all they knew. In order to have a chance to hit her, Galen had ordered to set the torpedoes so that they would immediately swim upwards, towards the surface.

"Tube 3, stand by for launch." Galen added, and Sandy immediately acknowledged. The admiral and the weapon handlers were more than just ready to launch the modified torpedo; they were eager to know it gone. Having an unsafely modified bomb in one of the tubes kept them all worried sick.

"Torpedoes in the water! Two miles to the east, 2-7-5. Pinging!"

"Three more from the south, they have acquired us!"

Galen swallowed thickly as the helicopters all around them rapidly reacted, dropping a deluge of torpedoes against the sudden noise spike that they had heard on the sonar and immediately, easily classified. From that distance, there could be no mistake. In seconds everyone onboard the Audacious started hearing the high-pitched sonar "pings" hammering their hull from all sides as at least ten torpedoes raced against them.

"Fire tube 3!" Galen ordered, for the first time almost shouting, before adding: "Emergency dive! Flood tanks and planes on max descent angle!"

The Audacious shuddered again as the modified torpedo was fired, and almost in the same moment it took a violent bow forwards that sent each non-secured object flying across the rooms. Everyone on board scrambled for something solid to grip as the Audacious sank like a stone, while water rushed loudly into the tanks through valves fully opened. Sebastian and the other sonar operators threw the headphones away and stared at the screens. They knew what was coming. Listening to the explosion through the sonar would have blasted their eardrums to kingdom come.

"Fire decoys. All of them!"

The warfare officers didn't complain, hammering the expulsion buttons without hesitation. A multitude of small decoy rounds were fired out of holes in the outer casing, and they floated upwards before starting to generate an enormous cloud of air bubbles that mixed with the already substantial cavitation provoked by the emergency dive, as all air was forcefully expelled from the Audacious's tanks.

In the same moment, a massive explosion rattled the Audacious with terrible violence, and the gloomy, thunderous noise slammed into the hull and through it, reaching them with astonishing, terrifying clarity.

Someone screamed. Others prayed to Killer, begging to be saved.

Galen cursed.

Then grinned, as he realized that the noise came from one of their torpedoes striking the Sentence's stern.

Then another explosion followed, just as violent as the first... and then a third one, immense.

Galen stumbled backwards as the Audacious was literally blown backwards and downwards through the water, even as its pump jet continued to push forth with all its power.

We are done...

A fourth explosion followed, right in the middle of the immense expanse of air bubbles, and then all hell seemed to break loose as the incoming torpedoes exploded, one after the other.

Galen closed his eyes and gripped the railing, doing his best to hold himself steady, but his feet somehow lost contact with the floor and he found himself floating for a moment in midair... before crashing painfully back down, slamming into the railing and grunting as a couple of his ribs loudly creaked. The railing had the worst end of the engagement, however, ending up squished under his massive frame, the steel deformed like it was butter.

The Audacious trembled again when something large and heavy slammed into the hull, probably hard enough to dent it, and Galen looked up in confusion, almost expecting to see through the roof of the control room, to see what was the object that was loudly grinding against the top of the hull... before crashing loudly against the conning tower.

A drone. We bumped into a drone.

"Stabilize it!" Galen ordered, even though he wasn't even sure whether the manoeuvre officer was alive at all, never mind whether he had managed to stay in his seat. For some kind of miracle, however, someone acknowledged the order, and the angle on the planes began to change. Within a moment, the noise of the water rushing into the tanks was gone, and the Audacious slowly began to get back to a stable asset.

Galen pushed himself up to a crouch, grunting in pain and confusion and gazing around himself to see officers scattered all around the room, thrown around like ragdolls... but what truly amazed him was that there was no water leaking into the control room. No flood coming up from the bow. We are alive. We really are...

"Damage reports, quick!" Galen urged, the first to respond was Sandy. His voice trembled, but at the same time full of wonderful strength and somehow able to inspire nothing but the strongest of confidence. "Torpedo room intact, no major damage to report. Weapons still safely stored."

"Sonar here. We are trying to get the system back on line. Rebooting. No water is getting in."

Within moments, all compartments reported on their status, and Galen breathed in relief. The Audacious was not sinking, nor burning. The list of the casualties had grown even longer and there were a multitude or small and big malfunctions, but the hull was still solid.

The noise coming from above suggested that the same was not true for the Sentence. Air was loudly escaping through what had to be a vast breach in the hull, and the amount of cavitation was spectacular. They could hear it without using the sonar. When Sebastian finally picked up his headphones, he was literally able to hear the blaring alarms within the wounded Sentence, and he even recognized voices of the enemy crew, so little was the distance between the two hulls. He couldn't distinguish the single words, but he clearly heard the banging of hammers, the shouting of the emergency teams and countless other noise as they worked to isolate the flooded compartments and, apparently, suffocate fires as well.

"Skipper, I think one or two of our torpedoes struck one of their own torpedo tubes." Sebastian suggested, and Galen had no difficulties believing it. The enormous explosion they had heard after the first two had probably been one of the Sentence's own torpedoes exploding inside the tube. That also explained why the Sentence had failed to retaliate with a launch of her own... And it also proves how fucking big and strong that thing is. We could not shrug off like that an explosion in the torpedo room...

But the key question to be answered was whether the RA believed them dead or not. The Sentence was very busy with damage control and emergency repairs and was not maneuvering for a search, or to threaten them in any way. She either believed them dead, or still didn't dare moving around too much because of the damage it had sustained. "What are the helicopters doing? Are they searching us?"

"There are a few sonars in the water and at least one helicopter is speaking to the Sentence using Gertrude through its dipping sonar, but they... do not seem frenzied, skipper, you know what I mean...?"

"Yes. They think we are dead, and are listening just to make sure. Let me know if there is any change in the pattern. If we can stay undetected for a couple of hours, they'll think us gone for good and that should give us a bit of respite." Galen calmly replied, walking back to the command chair and sitting heavily down into it, feeling exhausted and drained like very few other times in his whole life. His mind was numb with lack of sleep and sheer stress, millions of thoughts running around endlessly and seeming to physically clash into each other and into his skull from the inside... and as soon as his levels of adrenaline began to diminish, he discovered just how sore he was, as the multiple pains caused by two violent flights across the control room revealed themselves in full. Galen, however, did not complain and refused to let out a single sound of discomfort. He would have been horribly ashamed of himself had he done otherwise, since the control room was crowded with a number of officers that had their uniforms soaked in blood; hastily bandaged wounds and even broken limbs that they protected as best they could while continuing to do their job.

Galen felt small in front of his men. His crew had gone above and beyond what was expected of them, and he the least he could do for them was to lead from the front and give the best possible example.

A couple hours more. If they relax a bit and forget about us, I'm going to go back to patrol status and send as many of you as possible to the bunks for a nap. We will all break down if we don't get some sleep.

He threw his head back for a moment, and stared at the tubes and wires arrayed on the ceiling of the control room. He stared at them like he could see through them somehow, and see the keel of the Sentence, which loomed a few meters above them. I just hope she does not dive any deeper. That would put us in trouble.

"Sonar... do you have a good "view" on the Sentence's movements?" Galen enquired, closing his eyes for a moment while he waited for the answer. Sebastian was quick to respond: "She is very quiet, skipper. Really, really quiet. But we are inside the active noise cancellation bubble, and we can hear machinery noise very clearly. We will be able to easily recognize whatever move they might make."

"Keep me up to date at all times." Galen recommended, nodding slightly to himself. "We need to stick to her like a literal shadow. If she turns, we must turn. If she accelerates, we must keep the pace."

"I know, commander. We are on it, and we don't anticipate any problem from now on."

Galen thanked Sebastian and closed the communication, his lips cresting in a tiny smile. They had accomplished the impossible and slipped right under their target while an entire fleet chased them. And the modified torpedo, combined with the use of a multitude of decoys to generate a huge mass of bubbles, had resulted in a convincing enough show. The RA's torpedoes had been caught in the explosion and their own blasts had produced so much noise and devastation that the enemy this time was sure that the Audacious could not possibly have survived. The helicopters continued to drop sonobuoys and dipped their sonars into the water every few minutes, flying ahead of the Sentence in leaps, listening in one spot, then sprinting a few miles to the north to repeat, but that activity was no longer very concerning. The damage to her hull had made the Sentence relatively noisy, and the Audacious was perfectly hidden right under that noise. In addition, the Sentence's own active noise cancellation system now enveloped the Audacious as well, making it absolutely invisible. As long as they accurately kept their position, they were safe.

Soon enough the helicopters would run out of fuel, leaving the Sentence alone, but for the fixed-wing aircraft flying higher up, which had far longer legs. Well, there was actually a possibility that the RA helicopters could receive fuel in flight from tankers launched from the Judge's deck. Galen didn't know for sure whether the ASW machines of the RA were suitably equipped. If they were, with refueling in flight they could continue northwards for hundreds more miles, but even if that proved to be the case, the young captain was relatively sure that they were now safe. Several helicopters had already turned back towards their floating base to be re-armed after dropping all of their torpedoes, and every rotorcraft that left the scene was a bit of pain lifted off Galen's heart.

Galen was pretty much certain that an unknown number of RA submarines lurked in the dark waters all around the Sentence, escorting her, but the Audacious could not hear them and they had even less chances to hear the Audacious, so he tried to stay upbeat. Don't mess it up, and nobody will be able to hear you.

Galen picked up a block notes from a holster in the back of the seat and began to write down an up to date list of the crew members that were still able to function, and a second list containing those who were seriously wounded but still able to serve, even if in reduced ways. The two lists were dangerously short, especially in a number of key operational trades, but he knew he had to organize a new system of watches that allowed scores of men to rest and have their wounds treated. He needed to rebuild some kind of normality on board the submarine, before people started falling asleep at their posts, or worse.

He was almost done when he saw a shadow and looked up to see a tired, stressed, sweaty but smiling admiral Hawkwood walking back into the conn.

"Did the railing no longer comply with your sense of esthetics...?" Sandy teased, pointing at the flattened, crumpled steel barrier. Galen snorted in entertainment at that and grunted: "I had nothing against it. My ribs, on the other hand..."

"Yeah, I hear you." The admiral replied, and Galen noticed the blood staining the blue coverall and the bandages around one arm and around the flank. They were visible through a large tear in the coverall, and Sandy rolled his eyes a bit before grumbling: "The torpedo room is not the best place for unplanned flights. But better me than one of the torpedoes. I'm glad the beasts are all still safely in their racks."

Sandy paused for a moment, silently surveying the conditions of the officers working at the consoles and then, without even taking look at the page, he turned towards Galen and calmly asked: "Are you compiling a new plan for the watches? We need to give everyone a chance to rest for a bit."

"I'm working on it, yeah." Galen replied, smiling a bit to himself. Of course Sandy would know what he was up to. The admiral knew his trade better than anyone else.

"We should also make sure everyone eats something. Coffee isn't enough. Maybe some cold food. Something simple and that does not require making much noise. We can't afford to be heard by the Sentence because of an oven... but for the love of gods, make sure it's not sandwiches. We've had more than enough of those in the last few days." The admiral said, and Galen immediately agreed. He had admittedly overlooked the food aspect, but it was almost as important as sleep, and as soon as he started thinking about proper food, even if of the cold variety, he realized just how hungry he was.

Within minutes, the galley resumed its operations and plates of food soon started being distributed to the sailors right at their posts, while the captain and admiral, together, tried to put into words the gratitude and pride they felt towards every member of their crew. It was an impossible task, as no word seemed valid enough, and they also didn't want to sound too lyric. In the end, a short but sincere message of gratitude was distributed from bow to stern, handed over from sailor to sailor. Using the internal loudspeakers-based communication system was still a no-no in their current super-quiet battle state, but the circulated paper was welcomed by the members of the crew.

"Admiral Hawkwood and I wish to thank you all for your efforts in this long battle. What we attempted was without precedents, and will probably remain unmatched for a very, very long time. We are by no means safe yet and our mission continues, but we are now sitting right beneath the enemy submarine and the enemy believes us dead. From this position we will continue to spy on the enemy's activities. We are not only serving our emperor, but our God. He has blessed us with miracles, and he listens to our prayers. For the first time ever we can say with no hesitation that God is on our side, and that we are doing his work.

You all went above and beyond, serving at your stations without respite, without ever complaining or failing to deliver. Our gratitude will always go to you all for your efforts, which will never be forgotten. I think everyone will join us in giving a very special Bravo Zulu to our sonar team, which has performed in a stellar way and achieved the impossible, tracking the most elusive submarine ever built.

We are both honored to call you shipmates. Sadly, some of our shipmates will not be there to stand with us out on the casing when we finally return to port. We will never forget them, and we will bring their sacrifice in front of God, to ask him to show them once more the glory of his power and the beauty of his mercy.

Shipmates, heroes of the Audacious, brothers in arms! Our job isn't finished yet, but you've proven that you can get this fine submarine everywhere, no matter the difficulties. We salute you."

The message was printed in a few copies and then distributed by hand. Both Sandy and Galen felt that they needed to congratulate every last man on board for achieving the impossible, and the message went some way in doing that, even if it could not possibly be enough.

After a while, both submarines almost entirely forgot about the message, busy as they were in ensuring that the Audacious continued to safely hide beneath the Sentence. Sandy visited the sonar compartment and while there he tried praying, silently calling for Killer's name, and then for Alexis's... but he soon grew worried and discouraged because, for whatever reason, his calls received no answer. Indeed, there was some kind of force pushing back against his thoughts, something that made him recoil with a grunt of pain and confusion. That uncomfortable feeling hadn't been there before, and while the first few times he thought it might have to do with his levels of stress, he soon began to worry. He suspected that Killer and Alexis could not hear his prayers through that wall of force that violently smashed back against his mind every time he tried to reach out, and since they already could not communicate through traditional systems, it meant complete isolation.

Sandy excused himself and rushed back to the command room, meeting Galen's gaze as soon as he entered. The younger captain looked back at him with the same expression of barely contained horror, and the old man cursed under his breath. So, it is not my problem. There really is something in the way of our thoughts...

"So, are we completely cut out from the rest of the world...?" Galen whispered when the admiral pulled up by the command seat, and Sandy could only give a sad, quiet nod, before murmuring: "I'll keep trying, but my head already hurts. It's like an invisible hammer smashes on my skull every time I try to call Killer. We seem to be truly on our own from now on."

Galen made a grimace at the thought, but it was only for a brief moment, because he didn't want the crew to suspect anything. Morale would have plummeted quicker than it had skyrocketed when the miracles had saved them in the critical juncture of the battle.

"Have we lost the favor of the gods...?" Galen wondered, whispering so quietly and dejectedly than even Sandy almost didn't hear him. He wanted to immediately reassure him, he wanted to tell him that god would come to their rescue within moments, he wanted to slap down that terrible suggestion as preposterous... but he hesitated for a moment that felt horribly long. He didn't know for sure. Had they disappointed their emperor and god? He wanted to believe that they were doing well and he wanted to trust Killer: surely he would not abandon them after sending them on that mission...

But after uncountable hours of struggle, always on the edge of failure and annihilation, Sandy was exhausted, scared and full of doubts. They had seen some of Killer's power and it seemed to know few, if any, limits. Compared to it, they were less than dust. Superfluous. Irrelevant. Why Killer still didn't come to their aid? Surely, with all his power, he could effortlessly annihilate the whole RA fleet, Sentence included, with a flick of his little toe. Was he playing with them and making fun of their weakness, of their frail nature...? Oh, how puny they had to be in his eyes...

But Killer had sent them on that mission. Called it important. Warned that he had other battles to fight in the meanwhile. And he had seemed sincere and truly concerned. Surely he would not play with their lives like that... surely he cared...? Sandy tried to shove the dark thoughts out of his mind, even though a voice within his head desperately shrieked: you are nothing but toys! Toys for his amusement!

He swallowed thickly, feeling sweat rolling down his forehead as his heart raced. Another voice in his head, trembling in terror, remarked: _how dare you question his orders? How dare you doubt of his will? Whether he cares or not, you have to please him if you want to survive. How dare you think ill of him? If he finds out, it might enrage him... and there's no telling what he might do then. _

Sandy closed his eyes for a moment, and took a deep breath, shuddering. He had never cared much about the gods in the earlier part of his life, but back then there were good reasons to believe they didn't exist, so he had never lost a minute of sleep wondering whether the divinities were happy with his actions or not. But now... he had seen Alexis annihilate the whole of Ire's grand battle fleet without any effort. He had seen the remains of that spectacular fleet hanging from golden chains on her boots, turned into trinkets, and he had stared in awe at the powerless planets orbiting around her high heels. He had watched the capital of Ire turned into a pile f ruins and had witnessed the world bowing before Killer. He knew without a doubt that the gods existed and that their power was unrivalled. He could only hope that the smiling Killer he had known, the fatherly emperor concerned with the well being of his people and especially of his warriors, was the true and only Killer. He had to hope that he would protect them and bring them back home safely. They couldn't fight their way out of their current position, no matter how well they knew their trade. Without Killer's help, they were all on a countdown to a terrible end in the dark depths of the ocean.

"We work for him, Galen. And he cares for us. He has always cared for his soldiers, and I'm sure that has not changed. He will come." Sandy finally said, and his voice thankfully came out firm and strong, even though he was whispering. Despite everything, he truly did think that Killer would protect them, in the end. The emperor had many flaws, but he had always held fellow warriors in utmost respect and his whole career as a leader of soldiers had been defined by his determination to bring his men back home alive. What the admiral couldn't help but wonder about was why he was taking so long to come... but whenever he tried to answer to that question, all the scenarios that came to mind were nightmares. Sandy was painfully aware, much as he tried to not think about it, that if the sea level had truly increased by as much as their sonar was saying, their home port no longer existed. It was hard to accept that fact, and even harder to accept that such a disaster might just be a hint of what was happening on the surface. He tried to focus on other things, and finally whispered a curse as the ethereal but very real pressure against his mind seemed to become all the more vicious. It had only started to bear down on them when they had gotten close to the Sentence, and that gave him pause for thought. It was far less terrifying to think that the Sentence was somehow interfering with his mind than it was to assume that Killer had abandoned them, and for perhaps the first time in his life he didn't manage to keep his voice steady as he hesitatingly voiced that mixed fear-hope: "Do you think they... they have some kind of... I don't even know. A jammer for minds...? On board of the Sentence, I mean...?"

"They might." Galen admitted, but he didn't sound too convinced. "We've seen a lot of incredible and absurd things in this war. The RA is known to have messed with minds before, so... I guess it is entirely possible." The captain tried to sound confident and reassuring, but the effect was limited. Sandy knew that they were tormented by the exact same fears and doubts and thoughts. Galen was trying to reassure first of all himself. Killer had not been much of a father to him, or to most of his countless sons and daughters. In a way it was a normal and expected consequence of the tigers' social order, in which kings and princes sired most of the newborns and couldn't possibly be expected to be there for all of them. With Killer, of course, that was amplified a thousand times since he had literally filled the world with his spawn. Galen had only met his father once in a while, for brief periods, often literally spaced out according to his mother's pregnancies. As soon as she delivered, Killer would visit to fill her up again... Galen's family had never been normal at all, in other words, and he couldn't really say much about Killer's qualities as a father, but the little he had experienced was encouraging. The little time Killer had spent with him and his brothers and sisters had been great, and never once he had doubted that his father cared about him, despite all. And no matter how numerous the family ended up being, Killer always ensured that they had everything they needed and much, much more. Galen's family had at least been rich... although the money didn't really come from Killer's pockets, but from those of thousands of cuckolds who all but begged to be allowed to contribute money to him. For Sebastian Vega, the story had been exactly the same, with the difference that his mother Juana had been an eager "race traitor", an Akita from Ire who live streamed every visit of Killer into the house and who loved to torment the lesser boys obsessing over it and drooling for her beautiful body, which they could never hope to have. Thanks to her streams, Juana had been even richer than Galen's own family, since she had oceans of fans who loved to take her abuse and who paid absurd amounts of money to purchase her clothes dirty with Killer's seed or sweat.

Galen's lips crested in a slight smile as he pondered the amount of fun that Killer had managed to have in his life... he could only envy and admire him for it, and wonder if he shouldn't head for a porn career himself. But his mind veered immediately back to the very serious situation at hand, and he could only hope that his father had not forgotten about it. He was sure that Sebastian was thinking much the same thing, too. Being one of the many children of God surely had to account for something, right...?

Silence fell between them as both Galen and the admiral got lost in their own thoughts and worries, but then the younger male sighed and murmured: "In truth, my friend... it is horrible to be aware of our insignificance. Being so minuscule, so helpless, knowing that someone else is fully in charge of our existences and that there is nothing we can ever do about it... it is terrifying."

"But we'll have to learn to live with it... perhaps we'll return to see life like our ancient ancestor used to, before science explained so many things. A return to the days when the gods were the explanation for everything. Now that we know the full measure of the gods' power... there is no changing it." The old admiral calmly whispered. It was a thought that horrified him but, at the same time, soothed his fears somewhat. Maybe, for the first time in history, the mortals would find true and lasting peace. What sense did mortal wars have, when they were all condemned to be nothing but dust under Killer's toe...? Didn't it make more sense to try and live a good and happy life, and pray all together the great god to be merciful and generous...?

Galen sighed, but then picked up a piece of paper and gazed at it for a moment, until his lips crested in a smile, before finally holding it out towards Sandy and saying softly: "Here, have a look at this. It'll cheer you up."

Sandy turned around, tilting his head curiously to one side, and he frowned as he recognized one of the printed copies of the message they had sent to the crew. He took it even though he was tempted to give Galen a glare instead, but when he turned the sheet around he understood what the younger commander meant. It was no joke.

"We are not alone." Galen cheerfully whispered, and he rested back a little in his seat. "And we seem to be doing our job in an acceptable way, at least."

Sandy nodded, smiling warmly as he read the paper: every last submariner of the Audacious had signed the sheet and added a few words of his own to thank his shipmates and, in a special way, the two skippers who had successfully led the Audacious through that impossible mission.

He read every last name and every last word. Every last bit of good-natured banter. Every last word of thanks. It filled him with warmth, pride and new energies and motivations.

He had received many medals during his long career, but that sheet of paper was, by far, the most rewarding prize he had ever been given.

Killer groaned and shut his eyes in horror at the weakness in his own voice. He tried to shift his body a little, but the stakes driven through his limbs and wrists and feet and the growths of golden crystal pushing deep inside his flesh meant that every little movement was a torment. He couldn't ease the terrible, suffocating pressure that his own weight imposed on his damaged ribcage, other than for short periods of time when he used his tremendous strength to push himself up, almost like doing tractions... but with his arms nailed to the wall. He looked down at his mutilated chest with an expression that was impossible to read, a mix of sadness, horror and sick curiosity. The "scientists" had cut several "windows" open in the thick, adamantine bone barrier shielding his organs, gaining access to all of his insides. They had torn the hard bone apart to viciously rip out large samples of their softer inside, where DNA information was contained, and they had hammered stakes-like electrodes and probes deep into the rest, to study his regeneration.

They had then cut off sizeable slices off his organs, including his beating heart... and he was almost certain that they had done that more for sick pleasure than for need. They were specialists, sure, and they really did take note of his body's reactions and of his energy fluctuations, but they were first of all sadistic monsters who enjoyed the freedom to "experiment" on powerless victims. The first thing they had done was to tune back somewhat the draining of energy out of his body to ensure that his regeneration was not completely inhibited. That way they helped ensuring his survival, but also worsened his torment: the slow, difficult regeneration of his wounds and broken bones was a constant and terrible torture that gnarled at his life from the inside. He felt like he could feel every single fiber of his being flexing and straining to generate new flesh and muscle to slowly, ever so slowly close up his wounds, and every throb of his heart made him wince in agony as the cut-open muscle gradually rebuilt itself. Even more tormenting, somehow, was the slow growth of new teeth in his mouth to replace the shattered ones: the fangs that slowly pushed out through his gums and that forced out the remains of the broken, useless old ones were a source of agony strong enough to make his whole body explode in uncontrollable shudders which in turn caused the other wounds to burn even worse. Normally, his regeneration was so rapid and clean that he felt little to no damage, but he was now discovering that the process could be simply horrendous when forced to creep forward with great effort.

The scientists had started to cut into his spine as well, and the experience had been terrifying. They had sawed into the bone for a long, long, long time, completely shattering several blades before managing to tear through the adamantine vertebrae to expose the marrow, which they had immediately started to mutilate, more than just sample. They had crudely ripped out large chunks, sending jolts of pain through the liger's whole form... and, worse still, causing him moments of horrible, terrifying numbness that filled him with panic, because for some moments he completely lost the lower half of his body and experienced paralysis. They had viciously driven cruel probes into the marrow and had welded cables to his nervous system, literally using high-temperature flames to fuse metal and nerve together. Since then, they had bombarded his mind and his entire nervous system with a combination of pure, violent shocks and images and visions, tormenting him with terribly realistic images of Alexis and Mriya and the others being defeated, captured, raped, tortured and torn to pieces. He was given no respite, with pure pain pumped directly into his brain and senses even when the scientists and inquisitors were not physically working on his insides.

Killer had only been into the cell for what he estimated were less than 24 hours... although he admittedly couldn't be sure how time flowed on that alien, unknown world in comparison to earth. With every moment that passed it became more and more complex to keep in touch with reality and maintain any real awareness. He could see no light, he had no window upon the sky, and even if he had been given one it would have faced an alien sky that he couldn't possibly recognize. There was no other real hint of the passing of time. The scientist came and went, taking turns, but they avoided using a predictable pattern. Whether that was purely due to case or to deliberate planning, Killer couldn't tell.

