Wasn’t This a Night Game

Cumming from the Saint’s Whipping

Baron Hanson tried desperately to cover his mouth.

But nothing was going to work out as he wanted in his state of hypnosis

“Don’t move. Don’t resist. Don’t cast any curses. Just sit there and answer my questions. Who is the Collector? What exactly does he do?”

“He collects grudges for the Order. A large amount of grudges are needed to use the miracles and curses of the evil gods. Our factory is one of the main sources for supplying these grudges.”

Using the factory as a source of grudges?

Could it be…?

“The fire at the factory. Did you perhaps cause it on purpose? To amplify the despair and suffering of the people?”

Baron Hanson replied with a face that looked like he wanted to kill himself.

“Yes. That is correct. I did it on purpose. He suddenly needed to procure a large amount of grudges urgently. So I intentionally started the fire.”

“What did you need the grudges for?”

“I do not know. He doesn’t tell me. I just assist the Collector and facilitate the procurement of grudges.”

“Where’s the Collector?”

Baron Hanson shivers something fierce.

Seems he’s truly horrified at the words spilling from his mouth against his will, like a broken dam.

But what choice does he have?

He vomits the truth, plain and simple.

“Th-there… There’s a passage behind that bookshelf. Concealed by some miracle of hiding, not even the sharpest priest could sniff it out.”

“You can open it?”

“Yes. I can.”

“Then open the damn door.”

At my command, Baron Hanson rises like a machine and shuffles to the bookshelf.

He mumbles some incantation, his fingers fiddling with the books in a prescribed order, and soon the bookshelf melts away as if made of wax, revealing a hidden passage behind.

The thick, cloying stench of blood hits like a fist.

Sickening, plain and simple.

The smell snaps something inside my head.

They deliberately…

Deliberately burned people alive?

To harvest the grudges?

I can’t even curse.

I’ll catch them all and hand them over to the Pantheon.

And do it in front of everyone.

“Right before the eyes of the factory fire’s bereaved, I’ll burn you all alive, the same way.”

That’s the only way the souls of those who died will find even a sliver of solace!

“You, don’t you dare move from this spot, just stand there and wait. The Collector. You. And that fatso passed out outside. All of you, pyres. It’s the only way the souls of those you deliberately killed today will feel even the smallest comfort!”

After spitting in Baron Hanson’s face,

I strode relentlessly down the passage.

Not long after descending the passage, a woman chanting a spell with crazed abandon above a crimson magic circle etched with inverted pentagrams came into view.

That b*tch must be the one called Collector.

The Collector was so utterly engrossed in chanting the spell, she