They never seemed to spend a determinate amount of time tormenting him, either. Depending on how their research progressed, they came and staid longer or shorter periods of time, probing this or that part of him to get what they thought could be helpful for their undertaking... or just for inflicting him the worst possible agony. In truth, despite his excellent training and all his experience, Killer could easily be already out by many hours, in a sense or another, in his estimates. Pain makes every minute feel like a whole hour, and turns every hour into a day. He was not immune to that effect, nor to the sheer confusion and disorientation. In order to endure and protect his sanity from the agony that threatened to break him in two he had repeatedly isolated himself even further and slowed down his heartbeat all the way until he appeared, even to expert observers, completely unconscious. As far as he knew he hadn't yet lost his senses for good, not even once... but the self-induced numbness nonetheless made it even harder to keep track of the time that passed.

He was slowly but surely losing himself into that inferno of pain and darkness, where even the rare moments of silence in his fleshy, hideous, alive prison were horrendous nightmares. The cell was truly silent, impossibly so. He could hear the flow of his own blood... and at the same time, absurdly, it was not silent at all, because the walls themselves were alive, made of flesh and decay, corpses and barely-alive... things... that had once been people. In the darkness they moved, shifted, growled, cried, hissed, panted, and cursed. Fleshy, disgusting noises came from every direction, all the time, and above all he was constantly tormented by the cruel, gigantic tentacle-tube which, wrapped entirely around his painfully hard cock, milked him unendingly, squeezing into his enormous girth with jaws lined with curved, horrible fangs and with spiked rings of dark metal that clamped around his meat and tore through it from side to side. Hour after hour, the enormous tube continued to pulse, throb, twist, leap, creak audibly as it struggled to contain the flood of dark, omnivirile batter oozed and erupted by the god's titanic shaft.

The pain it inflicted was terrible, and yet Killer just couldn't stop being also aroused by it... and he wasn't even sure it was just because of the Succubus poison that the spikes and fangs buried in his flesh kept pumping into him. He was given a clear line of sight to the immense silos-like tanks that constantly filled up with enormous oceans of his black precum, of his enormous, corruptive sperms.

The sight of countless aliens, both alive and dead, being tossed into the silos to be raped, devoured, corrupted and rebuilt by his hypervirile precum was terrifying, and he couldn't help but wonder what exactly determined those monstrous mutations, which pieced rotting corpses together and created colossal, immensely powerful beasts that were as hideous as they were strong, smelling of rot and decay and yet so terribly, incredibly alive, ever evolving, ever pregnant with yet more horrors and oozing with Killer's own giant sperms just so they could further spread corruption and destruction.

It was at once delightful and horrendous to think that his masculine essence was doing all that, turning an entire population into a legion of godless plagues that could lay waste to entire galaxies... on one side he was aroused by that demonstration of power. On the other, he fearfully wondered about what kind of monstrosity he truly was... or what kind of devil lurked inside of him, alternatively.

The only reason why he could "enjoy" a hint of respite and spend some time alone in the cell was that the monsters he was unwillingly producing were becoming more and more powerful, more and more dangerous and more difficult to control. Every last unfortunate corpse or living alien that was tossed into the tanks received a Spirit device inserted deep into the spine, hooked to the nervous system to control the actions of the creature, but the violence of the corruption, the brutality with which Killer's dark hypervirile waste rebuilt tissue, reshaped bodies, merged together corpses and generated new and formidable muscle was so tremendous that the spines were often pulverized in the process, or pushed out to become part of the weaponized, adamantine outer layer of whatever new ungodly beast was created. As sturdy as the Spirit devices were, they were frequently destroyed during the ferocious rapes and the merciless mutations, and in several other cases the device simply burned out, overwhelmed by the devastating force and the endless hunger of the newborn beasts. Several monstrous titans had already revolted, shrugging off the Spirit devices like they were toys and smashing out of containment to crush and destroy and devour anyone within reach. The beasts were not particularly smart, but learned quickly and increased their power with every little bit of organic matter they could absorb into their already massive bodies. The more they killed, the stronger they became as they turned their victims in more muscle, in more mass, in more deadly growths of bone that was harder than metal, in more throbbing tentacles that swept up Thanathos's own mutants like they were candy. The beasts were completely and utterly loyal to their master, and only existed to spread Killer's rule and unleash his corruption upon the world, so that whenever a Horror broke free, it immediately turned against the RA and the mutants guarding the laboratory, slaughtering and destroying, trying to reach the transparent window of adamantine crystal that allowed Killer to see what happened in the nearby factory of monsters.

The beasts born out of nothing but Killer's sweat and precum and smegma and cock-slime were so powerful and deadly that they were already overwhelming the RA's forces. The scientists had been urgently called into the factory to help subdue the rampaging beasts and to try and devise more powerful devices to control the mutant monstrosities with, since the Spirit devices were no longer up to task... but in the meanwhile a ferocious battle had broken out between the Horrors that the RA successfully controlled and those that that wanted to smash through the wall and set their Master free. Terrified, the scientists had temporarily stopped the production of new monsters, and no more victims were being thrown into the silos. The fearful, horrified aliens were kept locked in small cages hanging from chains coming down from the incredibly tall ceiling of the immense hangar-factory. They were prisons more adequate for rabid dogs than for people, and they were packed absurdly full, so much that several dead or moribund men and women hanged half-out, stuck between the rusty bars, their bodies unceremoniously crushed by the terrified survivors still trying to breathe inside the cage. There was no way for them to escape alive: even assuming they could somehow force a cage to open, they had nowhere to go, suspended hundreds and hundreds of feet above the fleshy, alive, dangerous floor eager to literally devour them as soon as they made a mistake and fell to their death. They were helpless, forced to stare at the carnage beneath without ever having a chance of modifying their cruel fate. They had seen what the gods had done to their planet and to their people, and they had seen their armies ridiculed and obliterated, their weapons laughably weak in comparison to the supernatural beasts that had taken over their world, and now an even more terrifying god had come and his excess black, hypervirile cock-sludge was enough to create god-killing monstrosities that consumed life at an horrendous rate. They were confused by the sight of the beasts fighting against each other, but they had absolutely no doubt on one thing: whoever won, they would still lose. Their fate was sealed anyway.

Killer, on the other hand, smirked in cruel pleasure at the sound of blaring alarms filtering weakly through the thick crystal wall. He tried not to build up his hopes too much, knowing that it was pretty unlikely that the Horrors could break out of the laboratory and get to him, but to see the gigantic beasts squish some of the RA's personnel and some of Thanathos's own mutant, undead servants into nothing but ugly stains of pulp. Warning signals filled the countless monitors in the laboratory while the RA scientists and researchers scattered in terror, looking scrawny and microscopic to the dark god's eyes, making him almost snort in contempt as he saw several puny vermin fall over in their rush to find an escape route that they were never going to reach in time. One of the rogue beasts charged forwards, shaped like a titanic tyrannosaurus but armed with grotesquely massive arms that bulged with tremendous muscles, criss-crossed by tube-like veins that flexed and swelled with each huge load of sheer, overwhelming energy.

As it came fully into sight through the crystal wall, Killer saw that the beast had enormous spiked hooves which pummeled deep craters into the floor as it ran across the laboratory, trampling the crowd of RA workers and turning the scrawny beings into nothing but splatters of crimson, before severing a mortal soldier in half as the edge of one hoof came down on his waist and the mass of the stomper turned the legs into nothing but liquid. The shriek of agony that followed was so loud that it reached Killer even through the thick armored wall, and the mortal continued to agonize on the floor because the horrific pressure applied by the hoof "cauterized" the wound, crushing the bottom of his torso shut and sealing his veins, leaving him bleeding at a sluggish rate, his lower abdomen horrendously flattened out of shape and much of his insides crushed into liquid stains on the ground.

His horrendous agony was abruptly cut short when the monstrous tail of the dark, corrupted beast swept him off the floor. Killer saw arms sticking out of the rotting yet powerful mass of meat and muscle forming that long, mighty tail. They wrapped around the torso of the shrieking soldier and hauled him up, just for the tail to horribly split open, revealing that its structure was made of mutated ribcages which opened like jaws, biting into the howling RA servant and ripping him to shreds in mere instants, devouring every last tender morsel. The Horror's body throbbed with omnipotent vigor and flexed as it greedily consumed the organic remains of the soldiers crushed underhoof or swept up by his tail or by the flailing, hideous tentacles that arched out of his muscular back. It visibly grew even larger and stronger, his muscles bulging with unstoppable, absolute power, so grotesquely massive that large, hideous wounds tore open between a mountain of strength and another... but far from being signs of weakness, those lesions were festering wells of corruptive evolution, endlessly leaking more of the black, hypervirile, world-changing tar-thick sludge that had created the beast in the first place. The hulking muscles on his form swelled enormously, literally gaining the combined power of all the lives crushed under the beast's hooves, and the wounds became mouths lined with grotesque, long and cruel fangs... that used to be the ribcages of the monster's victims. Greedy crimson eyes opened deep into the putrid, pestilent evolution of those wounds, giving the beast a complete view of his surroundings that he immediately exploited by sending one of his heavy tentacles tearing through the ranks of a group of RA soldiers manning an anti-aircraft gun. The mortals desperately fired the twin-barreled cannon against the beast's back, but they were so ludicrously weak in comparison to the beast that in absence of eyes in his immense, herculean shoulders and back it would have never even noticed their existence. The tentacle whip-lashed down upon their tower of reinforced concrete and crushed them into it, turning their bodies into bloody pulp and twisting the cannon into a shapeless, useless wreckage as the tower itself cracked from the roof to the foundations, collapsing like a sandcastle when the tentacle lazily reared back up, wrapping around the remains of the gun emplacement and effortlessly tearing it whole off the top of the structure.

The RA soldiers and scientists stared in a mix of awe and horror as the tentacle retreated towards the beast's back and dragged the bloody remains of soldiers and the metallic wreckage right against the massive muscles. Immediately, a further mutation began as those same muscles bulged, swelled even greater and then seemed to split apart in thick, powerful chords and cables, sinew wrapping around the metal and greedily sucking it into the monster's body, building up swollen, leaking nods and ugly bulges that flexed and contracted and shifted, crushing steel with the same ease of crumpling paper, before great blades and spikes of metal jutted out on either side of the spine, adding to the beast's lethality and overall strength.

Other soldiers fired their heavy weapons at the monstrosity, aided by other massive cannons emplaced in other strongholds all along the immense laboratory, but the corrupted, mutant hide of skin-scales covering the Horror was harder than metal and shrugged off their pathetic assaults without a scratch, and when they tried aiming at "soft" parts, such as the wounds and the eyes open deep within them, they caused great sprays of disgusting, poisonous blood and black sludge but failed to inflict any kind of damage as the crumpled bullets were greedily absorbed, devoured into the great musculature and then pushed back out in the form of new armored scales or deadly spikes.

An enormous shutter of dark steel began to rapidly descend from above the cut the laboratory in two and isolate the runaway beast, and Killer glared at it with a hiss of pure hate as it made the battle beyond invisible, but then the whole structure seemed to quake as heavy, terrible steps rammed the ground in quick succession and there was a tremendous thundering sound as another of the RA cannon-towers was slapped into nothing but dust and rubble. A single, huge hand armored with metallic scales pushed under the great shutter before it could close and with impossible strength forced it back up even as a multitude of powerful engines and magnetic rails attempted to push it in the opposite direction. The metal crumpled like paper in the beast's grip and the colossal shutter was rolled up like a tent as the hulking monster ducked inside, flexing enormous, ungodly muscles as he effortlessly tore a large chunk of the shutter right off and used the titanic block of crumpled steel to crash dozens of terrified mortals just like the gnats they were. The impact rattled even Killer's prison, and the liger smirked in undeniable pleasure at that, getting some hope from that massacre... and from the sight of other gigantic beasts shattering their restraints and clawing their way out of the crystal silos, shoving over the RA's security towers like they were nothing but puny, uninteresting toys.

RA soldiers and scientists and technicians panicked and ran away in terror, scattering in every direction around the bases of the colossal silos, their little forms puny and frail to no end in front of the Horrors, which loomed over the crowd like monstrous gods, unmatched forces of destruction that became stronger and greater with every step they took over the powerless microbes that uselessly attempted to escape. No matter how much they ran, they were so pitifully small and weak that they barely appeared to make any progress at all. The dark, mutant titans effortlessly caught up with the scattering, terrified prey and they greedily stomped huge groups into nothing but organic pulp that was greedily absorbed into their towering, hulking forms. If the mortals had any doubt left about their place in the order of things, they were shattered by the ponderously swinging masses of the behemoth anacondas of cock that the dark beasts sported between their legs; monstrous lengths of terrifyingly fat meat that hung down almost to the ground even while still fully flaccid, each one throbbing with veins in which the mortals could have easily stood with ample headroom. Each impossible, ungodly member leaked a never-ending stream of black, hypervirile gunk that rapidly corrupted and warped even the fleshy floor, turning the alive growths and the undead corpses into weapons that clawed into the running mortals and yanked them down to the ground, holding them in place to be stepped upon and crushed into liquid.

The colossal beasts' enormous testicles that felt like boulders, no, Moons, ponderous and thrumming with such power and heat to make the running mortals flinch in horror while their skin sizzled and smoldered. And when Thanathos's undead aberrations were thrown into the fight, the first great Horror carelessly kicked into their ranks and sent one of the mutated, undead aliens flying across the laboratory until it crashed into the wall of a silos, his bones loudly crumbling and his hideous body flopping down in a useless heap that leaked liquefied innards from every hole, rivulets of blood leaking out of nostrils and mouth and even ears as the monster's eyes stated helplessly into the darkness. The corruptive, hypervirile stench of the beasts filled the laboratory, and their musk was Killer's musk, its effect just as tremendous: the heat and humidity brutally assaulted the very structure of the factory, turning steel beams into nothing but piles of rust and causing even reinforced concrete to spall and crumble away while fleshy, terribly alive vines spread over the walls, covered the machinery, swallowed corpses and dying men as they failed to run away. The RA personnel scrambled for sealed helmets and respirators and protective suits, but those who had no access to adequate protections were left to stare in horror at their weapons as they began to corrode and rot away from the sheer heat and humidity, while their bodies covered in sweat and rapidly lost all vestiges of strength, their very physiques surrendering to that omnipotent scent of maleness and beginning to warp towards feminine attributes. Rotting armors began to feel loose as the warriors' muscles rapidly lost definition and size, shrinking away to fill up chests and buttocks instead, and as they changed they also lost all will to resist. They fell to their knees and offered themselves to the hideous Alpha male monstrosities, eagerly awaiting the gigantic hooves and toe-talons that came down from the sky to heedlessly crush them into nothing but pulp that was greedily absorbed and consumed to make the beasts even stronger. The mindless, corrupted creatures eagerly threw themselves under those giant stompers, begging to be taken and used, welcoming death with open arms and tackling to the floor their comrades in the thick, heavy, bulky protective suits. Killer could hear the shrieks of panic and horror, so loud to reach him even through the impenetrable wall of transparent crystal, and he grinned viciously at the sound, his colossal back shaft flexing hungrily and audibly stretching the tentacle-tube clamped around it, unleashing an even greater deluge of black, omnipotent cockslime which flooded the silos ahead.

The terrified mortals were wiped out in mere instants. Even those closer to the emergency exits from the laboratory were swept away by enormous tentacles dripping thick, black, terrifying corruption. Their bodies were caught into that ungodly slime and hefted off the ground without any effort, and before the tentacles had even fully reared back upwards, the unfortunate men and women were melted like pieces of butter and consumed, turned into nothing but further mutant flesh and muscle.

The RA's emergency response teams rushed into action with massive Unmanned Combat Walkers, the heavily armed robots that made up the heavy component of their army, but the Horrors shrugged off even the fire of their cannons, stalking forwards with jaws that leaked acid corruption and eyes that glowed with monstrous, endless hunger. Killer watched with interest, even excitement as one of the massive robots took position right in front of the crystal wall and opened fire, first with banks of missiles perched on its broad "shoulders" and then with the twin Vulcan cannon it carried in its arms, oozing down the first beast in line with an endless deluge of enormous armor-piercing bullets that were greater than the projectiles normally fired by a traditional battle tank. It was enough firepower to destroy an entire armoured division in seconds, and Killer remembered all too well how difficult it had been to take down the very first UCWs when the RA had unleashed them in the fight. He and Alexis had taken down one each. Two different prototypes that had been followed up by further and greatly improved variants, including the mass-produced "Ninja" one, which now stood in the way of the Horrors.

It took me ages to take down the prototype back then. Let's see how my parasites deal with the final product...

The deluge of thousands of shells struck the massive Horror with enough force to knock off large armored scales and pieces of dark metal, and the monster stumbled backwards for a moment as the behemoth Vulcan guns tore into the exposed, mutant muscles with twin hurricanes of fire and steel. The Horror shielded himself as best he could, using a massive arm that bulged with terrible muscles and tube-like veins, and when the fire of the cannons began to pierce the impenetrable armored hide, pure corruption burst out of the wounds and solidified into a multitude of tentacles and tendrils that shot across the laboratory and wrapped around the spinning vulcans, crushing with such terrible strength that the heavy barrels bent out of shape and ground to an immediate stop, several bullets exploding inside the cannon and tearing through the bends in the barrel before the robot could even react.

The Ninja's close-in weapon system immediately opened fire as the Horror charged forth, but the much smaller guns could nothing where even the massive vulcans had miserably failed, and the mutant parasite all but laughed cruelly as it closed the distance and clawed into the shoulder of the heavily armoured machine, before ripping off its arm like it was made of paper, shredding the plates of armor and shattering the adamantine "skeleton" of machinery and massive electric and hydraulic engines that gave the robot its strength.

The Ninja drew its plasma sword, a fearsome weapon that formed an incandescent blade of plasma contained by an electromagnetic field, able to cut through pretty much everything due to its star-like temperature, but before it could swing it against the Horror, the beast wrapped its muscular arms around the robot and crushed it like an empty tin can, crumpling it into a useless wreck... until the power core inside it exploded in a massive blast of nuclear light. The Horror only seemed to bask in that miniature nuclear sun, roaring and throwing his head backwards with a snarl of violent pleasure as his mutant body visibly grew, thrumming with power as it devoured the nuclear flame and turned it into yet more energy for his herculean form, bulging, growing, becoming ever more horrific and powerful, before the front of his almighty body burst open with a splatter of dark, corruptive blood while guts that acted like immense, muscular tentacles erupted out of the wound and wrapped around the metallic wreck. The dark alloy deformed and crumpled pathetically, and then the whole Unmanned Combat Walker was hefted off the ground and crushed down to size, the legs bent horribly out of shape and crushed into the deformed chest until the whole war machine was little more than a cube of scrap. The RA soldiers could only stare as that mass of dozens and dozens of tons of high-resistance super-steel was dragged back into the Horror's frame, and they could only tremble in terror as the beast flexed and grew even greater, the floor cracking and cratering under his hooves as cruel, terrible metal plating emerged over them, making them even heavier and deadlier. The beast's muscles swelled enormously and suddenly jutted forth with a multitude of cruel metal spikes and blades. The Horror kept evolving in front of their astonished eyes, growing to tower even above its fellows as it walked forwards and punched another UCW with clear contempt, gritting his terrible fangs as his fist effortlessly smashed through, from side to side... before grotesque, terrible metallic blades tore out of his wrist and easily tore the robot in half, laughing as he seized the two halves and hefted them high in the air, crushing them slowly in his expanding hands and using all that power and metal to further enhance its hulking form. The RA cowered at the realization of what it meant, at the thought that they were only seeing the barest hint of what that invincible monster was capable of.

Thanathos's mutant warriors were rushed into the laboratory put the growing Horror slashed two of them into shreds with nothing but a violent whip of his heavy, ridged tail, causing even the undead monstrosities to waver, before they were spurred into an irrational, terrified frenzy, charging towards the titanic beast in suicidal madness as they slammed swords and hammers into his invulnerable form, only for twisting masses of mutant muscle to spread all over blades and hammerheads, trapping them and sucking them in to be dissolved and absorbed. The Horror's eyes glowed with rapidly increasing intelligence, and the pleasure in them became more and more vicious as he effortlessly caught a mutant beast by the skull and crushed its head into pulp before slamming the corpse violently back into the others, sending several scattering backwards... just so that his tentacles, now ridged and armored by saw-toothed metallic plates, could tear through them from side to side and pull them up towards their ends. Their assaults went utterly ignored. The hulking monstrosity didn't so much as look at them, only laughing with malignant delight as he ripped them apart one by one, his omnipotent body not even registering their useless, impotent fists striking his adamantine hide, his chorded, enormous muscles: all the vermin could do was injure themselves, puny hands breaking, blades denting and shattering, bones crumbling as they crashed into him like nothing but droplets of rain against the side of a mountain, splitting apart just as hopelessly, raked backwards as the beast effortlessly continued to advance through their ranks: they fell over themselves, shrieking, trashing, scrambling uselessly to get up only to be hit by his colossal hooves and sent flying like pins, crashing on their backs and left to stare up at those bloody, invincible stompers as they rushed down and simply snuffed them out of existence with sick, wet, horrible crunches.

The mutants were powerful and numerous, however, and they held up better than the UCWs, their hideous bodies stronger than steel and able to rapidly mutate further to survive battle damage. The smaller Horrors, which hadn't been quick enough in securing fresh organic remains and raw materials to increase their mass and power, began to struggle as great, fleshy beasts clung to their arms and tackled them backwards. The largest Horror, however, kept growing at a terrifying rate, not just in raw power but in cunning as well, his omnipotent form leaking an immense quantity of black sludge which melted and devoured everything it touched, at the same time spreading immense, ferocious sperms that were bigger than sharks and far more dangerous.

Killer watched on in awe as the enormous parasitic beast was assaulted by a huge mutant that had clearly been created in a hurry by crudely merging two goliaths. The clash was tremendous, and the two monsters grappled in a duel of sheer, brutal power as the metallic behemoth of muscles caught two of the four massive fists swung by Thanathos's construct, restraining them and then crushing both hands into his grip, crumpling bone and metal gauntlets with the same terrifying ease.

The undead mutant let out a roar of rage and pain but still lunged forwards to slam his other two fists into the Horror's sides, striking once, twice, thrice... before huge blades of bone tore out of arms that were made up by a multitude of corpses crudely merged and stitched together. The horror shuddered and threw his head back with a howl of agony, stumbling backwards as the mutant savagely dug into his damaged sides, tearing through muscle and bones and metal parts, tearing out large chunks of dark, decaying meat and of muscle chords that were harder than diamond. The Horror stumbled backwards, growling in pain and retaliating by seizing the damaged arms of the construct, clawing viciously into them and then yanking hard upwards until they tore loose in a thick splatter of dark blood and stinking ichors.

Immediately, the Horror crushed those puny limbs in his arms until they burst apart, reduced to nothing but pulp that the monster eagerly devoured, opening his nightmarish mouth and pushing out a segmented, forked tongue made of black steel, breathing in with greedy delight as the blood leaked all over it.

Thanathos's mutant warrior growled and snarled in a mix of rage and fear, its eyes glowing strangely as it looked up and lost itself into the white, soulless light that burned in the Horror's glare. It began to drive his remaining fists deeper into the decaying flesh of the Horror, slashing savagely up towards its chest and down right to the best of the goliath, monstrous black shaft, but Killer's creature only grinned viciously and flexed, huge muscles bulging as he balled up a giant fist and then smashed it right through one of the mutant's twin heads, disintegrating it with a loud, horrible crunch, before punching his enormous, muscular arm down the bleeding throat, reaching deep inside his opponent and seizing the thick, metallic spine.

Thanathos's mutant beast let out a howl of fury and fear from his other head, and desperately drove both of his deadly blades straight up from the crotch of the Horror to his neck.

The dark titan let out a roar of rage and agony, but it rapidly turned into snarling laughter as one enormous tentacle-cock shot skywards and hammered a dozen of the hanging cages of fresh victims into nothing but pulp that was greedily absorbed inside the colossal appendage and pumped into the beast's hulking form.

The effect was immediate: Thanathos's mutant guardian was swarmed over by a multitude of fleshy new tentacles that extended hungrily forwards out of the wounds in the Horror's chest, forcing the mutant's blades backwards and wrapping around his remaining arms, crushing down on them with surprising and ever-growing force. The undead monster created by Thanathos grunted in shock and attempted to pull back, but more and more of those dangerous tendrils of obsidian muscle and dense, tar-like corruption swarmed all over the front of his body and tore into the mouths and nostrils and ears and holes of the multitude of alien corpses that made up much of his form. In front of that savage invasion, the undead creature focused its unholy energies in his arms until they exploded in an enormous ball of dark fire while they were still close to the Horror's wounds. The explosion disintegrated the construct's arms into a multitude of bone pieces that tore into the Horror like shrapnel, shredding the front of the parasitic beast's body, but even that was futile as corruptive, hypervirile sludge leaked out of the wounds and rapidly regenerated incredible, impossible muscles that bulged outwards with terrifying strength. The Horror's behemoth of a cock was shredded, turned into a bloody piece of meat, but still it throbbed with unholy hunger and ferocity, growing and swelling, bulging even greater as it ponderously began to rise... before splitting apart on either side of the great wounds, the ridged lengths of obsidian metal-flesh jutting with deadly spikes and barbs as they grew into mammoth tentacle-cocks, even deadlier and even more majestic than the earlier, single colossal shaft.

The undead creature attempted to react, his hideous body throbbing and shuddering as muscles and entire corpses shifted around to replace the lost arms with two grotesquely massive limbs, powerful and armed with heavy whips made of sharp segments of bone, but the Horror evolved with far greater rapidity and much greater power, towering over its opponent and roaring in a mix of agony and delight as its massive musculature expanded even further and grew armored with metal and bone plates. With terrible ease, the Horror yanked one of the Undead warrior's spines right out, causing an horrendous rending of flesh and an explosion of gore, viscera and partially-assimilated corpses which fell away to splat sickly on the ground far below. The parasitic beast savagely clawed into the undead creature and began to tear it in half, ignoring its futile struggling even as the monstrous whips of bone smashed into his impenetrable hide over and over again, shattering on impact. The Horror's multitude of tentacles wrapped over the tearing, ruined form of the Undead warrior, and the massive tentacle-cocks lengthened and coiled like anacondas around the rival's legs, before the parasitic monster flexed and yanked in the opposite directions, finally ripping its adversary into shreds of meat and poisonous gore, bathing in that vile rain of organic remains. Once more, the Horror's body rapidly and greedily absorbed the pulped flesh and the liquid gore, turning them all into yet more mass and more strength, even more intellect as his eyes shone with a new and terrible light full of contempt for the prey around him.

Amazing... Unmanned Combat Walkers, an undead construct hundreds of feet tall, an entire RA garrison... they would all have been nightmares, not so long ago. And now... now...

Killer could hardly believe the power that his body waste, literally, was displaying. They seemed to be almost invincible, thanks to their ability to endlessly spread his corruption, warp the world around them and turn every dead enemy literally into fuel. As the greatest and most evolved of the Horrors made his way through the enemy ranks towards the wall of crystal, Killer felt hopes growing within his heart, much as he tried to suppress them, to be realistic and to avoid bitter disappointments. Already the alien gods that served Cerberus in his identity as Lord Skyfall were rushing into the laboratory to back up the army of mutant undead, and their powers were vast and varied. Freezing winds encased the Horror's hooves in a literal mountain of supernatural ice, blocking the beast in place just as another group of gods ran in and threw huge spears of the energy-absorbing golden crystal that was already tormenting Killer himself.

The javelins tore through the Horror's natural armory-hide and made him roar in agony as they began to sap away huge amounts of energy, just as other divinities used sealing chains, looping them around the thick shafts of the spears and then yanking hard on them to wrestle the Horror down.

The parasitic beast swung out his enormous arms and knocked three gods and several mutants flying away like they were nothing but toys, and then reared his back with a roar as he threw his weight forwards and sent cracks spreading in the ice block around his hooves. He managed to break free as the black, omnivirile sludge leaking from the gigantic tentacle-cocks melted the ice away in a cloud of cold mist, and he balled a huge hand into a fist, terrible bone plates shifting to form an ungodly gauntlet over his elongated, talon-like fingers before he slammed it down and squished a god into nothing but pulp bursting out of a mangled corpse grotesquely flattened. The other gods, terrified, oozed their fallen comrade and the Horror in a gigantic shower of supernatural fire, consuming the godly gore into little more than vapor, but failing to inflict much damage on the parasitic titan, which clawed into the chains wrapped all around his torso and effortlessly tore them into pieces, before snorting in contempt as he snarled and gathered up his own fetid, hideous, corruptive fire. Like a dragon the beast leaned forwards and opened his deadly jaws, vomiting out a literal hurricane of corruption that turned at least three gods into nothing but bubbling, dense black sludge. The others reacted by erecting barriers, using their energies in what rapidly became a struggle for survival as the black flames of infernal essence thundered down all around them in waves so enormous to make them tremble like terrified babies. And while they struggled to hold up their defences under the deluge, the Horror reached down and caught one of them in one hand, completely unfazed by the god's desperate struggling as he lifted him up and carelessly crushed him face-first into his filthy, monstrous team of colossal and ravenous tentacle-cocks. The alien cried and begged and shrieked, but, just like so many others, he had zero hopes. With terrifying ease, like it was nothing, the ungodly behemoth squeezed the shrieking rival against his spiked, monstrous, endless cocks, dragging him down along the endless shafts. It was a horrifying lesson, one destined to torment forever the minds of those who witnessed the scene as the body, still kicking and trashing, was crushed downwards until pulped guts burst out through the shattered, flattened ribcage. The bones crumbled in a loud, sick concerto. The head crumpled horrendously on itself, squishing the eyes in the middle of broken body parts. The skin flayed, the flesh ruined, the screams abruptly ended as the Horror chuckled darkly as the god's form was reduced to a flaccid, warm sack of pulp and fluids, nothing more than a cheap, unsatisfactory masturbation aid. As the behemotic tentacles shifted and ground eagerly, hungrily together, they stretched that broken, helpless little condom over one of the awesomely fat and enormous cockheads. The Horror rumbled mockingly and leaned forwards to give a short thrust with his hips, growling in delight as that mocking little rock of his hips caused blood to spurt and blast out of every wound and orifice, the entire corpse bursting apart and vomiting huge rivers and cascades of blood and liquid, unrecognizable sludge. The god almost instantaneously was ground down to nothing more than slick crimson-colored oil, a decoration only meant to further evidence the powerful flexing of immense muscles, adding luster and definition to every huge chord of power.

The Horror rumbled hungrily as he unleashed his hellish fire over the gods standing in his way, annihilating them in the water; and at the same time he idly thrust that titanic tower of ruin into his own powerful grip, stroking and smearing blood and gore along those filthy, immense, terrible tentacles.

Killer saw Cerberus storming into the laboratory, shouting orders, and the cages filled with victims and corpses began to slide away from the Horror's tentacle. The cages all hang from a system of cranes and rails that could move the various cages towards the vast crystal silos beneath, and now the RA attempted to bring all that precious organic matter out of the Horrors' reach.

The tiger grappled with one of the smaller Horrors, tackling it to the ground, and with the help of other gods they immobilized it and stabbed deep into his neck to allow the scientists to crudely ram new Spirit decides into place.

Killer made a grimace of distaste at the sight, growling, praying, hoping that at least one or two of his tormenters would be seized and turned into fuel for his parasitic servants, but the demon and the corrupted Arkangels were clearly hardened by a life spent either resisting and escaping the wrath of God or suffering infernal punishment at the bottom of pits of torment after they had been captured. They were rapid, strong, merciless and armed with tools that had little of "scientific" about them, resembling more enormous double-head axes and warhammers. Apparently they had already devised an updated and reinforced variant of the Spirit and they were quickly hammering it, literally, into the spines of the rebellious Horrors.

Killer didn't know if he should hope or not. Did the Horrors have a chance? On their own, they would put up a gallant fight but ultimately they were probably going to be taken down. If only he could somehow break free and join them, then he could certainly make it out. He tried breaking free of his restraints, but Requiem Aeternam immediately crackled with angry energy and burned into his flesh, incandescent and savage, consuming energies out of him at a terrifying rate. He gritted his fangs and continued to push, straining the column of golden crystal behind him and making it creak audibly, the chains giggling slightly as they bumped into each other while the countless scythe blades buried deep into his flesh glowed with the energy they consumed and caused his flesh to burn and smolder. He gained some ground, grunting when the massive tangles of enchanted chains tensed with a clang and began to pulse with angry energy waves that shot into him, making his whole body shudder with agony, his eyesight becoming a blur of blood and darkness, red and black... and he finally relented, panting hard and struggling to swallow back down the surge of vomit and blood that he felt rushing up to his tormented mouth.

He looked down at Requiem Aeternam with an expression of hate, frustration and despair, wondering how he could get that accursed weapon out of his chest. She was a terrible drain, worse than all others, and if he just could get it to fall he was confident that he could break down everything else. He looked back up, spitting out a gout of blood and bile while his eyesight slowly cleared, even as flashes of red kept invading his field of view as his head throbbed with agony. He saw the greatest Horror wrestling another immense creature and thought that Thanathos and Cerberus must have unleashed some other mutant monstrosity of their own, but after a moment he saw clearly enough to realize that it was another Horror, crudely covered in enormous cables and in Spirit "boxes" that had been hammered in place all over his body until he had started to obey orders.

Killer cursed under his breath, closing his eyes and again yanking his arms hard forwards, tearing the stakes and nails up several inches even as blood burst out of him in thick sprays and the pain threatened to make him lose consciousness. He snarled in a mix of pain, rage and frustration, his voice rising into a howl of pure agony as again he was tormented by vicious discharges of lethal force rushing down the chains... and once again he slumped, breathless and exhausted, his chest painfully crushed by his own body-weight, his lungs compressed and struggling to work at all while every beat of his heart made him wince in pain.

It took him a moment to realize that a new noise was filling his ears, and when he finally looked up he saw the fleshy, alive wall of his prison pulling apart, spreading open like a grotesque, fanged and vicious vagina, revealing the massive shutter beyond just as it slid open.

For a brief instant, Killer saw a crowd of RA soldiers, many wounded, rushing away from the scene while mutants and alien gods poured in the opposite direction, but then a massive figure quickly ducked inside, followed by another pair of smaller and deliciously feminine shadows, and the shutter rapidly closed behind their backs. Hardly anyone in the fleshy corridor outside had noticed at all, busy as they were either rushing towards the laboratory or running away from it in a bid to save their lives.

Killer braced for pain, because every visit only even meant more torture, and he tensed even further when he recognized Thanathos's shape, before the god of Death walked in the faint light in the middle of the cell and paused in a way that told the liger that he was grinning and gloating at the sight of his misery.

"Cerberus is busy, right now... the brat and his servants are out of my way and for once will not interfere, so we can have some alone time. Aren't you thrilled...?" Thanathos said, speaking in a soft, honeyed voice that grated on Killer's nerves like very few other things in the world. The god of death stepped forth and stroked a finger down the pole of Requiem Aeternam, snorting as he mused: "I've never abandoned my weapon for such a long period of time before... But in order to ensure your permanence here, I'm more than glad to face this little sacrifice."

Killer looked down at Requiem Aeternam with some curiosity, wondering whether the weapon was "alive" like Wyvern, which had taken on a rather well defined personality of her own after being re-forged with his energies and tempered in Gaia's blood, in the lost virginity of Nature. He expected Requiem to have some sort of reaction to its owner's presence, and the weapon did indeed crackle with energies... but what was immediately evident was that she did not like Thanathos's touch and it zapped him angrily, before he squeezed hard onto the thick pole and forced the weapon to obey.

"Requiem is not yours. You stole her from Azura, and she has not forgotten that." Killer coldly observed, only for Thanathos to look at him in silence for a moment before viciously twisting the enormous scythe in place, tormenting him by driving the curved blade through his flesh and bone, before yanking it violently sideways, forcing his gaping chest to tear open even wider.

"Indeed I have." Thanathos icily replied, leaning forwards under Killer's bloodied muzzle was almost swallowed by the thick layer of perennial, almost liquid darkness that filled the god of death's hood, hiding his features. "Thanks for the history lesson, but I know my story better than you do. And my scythe has long learned that she has to obey me, no matter how much she hates me. You are both uppity little things, and you share one thing: your fate is sealed, no matter how much you fight against it."

"I've a history of breaking the seals forced upon me." Killer countered, and Thanathos snorted in contempt and reached down for one of the large valves in the tentacle-tube wrapped around the liger's cock, causing it to clamp more tightly down on the girthy, colossal black shaft. Blood leaked out of the tube, and Killer gritted his fangs and blew steam from flaring nostrils, suffocating a cry of pain.

"Will the arrogance never drain out of you...? But of course; I bet you are having a lot of fun right now..." Thanathos coldly said, turning slowly around to gaze through the crystal window with what was tangible, clear rage mixed with equally clear envy. "You can create god-slaying beasts with nothing but your sweat, your precum, your spit... every cell of your body seems to have enough power on its own to humiliate us all. I bet it must be funny."

"A good bit." Killer coldly replied, gazing in the same direction to see a tangle of Horrors fighting and devouring each other, the titanic beasts aiming to consume their opponents to grow even more terrible, as tentacles whip-lashed brutally across the crowded laboratory, throwing mutants and gods around like they were nothing but ragdolls, even as the alien divinities circled Killer's Horrors and threw chains upon their hulking forms, sealing them and yanking their limbs back, hampering their ability to fight.

"Perhaps you even think you are about to break free." Thanathos suggested, with a voice that made clear all of his vicious delight as he reached inside Killer's bloody chest to claw into his heart, crushing the pulsing organ and digging his deadly talons into it, causing some of the muscle to rapidly decay and rot, so that the whole of Killer's body shuddered violently, uncontrollably, and the huge male snorted out in agony, chocking as he attempted to restrain the shrieks that desperately wanted to get out. "But you are here to stay, until I won't get what I want. And you won't like the reward at the end of the process, either."

"I figured. The hospitality here sucks." Killer muttered, before looking with curiosity at the female shapes a bit further behind, hidden in the darkness. Their shapes were remarkably perfect, even though one of the two, in particular, was pretty short... as short as hundreds of feet could be, at least. She was much smaller than him, but far greater than any mortal. There was something weirdly familiar in that attractive shortcake figure, and he couldn't help but be interested. Apart from Persephone's extraordinary but dangerous beauty, he had seen no female grace in that inferno for as long as he had been there, and considering the kind of life he was used to, he was already starting to suffer from withdrawal.

Thanathos immediately noticed that he no longer was the center of the attention and snarled audibly, clawing into the exposed base of Killer's enormous shaft, digging his terrible talons into the solid meat and causing it to rot and bleed and suffer, making the liger grunt in agony, his legs instinctively attempting to squeeze together but going nowhere because of the stakes driven right through muscle and bone.

"How I hate you! Disgusting little thing that you are... cocky, arrogant, and used to get everything you might possibly desire! You always had it easy, don't you...? Lurid vermin, you are already looking at those two like they belonged to you!"

Thanathos reached up and grabbed Killer's skull in his terrible hand, causing half of his face to rapidly age and decay, his talons ripping into the flesh and pushing towards the eye, making Killer pant in horror as he instinctively and uselessly attempted to retreat away from those claws... before Thanathos snorted and yanked back his hand, tearing apart the flesh all around the eye, but sparing it. "Not yet... there are things I want you to see, first. I want you to suffer for all your crimes. I want you to learn what it is like to have all your ambitions crushed, and I want to teach you what sacrifices I've been forced to make in order to get here! I want you to pay for every tear I had to shed!"

"You and Cerberus should be locked up in the hell of Envy. I didn't even know you guys existed; it's not my fault if you masturbated your brains out at the sight and thought of me." Killer taunted, grinning as best he could and deliberately grinding on the angry god's nerves.

"Yeah, it is never your fault, is it...? You wouldn't have needed to kill Azura, would you...? No, you would have fucked her stupid and put her on your leash. You wouldn0t have needed to impress Persephone with the gift of godhood... You bastard! You infamous vermin! You would have taken them all, one and the other...!" Thanathos snarled, his rage growing so insane and ferocious that even Killer stiffened a bit, made more cautious but the tremendous amount of obscure force that began crackling around the god of death's form. He was very tempted to tease Thanathos, to taunt him, but instead he waited in silence, only looking flatly at him. In his rage, the god was going to tell him anyway... it just wasn't going to be easy or pain-free.

"But I couldn't, you bastard. I couldn't." Thanathos hissed, savagely clawing into Killer's maimed chest and unleashing waves of that terrible dark force, sending it crackling through his system, causing his whole body to twitch painfully, out of control, every last muscle flexing and tensing in agony and only hurting all the worse as they pushed against the stakes, the nails, the spikes of golden crystal, the countless blades buried deep inside him. "I've not had your luck, you little piece of lucky shit! I've had to struggle and climb every last step of the way to here!"

"Spare me the whining. I didn't get here walking on rose petals either." Killer muttered, glaring at the god of death with distaste. Thanathos only snarled angrily at that, and leaned closer to hiss: "But even in your worst times, you've always found strength within you to push through. And you've always enjoyed the support of people in love with you, with your body, with your handsome face..." Thanathos paused, then reached up for Killer's face and brutally clawed into his muzzle, digging his talons deep enough to scratch into the bone when he began to rip and tear at his flesh, devastating his masculine, rough and handsome figure. "I had none of those comforts! My strength had to be stolen and built up over time. I only became truly strong when I... when I murdered Azura..." Thanathos paused, then laughed a dry, sad laughter as he murmured: "I had hoped she'd make me strong one day. I was a young god, a son of darkness, with my affinity, my vow towards death. And she was... she was the mistress of death. Far wiser, far stronger, far more skilled then me. Her knowledge seemed to know no boundaries, and when she took me in as her disciple, I was overjoyed. But she gave me nothing, you understand...? Nothing! I was never good enough for her... never reliable enough, never wise enough, and never ready to move on, to be granted greater powers." Thanathos paused, then picked up a large pincer of glowing, incandescent metal and forced Killer's mouth open, looking at the fangs that were slowly and painfully regenerating, finally identifying one that was already pretty large and strong... and Killer stiffened and braced for that agony that by now was all too terribly familiar. He dreamed of breaking free; he craved freedom to strike at Thanathos, to pummel him into a pulp, but he had to deal with the terrible reality, and once again endure. The pincer crudely bit into his gum, going for the very root of the large tooth, and when Thanathos began to pull hard on the solid fang, causing Killer's arms to tremble visibly with the pain and shock, the god of death mumbled: "I liked her, you know...? Azura was... she was beautiful. I wanted her more than I wanted the power. More than I wanted to rule over the Reapers. Why did she always have to push me back...? Why did she reject me?"

Because you are a whiny asshole, I'd guess. Killer bitterly thought, but he couldn't speak while that enormous pincer brutalized the inside of his mouth and slowly, brutally yanked the newly grown fang out.

Killer again tried to distract himself, and his eyes sought the two female figures waiting in the darkness. He was painfully aware that their presence no doubt meant more trouble for him, yet he was almost literally glad to have two females present, especially because their silhouettes were stunning, even that of the shortcake. Thanathos didn't notice his errant gaze this time, too pleased by his cruel handiwork and by the sound of his voice to notice much of anything else. He went on and on and on about how unfair Azura had been to him, how she had never given him a chance, how she had always piled up yet more work on him and always refused to answer his big questions, saying he wasn't ready.

Thanathos did not realize it, naturally, but clearly Azura had been right about him not being anywhere near mature and reliable enough. Indeed, she still had too high an opinion of him... if she had suspected anything, he would have never been able to sneak up on her... how different things might have been then...

"But then I saw Persephone. Even more beautiful than Azura, and she knew what she wanted and how to take it. She was such a delight to watch... But Azura wanted to obstacle her. She said she was dangerous. She couldn't stand the thought of that mortal queen taking over the world!"

Thanathos snarled and brutally tore backwards, ripping the tooth and causing Killer to groan in agony as blood exploded out of the maimed gum... before an even worse pain followed as his regeneration kicked in and began to slowly replace the lost fang. It was a constant, never ending pain that Killer feared would drive him insane. "She tasked me to derail her plans... but how could I do that? I loved her! I didn't want to damage her. No, I wanted to have her at my side, instead."

"And you thought that killing most of her people was the right way to do it...?" Killer spat out, making a grimace as he tried to get rid of the blood and fragment of tooth that filled his mouth.

"It was Persephone's idea." Thanathos easily replied, and Killer looked up with a grimace of shock and disgust, barely able to believe what he had just heard. "I would have never done something like that to her. No... I talked to her instead. Met her in secret. Told her that the goddess of Death wanted her plans to fail, and that I was tasked with somehow stopping her conquest, but that I didn't want to hurt her in any way. Persephone was delighted. She was so kind... she saw my worth and the value of my services, unlike Azura!" Thanathos's voice seemed to fill with honey whenever Persephone was the theme of his words, and that made plenty clear just how irremediably in love he was.

She realized what an idiot you are, more like...

"She asked me how we could be together. She asked me how she could become immortal to stand by my side. She was disappointed when I told her that I couldn't bring her to Heaven, and even more so when I told her I could not take her life. Azura and Elelyon would never authorize such tampering with the Natural Law. But Persephone didn't surrender, she wanted us to be together at all costs... and when she enquired about who could possibly kill her in a not suspect way, I thought of Erra."

"I know the story." Killer icily warned, while grimacing inwardly at the thought of the cold, merciless plans that Persephone had weaved from the very beginning. She readily sacrificed her life and that of almost her whole kingdom, inviting pestilence on her people just so she could become immortal... she is the devil!

"Oh, sure you know. I bet that arrogant Cerberus brat told you all about me... the cheap ally, the one he believes he can play and betray at will, huh...?" Thanathos was furious, and clearly aware that Cerberus had never been sincere with him, and that was interesting, potentially useful even, but also painful for Killer because all that rage became crackling negative energy that tore into his already badly damaged and sore body, tormenting him in ways that threatened to make him unconscious. Part of him wished for it, as blacking out meant escaping the pain for a little while, and probably put an end to the torture for at least a little while: nobody likes to torment an irresponsive victim; it is a waste of time and effort. But he was too proud to pass out, and too interested in gaining as much information as possible from Thanathos's angry rant. "What did he tell you, huh...? That I'm his useful idiot, huh? Is that what he said? Well, I am not!" The god of death snarled, clawing into Killer's flesh with a ferocity that left the liger gasping for breath, flashes of crimson exploding in his eyesight. "He thinks I'm stupid, that little bastard. He thinks I don't imagine he wants to toss me away at the first chance. Doesn't he...? Speak, damn you! Speak, you vermin!"

"He wants to stab you in the back, yeah." Killer muttered, considering for a moment whether he should or should not say more. Whatever he told him, he knew their alliance would not break - yet - so there was no way to have an immediate benefit from it, but lying or refusing to reply was going to bring even more pain for no gain. Killer shrugged, then rapidly and concisely summarized what Thanathos had said... but very carefully avoided speaking of Persephone. He wanted to see if Thanathos was at least partially aware of what sort of evil, poisonous snake he had married. _ _

"Yeah, that's right... the bastard became talkative only after the Cataclysm..." Thanathos mused, making a grimace as he glared down at Killer and muttered: "Even with you trapped and motionless in the middle of a black hole, I was unable to kill you... Once again a disappointment. I felt horrible after that, more than I ever felt before. I couldn't look Persephone in the eyes. I ran away."

"That is so sad." Killer mockingly replied, unable to restrain his angry, prideful tongue. But Thanathos did not strike him, instead leaning closer and saying, almost with kindness: "But for once, failure was sweet. From that failure I got my current strength, and a lot more power will come out of it. Cerberus might believe he can get rid of me and take it all... but he is sorely mistaken."

"You really are the best of friends. What's a bit of reciprocal back-stabbing between pals...?" Killer taunted, and Thanathos snorted audibly before clawing into the liger's muzzle once more, crushing with vicious strength as he said: "This time I will not fail. You, your wife, your friends, Cerberus... nobody will stop me. I've failed many times, vermin, but I've always been persistent. When I want something, I get it, no matter what it takes. Cerberus might think himself a badass, the mortal who challenges the gods... but there is nothing I haven't done and nothing that I won't do to get to full, ultimate power. I will gift my Persephone everything she's ever wanted. And I will become beautiful, and perfect, and flawless so that she gets what she deserves..."

"Tell me the truth... she never actually laid you down at all, did she...? Love, love, love, but she won't poke you with a yardstick. Is that why you are so grouchy?" Killer finally mocked, and Thanathos roared in fury and slammed his punch on his face, once, twice, thrice, again and again, until he finally stepped back with a snarl of rage and frustration, his clenched fist trembling and sore, his bone gauntlet broken and warped out of shape. Killer hissed in pain, then slowly rolled his head forwards, his neck cracking audibly as he cleared his throat and spat out a thick gout of blood, forcing his lips to crest into a grin as he recklessly added: "I'll take that as a yes."

"Insolent pest." Thanathos muttered, before reaching up to grab his metallic hood, throwing it back and causing the semi-liquid, impenetrable darkness to dissolve into motes of black energy. Killer gaped in surprise, staring at Thanathos's head as it was finally revealed... and he couldn't help but draw back in distaste and shock at the thing facing him. A thing he couldn't identify or describe: there was no flesh on that head, only bone, and even that bone was gnarly and ugly and shaped in a way that belonged to multiple species at once and none in particular. Thanathos had the big fangs of a sabertooth but an elongated skull more like that of an equine of some sort, yet with oversized jaws and horns that should not have been there. A straggling hint of mane messily fell over one side of his skeletal features as he looked at him with pitiless ivory moons for eyes, on sclera so hellishly black that the darkness around them seemed broad daylight. He had terrible, yellowed and oversized teeth that were gnarled and horribly sharp, knife edges that would cruelly maim the meat of his victims. Those cruel, ugly fangs were too big for his own jaws and he couldn't quite close his mouth, causing acid drool to leak forever down his bony chin.

"You see...? This is my curse. This is how much I had to pay in order to become the god of war. Killing Azura cost me dearly... this was her parting gift, and Requiem Aeternam's toll." Thanathos said, in a cold voice that dripped venomous resentment. "This is how much I had to sacrifice to become anything comparable to you... to become a god... and even this was not enough. And even this sacrifice did not give me what I craved. Persephone has her reasons... how can a beast like me ever be deserving of her beauty?"

Thanathos's voice almost broke, trembling for a moment as he hesitatingly ran his fingers down his bony, hideous muzzle, and Killer swallowed thickly as the god's eyes took on a whole different light and his voice a whole new tone, one of adoration as he added: "Yet she loves me and stays by my side all the same. She has never abandoned me. She became my wife and my queen. She worked hard to bring me here, to give me this chance... and every day she comforts me and reminds me that while we need her scion to get to our target, the victory will be for us, and us alone."

Killer closed his eyes and almost sighed, grimacing as he felt incredibly, surprisingly sorry for the hideous creature. He clearly was completely and blissfully unaware of what Persephone really was and what she really thought. He was hopelessly deluded, and unable to distinguish the truth from his dreams of love. It was a sight so pitiful that even Killer was moved by it. He considered warning Thanathos, and not for his own advantage but truly out of mercy, because the honey in his voice when he talked of her was genuinely unbelievable. Killer knew well how powerful love was, and every time he gazed at Alexis he was conquered one more time... would he be able to see the truth if put in Thanathos's shoes...? Would his adoration for Alexis make him just as blind as the god of war was...?

But, of course, he immediately abandoned the idea of trying to educate Thanathos about the truth. It would never, never, never work anyway. Thanathos would never believe him, that was definite. Trying to tell him that Persephone had flaws at all would be like inviting new and worse tortures on himself.

" Would your dear girls have any care for you if you carried my curse?" Thanathos enquired, and Killer found himself surprisingly overwhelmed by that question. He trusted his girls with all his life and all his soul, and he trusted Alexis even more than that, and yet a part of him couldn't help but wonder how ugly he must be now, covered in sweat, gore, grime, filth, drool. Scarred, wounded, toothless, broken. Was their love sincere enough to endure such a hideous sight...?

"If I was to send you back to them, weak, broken, miserable, ugly and scarred... would they still have any hint of affection for you?" The god of death insisted, grinning with his ugly, scary fangs all bared out, drool leaking out in the vast gaps through them. "I might spare you and them just to find out. When I will possess all of your power, all of your beauty, all of your vigor, and yet even more... when I will be flawless and infinite, and you a miserable wreck... who will they love, huh...? Dare to bet?"

Thanathos laughed cruelly, and Killer couldn't help but feel a shiver of true fear rolling down his spine, the worst he had experienced until then, worse than the shudders of physical agony. The pain had not been able to crack his little mental oasis of resistance, but doubt... doubt about the very reasons he had to carry on and endure... doubts about Alexis and the others he adored and lived for... that was real torment.

Thanathos saw that he had hit right on the mark and grinned viciously, licking his lips with a hideous, flexible, forked tongue that was covered in thick, thorn-like strands of hair.

"As you see, Amon Ra, I'm the one you should be most worried about. Cerberus is a tool. No matter how sophisticate, he is nothing but a mortal. I'm the god of Death... and I have Persephone on my side. She is the reason for everything I do, and she assures success. She never fails. What she wants, she gets. Together we'll take the whole universe apart."

You poor idiot, you have no frigging idea... Killer made a grimace, then frowned in a mix of curiosity and dread as the skeletal, hideous god cheerfully insisted: "And to prove to you and to everyone else that I know exactly how to ruin the Amon Ra..."

Killer ignored the pompous words of the god of death and exploited that moment of relative peace to gaze towards the crystal wall, making a grimace as he saw that the battle was still raging and that the Horrors had not gained much ground. Indeed, at least a couple of the great beasts were being held down by teams of alien gods yanking on a multitude of glowing, enchanted chains. Cerberus's team of scientists had jumped into modified Unmanned Combat Walkers and were now using those massive powered armors to stomp their way all over the pinned-down beasts, hammering home large, armoured Spirit devices to subdue them definitively.

At least another pair of Horrors had been enslaved with the use of the infernal mind-controlling computers, and were now leading the battle against the last few parasitic titans. RA soldiers and UCWs were still scrambling around to drag the cages full of dead and alive meat out of the laboratory, trying to stay out of the reach of the beasts' enormous tentacles. Cerberus had deployed a small army of gods in heavy armour and armed with gigantic cleaver swords, ordering them to stand back from the main fight and chop to bits every last tentacle before it could absorb more organic matter. Killer gritted his fangs, cursing inwardly as he saw just how effective that special team was proving to be as the biggest of the Horrors spotted a group of cages full of screaming mortals and immediately swung out a whole tangle of gigantic, mutated tentacles that jutted with enormous poisoned spikes and thorns. The gods carefully moved out of the way, flanking the tentacles, and swiftly tore them apart while the Horror was distracted by a new barrage of chains shot up around his neck. The Horror roared in rage and unleashed an infernal hurricane of black fire over the gods at his feet, but Cerberus stepped forwards and formed a great shield of golden energy, using it to deflect the fire. The tiger grinned in delight, euphoric with his new and above-godlike strength, and Killer could almost hear his laughter as he stormed through the hellfire and used the heavy shield to smack the Horror in the chest, sending the enormous beast staggering backwards, his chest caving inwards as several bones loudly broke into pieces... but the gigantic black beast remedied by swinging out his armoured, deadly tail, covered in metal plates and jutting with a multitude of devastating blades and spikes which caught a couple of overambitious alien divinities and tore them into bloody pieces, crushing their bodies against the crystal wall of one of the silos. Immediately, the end of the massive tail split open in four tentacle-like appendages, all ending in a terrible harpoon made of triangular, overlapping plates of dark metal and adamantine bone. There was a horrible sucking sound as that grotesque mouth slurped up the broken remains of the two gods, and the effect was immediate, healing all damage in the space of a blink and then causing the Horror to grow even more immense, his hulking form expanding rapidly, great muscles ripping through Seals and chains, snapping dozens of them, making a mockery of the gods who had used all o their knowledge and power to create them. One enormous fist smacked into Cerberus's shield and sent the tiger and many others crashing ruinously backwards, even as a group of mutants fired against the hulking chest of the beast, before scattering as the huge tail snapped closed, the four ends squeezing tightly together and forming a single, titanic, ungodly ridged harpoon which stabbed viciously down on the crowd of enemies, smashing the floor of concrete and mutant flesh and sending great fountains of dust, gore and rubble exploding skywards, while the bodies of the mutants caught under the hammering burst apart like overripe fruits, spraying out thick clouds of crimson that splashed all around like mere water.

Cerberus and the other gods reacted quickly, however... but then Thanathos said something that caught Killer's attention, and the liger reluctantly tore his eyes away from the battle raging in the nearby hangar.

"...I've brought two friends along. Friends who are truly eager to relive the old times with you... but turning the tables a bit! I'm told you have promised to undergo the punishment associated with your crimes as a mortal, so you should be thankful. This will begin to repay some of your many debts." Thanathos said, licking his hideous, bony jaws as he stepped to the side a little.

The two females standing behind the god stepped forwards with evident relief, glad he was finally done with his ranting and so eager to have their turn that electricity seemed to crackle out of their shapely, strong forms. Killer gazed at them with undeniable curiosity that was not diminished by the awareness that they had come to torment him, or by the realization that they had once been his victims and now were being given the chance to exact revenge.

Shortcake was the first to come out of the shadows, and Killer immediately realized why her shape in the dark had felt so familiar. She had been on the short side as a mortal too, but had possessed the exact same perfect, beautiful shape that she had only improved during her new, immortal existence. They had met in a gym in Ire, where she used to spend much of her time. She was a fitness icon, incredibly popular and known globally thanks to the wonder of social media. He was the world-famous king of porn, at the apex of his fame, and theirs was a match made in heaven. She was several years older than him, married and pregnant with what was her second child, but none of those things were problems for him... they only made her all the more alluring, instead. He had visited "her" gym, because it pretty much was hers, given how much of an icon she was, and had brought a few of his camera bitch-boys along, to document their meeting and a little interview with her. She had been delighted by his visit, but not surprised by it: after all, she shamelessly sported a big KO tattoo on her quads, and since her muscular legs were the most photographed and shared part of her body on the web, it was a statement made to the world. With how popular she was, it was a way to invite him in.

As always happened in that kind of meetings, they talked a bit of what made them famous, and then heading into the exercise area for some showing off. She had posed for him, displayed her toned, chiseled body to him, flexed her mighty legs for his pleasure, and then she had been delighted to spot for him...even if it really only meant watching him from up close while he easily demonstrated that there were not enough weights in the whole gym to make him break a sweat.

Then they had hit the shower together, and she had washed and polished his cock for him, her swollen, pregnant belly and her wedding ring on full display while she sucked on his goliath shaft; while she did her best to deepthroat his unrivalled beast of a cock; while she worshipped his ponderous balls; while she licked and kissed his ass clean and when she bathed in the deluge of his potent semen, gargling it in her mouth and smearing it all over her muscular, chiseled form.

It had been the first of several movies together, each time pushing a little harder up against her full womb, his titanic shaft hammering against her cervix and stopping just short of the killing blow... until one day Killer decided that he had had enough of holding back, of fucking her with his cock half-hard and with just the massive head buried inside. No, one day he had decided he really wanted to see how deep he could thrust into that little body and the more she screamed the more cock he rammed into her ruined hole, snarling in delight as he crushed the unborn children into nothing but bloody lube that leaked out around his gigantic girth. He had fucked her without mercy, thrusting deeper and deeper until she had almost literally vomited the remains of her children, before his colossal shaft had finally torn her body apart, ripping her open like an overfilled balloon. It had been savage, cruel, inexcusable... and delightful. It had shocked the world in all sorts of ways. The videos were visualized billions of times and the story became immortal, as was to be expected. There was a lot of public outrage, but no one dared actually doing anything against him. Melissa's husband was so terrified by Killer that he "gladly" played along with the story that she had been entirely willing to sacrifice herself. Insult was added to injury as Melissa's funeral became a sick celebration of dedication and worship to the great "god" that had come from the north.

Killer stared at Melissa in silence, impressed by the fact that she looked exactly like she had all those years ago. He couldn't tell whether she had found refuge in Heaven or had sunk into the depths of hell: there was no visible demonic trait in her, nor anything angelic. She had preserved her stunning figure, her body short but perfectly proportioned, her legs long and beautiful in relation to her height, her calves strong and perfectly chiseled, her mighty quads clad in nothing but leather belts stretched outwards by the bulging muscles. Her abs were strong and perfectly developed, and her chest was powerfully muscled but almost flat when it came to breasts. The leather belts wrapped around her torso formed a top that squeezed hard down on the solid muscle, tightly packing her already small bosom, but she looked beautiful all the same. Even flat as she was, there was such a harmony of proportions about her that she looked supremely feminine. Her hips and her spectacular buttocks made up for what she lacked on the chest. She was a ghepard, lithe and slender in figure even with the considerable bulk of her musculature, and her amber eyes were just like he remembered them, full of energy and pride and confidence. Her short blonde hair, combed all to one side, had always given her a cocky appearance that he adored, and swirling tribal flame tattoos, simple and yet full of personality, decorated her arms, one hip and her legs, wrapping around the muscular limbs at different heights.

She gazed up at him with a grin that was not entirely unlike the ones she'd eagerly gift him during their days together, when they had enjoyed plenty of sweaty, passionate hours and laughed together for many others while making fun of her husband, of her fans, of all the eager boys who commented their videos and photos, looking at them always only from afar, full of envy and frustration, often spewing out insults and curses and threats, but ultimately ready and eager to stand at attention whenever Killer and Melissa ordered something. They asked for money and they received it. Melissa told them that they were worthless losers? And they donated even more. Much like he loved to do with Juana and others, Killer would often slap his enormous shaft on her shirts or shorts or other clothes, and smeared his thick precum or even chunks of smegma onto the fabric, and then Melissa would auction the stained piece of clothing. The amount of money they made just by lazily showing out and playing with each other was truly spectacular, and it was one of the most amusing parts of his period as porn actor. Why couldn't he satiate himself with those games? Why did he have to ruin everything...? He tried to tell himself he didn't know, but in truth he did. He loved way too much the unique sensations of breaking, ruining, destroying another life just for pleasure. He loved the thrill it gave him to know that he was extinguishing new lives just to satisfy the whim of a moment. Terrible as it was, that was the only truth.

Obviously, there was a flame in Melissa's eyes that had never been there before, and that was the burning fire of fury and hate, and the satisfaction of feeling her revenge within easy reach. Her smirk was a clear threat and her hands flexed, clenching and unclenching her fists as she studied him with a mix of interest and disgust, awe and hate.

The other female, much taller, had clearly spent a lot of time in the hell of Lust and in the hell of Wrath. The huge, powerfully muscled mare had dark horns pushing out of the sides of her head and eyes that glowed solid crimson. Long, raven hair fell down her strong, broad back and her very fur had taken on a nightmarish dark shade, while her tail now ended in a demonic spade. Her breasts had grown enormous, and her body, once fit but not overly impressive, had grown more shapely and far more bulky with muscle. He didn't remember her name, but he knew she had been in Hell because of him. As a mortal, the mare had been a young and enterprising policewoman, enamored of her job and determined to put all wrongs right. Unlike everyone else around her, she refused to accept that Melissa had agreed to be the victim of a gruesome snuff movie, and she started investigating to prove that it had been rape and murder, nothing less. Proving it was not actually complicated at all, but getting anyone to listen was incredibly hard, as Killer's spell had crushed seemingly the whole country into submission, either out of fear or sheer worship or a mix of both. She had continued trying, though, and that had eventually gotten Killer interested in her... case. One night he broke into the house where she lived... her parent's own. He had turned the whole family into little more than blood and gore, mixed with sperm and sweat, smeared all over the walls, floor and ceiling of that little house. He raped them all into pulp, and with them he effectively snuffed out justice itself... or at least any residual hope for justice in Melissa's case. Killer had made it very clear by using her blood and his own thick cum to write "I am the law" on the camera at the end of the movie.

That had been the start of a more and more brutal phase in which nothing mattered but his pleasure. That was when he started truly working to single-handedly enslave and destroy the prey races... and eventually it was the start of the "seven years of the fury", a period in which he abandoned all restraints and rampaged over a helpless world in such a bloody fashion that his father repeatedly sent teams out to hunt him down, stop his crimes and drag him back home.

Killer closed his eyes and dropped his head forwards with a sound that was half-sigh and half-snarl. It was not the first time his sins caught up with him. He had been met by an entire armada of angry victims at the gates of Hell, but he crushed them all out of existence. He had met Kathy and her mother, and while Sylvia had definitely tried to exact revenge on him, her strength was utterly and ridiculously insufficient... This time, I'll get a taste of what punishment is really like.

Melissa walked forwards with terrible grace, her steps light and agile as she grinned in clear delight, seeming to fly as she closed the distances and then gently stroked his scarred, wounded, bloodied abs, dragging her hand over the deep wounds where the scythe blades were visible, buried deep into his flesh, and she licked her lips as she teased: "Looking mighty fine, stud... much bigger than I remembered, and you always were plenty big. Bigger muscles too, even... you took real good care of yourself."

She slowly circled behind the "cross" of golden crystal against which he was nailed, and she ducked under the veritable forest of immense chains that restrained him. "Someone already had a lot of fun with him... but I can't do my job properly is he is tied up like this and nailed to a wall of crystal." Melissa muttered, and the nameless hellish mare snorted steam from her pierced nostrils, glaring up at Killer with hate and murderous hunger while she nodded in agreement with her colleague. They both had the burned scar mark that identified the higher Inquisitors of Hell, so Killer was in no doubt about just how much of a career they had made in the Underworld.

"Make do and content yourself." Thanathos coldly countered, clearly displeased by her protest. He crossed his arms on his chest and leaned back, sitting in a throne of bones and skulls that appeared out of dark smoke. "Giving him any kind of freedom of movement would be unnecessarily dangerous. The last thing we want is giving him a chance to break free."

Melissa tilted her head to the side and made a grimace at that, but then snorted and held her hand out, grinning as a heavy, cruel hammer of adamantine metal took shape in her grip. "I guess that's true..." She coldly whispered, before she swung the heavy hammer, causing Killer to stiffen up as he waited for it to strike his knee, or worse, before it struck the column of yellow crystal behind him instead, knocking large chunks of the hellish energy-devouring material flying in every direction.

He grunted as the blow reverberated through the cross, causing him terrible pain as every spike and stake moved inside his wounds, but what truly horrified him was the fact that she was hammering at ass height, leaving him in no doubt about what she had in mind.

"Predictable, stud...? Yes, probably. Imagination is not my forte. But I'll still make it plenty... interesting." Melissa growled, grinning sharkishly at him and reading the horror in his eyes as she smashed the hammer into the crystal once more. "I would have liked to manhandle you with greater freedom, but these eager boys don't know how you properly torture someone..." She tossed the god of Death a gaze of derision, and

Thanathos made a grimace and grumbled something, annoyed by her taunting, but Melissa only smirked, and Killer recognized the same light, the same evil satisfaction and the same merciless pleasure with which she had tormented little cuckolds in his name. Thanathos was just furniture, just another garnish... just another cuck watching her in action, hating and loving her at the same time. She had not changed in that regard. Still a show-off, still a demanding queen. All things he appreciated... even though he was aware that now he was meant to be the victim of all of her ferocity, not the king she worshipped. She hammered the cross again, and then leaned forwards with a growl of hunger, biting into one of his wounds, savagely biting into the tormented flesh, making him grunt in pain and in surprise as she pushed her muzzle into the wound, as deep as she could, drooling acid that caused his flesh to smolder and sizzle audibly, making him shiver in pain. She tore off a large chunk of flesh, chewing it loudly and swallowing it with a growl of delight before speaking in a soft, almost loving voice: "But even sissies sometimes are right. You are still dangerous, huh, stud...? How did you say that one time...? Oh, yes. Speak softly, but always have a plan to kill everyone in the room. I'm sure you have one, even now. We'll leave you nailed and chained. It will still be great, I promise..." She snickered, then leaned closer to look into his eye from over his shoulder, explaining: "I am adaptable. I can wait, when the circumstances call for it... you see, I craved revenge just as much as all the others, when you arrived in Hell. I was tempted to come for you, to have a talk about the old times..." She smashed the heavy hammer on his kneecap, making him roar in agony as bones loudly crunched, and then she punted him hard in the cheek with the head of the massive weapon, growling: "But coming at you at the Black Gates, to try and fight on even ground...? Suicide. Nothing but self-destruction. Unlike so many others, idiots the lot of them, I know how to wait for my time."

She slammed the hammer home once more, and then reached over to grab the large chunk of cracked golden crystal, effortlessly ripping it out of place in a show of terrible strength, easily lifting it in one hand and then laughing as she balanced it on the tip of one finger, whispering teasingly: "Oh, yes. You are not the only one who's grown stronger, stud..."

She flicked the massive boulder away like it was a pebble, and Thanathos visibly stiffened in his throne as it shot past him like a meteor, smacking into the wall in an explosion of ugly, stinking blood as it sunk deep into the twisting mass of mutant flesh and corpses. Melissa used her bare hands to enlarge the hole in the cross, and Killer closed his eyes with a snort when she reached forwards with both hands, clawing into his muscular rear and squeezing hard, murring in appreciation as she purred: "Yes... you always had a great ass. Muscular and strong... You'll be nice and tight and virginal for you, won't you, stud...? Or have you become a faggot in these years...?"

Killer growled in fury, but there was nothing he could do to stop her, and he tried instead to look at the crystal wall, to see how the battle was going. Thanathos, however, either by chance or by conscious choice, was leaning forwards with a hateful grin, covering much of the view. He could see enough to tell that the "Great" Horror was still fighting, however, battling against Cerberus and a group of other gods.

Before he could understand exactly what was going on, he was distracted as the mare stepped forwards as well, glaring into his eyes as she stroked down his broad, masculine chest before clawing into the crater right in the middle of his torso, her fingers becoming flexible blades that tore through flesh and muscle with terrible ease, slicing him open and causing ropes of intestine to slip out of him, making him wince in agony. "You don't even remember my name... you infamous monster. After all you did to me, after all you stole from me... remember the name Shanique, vermin. Remember it clearly."

She reached around him and grabbed his tail, which was perhaps the only part of his body which hadn't yet been properly maimed. Clearly she regretted that, because she grinned and summoned her own spiked hammer and began to snap and crumble the bone inside it, slamming her weapon down with extreme prejudice. Killer found himself howling in pain after the first few blows, amazed that his tail, of all things, could provoke him so much pain. She grabbed the broken tail and whipped it back and forth, causing flashes of crimson to explode into his eyesight as he gasped breathlessly in pain, his ears filling with the horrendous noise of the broken bones grinding into each other.

She pulled it around his waist, grinning up at him and producing a number of rusty, long, terrible nails. "Let's ensure this stays out of the way for the rest of our time together..." She teased, before pushing the bloodied tuft of black fur against his scarred, wounded abs, before driving the stake against the body of the tail, hammering it home with a couple of powerful hits of her hammer.

The nails tore deep into Killer's belly, piercing his guts and making him wince in agony, and before he could understand what was happening, Melissa easily climbed up on the base of his enormous cock, driving the spiked, cruel sole of her boot into the solid black meat, twisting it in place and grinning into his eyes as she forced a finger into his mouth. "They have taken the fangs out of you, huh, kitty-stud...? This makes me wonder... how will your toothless mouth feel, serving and worshipping me as I deserve...?"

Melissa clawed into his shoulders and easily hefted herself up, swinging her long, beautiful legs up and scissoring them open on either side of his head. "A little treat for the both of us... I remember how much you like big, muscular legs..." She whispered, grinning up at him as she flexed her mighty quads, causing the great muscles to bulge and shift tantalizingly. Her leather thong was right in front of his muzzle and he could already smell it and her sweat, a combination that made him grunt in hunger... and then pain as his massive cock eagerly throbbed and flexed, bulging even larger, beginning to harden even though it meant grinding all the harder into the flexing, spiked walls of the tentacle-tube wrapped around his member.

She grinned widely, seeing his features contorted by the intense, sudden pain, and she laughed and threw her head back, extending one long, muscular leg wrapped in leather belts that groaned audibly, stretched out by her bulging muscles, before bending the other to slowly, sensually rub her foot against her calves, taking his head in the middle of those great mountains of strength. "I remember how you liked to see me crush puny boys between my thighs... how you liked to see them turning dark red as their ribcages were crushed and their lungs failed to get in air, their hands tapping helplessly against my legs to beg me to let go... I remember how you watched me when I shattered a watermelon between my thighs..." Melissa teased, grinning widely as she squeezed his head a little harder between her legs, strangling him, crushing his throat almost shut. "Should we finally try that out for real, huh...? I could crush your skull into pulp just like that melon."

Killer grunted breathlessly as she applied more and more pressure, before she shifted position slightly, taking his head right between the quads and grabbing what was left of his crudely shaven mane in one hand, yanking him forwards. The pressure built up rapidly, to fearsome levels, and Killer's eyes filled with crimson and with darkness as the pain pounded violently in his head and his heart thrummed wildly. His ears filled with a deafening whistle as she flexed again, and that infernal sound drowned out her laughter... but not the sick crunch of his skull cracking and partially caving in.

"Fuck, yes...!" Melissa growled, grinning in delight as she heard the bone break, and she applied even more pressure, until her knees almost touched, and then she spread her legs wide, smirking at the sight of droplets of blood staining them as the precious fluid leaked out of Killer's mouth and ears. He panted violently, his lungs craving air, his head pounding viciously, and before he could get any sort of relief, Shanique hammered home another long stake that nailed his broken tail to his groin, just above his immense, traitorous cock which arrogantly grew and hardened up even though it was torn apart all the worse by the spiked rings squeezing savagely down on his meat.

"Enjoyed that, stud...?" Melissa taunted, yanking on his hair to force his cheek against her huge quad, smearing his features in his own blood as she added: "I've been told not to risk killing you, so I'll have to wait a little longer before I can crush your head for good, but as I said, I can wait. Can you, pet...?"

Killer glared at her with fury, but it only added to her sadistic pleasure as she yanked his head and guided his muzzle against her mighty thigh, ordering: "Lick and worship, stud. We both know it won't displease you that much."

In part it was true, but Killer still shivered at being commanded like that. Slowly, he nuzzled the solid muscle, and when she urged him on, he started licking up his own blood, planting little kisses along her inner thighs, forced to worship her quads inch by inch, even as Shanique turned his tail into a cilice, driving long nails straight through it, hammering through fractured bone and sending the rusty stakes reaching deep into his guts.

It seemed to go on for ages as Melissa humiliated him, forcing his to worship her thighs, to lick and kiss her legs, to polish her metal-and-leather boots with his tongue. Shanique, instead, picked up a cruel whip and savagely slashed it over every last inch of his body that she had access to, aiming especially for the wounds, to strike him where his flesh was exposed and tender, where his regeneration tormented him by slowly, ever so slowly attempting to rebuild even while he was constantly drained of energies and hurt in new and worse ways. "Every bit as strong and stubborn as I remembered..." Melissa teasingly purred, and she roughly yanked his head around, guiding it towards her crotch. She was still hanging from his neck, holding herself up with her powerful legs, occasionally crushing his skull hard enough to make it creak sinisterly, and the effort of staying in that position and the sheer excitement had caused a beautiful sheen of sweat to cover her muscular form, filling his nose with her scent, powerful and alluring, almost poisonous for his mind. She dragged his muzzle forwards until it bumped into her thick leather thong, and she teasingly humped her hips back against him, grinning widely as she ordered: "Lick it, pet. Worship it, stud. Do it well, and perhaps I'll even let you have a taste..."

Killer closed his eyes with a shudder of rage, but he couldn't deny a hint of pleasure as he nuzzled into the puffy outline of her hungry, eager sex, hidden under a layer of strong-tasting black leather. Her sweat and the leather and hits of her juices leaking out from under it filled his mouth with a mixture of tastes that was potent and strangely addictive, and she nodded in teasing approval, growling: "Oh, I'm glad they haven't chopped off that big tongue of yours... yet."

She roughly seized her leather thong and yanked it off to the side, revealing her tight, soft, hungry sex already soaked with warm juices, and yanked Killer's muzzle forwards with such force that his thick snout almost penetrated her, pushing deep into her soft folds as his mouth filled with her taste, so familiar... and yet so completely different.

"You are supposed to punish and torment him, not treat him like a lover." Thanathos muttered, glaring at the two inquisitors and leaning forwards with a grimace, making all of his discontent clear, but Melissa only snorted and coldly countered: "We are the Inquisitors. We know our trade." She grinned widely, guiding Killer's muzzle up and down her labia as he drank of the warm juice leaking out of her, squeezing hard on her skull if he so much as moved too slowly, or licked in a way that didn't satisfy her... before sighing, closing her eyes and letting her arms go limb as she exclaimed. "But fine, since skullface wants it hurried, let's get serious..."

Killer tensed up, not sure what he should expect, and he grunted and shut his eyes, shuddering violently as dark energy exploded out of Melissa and tore through her entire system. He was almost blinded by the flashes of crimson caused by his slow and never-ending agony, but he still managed to catch a glimpse of her body mutating, warping out of shape. From the beautiful, muscular, flat-chested but splendid, she mutated into an obscure mass of flesh that seemed to radiate supernatural, corruptive influence.

He tried to pull back, but her hands grabbed his skull with even greater force, her fingers turning into flexible talons that tore deep wounds in his scalp as she humped her hot, needy sex against his face... and he let out a scream of pain and horror as her vagina shifted and flexed in an impossible way, before clamping violently on his tongue and muzzle, tearing into the flesh, ripping through it, digging all the way down to the bone as her sex became a hideous mouth lined with tremendous curved fangs and lined inside with a multitude of little but cruel spikes, like jagged shards of glass that maimed his muzzle. Her body grew larger and her muscles swelled bigger, bulkier, but at the same time her very form seemed to lose coherence and definition, her shape constantly and subtly changed as flames of darkness radiated and danced out of her, sometimes seemingly exploding out like solar flares. Her face became a featureless oval of pure, liquid-looking darkness interrupted only by narrow, cruel crimson eyes and by a huge mouth lined with fangs so impossibly white that they seemed to burn like stars in the middle of that black shape.

Killer's eyes opened as he howled in agony while her sex gnawed on his muzzle, biting savagely into it and grinding his flesh to bloody pulp as she flexed her muscles and her sex clenched with orgasmic and terrifying strength.

But she wasn't done mutating, and her wonderful abs flexed powerfully before seeming to collapse, caving inwards before a new, hideous, half-formed shape began to push out of her belly... until it solidified into two small demons, joined together at chest level but with two separate, monstrous heads and three short but strong arms. They hissed against Killer with pure hate and began to viciously claw and punch into his head, spitting out thick jets of acidic poison. He instinctively pulled back in revulsion, grimacing at that horrible sight, and Melissa laughed a bitter, cruel laughter before warning: "Those were the sons I could never have. You made them into what they are now, you bastard! That mangled pile of broken remains, mashed together in such ugly and cruel fashion... that's what your cock did to them!"

She viciously clamped his skull between her mighty thighs, growling as the bone creaked loudly, and she easily pulled herself up, muscles bulging as she teasingly twisted her legs to painfully force his head to turn this way and that while her evil "sons" clawed and gnarled on Killer's face, their broken, ugly and terribly sharp teeth ripping chunks of his features off the bone, making him howl in pain and anguish as he closed his eyes and uselessly tried to get out of their reach, only for Melissa to squeeze harder, threatening to snap his spine like a twig.

"Revenge is sweet, stud... it is more than worth all of the waiting, all of the suffering it took me to get this far. They tried to punish me into abandoning sin. Into forgetting you, even. Into giving up on hate. Hell tried, and tried, and tried, but all it achieved was to make me stronger!" Melissa growled in evident pleasure, her exposed sex flexing and clenching as it leaked out rivulets of hot juice while she slowly pulled her arms up and showed off her mighty biceps, striking a pose and grinning as her arms swelled even larger, her whole form throbbing with power as she grew rapidly large. "One day I broke Hell's puny chains and killed the Inquisitors that were torturing me. How shocked they were when I punched through their divine protections and beat them down into pulp... and how they begged when they saw... this." She grinned viciously and threw her head backwards, leaning back so that Killer got some respite from the fury of her parasitic "sons", who clawed uselessly at the air, no longer able to reach him. She spread her thighs and bucked with a hungry, delighted growl as her groin began to ripple and mutate... before an ungodly mass of black meat began to spill forth, slapping onto his devastated muzzle and pushing on over his forehead, then past the top of his skull, swelling larger and thicker and growing longer, and longer, and longer, and he felt it droop down behind his head, a veritable anaconda of black meat, slimy with a thick, dense mixture of precum and sweat. Enormous barbs and fleshy spikes grew out of the colossal shaft, grinding into him with cruel force as the awesome weight of her cock made him grunt as his damaged neck strained and seemed to burst on fire, such was the pain inside it.

Melissa laughed and licked her lips as she slowly bucked her hips, dragging that impossible length of black, powerful shaft back and forth over his face, skull, and past all of that, down his back. It was entirely unaroused but already impossibly massive and absurdly heavy, and the huge head at its end swelled enormously larger, growing into a monstrous, immense equine flare, but with thick, cruel barbs all around.

"Inspired by yours, stud... and by how you use yours. I greatly surpassed your past ability to crush unborn lives into mush and scrape all the bloody crap out. And I must admit... holy fuck, does it ever feel good." Melissa taunted, grinning widely and bucking as equally monstrous balls dropped heavily down in front of her vagina, smothering Killer's head and covering his whole face in their thick, sturdy sack, his muzzle trapped between those two huge orbs that thrummed and audibly churned with gallons of unholy, potent batter. She bucked teasingly into his face, filling his nose with the thick, brutal scent of her obscene virility, wearing a snarling grin as she said: "The supposedly mighty demon lords of Hell and the feared Inquisitors couldn't handle this much maleness. Puny sissy boys that they are... they don't even imagine what it is like to haul around this much virile power." Melissa cackled, then gripped the back of Killer's skull with both hands and dragged him forwards, burying his face all the harder between her monstrous, sweaty balls and turning around slightly to smirk teasingly at Thanathos, taunting: "And you...? Are you all scrawny and skeletal all over...? Wanna compare? Or are you too scared, huh...?"

Thanathos growled angrily at that, leaning forwards with a threatening glare, and Melissa laughed softly and seized the base of her colossal shaft, hefting it with an exaggerated grunt and then swinging it down on Killer's head, striking with heavy, majestic, meaty thwacks that made him shudder in fury, humiliation, horror. She gazed right into Thanathos's eyes, flaunting her massive cock and then stroking it hungrily, pumping out a thick river of precum. "That's a no, then. Another win for me." Melissa fearlessly taunted, before turning towards Killer to purr: "But you would compare with me, wouldn't you...? Yes, you are the fun one... the only real male in this disappointing little universe." She grunted as her monstrous cock throbbed powerfully and even more colossal length spilled out, her fingers spreading apart as her already tremendous girth grew even further, the spikes and barbs filling up and growing bigger and harder as she gazed down almost longingly at the flexing tentacle-tube, watching as it bobbed violently up and down as Killer's own gargantuan cock throbbed and grew erect, growing, stretching that cruel prison of mutant meat and rings of dark metal. "Getting hard, big boy...? Are you enjoying this, in the deep...? It's supposed to be a torture for an Alpha like you... but perhaps you are developing a bit of a liking for it, huh...? Oh, yeah, stud... let's get hard together... while the sissy watches on. Like it's the old times..." She teased, guiding his head up and down, forcing his face to grind into her massive balls, her other hand stroking her glorious, unholy cock as she gazed down at his member, licking her lips as the fleshy tube groaned and stretched, beginning to tear apart in places as Killer's huge cock swelled even larger... and ridges and spikes of his own suddenly tore through the sleeve in a burst of ugly, stinking, corrupt blood, exposing the rings of dark metal as they groaned audibly, struggling to contain the hypervirile shaft as it swelled and grew, thickened and grew. "Oh, fuck, yes!" Melissa exclaimed, grinning in delight and letting go of her member to reach down and teasingly, slowly caress one of the huge ridges on Killer's cock, before moving on to a mighty barb, tracing its profile. And she murred in something that was halfway between horror and delight as thick, dense, potent black batter began to leak out through the deep and enlarging wounds in the tentacle-tube. Killer's almighty, corruptive essence began to form thick, heavy ropes and it dripped and then cascaded down onto the ground, where immense discharges of electricity were immediately unleashed to kill the enormous sperms before they could get dangerous. Melissa hissed in pleasure-pain as the thick black sludge rolled over her fingers and made her flesh smolder, even her apparently liquid body of pure darkness reacting to the sheer potency of that precum, as the liger's own powerful brand of corruption immediately began to wrestle her own into submission.

"Oh, stud... you never disappoint... Oh, I want to compare. See that huge cock next to mine. You still have the edge, I think..." Melissa whispered, hungrily reaching down through a wound in the tube just so she could trace her fingers down the side of his immense shaft, gasping quietly as it throbbed and grew, pushing against her hand with incredible force. "Come on, stud... break this crappy condom apart. Show me how you grew up, big boy..."

"Are you crazy?" Thanathos exclaimed, glaring at her as he hissed: "The tube is staying on! Quit messing with that, and quit whoring out to him. You are here to torture him! You assured me you'd make him shriek in anguish, but you seem to be lusting after him like a schoolgirl. He destroyed your family and tore you apart; fuckin' show some of that hate!"

Melissa snorted in contempt at that, rolling her eyes and making a grimace, but she pulled back her smoldering hand as he had ordered. "You are such a whiny sissy-boy..." Melissa muttered, aiming her gigantic cock at the god of death and jerking off that monster right in front of his eyes, grinning as he shifted uncomfortably in his throne, his form crackling with black electricity as his rage brought more of his power forwards, and yet he seemed strangely intimidated around the two Mistresses. Melissa and Shanique were clearly more than "just" demonesses: they had been enhanced by the unholy mix of technology and ancient magic and practices that the RA had been perfecting. As demonesses they had been incredibly deadly, but now they had the power of real goddesses, enough to make even Thanathos hesitate and put up with their antics. Melissa brought a finger up in front of her lips and shushed the god of war, patronizingly ordering: "Let me do my job, sissy. Shut up and watch."

Killer couldn't help but smirk at that, remembering many funny and pleasant afternoons spent with Melissa, fucking in front of webcams and cuckolds of all sorts, beginning of course with her boyfriend and father of her unborn children. There were always long lists of eager losers who paid huge amounts just to be allowed into the room, to be used and abused and ridiculed. Melissa hadn't changed; if anything she had grown even more impatient with losers, ready to punish them and tease them without any shame, fear or mercy. He wondered whether he could somehow win her back, and turn her into an ally. If she could just tear Requiem Aeternam out of his chest, he was confident he could overpower all other restraints and break free almost with ease. He was aware that, despite her teasing antics she was hellbent on getting revenge, but still... what had he to lose, at that point?

"We can be together again, Melissa... just like in the past. But this time we can make the god of war our sissy bitch." Killer teased, kissing her powerful thighs with slow, sensual movements, dragging his tongue along the mighty quads and savoring the streaks of hot juice running down them. Thanathos growled at that, his eyes shrinking to fissures full of hate, but he didn't move and Melissa smirked at him knowingly, waving her immense spiked shaft from side to side before viciously smacking it on Killer's head, then on his face, on both cheeks, before she tilted her head sideways and countered: "It is an alluring idea... a funny image to think about. But we were together, we enjoyed our time, we could have everything we wanted. And you betrayed me. Stabbed me in the back. Turned our friendship into a nightmare. Do you really think I want to give you another chance...?"

"You know it by yourself... out there you'll find just weak bitch-boys like him." Killer teased in a hoarse whisper, planting kisses on her huge quad and then nuzzling under her massive balls to drag his tongue over her dripping sex... and Melissa laughed and nodded, growling: "Yeah, you are right on that... there are only losers. Not a single man worth of the name... just sissies with teeny weeny little shriveled dicks. Bitches so useless and weak that there's not even fun to had raping them into pieces."

"I could still fuck you to exhaustion. I could still be the beast that gives you satisfaction." Killer reminded, and Melissa purred teasingly but then shifted her position a bit, pulling herself up until she could force his muzzle directly against her sweaty crack, forcing him to lick at a flexing, muscular hole that was clearly used hard and often... but probably not by males. Melissa had an extremely low and cruel opinion of males, with only one exception... one exception that she hated to no end, however. No, Killer thought, she and Shanique took care of each other's hungers. The mare took on the same demonic appearance as Melissa: her body grew even taller and stronger, bulging with muscles but also covered in huge wounds in the back and in the chest and belly, everywhere his immense black shaft had torn right though her poor body, destroying it. A cracked sabertooth skeleton took shape over her features, and huge horns pushed out of her sides of her head as a multitude of glowing, incandescent scars became evident all over her form.

And as she spread her powerful legs with a low chuckle, Killer saw as her own massive cock pushed into view, flopping majestically down between her thighs and dangling heavily well past her knees, the fat and incredibly wide equine flare almost touching the ground as she walked. That unholy, colossal monster-cock was the responsible for the gaping of Melissa's ass, there could be no doubts about it... and Shanique probably had even looser holes, considering that Melissa's godlike member was even bigger and stronger. "Just grab the scythe. Yank it out for me." Killer whispered, and Melissa smiled widely, stroking a finger down his cheek and reaching down to grip the long, massive pole of Requiem Aeternam, gritting her fangs as the weapon irritably zapped her with dark energy, but all but leaning her back down into it, lasciviously grinding herself into it in a slow, sensual dance. "This one right here...? All I have to do is pull it out, and all will be like in the old days...?" Melissa whispered, while Thanathos began to stand up from his throne, growling in fury and opening his mouth to bark something at the Inquisitor. Killer nodded and whispered: "Do it and we will have everything we could and should have enjoyed together."

"Oh, that is so alluring..." Melissa purred, twisting her body sideways to slowly lick the bloodied pole of Requiem Aeternam, grabbing it with both hands and beginning to ever so slowly tug at it... before teasingly murring: "But should I...? You are a bad, bad boy. To set you free wouldn't be smart, would it...?"

"Please." Killer prayed, and he hated the needy, begging tone that came out of his mouth, at least as much as she loved it, savoring it, licking her lips as she gave the huge scythe another light tug and commanded: "Beg again. Beg mistress Melissa."

Killer muttered inwardly and squeezed his mouth shut, his pride revolting at the way she was playing with him... but the rational part of him urged him to play along, to give it a shot, as unlikely as it was. "Please, mistress Melissa. Yank it out for me, I beg you."

"Hearing you begging is just so sweet...!" The ghepard snickered, and she yanked Requiem perhaps an inch forwards before stopping and purring: "More, stud. I need more."

"Please, mighty mistress. Be good to me and I'll give you all you want." Killer replied, his eyes darting towards Thanathos, who was standing in front of his throne, fuming, glaring murderously at Melissa as black electricity crackled around him, and yet he hesitated, not stopping her yet, seemingly intimidated by Shanique's aura of flames-like darkness which danced and crackled around her while she stroked her immense shaft with both hands, legs spread wide and massive balls hanging low, ponderous and thrumming with virile power, stinking of such masculine presence that the god of death seemed afraid to get any closer.

Melissa yanked hard on Requiem, and Killer shuddered violently and grunted in agony as blood exploded out of the horrible breach in his chest, his life fluids splattering all over her muscular body and into her hungry mouth as she stretched out her tongue in welcome. "That's right, boy... beg. Beg your empress. Stud or not, you'll never again stand at my same height, and less than ever will you ever look down at me again. I know now... I am better than all of you males. I'm stronger and more virile than you'll ever be, the lot of you. I was stupid back then, and I allowed you to puppet me, and to betray me... but not anymore!" She grinned, her fangs seeming to glow pure white in the darkness, her eyes two soulless, merciless pits as she held Requiem's pole in one hand, ignoring the angry electricity tearing up her arm and which only seemed to cause her great muscles to flex and bulge out in full glory, while her other hand grasped her monstrous member, stroking it slowly, mockingly, urging more of that mammoth malehood to spill forth as it grew to its titanic proportions. The two demonic goddesses grinned as they played with both gods at once, forcing them to stare at their immense cocks as they bulged and grew out and out, heavy and massive, ending in equine flares that were impossibly, hellishly large and contoured by cruel barbs.

The two fat, hellish shafts reeked of masculine power and of decay, death, filth: through the darkness that seemed to make up their bodies, ruin and decay and filth emerged in thick, concrete-like crusts. Thick, poisonous sweat-pre oozed out of the almighty cocks, pushing away the heavy crusts and then dangling from the pulsing, veiny black meat, mixing with thick ropes of cockslime and precum and smegma washed away from the fat, massive head of those unholy, impossible hypercocks. Stained with the disgusting remains of uncountable victims, filthy and unwashed, the two great members bulged with a series of infected wounds and blisters that leaked horrid pus, and from the vast, gaping cock-maws leaked enormous ropes of dark precum that was filled with huge parasitic sperms, almost as terrible as Killer's own massive beasts, and also crawled with actual bugs and hellish parasites, like massive centipedes that pushed out of the great hole. "I don't even need to push inside a bitch to destroy her children and shatter her body. My parasites can do the job on their own..." Melissa proudly explained, squeezing a huge chunk of the bug-like beasts and of her cruel sperms out of her massive member. "I'm better than you in every way!" Melissa sneered, allowing her fat cock to ponderously swing down, the massive, fat, heavy head smashing wetly and disgustingly on top of Killer's head, the underside of the monstrous shaft completely smothering his features as the impact made his neck creak and crushed all wind out of him. Then the humongous tower of dark meat ponderously rose up as it grew even further, throbbing angrily. It tried to rise skywards, but it was so enormous, so heavy, that it couldn't stand, but just support its own immensity, growing outwards, stretching out and out, more and more, foot after foot, meter after meter, the hellish member slightly angled downwards, bent by its own absurd weight.

Melissa snorted steam out of her nostrils and grinned viciously as she teasingly stroked her immensity with one hand, slime and burbling ooze dripping from it while her spectacular body thrummed and flexed: muscles bulged with unstoppable, evil power and the Inquisitor mark burned bright in their shoulders, seemingly filled with fire. "I'm better than you. I'm the Alpha predator now, and you the prey." Melissa said, speaking softly as she gazed down at his own monstrous tower of hypervirile flesh, jutting ahead of him, impossible and terrible, omnipotent and limitless as it throbbed angrily and swelled so much that a couple of spiked metal rings snapped apart like toys, while the mutant flesh of the tube stretched and ripped apart, unable to contain that monstrous girth... and with his excitement running high, Killer's cock blasted out even more monstrous loads of larger, stronger, more terrible sperms., so much so that one of the great silos in the laboratory cracked and then overflowed as its armoured top was simply forced out of place and washed away. Immediately, one of the rebellious Horrors rushed in that direction and eagerly bathed itself in that cascade of pure, terrifying power, growing rapidly, exponentially, evolving its form so rapidly that Cerberus and the alien gods had no idea how to contrast the beast as it grew immense, his back pushing against the roof and tearing into it when enormous, curved blades and spikes of bone jutted out of his armoured form, his hulking muscles swelling enormously as he caught three terrified gods in one hand and crushed them into pulp, squishing them like rotten tomatoes. His goliath body was augmented by chaotic growths of fangs of bone that jutted out of his body along with a multitude of tremendous tentacles as well as swollen growths, leaking nodes full of pure, terrible corruption which pumped through enormous tube-like veins stretched out over his hulking muscles. The irrational, terrible chaos of his evolution only ever made the beast more lethal, ripples of energy causing the world to tremble and reality to shiver in terror as the gods and mutants closer to him were rapidly consumed, crushed into splatters of pulp by the rippling shockwaves of energy coming from him.

Killer found new hopes in that sight, but the relief was short lived because Melissa suddenly drove Requiem Aeternam back deep inside his body, the back of the blade all but ramming into his beating heart, causing his breath to break apart and become a gargle as his own blood filled his throat. She leaned forwards with a growl of delight and vengeful fury, grabbing him by the skull and forcing him to look up at her as she muttered: "Pathetic of you to even try. Did you ever think I'd forget what you did to me...? I will never forget and I will never forgive. I don't want the old days back... I want these days! I love my present! I should almost thank you, because your violence was what got me into Hell, by corrupting me, by filling me with sick lust and endless wrath. You gave me the chance to become what I am now... and gods, I'd gladly live through all that agony again to get even just one tenth of my current power." She paused, smirking down at him with that weird, fearsome mix of adoration and utter hate, and she hissed: "But then I remember how much of a traitorous bastard you were to me, when I had given you everything. And I no longer want to thank you. I just want to break you, and get as much fun as possible out of you."

She smacked her filthy cock on his face and growled: "Lick it, pet. And you'll better make it good."

Melissa and Shanique traded a look, and the mare stomped forwards on her heavy hooves, grinning viciously as she walked around the great tower of yellow crystal, getting behind him. He looked at her with horror with the corner of his eye, and the mare smirked widely and stroked her immense, terrible, stinking cock, taunting: "Don't worry, asshole. I'm so good at it that you'll become addicted to it. Eventually."

"Shanique will go first, get you nice and ready for me." Melissa teasingly announced, licking her lips as she added: "I've waited a lot for this day, and I can wait a little longer. I want to savor each minute of my revenge, making you my bitch...! And I'm sure you know why Shanique has to be the first one..." Melissa hefted her colossal black cock and stroked it slowly, flaunting its enormous proportions. "I'm much bigger, much thicker. If I went first, I'd totally ruin you for her..."

"You bitch..." Killer hissed, glaring at her with hate, but she only grinned sharkishly and snarled: "With what you did to me, you really shouldn't dare speaking." The muscular herm smacked her heavy cock on his bloodied face, slapping him roughly as a thick rope of dark, disgusting slime burst out, a mix of corruptive precum and diseased piss carrying large chunks of smegma.

She dragged her enormous shaft over his head, smearing that thick gunk all over him, and then she reached eagerly down to grasp the slimy godshaft, squeezing hard into it and guiding it against his toothless mouth, grinning widely as she forced his sore jaws apart and rammed forwards with a grunt, flexing as she buried her behemoth monster deep down his throat, grabbing the back of his skull and yanking him hard forwards as his jaws loudly snapped and cracked. His eyes bulged in horror and fury, glaring into hers with a ferocity that caused energy to crackle between them with a violent roar of thunder... but a violet barrier flashed into being around her and she cackled, throwing her head backwards with a shout of delight and cruel amusement while ramming her powerful hips forwards, squeezing his head between her huge quads, a vice of terrible strength that kept him helplessly pinned in place.

"You think me stupid, stud...? I'm well protected, by my own power and by that of my allies. How did you say to me...?" She faked intense concentration, thinking hard, before grinning and snapping her fingers as she exclaimed: "Oh, but sure! Struggle, bitch! Scream, whore! Cry your heart out! You only make it even better for me!"

Killer's mouth had been savaged so brutally that he couldn't quite taste her vile horsecock and the filth on it, but the consistence of the slime covering it and the sheer immensity of it and the fact that he was being invaded, raped, forced to suck rather than receive head at his leisure, were more than enough to make him gargle and then vomit helplessly around that monstrosity as it rammed deep down his throat, flexing in his jaws, the massive flare already thrusting against his stomach, forcing his ribs to creak as they were pushed outwards. Acidic vomit mixed with blood and chunks of filth burst out of the corners of his mouth and forced out of even his nostrils, only encouraging Melissa to yank him forwards even harder, forcing his head to meet her powerful thrust as her monstrous member throbbed in his throat as she made short, cruel pistons that caused him to retch up again, eyes rolling back in his head as his hands instinctively attempted to clench into fists even as the stakes buried through them tore his flesh and bones apart.

Shanique gripped his firm, muscular ass, clawing into his buttocks and forcing them wide apart, and she laughed darkly while pushing her hard, behemoth shaft against his virginal hole. He felt a terrible thickness shoving slowly against him, a colossal flare forcing his buttocks apart as she grunted and pushed slowly, beginning to force that gargantuan thickness into him. He groaned in loathing and fear, uselessly trying to step away from that enormous flare, but a moment later he felt agony tearing through him as she shoved forwards, and he couldn't help but howl she violated him, her monstrous horsecock seeming endless as it tore into his tailhole, ripping it apart, sending blood cascading down his legs as she reached around him to claw into his hips, snarling like a feral beast as she flexed her great muscles and smashed her tremendous girth forwards, bulldozing her way inside and then yanking back with savage force, gaping him and making room for a deluge of vile fluids bursting out of her member, her dark precum, the thick smegma and even the centipede-like parasites, huge and insatiable, which he could feel crawling inside him and beginning to bite into his flesh and insides, his savaged abdomen bulging outwards horribly as she buried that titanic member up into his guts.

"This is more like it...!" Thanathos approved, but the two muscular herms, high on power and on ungodly amounts of testosterone raging in their muscular, flexing bodies, turned towards him and snorted almost in unison: "Shut up, sissy, or you'll be next!" Beasts of lust and wrath, turned into goddesses by unholy practices that were as forbidden as they were monstrous, Melissa and Shanique literally grew stronger with every savage rape, and sex filled them with energies that crackled audibly around their hulking forms, their muscles bulging so massive that even the god of death didn't dare countering their insults. That only emboldened them even further, both herms grinning viciously and clawing into Killer with feral, savage hunger as they began to ram him from both ends, and Killer felt their spikes and barbs scraping his insides, tearing, ripping, blood leaking from both his mouth and his rear as they kept picking up speed and force, slamming their muscular hips forwards with phenomenal strength.

Melissa squeezed his skull so hard that he felt like it would burst apart at any moment, pain filling his consciousness and drowning out everything else, with the exception of Shanique's own behemoth monster tearing up into his guts, the monstrous cocks grinding together within his torn-open chest as the two herms snarled and seemed to battle it out within his ruined form, sending gallons of thick black gunk and gore and blood leaking and cascading out of the horrendous breach in his chest. He screamed raggedly, but it came out as only another sick, wet gargle around Melissa's goliath cock as her massive balls smacked into his chin and chest, hammering him with brutal force and sending thick splatters of mixed, vile juices arching high up in the air. Shanique's pair of huge testicles smashed violently into his own with a thunderous, ceaseless tattoo as the two ferocious herms clawed into his body, tore into him, reached into his guts and pulled out long ropes of intestine to wrap themselves in them, to gorge on his insides as they kissed and then greedily bit into his flesh, ripping off large chunks of meat that they chewed slowly, loudly, right in his face. It seemed to go on for an eternity, the pain growing worse and worse, and all he could see was Melissa's huge shaft pumping in and out of his bloodied mouth, and her abs flexing with power as she rammed brutally down her throat, her solid muscles smashing into his nose over and over again as she somehow hilted into him... and he barely realized that her enormous cock pushed all the way out through the wound in his chest, grinding against Shanique's one ripping into him from below, the two members wrapped in a messy pulp of crushed guts and gore.

He didn't know how long it was before Melissa suddenly tore her huge cock out of him, and Shanique did the same, leaving him trembling as he felt a gush of blood and gunk and sick, ugly fluids cascading out of him before the two herms traded places, their feet stomping violently onto his own gigantic cock... which somehow, traitorously, refused to go back to flaccidity, pumping out instead a literal deluge of corruptive, almighty precum that the ripped, damaged tentacle-tube struggled to convey towards the laboratory, twisting up and down as it bulged around the huge blasts of dark, hypervirile batter.

Shanique's powerful thighs were as beautiful as they were deadly, and he grunted in agony as they squeezed around his head, locking him in place after what had felt like a mere second of respite, a mere hint of a much needed relief. He hadn't even had the time to clear up his mind enough to spit out the gunk clogging his mouth and throat that already the mare was leaning down over him, a snarl of pleasure on her features as she guided her bloodied, filthy shaft to his mouth, ramming it inside. "Straight from your ass, vermin. So you'll better suck it extra hard and good, and clean it up from your filth." The mare snarled, before savagely driving her monstrous shaft deep down his throat, the huge member thicker than a tree and lined with large conical spikes of flesh that was as hard as diamond. And yet, as enormous as it was, it was immediately evident that Melissa's monster was truly another kind of beast, far, far thicker and with a massive flare that was truly scary. He shivered as she felt Melissa drive that huge flare against his bleeding asshole, and she ground it teasingly in to make it clear that, no matter how badly he was gaping because of Shanique's brutal rape, his hole was still almost ludicrously small compared to that godless beast of a cock.

And then it rammed up inside him, and his whole body was hefted upwards, so much so that his toes almost lost contact with the ground even though the stakes buried through his limbs kept him crucified in place, with very little room for any real movement. He moaned in agony, eyes rolling back in his head as they resumed their savage rhythm and Melissa broke him apart with her monstrous member, obliterating every sign of Shanique's rape by stretching him out so much worse, and her cruel barbs and spikes tearing into his guts and maiming his insides.

The mare did her best, however, and she seized him by the sides of the head to ram her cock into his abnormally wide mouth, shattering his lower jaw as she shoved her massive member down into his stomach, choking him on the gargantuan girth, making him seek refuge inside his own mind as he felt his body tearing and ripping apart as both herms shoved forwards. He gargled when Shanique rammed forth with a snarl, bending her monstrous shaft down his throat until her balls smacked into his chin... and immediately she began to pound it in and out, back and forth, viciously yanking on his hair and clawing into his scalp, his throat bulging with every pass of her ungodly cock, feeling as if his body was being destroyed from the inside-out as she violated him mercilessly.

Thanathos laughed, savoring every moment of that savage show, and Killer shielded his mind as best he could, isolating himself from the outside world and from much of his own body as everything became agony and humiliation, distaste and hate. It became impossible to measure time, that inferno tormenting him ceaselessly... but then, suddenly, the whole prison rattled violently and the crystal wall showing the laboratory audibly cracked, slivers falling off it, and Killer's gaze turned in that direction to see a titanic Horror smashing a bunch of alien gods into the wall, crushing them like bugs, their pulped remains rapidly dissolving, absorbed within him. Thanathos and even the savage herms looked up at that, gaping in shock... and almost in the same moment the door to the cell opened and Cerberus stormed inside, eyes open wide, his armor in tatters and his body covered in wounds and splatters of thick, black, corruptive essence. The tiger glared at the two goddesses, muttering something that Killer didn't understand, and then Cerberus turned against Thanathos and grabbed him by the chest, slamming him back against the fleshy wall. "What the hell are you doing, you useless piece of shit? Where the hell are you while the alarm keeps blaring and all Hell breaks loose? Come help me, idiot, before it is too late!"

Thanathos half-babbled, half-snarled an answer, justifying himself, but Cerberus didn't really listen, shoving him towards the door instead, urging him to join the fight, before turning towards Killer with an expression that was halfway between hate and admiration, disbelief and fury. "You bastard... even while tied down like this you are still not tamed. Still dangerous." The tiger angrily hissed, before barking: "Help me here. The tube must come off right away!"

Thanathos and Cerberus hurriedly seized the tentacle-tube, and Killer realized why as she gazed through the damaged crystal and saw the Horrors smashing the silos into pieces and bathing in the almighty black batter, which more than anything else fueled their strength and their endless, corrupt evolution, making them gigantic and unstoppable, invincible incarnations of war which did not fear pain and death but instead only became stronger by exploiting both. With Killer's excitement and his full, glorious erection had come greater and more powerful deluges of black precum and cockslime, and the Horrors were drawn to the stuff like flies to honey. Whenever they managed to absorb some of the dark sludge, their bodies instantaneously redoubled in strength and size, putting the alien gods in a terrifying position, driving them back towards the wall. Cerberus himself had clearly been manhandled rather viciously, and that was enough to make Killer's eyes glint in amusement and pleasure, even though the agony he was living.

"You won't find it funny for long." Cerberus venomously muttered, catching sight of that light, and he clawed into the tentacle-tube, squeezing it hard and then yanking it back without unfastening the many rings of spiked metal and the many circular "jaws" of ragged spikes and blades buried into Killer's cock.

Killer shuddered violently, his back arching with such force that he nearly tore free from the column of yellow crystal even though it meant that all the stakes and nails buried through his flesh dug deeper and crudely widened each wound. He let out a roar of agony around Shanique's massive cock, and the mare grunted as he threw his head back, bending her great shaft and nearly bucking her off him. She clenched her thighs around his head, blocking him in place with a snarl and punching him in the eye with all her terrible force, snarling: "Shut up and suck it, bitch! Don't you try to move another inch!"

But Killer barely noticed her hit, such was the torment coming from his goliath cock, horribly gouged by the spikes that tore through his hard meat for almost all of its great length. Blood and dark juices cascaded out of the horrendous wounds, and yet his body somehow found excitement, even some pleasure, even in the middle of that agony. Lust continued to rampage in his hulking form as all his muscles flexed and bulged with explosive force, and his behemoth cock throbbed hungrily and all but blasted out another meteor of thick, corruptive black batter that fired across the cell and smacked into the fleshy wall, beginning to corrupt and mutate the flexing, moving tendrils of muscle and meat.

Cerberus glared at that with a grimace, once more impressed by Killer's sheer potency, and he angrily hissed to the two Inquisitors: "Make sure he is contained! And then you'll better get the hell out. I don't know what you whores think you can do, but even in this state he is dangerous, and you bitches are nowhere near ready to deal with him!"

Melissa and Shanique glared at him at that, baring their glowing fangs and hissing words of pure hate, but Cerberus snorted and ignored them, bad-temperedly throwing the tentacle-tube down to the floor and then seizing Thanathos by the shoulder, shoving him violently towards the door. "Get a move on, you lazy bastard! We have a bit of a situation to fix!"

The two gods rushed out of the cell and closed the multiple doors and barriers behind them, leaving Killer alone with the two furious herms and his pain.

"Arrogant asshole. There is nothing worse than a sissy-boy suddenly emboldened by an injection of undeserved power. He's still every bit as squeaky as he was before, the little pindick!" Melissa muttered, glaring past Killer's side and at the closed door as if she could see Cerberus though it. Shanique rumbled low in her throat, grimacing in distaste and nodding in agreement as they both chose to ignore the tiger's warnings, their muscles flexing as they hammered their goliath cocks home inside Killer's tormented body.

"You are an even worse bastard, but I have to give it to you... you are a whole different breed. You are a man... they are, at most, boys." Melissa purred, not with any kind of affection or kindness but with a mix of true respect and lust. "All they can do is bore me to death and irritate me. You, on the other hand... oh, you truly do make my blood boil..."

Killer closed his eyes and braced for further agony as he felt her strong arms reaching around his waist, her hands stroking down the bloodied sides of his monstrous black shaft, her claws teasing the sensitive, hard flesh as she gripped into his goliath girth as best she could. "Yes... unlike them, you've got big balls. You don't have to pretend... you got it. You can be more of a monster than us, than them, than anyone else is..."

Melissa flicked a shred of dark meat that dangled from the side of a deep, ugly wound torn in the side of his gigantic black cock, and even though he grunted in pain, his behemoth shaft throbbed hungrily and flexed, seeming to swell even greater as he blasted another huge load of unholy, black precum.

Melissa laughed in dark delight at that, and clawed into the dangling, bloodied piece of meat, making him growl in pain and rage... before she yanked it right off his member, sending blood spurting out in a thick jet while his eyes opened wide and rolled downwards to stare in horror as she brought the chunk of meat to her mouth and slurped it in, wrapping her demonic tongue around it. She savored the thick meat with a murr of delight, then took it between her fangs and grinned up at him, her eyes flashing with cruel entertainment as she slowly began to chew on it, at the same time seizing her small breasts and fondling them hungrily, moaning in pure ecstasy. He glared at her, furious and disgusted by the wet sound of her chewing, but that only made her grin wider as she purred: "I've always loved your strong taste... it just screams Male! And I love the fact that even after all we did to you... you are still sane. Cold, even. And there even seems to be... admiration, in your eyes. What's that, stud...? You approve of our methods? You inspired them."

Shanique grinned widely as she pulled herself up, abs flexing powerfully as she reached forwards and gripped his muzzle, her eyes glowing as she teased: "You made us what we are today... literally. And I see both hate and approval in your eyes... pain and lust almost in equal measure. And your cock gives away your excitement..."

"That's what makes you so hot, so alluring... so fun!" Melissa exclaimed, grinning sharkishly as she began to stroke his immense black cock, pumping it hungrily, almost violently, timing the movements of her hands with the hard shoves of her hips, pounding his ass with savage force and, grinding her body forwards with greedy hunger and cursing the pillar of yellow crystal that prevented her from making direct contact with his broad, mighty back. She growled in delight, picking up even more speed and hissing in bliss as she felt an enormous tidal wave of his black precum surging inside his wounded, savaged but unrelenting cock, before she licked at her lips at the size and might of that deluge of onyx batter. "Anybody else would have shattered hours ago. Anybody else would be crying like a baby, begging for mercy... but your eyes, your body, your cock... you want to keep playing. You want to turn the table on us. You even manage to admire and approve our strength, our ferocity, our hunger..."

Melissa growled in delight, throwing her head back with a cry of bliss... and then she stepped backwards, ripping her colossal shaft out of his ravaged hole, laughing at the cascade of blood and black gunk that exploded out of him as her immense cock swung upwards a bit before slapping down on his solid buttocks. "You are persistent. You are a monster... and trying to break a monster is hard. It takes time... and that's what makes it so good."

Killer could only reply with his eyes, glaring down at her with a challenge, warning her that she just couldn't break him... and part of him silently rejoiced, realizing that she was about to commit a huge mistake.

His body reacted by tensing in a supreme effort, granting him new strength even as the chains, Requiem, the Seals, the yellow crystal all conjured to drain him down to exhaustion. His cock throbbed powerfully, hungrily, bloodied and savaged and yet harder than perhaps ever before, with few exceptions. He was being challenged in his own domain and he was determined not to lose.

"I know what I have to do with you, Stud... the only thing that will break you. I will rape you in another way..." Melissa softly said, walking back in front of him and sensually swaying her hips as she walked along the length of his goliath shaft, dragging her fingers over the cruel ridges of his cock, around the thick base of curved barbs and solid spikes, until she turned slowly and delightfully around, giving him a cruel grin as she showed off her strong, beautiful body, lowering her vagina towards the bulging, enormous head of his shaft. Her spiked, monstrous, cruel sex leaked incandescent juice, more terrible than magma and more addictive than any drug. Fangs lined her labia and her vagina flexed and opened almost like a set of jaws, half-biting into his sensitive cockhead as she hungrily growled: "I will rape you so hard that you'll grow to fear pussy. You'll never be able to get near a female again... and in fact, I might make you into a girl yourself. You survived the tube, but your pee-pee isn't going to come out of me in one piece." She grinned sharkishly, flexing her powerful musculature, and her tremendous vagina clenched with terrifying force, the fangs sticking out of it ripping deep into Killer's cockhead... but the huge male only growled gamely, doing his best to ignore the pain altogether as he rammed forwards with his hips, spearing into her sex and making her stumble backwards with a grunt of surprise.

"Melissa, this... this is not a good idea." Shanique cautioned, turning around to gaze at the fellow herm with concern, but the ghepard shushed her, growling: "Don't be a sissy like Dumb and Dumber. I've got this. We've got this."

Oh, no. You really don't. Killer thought, and his eyes glowed with newfound energy and even eagerness, his body burning with lust even though pain cursed through his entire form and the wounds in his cock burned like inferno, pulsing in a way that made his very mind shudder. It was going to be agonizing and torturous, but somehow that only made his colossal shaft throb all the harder as the horrendous wounds tormenting it began to visibly seal shut, his regeneration focusing on that area of his body as flexed his hulking musculature and rumbled around the length of vile, massive cock buried down his throat.

The muscular female only clawed into his monstrous black shaft, yanking on it with violent force and digging her claws into the gigantic beast of a cock, but he was harder than diamond and she barely managed to rip through his foreskin, peeling it back fully to reveal his enormous head. She clawed into it with vicious force and made the sensitive head bleed, but Killer only growled with merciless hunger, flexing powerfully as his monstrous, corrupt cock pulsated towards its full godlike length, swelling even greater as the already massive head widened all around, forming almost a brutal equine flare, oversized and terrible, lined with thick barbs, powerful and curved downwards, which would go in relatively smoothly, but would be hellish whenever he pistoned backwards. The shaft itself healed with amazing rapidity now as Killer's eyes burned with vicious eagerness and his hulking body flexed, wounded and savaged but still full of immense, impossible power as the almighty black member jumped a bit, flexing ponderously as it hardened even further, its ridges growing large and sharp.

"Melissa..." Shanique again warned, looking down at the gigantic god with concern, her eyes widening as she gazed at the monstrous and ever-growing tower of hypervirility jutting forth from him, swallowing thickly at the sight of the growing ridges, at the realization that despite all the torture and savagery, it already was healthier than ever. "Shut up!" Melissa retorted, her own hulking body flexing with power as she teasingly manhandled that monstrous girth in her hands, squeezing and kneading across the monumental cock, her huge muscles flexing and bulging as she teased the cock in her hands, as her fingers slid teasingly across that fat, slimy cockhead, before trailing towards the eagerly gaping maw of his cock, idly sliding two thick fingers into that hungry cockslit, which effortlessly devoured them right down to the knuckles. Killer grinned hungrily as her thick fingers were sucked in, his great cock flexing powerfully around them, squeezing violently and almost pulling in her entire hand as it flexed with irrational, terrifying power.

"Is that a challenge, stud...?" Melissa teasingly purred, brutally forcing her whole hand in, balling it into a fist and shoving as deep as she could in one powerful blow, but the dark god only rumbled and flexed his mighty form as that monstrous member throbbed and flexed, easily taking in her fist and then much of her muscular arm, spurting out thick, black, corruptive precum filled with sperms so huge and aggressive, coated in such terribly potent fluid that they burned scars over her body, their long, spiked tails whipping long gashes on her muscles even as the divine barrier protecting her glowed violet and crackled angrily.

His monstrous shaft flexed, thickening, widening, and yet barely hard at all: that infinite black serpent thrummed and throbbed, great veins pulsing across its humongous length and the ridges becoming even more brutal as his great testicles pulsed, seeming to throb larger with every moment that passed.

Killer growled around Shanique's member, his eyes flashing with dark amusement, answering Melissa's question with more clarity than words could... and then he twisted sideways a little, causing his leviathan of a cock to smack loudly into hers, and Melissa realized just how monstrously massive his ridged cock was, dwarfing even her immense member, making it look almost small. From where she stood she did not have enough length to reach his enormous, spiked medial ring and her monstrous girth was almost ridiculed by the fat, colossal mass of his shaft.

Melissa stared at the mind-blowing comparison for a long moment, and although her darkness couldn't quite flush, her white, soulless eyes still betrayed her awe as she let out little hot breaths... before growling as she seized into the monstrous cock with her free hand, yanking it brutally, jerking it off with bruising force while she slammed her fist deep inside his member, her huge biceps swelling with power as a light sheen of sweat rolled down her muscles. "Oh, yes... we can always count on you to deliver..." Melissa hungrily growled, before ripping her arm out of his cock, digging her claws into the flexing, muscular walls of the enormous sperm channel, making Killer shudder violently and grunt in pain-pleasure. Her fist pulled out with a loud, scary "pop" and was followed by a gush-blast of black precum which fired across the prison and smacked violently into the fleshy wall, coating it in thick, omnivirile batter that immediately began to corrupt, warp, destroy and rebuild, covering the wall in fleshy vines and tentacles that rapidly grew longer and thicker. Shanique gazed at that with a mix of delight and horror, her jaw dropping as she panted hotly and gave a few shorter, harder, almost-convulsive thrusts down Killer's throat, feeling her whole body burning with lust and tingling with a mix of awe and fear as she felt his power rippling through the air and his enormous muscles thrummed and flexed, bulging against her, grinding into her strong form and filling her with need.

Melissa grinned widely, licking her glowing fangs and eagerly spreading her muscular legs, her vagina beautiful and terrifying at the same time, her labia tantalizing and wonderful, wet and glistening, almost steaming with her arousal, but also jutting with cruel, steely fangs and spikes. Her sex blossomed open, her huge quads bulging with power as she half-squatted and guided his monstrous cockhead against her fanged lips, which pulled open grotesquely, looking truly like a mouth now... only a monstrous one, lined with an infinite succession of ragged, cruel teeth. "You are always so proud of yourself, huh? You arrogant bastard. Always acting like everything is yours, like everyone should kiss your ass. Well, just think of this as a chance to show me just how big and tough you really are!"

She flexed her mighty muscles and stepped forwards with a growl, grasping his immense shaft with both hands and going her best to guide the almighty pillar of dark meat against her deadly labia, which opened wide, grotesquely wide as her sex clenched with brutal force. A single flex of her muscles could have severed a lesser male's virility like a blade of grass, but Killer's enormous member was harder than steel and he all but rammed forwards with his hips, smashing his fat, colossal head into her passage.

She let out a snort of steam at the amazing feeling of that titanic member bulldozing its way in, and her powerful legs flexed as she stepped forwards and impaled herself onto him, letting out a pleased growl even as his monstrous flare stretched her hole savagely wide, making her stumble backwards with a grunt that became a long, drawn-out snarl as the monstrous flared head rammed entirely inside her, so thick that it caused a rivulet of blood to leak out. Her thighs were forced outwards even further, spread almost unbearably wide as his monstrous girth stretched her out, the massive head already pushing into her belly from the inside, causing her muscular abdomen to bulge outwards like she was pregnant. She gritted her fangs, panting steam out of her nostrils as she pushed forwards again, burying even more of his unholy, monstrous shaft inside her. She flexed her mighty thighs, huge quads bulging explosively as she used all of his strength to squeeze the monster cock, her deadly fangs and spikes tearing into his hard meat and sending his blood bursting out of her passage. Killer arched his back and roared in pain, tearing his arms forwards so violently that he nearly ripped free of the strakes buried through his hand, wrist, bicep. His body instinctively jerked and trashed, attempting to pull away from the incredible force of that pussy, which clenched around his girth with enough force to cut through steel. He felt countless spikes and blades and ragged teeth digging into his hard flesh, grinding into it, scratching and cutting and maiming like handfuls of pieces of glass and sharp metal wreckage were being smeared all over his cockhead, his sensitive foreskin, and the very top of his gigantic shaft. He blinked several times, chasing back the tears that threatened to cascade out, and even though his heart thudded violently inside his blown-open chest, he growled and used all the force he could muster while nailed to the cross, ramming his titanic member deeper inside her, making her grunt in surprise and pain as a first enormous ridge tore into her, his girth causing her pelvis to creak audibly as the bulge in her abdomen became even more terrifying.

She hissed through gritted fangs and shoved herself further down his goliath length, causing a hiss of agony to escape his mouth even as Shanique's brutal thrusts jammed his screams in his throat.

"With the teeny weeny sissy-boys out there, the fun at this point would already be over." Melissa growled, even though her chest heaved visibly and her eyes watered, her abs distending grotesquely as his colossal girth stretched her body out of shape. She slowly drew back, and the agony flared up to indescribable levels as the uncountable little barbs and hooks and blades inside her clenching passage plowed deep, bloody, terrible furrows along his cock as she grinned at the sight of his suffering.

She began to move herself slowly, teasingly up and down his enormous member, torturing the last few feet of that glorious, immense column of hypervirility, sending streaks of blood running down his length and growling in pleasure as she studied every twitch of agony of his features. Immediately, Killer roared and slammed forwards even harder, tearing deeper inside her, eyes flashing with savage pleasure as he felt himself ripping through something and heard her bones cracking as she was almost hefted off the ground before her mighty legs flexed and her toe-talons dug into the floor as she let out a cry of agony and surprise. "But you... you are different... you are powerful... you always have something more to give..." Melissa hissed, her voice caught halfway between a hateful tone and an admiring one, and she gyrated her hips and began to ride him harder, clawing into the enormous shaft that still remained out of her deadly sex while bouncing up and down with a violent pace, her perfect buttocks spread out insanely wide by his tremendous girth. Killer cursed the stakes and chains and nails keeping him pinned down, because they reduced his room for manoeurvre, but all of his muscles flexed and bulged as he rammed forwards with his hips, burying more of his titanic member into her impossibly tight, brutally strong passage, and her body bulged tremendously as his cock filled her up so viciously that blood and gore leaked out of her, while the absurd bulge in her belly became more and more monstrous, his cruel spikes and ridges pushing outwards and beginning to rip her muscles and skin apart. Melissa grinned insanely even as she gargled on her own blood, her eyes flashing as she rocked herself viciously and down his terrifying length, snarling: "Harder! Fuck me hard, stud! I've missed a real male for so fuckin' long...!"

He obliged her, fucking her with brutal force, burying even more of his cock inside her, until one of his great ridges tore her groin apart, splitting it obscenely open, sending blood cascading down to the ground... but Melissa didn't stop, didn't even slow down, instead bucking all the harder against him, her sex clenching with orgasmic, devastating force as her juices burst out of her in an acid, incandescent deluge.

She howled in a mix of agony and delight, impaling herself even further on his colossal shaft, and when he rammed forwards with his hips and finally hefted her clear off the ground with the power of his thrust, she slammed her feet down on the cracked, tormented spikes of bone jutting from his knees and stood up on them, bouncing all the harder and leaning forwards to claw into his arms, his shoulders, his cheeks as she snarled: "Keep going, big boy! That's how I like it! I want it hard!"

Killer couldn't tell for how long it went on. It felt like it was hours. Melissa was ravenous, despite the creaking of her bones and the ripping into shreds of her labia. Sometimes she bucked wildly, absurdly fast, other times slowed down to a crawl, clenching hard on his girth to put him through horrific moments of agony... and every few minutes she roared in violent, delightful orgasm, and whenever it happened her juices burned into his wounds like the worst of acid. Every time, her sex clenched with murderous strength, biting deep into his hard, solid flesh.

She twisted her hips against him and pumped herself up and down, leaning up past Shanique's mighty thigh so she could kiss over his face, teasingly licking at the bulging cheeks forced out by the mare's massive member abusing of his throat, and the breath of both herms washed hotly over his face and filled his ears, their tongues flicking teasingly against him, tasting his sweat and his tears, his blood and his rage...

But even though that inferno, Killer only ever grew stronger, thrusting harder, slamming deeper into her, breaking her body apart bit by bit, bouncing her up and down with savage force. Even while inflicting horrible agony on him, all the two herms were doing was feed him with energy. Sex, lust, rage. Even pain itself. Somehow he enjoyed himself. Somehow he found pleasure even in that torture. Somehow he lusted for it, and that filled him with new, terrifying strength.

"Oh... boy..." Melissa breathed at one point, and the light in her eyes changed as she came once more, violently, incredibly, and he slammed forwards with a savage roar, tearing up into her chest cavity, forcing her small breasts grotesquely far one from the other as blood spurted out of her mouth... but she did not attempt to run away. Her legs trembled in a whole new way, and her thighs ground against the sides of his omnipotent cock, showing all of her eagerness, displaying a new and uncontrollable hunger that was rapidly growing in her, a self-destructive need. She dripped sweat and blood, and her abs tore apart as his cruel barbs began to tear right through, savaging trenches in her abdomen while her devastated, bloodied vagina dripped with hot juices, reeking of how much she delighted in the power of her Master. Power to resist to her. Power to punish her. Power to break her.

"Killer... fuck me... fuck me hard...!" Melissa growled, but it came out in a begging, honeyed tone that caused Shanique to shudder in horror, the mare looking down at her companion and leader, reaching down to grab her by the shoulder, rattling her as she urged: "Get off him! Get off him now! Melissa, get off him!"

"Fuck you!" Melissa hissed, and her eyes glowed with rage as she added: "You want to keep him all to yourself, you greedy bitch... Don't you...?"

"What the fuck are you doing, Melissa!" Shanique barked, but in that same moment Killer flexed and roared, biting into her cock with rapidly regenerating fangs, causing her to shriek in agony and surprise and shock and fear... before he howled in a mix of fury and anguish as he shut his eyes and ripped his left arm free, even as it meant that all the stakes and nails tore vast wounds in his limb. He balled his hand into a massive fist and caught the mare right in the face, smashing her flying off him, her cock slipping wetly out of his mouth, dripping saliva and ichors and blood and other filth, and he buried his fangs into the hard meat, keeping them there as long as he could, digging bloody trenches in her sensitive flesh.

Melissa shuddered at that, staring at him in horror, realizing what had just happened, and she attempted to hurriedly step back... but he seized her by the face and yanked her violently forwards instead, spitting blood and drool and filth right in her features before snarling: "Bring it on, Melissa. I've always loved burying my cock into shortcakes, to see how long they would stay in one piece. You are tougher than you were, but I'll still rip you apart, you can bet on it!"

He grinned down at her, sending a shiver down her spine, before turning it into a violent shudder as he opened his jaws wide and revealed his tongue, torn and scarred and burned into a mere few inches of useless, charred flesh. Within an instant, it regenerated and grew again in a thick, powerful, forked, back fleshed appendage which shot after Shanique and slid down around her neck, before wrapping all around it, crushing her throat with playful yet cruel and devastating force, chocking her and all but hefting her off the ground like she was a mere toy. "A kiss from me is a serious affair, Shanique..."

The mare gasped in pleasure and fear, her eyes bulging as she was easily hefted into the air, her expression softening and filling with awe as Killer gazed up at her, his own eyes burning with hunger, with pleasure, with amusement, even after all they had done to him. Moreover, he radiated power, tremendous physical strength and endless, rampaging vigor. It was like all what came before had been just foreplay, and Shanique trembled hard, unable to resist, licking her lips and failing to put up much of a struggle even as the god's drool seared her throat, burning scars in her skin as droplets roll down her heaving breasts, leaving behind smoldering marks. Killer's tongue invaded Shanique's mouth and brutally wrestled her tongue down into submission before pushing into her throat, making her gargle as it thrust deep and hard, brutally invading her insides and then whip-lashing hard enough that her chest bulged outwards obscenely and she was lifted up like a toy, before the above-god roughly gripped into her exposed groin, clawing into her flesh and sticking two fingers straight up her soaked pussy. "You two are cunts, and you'll always be just that. Dripping, helpless holes craving me. Craving their one and only Master!" Killer growled, and Shanique's eyes bulged and glowed in a mix of rage and delight, her body shuddering as she clawed into his powerful arm, ripping and tearing, shoving and struggling, trying to force his hand back, his fingers out of her traitorous sex which already flexed and clenched in delight.

Melissa let out a gargling cry of pleasure and agony as she stared down at the huge, thick member that dripped with her blood and leaked thick ropes of virile precum, and she panted in a mix of despair, rage, arousal and need as she thought of how immensely powerful the male towering ahead of her was. She had thought she could break him, punish him, turn him into a crying, helpless little boy... but her darkness was nothing compared to the pitch-black, horrific corruption that pumped in his veins. Her vagina clenched hard, biting into his tremendous girth, but it only made him grin viciously as his colossal cock rammed into her with brutal force, ripping the spikes and blades and teeth off the muscular walls of her stretched-out, devastated passage.

She could smell the liger's virility, she could taste the thick, potent musk of his cock, and the smell overwhelmed her, standing out over every other feeling and perception. Her eyes filled with tears with the force of that masculine stench. It was a mighty, virile smell. And it felt good. It felt superior, it felt so worthy of worship and veneration, as her eyes focused on the huge cock... before she gargled as another thick, massive blast of precum exploded inside her, causing her belly to swell and bulge in an horrendous, fearsome way, the thick deluge of onyx essence erupting out in almighty splatters from her savaged pussy, and then she felt the same potent batter surging all the way up into her throat.

She opened her mouth in a gasp and stared at him as blood and black precum flooded out of it, rolling down her chin and caking her small breasts as she shuddered helplessly. That deluge of thick, omnivirile sludge splattered loudly onto the floor, flooding the room. The electricity zapped violently, crackled, thundered, but his glorious, terrible sperms by now were too big, too strong, too numerous, and more kept coming out of him in immense blasts, until the electrical fence was simply overwhelmed and it burned out, leaving his terrifying virility free to reshape reality with its obscene vigor.

Melissa let out a shriek of agony and awe, her hips rocking uselessly while her stomach swelled and bulged, wounds tearing across her solid abs and spurting out thick jets of that dark, thick sludge, before she trembled as he roared and rammed ruthlessly up inside her, ripping her groin apart, impaling her, and she shuddered as his monstrous girth shattered her pelvis and tore her lower body completely apart, ripping her vagina so impossibly wide that her flesh split apart all the way to her tailhole, breaking her wide open and crumpling her muscular, toned, perfect buttocks into a bloody crater. His massive cock, already titanic and not yet fully hard, swelled even larger and punched through her flesh with its barbs and ridges, smashing deep into her body, making her bulge like the helpless cocksleeve she was around his enormity. Blood, ichors, and filth spurted out around his tower of dark virility as he smashed deeper into her, snarling like a beast, beginning to piston his cock back and forth, pounding so savagely into her. "Goddess or not, bitch, you are doing even worse than last time." Killer cruelly remarked, and she shivered at the sight of his burning eyes, of the ferocity of his handsome features, at the glory of his fangs, which were now growing back quickly. How had she dared thinking anyone could stand up to him...? He was dark, savage, glorious, and invincible as he snarled: "Last time you could take me almost down to the medial ring... this time you won't even go close to it! Too weak! Too frail! A worthless cunt, that's all you are!"

She let out a pleading, pathetic cry, humiliated and scared that he might just toss her away like the piece of junk she was. How had she dared challenging him...? How had she turned her back on him, glorious and powerful as he was...? What was she thinking...? "I'm... sorry..." She gargled, choking on blood and almighty black sludge as it burst out of even her nostrils, before her obliterated ass flexed as a massive cascade of thick, sticky dark essence erupted out of her tailhole as well. It was thick, heavy, sticky, addictive, corruptive, pestilent and perfect, undeniably superior as it flooded the prison, forming a lake, a sea, no, a raging ocean of alpha potency which devoured Thanathos's inferior horrors and replaced them with ferocious, massive growth of hellish, fleshy nightmares. Melissa shivered in ecstasy at his ultimate and incomparable power, gasping breathlessly as she watched the black, fleshy growths corrupt the world around her, his masculine waste raping reality into a new, enslaved form as that hungry life spread around them, devouring the entire world with cruel, endless lust.

"You are the only god... you are the only Master... you are the Alpha!" Melissa cried out, helplessly bucking against his devastating thrusts as he threw his head back with a snarl of delight, grinning at the sight of her proud, perfect body bulging out of shape, torn and ruined and deformed into an unrecognizable wreck, her bones loudly crumbling, cracking apart, her ribs tearing through her small, firm breasts as they were forced up through her body and ground into dust as his cock mercilessly bulldozed its way forwards with every short, mocking thrust that he rammed home with his absurd strength, his colossal testicles swinging heavily and majestically between his powerful legs.

Killer snarled in savage delight, loving his revenge, loving the power that their breaking bodies and spirits were giving him, and he brutally ripped his fingers out of Shanique's helpless sex, making it bleed as he tore her labia apart, moving his hand down towards the pole of Requiem Aeternam. If he could get it out of his chest... but the mare shrieked in a mix of terror and eagerness and clawed at his wrist, wrestling against his huge arm, yanking it back towards her, and Killer was once more surprised by his weakness, still terrible, and by her strength, still formidable.

"I won't let you go...!" Shanique snarled, even though her pussy dripped with need. "I won't let you win again! I won't! You... you must pay...!" The mare howled, before crying out in despair as his eyes glowed sapphire and his tentacle-tongue twisted and gyrated and thrust with brutal force into her insides, tearing through her womb and bulging her body brutally out of shape as it coiled inside her and drilled her soft innards, sawing back and forth with terrible force, sending blood and ichors and filth cascading out in thick volleys. She wrapped her arms around his own and wrestled it away from Requiem even as her hips bucked helplessly, while she choked and gargled and vomited steaming blood around the tentacle-tongue ripping down her throat and tearing apart her body, bulging and distorting her as it shredded her insides to nothing but pulp and gore as her huge breasts slapped violently against themselves and her ruined, distorted, once-perfect body with enough force to bruise her muscular form. Her eyes rolled in her head as tears streamed down her cheeks, her throat flexing as she gargled and uselessly tried to scream around his merciless tongue, and her traitorous sex flexed with enough force to make her whole body shake, smoldering with pain and pleasure as blood spilled out of her along with the steaming nectar of her broken vagina. Her eyes looked at him with a mix of hate and adoration, filling with desperate tears. Her traitorous body had already been defeated, and her mind was rapidly shattering, but part of him still demanded revenge. A part of her didn't want him to win again. Not so quickly. Not so easily, at least... because he would win, wouldn't he? Of course he would. She had never met a male who could even remotely resemble him. He could have anything he wanted. He could do anything he wanted. He was truly powerful, truly savage. Monstrous, even, and because of it even more glorious. She had met other monsters, tortured demons, tormented gods. All of them had crumbled before her and revealed what they truly were: weak, whiny boys. But he was invincible. He didn't need to demand her worship. Her mind, her body, every inch of her was screaming at her to give him anything, everything he wanted. Already she was breaking, craving the power and dominance that only that god-beast possessed; the ravaging that only he could give. But she didn't want it to end. Not yet, no. She couldn't let him go. Without Requiem holding him back, he'd tear through them like through paper, and he'd toss them away like the worthless little toys they were. No, she wanted him to stay. She wanted him to rape her. To violate her. She wanted him to stay with her. Above her.

Killer roared angrily and rammed all the harder inside Melissa, and the muscular goddess screamed in agony and delight as that huge cock tore through her organs, crushing them, her whole body bulging out in the shape of his hard godcock. She spasmed, her legs dangling helplessly from her crumbled pelvis as her ass is ruined and turned into a bloody mess, her whole body stretched out so savagely that it was little more than an overfilled, broken, useless condom of flesh that helplessly gripped around his cock, her limbs nothing but vestigial remnants of the person she had once been. She spasmed hard but couldn't even shriek, only gurgle and drool and bleed helplessly from her broken jaw, vomiting her mushed organs as his monstrous member battered forwards through her hollowed form. But even that horrendous agony was nothing compared to the delight she felt in serving her master, in being used by him, even as nothing more than his disposable toy. She stared up at him in a trance, sweating and panting, trembling and spasming as she contemplated how absolute and ultimate he was, how powerful, potent and perfect he was in every way: an icon, far beyond what petty words such as 'god' or 'monster' could convey. He was Beauty, and Power, and Fear, and Corruption, and so much more, and it was a delight and a terror to serve him. She breathlessly mouthed apologies and words of worship, finally rasping out: "I'm yours, only ever yours..."

"I know, bitch." Killer easily replied, snarling as his immense cock grew and bulged, his ridges and barbs tearing through her as every thrust smashed through her organs, crushing her innards to nothing but hot sludge that squirted and leaked out of her ruined ass and vagina and mouth, spurting out with every savage piston of his monstrous cock. His muscles bulged, his wounds healing faster as power pumped in his veins and his towering, colossal cock continued to harden inside Melissa, throbbing and growing greater and greater, causing her body to tear apart further as his vicious ridges ripped through her front, his girth swelling even as he pumped out gallons upon gallons of mighty, terrible corruption and hypervirile sludge inside her, the potent fluids adding to the hot lube of blood and pulped gore which helped him slam his endless wrecking ram of a cock through her ruined body.

He turned his vicious grin back to Shanique, growling: "Not long now, cunt... I'll rip Melissa to shreds and then I'll break you into even smaller pieces."

Shanique whimpered weakly, but she still hug his arm for dear life, wrestling it away from Requiem even as his massive tentacle-tongue thrust brutally into her jaws, the fearsome girth forcing her bones out of place and forcing her entire lower jaw to shift and shatter as he grunted and plowed forwards, ramming it down her neck. His eyes glowed with merciless entertainment as his tentacle pounded into her face, massive bursts of pre erupting into her and blasting out around the thick appendage and through her flared nostrils, blood and ichors and disgusting fluids splattering and dripping down his tongue and out of her jaws as she choked around it, her eyes rolling back in her head, her body broken and smoldering as his drool burned her flesh, and the gigantic sperms of his precum literally devoured pieces of her like sharks hungry for meat, and through all of it Killer only growled in dark delight and grew stronger, bigger, as his immense cock hardened towards erection and bulged even more impossibly massive inside Melissa.

The ghepard's stomach bulged further and further as he arched his back and began to ram forwards in huge, cruel thrusts, a cruel grin twisting across his features as her chest bulged outwards in a grotesque way, the shape of his monstrous cockhead clearly visible under her skin, until, with a sickening splat and a burst of gore, his godlike cock tore through her stomach, impaling its way through her like she was really nothing but an overstretched condom, the fat cockhead emerging like a monster born out of her ruined body, the monstrous shaft pushing out, foot after foot of bloody, gore-stained shaft pounding through her stretched, broken body and out into the air, towering above her shocked, bloodied face which still attempted to gaze past the terrifying member to see his eyes burning and his massive, muscular form thrumming with absolute power. "Told you so, cunt!" Killer growled, licking his lips before wrestling his arm free enough to claw into Shanique's hip, seizing her with rough, merciless force. "And now it's your turn, whore!"

His talons pierced deep into her flesh as the god forced the mare's spine to bend painfully, his huge bicep bulging as he forced her body to bend until her groin met the massive, monstrous head of his cock, and her loose, gaping pussy suddenly looked virginal and doomed, the massive, well used hole looking laughably, ludicrously small compared to the unholy monstrosity of his corrupt, deadly battering ram of a cock. The fangs and blades lining her labia suddenly looked weak and ridiculous as well, completely dwarfed by the terrible majesty of a ridged, barbed titan of a shaft which ended in a flared cockhead almost larger around than her waist, with its rough edge lined with curved, cruel barbs.

Shanique howled pathetically around the tentacle buried down her throat, while her poor vagina was first stretched out, then obliterated in a burst of blood as he rammed his cock upwards, forcing inside and turning her sex into a bloody crater as he smashing through it with all the force of a bulldozer, his monstrous girth splitting the mare's pelvis into fragments and the immense length impaling her, blood leaking out of her mouth and nostrils as Killer dragged her down and began to fuck both of their poor, abused, annihilated bodies, skewering both herms on his godly shaft. The tentacle-tongue ripped downwards through Shanique's insides until it found the goliath black cock, and there the tongue went wild, wrapping its coils around the gigantic shaft and pumping it hungrily, eagerly, greedily.

The mare's arms lost much of their strength and Killer grinned and tore free of her grip, seizing Requiem's pole and struggling against it as the weapon savagely blasted him with discharges of malignant force. He grunted in shock and agony as the pain filled his entire body, his vision fading as his mind was filled with the shrieks and breathless, final gasps of millions of souls... and then his eyes bulged as everything around him seemed to erupt on fire, two literal hurricanes of supernatural flames roaring into the prison and burning down his massive sperms, his seminal fluid, his corruptive sludge and the countless vines and tentacles and growths that had already been born out of it. Two enormous figures crouched inside, carrying monstrous flamethrowers that they used to burn all the monstrosities down into stinking mush, and several Purifiers followed with their even more tremendous modified flamethrowers, which erupted Unworld residue which dissolved everything it touched into nothing but raw energy.

Killer looked up in a mix of fury and confusion, cursing under his breath and throwing all his weight and strength forwards as he attempted to tear free of his restraints and charge forth, but the countless chains behind him tensed and clanged violently, dragging him back. Requiem tormented him with an endless discharge of dark force, and his fingers began to tremble and lose their grip despite his best attempts not to surrender to the agony.

There was a roar of rage and frustration. Insults. And then Cerberus seemed to charge through the inferno of fire, snarling as he grabbed Requiem's pole with both hands and savagely drove the scythe back in place, deep inside Killer's torn-apart chest. "Oh, no, you don't!" Cerberus howled in fury, leaning close to glare into Killer's eyes, twisting Requiem into his flesh to make him squirm and cry out in anguish.

"Nail his arm back to the gross!" The tiger ordered, and a massive trident immediately lunged forwards and stabbed into his wounded but free arm, piercing through it and slamming it back into the yellow crystal while other alien gods rushed forwards with a hammer and new stakes and chains, rapidly pinning his limb in place once more.

Killer howled, cursed, threatened. Cried. The agony was tremendous, but even worse was the awareness that freedom, which had been so tantalizingly close, was once more far away, out of his reach.

Melissa and Shanique, even broken and agonizing as they were, clawed into Cerberus's back, punching and slashing and hissing against him like feral beasts, but his armor, even though it was broken and cracked and ruined by the battle against the Horrors, protected him from that feeble offensive. He slowly turned around to glare at the two herms with utter hate, and hissed: "There's a reason why I didn't want these two alone with Killer. You idiot, you almost made him get away!" Cerberus snarled, glaring at Thanathos with terrible hate, and the god of death glared back but found no answer to give. He too looked battered and wounded and exhausted... but when Killer hurriedly looked towards the crystal wall, he saw the last and greatest of the Horrors bound to the floor by an infinity of chains and seals, his body horribly scarred and covered in large, armoured Spirit boxes crudely wired into his nervous system whenever the scientists had been able to reach.

"Nice try." Cerberus venomously hissed, but then he grinned in delight, pointing at the subdued Horror and adding: "The big guy was a real monster... but now he is gonna be your wife's problem. We'll have him and his siblings falling down to Earth in a moment."

There were a thousand things Killer wanted to scream, roar, and hiss. But he only trembled in fury and horror, and glared silently ahead of himself.

Cerberus smirked in evident glee, then looked at Melissa and Shanique with the kind of contempt that someone would normally reserve for a particularly large and disgusting bug. "Get these two useless whores off him. And lock them up. I'll skin both of them at leisure."

Melissa and Shanique were too broken and exhausted to realize what Cerberus had just said, but Killer winced inwardly, knowing all too well that he wasn't bluffing. The two Inquisitors had disappointed him, and they were going to pay for it.

"They... they can still be useful..." Thanathos hesitatingly suggested, looking on in horror as two alien gods stepped forwards and unceremoniously grabbed Melissa and Shanique, brutally yanking them off the gigantic cock buried through both of them. Their bodies nearly ripped entirely apart as Killer's barbs and ridges hooked into their flesh and shredded it, leaving them bloodied and ruined.

Cerberus grunted in contempt at the suggestion, kicking Melissa in the side and sending her falling over with a grunt of agony. "I really don't think these whores have any use. They had no use before, and they certainly don't have one now. They are corrupted. Because of your idiotic imprudence, they are contaminated. They are almost certainly thralls by now... loyal only to him. They can't be trusted."

"For sure they are now too loose for your dicks." Killer muttered, glaring at the two gods. Even with what they had done to him, he felt horrible at the idea that they might be skinned and chopped into pieces for Cerberus's pleasure. Even though he had literally just nearly destroyed them both, he cared for them in a weird but sincere way.

At the very least, he wanted to ensure he was the only one who could hurt them. Weird as it sounded, it was a common concept, and very appreciated, in his clan of wives, lovers, Praetorians.

Cerberus smirked horribly, in cruel entertainment, and he created a large dagger in his hand, stepping forwards and pushing the weapon against the liger's enormous cock, threatening in a terribly soft voice: "Once we are done with you, your arrogance will be a memory of the past."

John and Galen sat in the small captain's room, staring at a little bottle of rum that was almost empty after their recent assault on it. They weren't supposed to have it on board, but the Navy was ready to tolerate little infractions coming from submarine skippers of proven talent and professionalism. Their job was terribly dangerous and incredibly demanding, and, with extremely rare exceptions, submarines were the first censors of themselves. They knew their limits and what they could afford to do and what was absolutely out of the question. The "secret" stash of rum on board the Audacious had been pulled out and a small ration made available to everyone on board, as a little bit of comfort after a battle that had lasted countless terrible hours and that had left every last man on board exhausted and sore if not very seriously injured.

The Sentence kept sailing at high speed into the open ocean, keeping her depth constant while her crew worked hard to repair the damage to the stern. The Audacious, on its part, followed the far larger submarine like a shadow, keeping the same speed and following every little route adjustment. To the relief of everyone aboard the Audacious, the Sentence had never tried to dive any deeper, probably because the crew worried about the effects of the extensive damage to the stern. They clearly didn't want to put the hull under more strain than necessary.

Following the Sentence was easy, but also unnerving. They could hear with surprising clarity the sounds coming from inside the enemy submarine. Sebastian, on the sonar, could literally listen to crew members talking. It meant that anything they did on the Audacious could potentially be heard as well, and that they had to continue working in "ultra-quiet" mode, whispering and reducing all noise to the very minimum. It was a stressful way of working, which required extreme attention in every little move. They could not afford to trip over the bottom lid of the hatches; they had to move carefully up and down ladders, every form of conversation was severely hampered if not curtailed. It was a condition that rapidly took a toll on morale and literally on the sanity of the crew, but they really had no choice. They could not afford to be detected. The Sentence was incredibly silent and stealthy, even now that they listened from literally meters away from her keel: her machinery produced almost no noise and her propulsion system continued to leave Sebastian wondering. The crew of the RA submarine, however, was either overly confident in the Active Noise Cancellation System or just too lazy to match the machine's level of stealth.

They were clearly convinced that they were alone, overlords of the depths, flanked at a distance by numerous escorting submarines. They felt invincible, pretty much. Some of the noise was so loud that it could be heard through the Audacious's hull, without need to wear the sonar headphones. Someone was watching a movie in the communal space, with no care for how loud the audio was. Somewhere else, someone was listening to music. And then, of course, there was the banging and clanging of metal coming from the stern as the repair teams worked to clear the destroyed torpedo room, removing hazards and closing the breaches, while the pumps worked ceaselessly to force out the many tons of water that invaded the Sentence with every passing second.

But that was nothing. Those were normal sounds that could be heard coming from any submarine: even the crew of the Audacious could get pretty loud itself when the submarine was in "patrol state" which was the baseline for when there was no immediate risk of detection. What was unique and sinister about the Sentence was the cacophony of sounds that filtered out of an area apparently buried deep in the center of the vast double-hull structure. From there came hideous shrieks that were sometimes loud enough to be heard clearly even inside the Audacious. At first they had wondered whether they were hearing shrieks of anguish coming from casualties caused by the enormous explosion in the back of the factory, but the fearsome wails had nothing to do with mortal suffering. They were voices of something greater, and also far more dangerous. Demons, monsters... some of those creatures who could shrug off mortal firepower like it was nothing but a joke. Sandy had survived numerous assaults launched by colossal, mighty beasts that had felt almost invincible and that had demolished warships like they were toys. The awareness that the Sentence carried an unknown number of those destructive, hellish forces was enough to keep him wide awake, and even Galen instinctively grimaced any time one of those terrible shrieks and roar reached their ears. Young commander and old admiral had retreated together to the captain's tiny apartment, leaving the conn and deck in the hands of Galen's original second in command (also known as "XO"). They badly needed some half-defence, warm food after countless hours of coffee and occasional sandwiches, and some sleep would have done them nothing but good things.

They had managed to eat something, but sleep had stubbornly evaded them, however. They just couldn't help but listen to the noise coming from above, from the Sentence living and sailing just above them. They couldn't stop listening to the reassuring, almost-complete silence coming from the nearby control room, which meant that the XO and the officers had the boat and the situation fully under control.

Galen stared at the empty little glass before him, his arms crossed on the table, his eyes sore with how tired he was but his mind still buzzing, unable to shut down and let him rest. Sandy was sitting in the little bed, which also doubled as couch, and his eyes kept wandering to the screen on the wall, checking all parameters to make sure the Audacious was doing well. They both knew that they were not truly safe at all. In any moment they could be detected and things could get extremely dire, extremely fast. They were, effectively, out of options.

"Where do we go from here...?" Galen quietly whispered, turning to gaze at the admiral with eyes that almost begged for a reassuring answer. John, however, could only shrug a little, biting his lower lip before admitting: "Wherever the Sentence goes. Sebastian says there are at least six submarines around us, and those are just the ones we can hear. There are certainly others as well... so, we are out of options."

Galen grimaced at that answer, turning his head to stare at the door that led out of the small room, without really seeing it, or the fake wood panel decorating it. He already knew the answer before asking, but it was an uncomfortable truth that he just could not swallow. "So, all we can do is wait." He muttered after a moment, and Sandy gave a little nod. Galen sighed, then picked up the bottle and emptied it in one gulp, before muttering: "Waiting for the gods to show us their benevolence. This is not how I imagined my career as submariner, Teacher. Not at all. This, in fact, is not how I imagined my life as a whole." The young captain stood up and began to nervously pace the tiny office back and forth, which considering his sizes pretty much meant a couple of steps in either direction. Sandy couldn't help but admire the young giant for how, even in his evident frustration, he managed to produce no noise at all, his steps seeming weightless over the carpet that covered the whole floor. "I never thought I'd feel this useless, this hopeless! I don't know if I'll ever be able to accept that there are forces so... so much greater, so absolute. Forces that can decide my fate without me having half a say over it."

Sandy sighed, gazing down at his feet and closing his eyes for a moment. He could understand Galen's frustration and he felt just as lost at the thought that all their efforts could still well prove good for nothing. Killer still hadn't arrived to rescue them or save Lunis from the ongoing invasion, and now that the weather had changed for the best, gigantic cargo aircraft, certainly loaded with Unmanned Combat Walkers, were taking off one after the other from the two decks of the Judge. An endless stream of invasion transports could be heard flying eastward, and Sandy could imagine the cargoes splitting into different groups somewhere over the barren, devastated continent of Ire. Each Unmanned Combat Walker had the firepower of a medium-sized army and was almost impossible to destroy with conventional means as its thick armor and active defense systems could easily tank shells and missiles, and every massive cargo could carry at least 12 of the colossal war machines, plus spare parts and ammunition reloads. The UCWs were dropped out from hatches in the cargo floor and then supported from above with missiles and large laser turrets mounted fore and aft on the cargo aircraft. Sandy had read the reports about the UCWs use during the earlier phases of the war and knew how difficult it was to take back even just one... and now entire groups of those terrifying machines were certainly assaulting the few remaining colonies and strongholds where the mortals were attempting to survive, dreaming of a better future in which they could start to rebuild. He hoped that Killer and Alexis, their Gods, would be there to protect the last mortals, because there no longer was any mortal army that could stand up to an assault of those proportions. Not even the empire's army. Even the Predators were exhausted and the lists of the casualties were endless. The empire was still a powerful force, by far the strongest left on earth, but nonetheless it could barely defend itself... and probably not for too much longer. Where had Killer gone? Why wasn't he using his awesome, terrifying strength to put things right...? Sandy didn't know. He was aware, however, that there were other gods out there, and that they were far worse than Killer. They were truly evil and merciless, and if they were somehow having the upper hand on Killer, then all was lost. It would explain Killer's and Alexis's absence, wouldn't it...? Maybe, as strong as he is, our king is losing. Maybe we are all doomed already, and just don't yet know it.

Sandy shook his head slowly, and once more forced those horrible images and thoughts out of his mind. He had to stay positive, as much as he could, if he wanted to see the end of what was, without a doubt, the most dangerous and stressing mission he had ever faced. He tried to ease Galen's worries as well, but there were truths that just couldn't be sweetened, nor ignored. "We are sailors, Galen. Every day we put our life at risk challenging a force that is immensely greater than all of us, and well outside of our control. A force we can't even pray to. The ocean in any moment could decide our fate. We know it, and we accept it."

"Yeah, I know..." Galen whispered in return, before sighing deeply as he sat down again, tiredly rubbing at his sore eyes. "But the ocean is not a person, you know...? It is easier to accept that the sea has such power. I guess I'm... less afraid. And... not envious. But a person, with thoughts and wishes and sympathies and hates... a person with the power to snuff everyone else out of existence with a flick of a finger... that is so unfair."

Sandy looked up at that, trying to find a good counter, but his mind couldn't come up with anything. He understood all too well what the young submariner meant, and he found that he felt much the same way. Silence fell between them, and they again tried to get some rest, closing their eyes and dozing off at times... but always shuddering out of it, startled and increasingly frustrated. Sandy wondered whether he would ever be able to fall asleep again... and then, all of a sudden, they both sat up and stiffened, listening in complete silence as a new noise came from the Sentence. Clanging. Preparations of some sort.... And then, the rush of air out of an opening hatch. A massive, massive opening hatch, far bigger than any torpedo tube. The screen on the wall flashed with a warning from the sonar compartment, but Galen and Sandy didn't need the solicitation: they were already rushing out and into the control room, just as they heard the distant noise of water filling up a huge compartment.

"What are we dealing with...?" Galen asked to his XO, who looked up while pressing the headphone against his ear, listening to Sebastian's rolling commentary.

"Something big. Big enough to carry people. Don't think it is a torpedo... it is more like they are preparing to launch a large underwater vehicle. The hatch we have heard is located on top of the Sentence and is... Sebastian says it is quite literally hangar-sized." The officer reported, and Galen and Sandy traded a worried look. They would not know what exactly was happening until it happened, and then it would be too late. Their options were extremely limited anyway: there was no torpedo agile enough to intercept a target so close and so off-boresight. And in any case, firing anything would be just the beginning of their end.

"The bastards evidently carry a number of mini-submarines. Perhaps they are equipped for carrying out repairs on the outer hull." Galen guessed, grimacing at the implications. Those little submarines could very well end up detecting the Audacious's presence during their operations. And if they didn't, they might just as well blindly crash into them, which was just as unappealing an option. The Audacious occasionally carried such Swimmer Delivery Vehicles, mini-submarines driven by batteries and fuel cells, meant to carry small teams of special forces operators right into ports to sabotage or as close as possible to their littoral targets. When it was embarked on the Audacious, the SDV was carried on the submarine's "back", just behind the conning tower, inside a special, sealed shelter. The Audacious was not currently fitted with the system as it added drag and, potentially, noise, and when they had sailed it was not anticipated that they would ever need that kind of capability. The Sentence, on the other hand, was so enormous that it apparently had a permanent and internal hangar for that and other surprises. I'd pay to get a precise idea of the real size and shape of this monstrosity...

Sandy picked up a set of earphones and listened to Sebastian as the sonar mage commented the noise he heard so clearly through the Audacious's sensible electronic ears. "They are equalizing the pressure by flooding an internal hangar section... and now I have one, no, two propellers in the water. Electric propulsion, we wouldn't hear them if we weren't so close."

"They are launching out mini-subs, there is no doubt about it." Sandy commented, and Galen grimaced in horror at the thought. There was little they could do about them. They could not destroy them and they could not run away without being heard and sunk. They could carefully dive a little bit deeper, but they were already close to the safety limit and risked sustaining damage due to excessive external pressure.

"They navigate their way with high frequency active sonars. There is no way they won't get an echo from us as soon as they dive under their mothership's belly." Galen remarked, closing his eyes and feeling like all his strength was being sapped out of him. If those mini-submarines were equipped to repair a hull as thick and solid as the Sentence's, they were almost certainly able to cut holes into the Audacious with relative ease. Knowing the RA, the mini-submarines might be armed with torpedoes of their own, too. The RA might also decide to take a closer look at the Audacious, invading it with assault teams carried by those underwater vehicles. All three scenarios were catastrophic, and there was very little he could do about them: he could run away from the mini-submarines, but in order to do that he'd run right into the submarines arrayed all around the Sentence as escorts... and eventually into the aiming sight of the Sentence herself, and her ultra-fast torpedoes would leave them zero chances of evasion.

Galen and Sandy traded a grave look, and then Galen stormed away without a word. It wasn't necessary to speak; Sandy knew exactly what to do, ordering: "Inform every man of the crew that we are likely to be boarded within minutes. Weapons will be distributed to everyone on board."

The XO and the officers nearby paled slightly, but none of them faltered or protested in every way.

Galen had already reached the locked, armoured door to the weapons compartment, close to his cabin, and was opening it with his little key, which dangled from a simple necklace he never abandoned. The door would often be guarded by a sentinel, but with the Audacious having spent countless hours in battle conditions and having sustained multiple casualties, that had been the first "superfluous" role to be cut from the list of crew tasks. The captain effortlessly pulled the heavy door open, gritting his fangs in a mix of fear, rage and frustration. His strength was such that he nearly ripped the armoured door from its frame, causing the steel to groan audibly. He ducked inside and began to hand out the firearms available, which weren't too impressive at all. Normally, on a submarine they were not needed and were kept under lock because of the dangers connected with stress and with sailors potentially becoming violent due to sheer boredom and exhaustion in the late phases of long deployments.

Pistols and magazines were rapidly handed out thanks to the help of a line of sailors which passed them on as orderly and rapidly as possible. A few selected men were issued with the few assault rifles that were stored on board for the force protection team that got up on the conning tower and on the casing when the submarine entered a port, even back home. Submarines are most vulnerable when on the surface and with restricted maneuverability as they navigate into a harbor, and obviously need to be defended when tied to the jetty. There were only a few tactical vests and bullet-proof plates for them, and they were given to the "point" men of the various teams, including Galen, Sandy and Sebastian.

Galen kept the big ones for last, and for the first time in quite a while he smirked widely and sincerely as he effortlessly picked up two large machines guns and a pile of long belts of armor-piercing rounds, mixed with tracer-incendiary ones. The two weapons were normally brought up on top of the tower when the submarine surfaced and were installed, one per side, on pintle mounts. They were meant to tear to bits any suicide boat or fast-moving surface threat wandering too close to the Audacious, but Galen easily slung them on and carried one in each hand, strapping all the extra belts of ammo across his chest. Normally, the sight would have caused laughter and banter in the control room... but their situation was deadly serious now, and the most he got when walking back in were a few tired smiles.

After giving the last few essential orders and checking on the status of the crew, Galen moved up to the Audacious's flag, the submarine's very own Jolly Roger with the skull and the daggers, and the little shapes that signaled all the enemy vessels sunk in battle. He carefully picked it off the bulkhead, folded it and put it under his tactical vest, on his lower back, under a plate of bullet-proof ceramic. "This one is coming with us. It'll need a lot of updates once we are done here."

Sandy snorted in entertainment and added: "You might run out of shape trying to add to it all the boats we've sunk."

For a moment, albeit brief, everyone grinned. But the mini-submarines in the meanwhile had crawled out of the Sentence's hangar and were carefully veering outwards from her, one on each side, diving slowly deeper down her flanks, and already they could hear their sonars pinging rapidly away as they surveyed the Sentence's vast sides in search of any problem... And at any moment they were going to dive under her, to check her keel, and that's when they would find the Audacious.

Until then, Galen and Sandy and everyone else could only wait, and listen as things happened. And happen they did: the two mini-submarines eventually focused their sonars on the Audacious and took station on either side of it, following it, keeping it under watch. It was like they were staring, stunned by the discovery of something that definitely shouldn't have been down there... but then their Gertrude underwater telephones began to make a lot of noise as they shared their findings with the Sentence.

"I can't fucking believe that I am left here to hope that my ship is boarded by the enemy!" Galen muttered, gritting his fangs and throwing his head back to stare at the ceiling as if he could see through it. Sandy nodded with a grunt, shuddering a little. It was terrible to think about, but they really had to hope the RA chose the boarding, and not the holing, or the torpedoing...

And all they could do was listen and wait, trying to understand what would happen. Sebastian reported that several escort submarines changed their routes and converged on the Sentence, undoubtedly with all torpedo tubes loaded and ready... but the Audacious was well hidden by the Sentence's own noise and by her active noise cancellation system, and they clearly had no intention of firing in the general direction of the super-submarine they were supposed to protect.

Within minutes, another three mini-submarines were launched from the enormous hangar of the Sentence, however, and as they approached, spaced out to attack different sections of the sub, it became clear that the boarding option had won.

Galen ordered the loudspeakers back on, as there was no longer any point in hiding. They now had to be quick. "Shipmates, we are about to get boarded. We can expect at least three assault teams, and they will almost certainly come in through the main hatches." The submarines on board the Audacious, on all three levels, needed no further explanation. The Audacious had one hatch in the bow section; one on top of the conning tower and one behind it, which served the machinery and reactor section of the hull as well as worked at main exit and entry point for Special Forces teams of swimmers and divers. When the Audacious carried the mini-submarine on her back, an air-lock connection went from the mini-sub's shelter to that very hatch. Now, the RA mini-submarines were maneuvering to connect to those exact same hatches, force them open and invade the boat.

"We will resist. We will not give up the ship. We need to resist for as long as possible, because Killer will come. Our king and god will come and rescue us. We must resist until he can come." Galen continued, and he swallowed thickly as he realized that his voice threatened to break. He was full of doubts about whether Killer would really come, but he tried his best to allay his fears and make his words sound secure, steadfast, convincing. He did not know how good or bad his interpretation was, but there was no time to dwell on such details. He traded a look with Sandy and his XO instead, as they picked up the respirator masks from the boxes on the wall of the control room. They could be connected to oxygen supply points throughout the submarine and were meant to be used during a fire or flood. They were now going to be their only hope for a whole different but just as terrible reason.

"I fully expect them to try and take us all out with gas. If we are lucky, non-lethal. But they could throw in literally anything, beginning with nerve agents, to ensure we can't oppose their assault." Galen warned, and the whole crew repressed a shudder of terror. "Don the emergency respirators, all of you. And retreat immediately towards the reactor compartment. We will fight them at all three hatches as they try to force their way in, but they will be much better armed than us, and they will drive us back. We will retreat towards the reactor, and communication will be essential to ensure nobody is cut off and captured. When I order to run, you run. No senseless heroics, okay? The only thing we absolutely have to do is protect the reactor and the machinery. Everything else we... we can sacrifice."

Galen's voice broke and he fell silent for a moment, tasting a bitter, disgusting flavor in his mouth as he contemplated the idea of giving up parts of his ship to the enemy. But the nuclear reactor and all associated machinery was, literally, life. The reactor generated the power for everything on board, including the vital oxygen generator, which extracted oxygen from seawater. As long as they held on to that section of the submarine, they could resist almost indefinitely, especially since sailors had already formed a line and were transferring as much food as possible from the galley and its refrigerated depots to the machinery spaces in the stern. Water was not going to be a problem as they'd securely hang on to the distillation plant that produced it in the thousands of gallons per day, again from seawater.

In addition, the nuclear reactor's core was sealed inside a tub of steel and lead which cut the submarine in two with an impenetrable, solid wall of armor-like metal. There was a single tunnel leading through the reactor section and past it to the machinery spaces proper. They could probably defend the passage for a very long time... Long enough that they grow frustrated and just retreat leaving the hatches open, so that we sink and die horribly... Galen shivered, but did his best to repress those dark thoughts. He would lead the resistance near the control room, at the conning tower's hatch, which meant he would keep station roughly in the middle, and that his responsibility would be to "keep open the door" for the team retreating from the bow hatch, further ahead. He had another hatch to his back, which they had to pass on the way to the reactor, so timing was going to be of utmost importance: they were going to hit as hard as they could, but they needed to retreat on time. Wait too long, and at least one team was condemned.

For that reason the hatches were going to be defended by small teams, composed by the most capable fighters... which also meant, inevitably, those with less wounds and previous damage from the big earlier shocks. The others were already retreating to the final stronghold.

The team at the bow hatch was led by Sebastian, who was second only to Galen for physical power and who could handle the pressure and be a good leader, even in a firefight. With the sonar compartment now empty, the Audacious was mostly blind and deaf, but the minisubmarines were maneuvering right onto the casing and they could hear them clearly through the hull. Galen aimed the pair of machine guns at the vertical ladder that climbed up into the conning tower, and Sandy waited nearby, crouching and with an assault rifle aimed at the closed hatch at the top of the ladder. Other officers were in ambush in other points of the room, but they were all trying to ensure they were some distance away from the ladder and that they had solid cover in easy reach, as the first thing that would come in would be, undoubtedly, grenades.

There was a clanging noise above their heads, and then a gloomy clunk as the air-locked connection tunnel extended from the mini-sun made contact with the conning tower. "Here we go..." Galen warned, and several officers shifted uncomfortably, clutching their pistols so hard that their knuckles turned pale. "Run, mates! They are here!" Galen urged as the last few sailors retreated past the tower and rushed in the direction of the reactor.

They heard the noise of the first hatch being forced open, and then more metallic clanging as something descended the ladder... and then silence.

"Explosive breaching." Sandy warned, his voice amazingly calm and controlled, and they all shrunk behind cover as best they could, shutting their eyes tightly and doing what they could to repress their shudders of fear. A few moments later, a mighty explosion sent the bottom hatch flying in pieces across the narrow room, and the charge used generated a huge flash of light that almost blinded them all even as they protected themselves. The bang, they could do nothing about and it knocked them all almost unconscious, as their surroundings became blurred and trembling and they lost awareness of where they stood. Galen heard screams, both close and far away, as the narrow hallways of the Audacious echoed with the explosions, and he grunted in shock at the flashing, trembling images that replaced his vision and filled his mind with pain and confusion. Suddenly, it was hard to just keep his balance without falling over like a toddler. The RA assault team threw other Flashbang grenades down the smoldering hole and then, as they had imagined, they threw down several large cylinders that clanged on the floor and then erupted large clouds of poisonous smoke.

The compartment went dark as the lights broke, and Galen's chest heaved as he breathed in pure oxygen through his respirator, cursing the sweat that was already staining the mask. He looked up in the direction where the hatch was supposed to be, but his vision trembled so much that it took him a moment to understand that he was actually looking at the far corner of the room. He trailed his machine guns back just in time to catch sight of a figure jumping down through the breached hatch, and he roared his challenge as he fired a burst from one of the heavy machine guns, plowing a path through the enemy's chest.

Amazingly, the creature didn't fall over, and Sandy leaned out from behind the corner, took careful aim and double-tapped the figure's head, knocking it staggering to the left.

Again, the figure didn't collapse, instead turning around and opening up with a large gun that sent bullets slamming into the bulkhead, forcing Sandy into a hasty retreat, before Galen opened up with both machine guns, roaring in fury and unleashing an hurricane of steel and fire until the figure literally broke apart, one arm falling off and the head almost vanishing in a cloud of smoke and sparkles. There was no meaty thud when the arm fell to the floor, but a loud metallic clang, and as some of the smoke cleared, Galen saw that he had just ripped apart a small but heavily armoured cyborg, which now twitched violently on the floor as electricity crackled out of the smoldering bullet holes.

"Motherfuckers." Galen muttered, stepping forwards and aiming the heavy machine guns up at the gaping hatch, opening fire with both and sending a hurricane of bullets ripping up into the tower, bouncing between the steel walls in a deluge of sparkles. Someone up on the ladder screamed and there was a loud, meaty thud against something metallic, but the hit could only have been a ricochet, and probably far from lethal. Galen snarled in frustration and advanced even further, continuing to pour fire up the shaft even as bullets began to smash into the floor ahead of his feet as the RA blindly returned fire from the ladder. "I'll have you hanged like the pirates you are!" Galen roared, and Sandy swallowed thickly as he watched the massive male stepping almost straight under the shaft, booming: "Get off my ship!"

The admiral sprinted forwards with an agility that surprised the other officers, and he kept his assault rifle aimed on the shaft opening while hurriedly getting to Galen to grab his shoulder and yank him back.

"Don't!" The admiral urged, but Galen was a walking mountain and easily dragged the much older tiger along as he kept getting closer, finally managing to fire a burst almost straight upwards... and a RA soldier in a black tactical vest fell down through the shaft, his bullet-proof jacket torn to bits and the protective plate pretty much crumbled by at least a dozen rounds that had torn straight up into the front of his body.

There was a tremendous metallic clanging immediately afterwards, the bullets smashing into something much more heavily protected, and Sandy again yanked back, trying to pull Galen to safety. "Come back! You'll get yourself killed!"

In that exact same moment, grenades once again fell down from the shaft, and Sandy's eyes widened in horror... before Galen snarled and stomped forwards, kicking a couple of the falling objects violently, sending them flying straight up the shaft. There was an explosion, which resulted in a gloomy roar of thunder inside the tight confines of the shaft, and incandescent shrapnel clanged into the bulkheads, before a second blast, even louder, followed along with an intense flash of light.

Another corpse and pieces of another assault robot rained down from the shaft, but Sandy also spotted a grenade bouncing on the floor, and he threw himself backwards as quickly as he could, shouting: "Grenade!"

The shriek caused Galen to snap out of his furious trance, and the young captain looked down to see the accursed little sphere. The other officers saw things as if they were happening on slow motion: there were screams of denial as Galen dived for the grenade, and covered it with his massive frame while attempting to grab it to throw it back... but time ran out, and it exploded.

Sandy howled in denial as he saw blood flying in every direction, and he thought that the horrendous, meaty, muffled sound of the explosion being contained and compressed by Galen's powerful body was something that would live on forever in his nightmares.

Galen's body absorbed all of the violence of the blast: not a single bit of shrapnel tore through or past him, saving them all, but as the captain's form flopped on the floor, smoldering, and his machine guns went silent, the RA immediately renewed its assault.

The admiral opened fire against the hatch, even though his eyes kept wandering back towards Galen's form, brokenly laying on the floor, so out of character with the mighty giant he had known and appreciated for years, and the officers did their best with their handguns, but a new cyborg dropped straight down from the hatch, carrying a large, heavy ballistic shield already scarred by dozens of rounds and splinters. It pushed towards Sandy, identifying him as the major threat, and the admiral retreated until he bumped into the bulkhead, his finger clutching the trigger until the rifle clicked dry. The bullets smashed into the shield but miserably failed to penetrate it, and a couple of officers rushed to the right and the left to try and encircle the robot... only to dive for cover as a sort of mechanical scorpion tail swung up over the edge of the shield, ending in a double gun which fired first towards one, then the other.

Sandy cursed as he rapidly dropped the empty clip and slapped a new one in place, clutching the rifle with all his strength and aiming for the scorpion tail, trying to sever it with a well aimed burst, while at the same time nearly shouting into his headset microphone: "Sebastian, time to evacuate the bow. Come here quick. Double pace!"

"With pleasure." Sebastian grunted from the other hand, and the noise of combat almost drowned out his voice, making it clear that the situation at the bow wasn't any better.

An officer to the right of Sandy let out a cry of agony and collapsed, hit in the chest, and another sprinted up and around the shield, firing his pistol at the crouching robot but only winching in horror as the small bullets bounced right off.

The team from the bow came in, running along the corridor and leaping past the various hatches while Sebastian covered their retreat with long bursts from his assault rifle, and Sandy did his best to hit the cyborg's weapon. The first three rounds missed, but the fourth struck the scorpion tail and caused it to recoil backwards, missing its own shot. "Come on, quick!" He urged, stepping forwards to try and aim his rifle above the edge of the large shield, but it was too tall for that. Behind him, the wounded officer was grabbed by two of the others and hurriedly dragged away, towards the passage leading towards the stern... but they all shuddered in horror as another shield-bearing robot dropped heavily down and tried to block Sebastian's group from progressing. Sandy trained his rifle towards this new threat, but almost in the same second a RA soldier dropped down from the hatch, and he pulled the trigger once, then again, sending the assaulter down in a puddle of blood. The first cyborg immediately charged towards him once more, swinging up its scorpion tail... and then a huge, bloodied hand shot up and caught the mechanical appendage, twisting it backwards until it snapped apart like it was made of paper.

Sandy gasped in awe as Galen pushed up to his feet, grabbing the robot by the head and shoulder and hefting the heavy machine clear off the ground, hurling it sideways into the second cyborg, sending both sprawling in a heap of steel and wires. Sandy and Sebastian reacted on instinct, as if their arms were somehow connected to the two robots, and before they had even finished falling they were already pumping bullets into both, nailing them to the floor. Galen grunted, looking dazed and spitting out blood but nonetheless still standing, his powerful arms bulging with muscle as he hefted up the two machine guns and aimed one at the hatch and one at the damaged robots, unleashing two hellish bursts of rounds and grumbling: "Move it! We don't have all day!"

The officers and the members of Sebastian's team nodded and rushed past, staring at him in awe as he pretty much sawed the robots in half with a long burst of armor piercing rounds. The front of his body was completely crimson, caked all over with his blood, and the tactical vest dangled from his massive form in unrecognizable shreds. The ceramic armor plates were crumbled and fragments and dust kept leaking out of the torn vest. His chest and abs were almost completely bare and covered in horrible wounds, with the shrapnel from the grenade well visible in many places... but, amazingly, his formidable musculature had withstood the explosion and limited the damage. No splinter had managed to pierce far into his steel-solid abs or though his mountainous chest.

"Don't ever do that again...!" Sandy hissed when retreating past him, but he was smiling in true delight. He had thought his friend and pupil lost, and to see him standing was simply wonderful.

"I really don't plan to." Galen immediately assured as they retreated towards the hallway, keeping their weapons aimed on the entrance to the submarine. Sebastian led the way at the other hand of the group, but every now and then he couldn't help but look back over his shoulder, gaping in awe and joy at the sight of the commanding officer still more than alive.

Yet another robot with a large shield dropped down into the compartment, but Galen oozed it down in heavy bullets long enough to allow Sandy to look a hatch. It was not going to gain them much time, but it allowed him and Galen to rush to the head of the group, meeting Sebastian just as they approached the last of the hatches. A furious firefight was already ongoing there, and the noise echoed horrendously in the long, narrow corridor.

"It's good to see you... still leading, commander." Sebastian said, smiling at Galen, who swallowed down blood and saliva and made a grimace that sat somewhere halfway between anguish and amusement.

"I'm glad you had the sense to not say "good". Fuck, I don't feel good at all." Galen mumbled, but then he smirked as widely as he could, joking: "And I'm the son of god, am I not...? I mean, it must account for something. I don't expect a single grenade to kill me."

"I'm his son too, but I wouldn't want to have to try that theory myself." Sebastian replied with a snort of entertainment, before approaching the thick watertight door which led to the compartment directly beneath the stern escape hatch. On the other side, bullets were flying and crashing into the bulkhead and the door itself, and the metallic noise of one of the RA robots was already evident.

Sebastian flattened himself against the wall, rifle at the ready and one hand on the lock of the door, and Galen aimed both machine guns straight ahead before giving him a nod.

Sebastian slammed the door wide open and Galen roared, purposefully drawing all attention on himself as he opened up with both machine guns. The RA robot was facing in the opposite direction, advancing against the sailors defending the entrance to the narrow tunnel leading through the otherwise armoured and impenetrable reactor block, and the bullets tore through its spine and nearly broke it in half. A couple of RA soldiers who had been following the robot were quickly cut down to bloody heaps, and two more, one in each corner of the compartment, were rapidly taken down by Sandy and Sebastian, who crouched and fired past Galen's hips.

There was another shattered robot on the floor, and another RA corpse, but at least three members of the Audacious's crew stared at Galen with blind eyes, sprawled on the floor, broken and wasted. The commander swallowed at the sight, and unleashed hell on the hatch above them, forcing the RA back while Sebastian and Sandy carefully walked around the hole, back to the walls on the opposite sides, leading the survivors into the narrow tunnel.

Galen slowly followed them, circling around the hatch and continuing to pour bursts of rounds up against it, trying not to waste too many rounds while making it scary enough to keep the RA assault teams pinned.

He ducked into the tunnel, helped by friendly hands guiding him so he could keep his attention focused on the hatch and the door straight ahead, which was already being forced open by the other RA teams advancing from the bow... And his last thought was for his king and god and father. Dad, if you care about us at all... come soon.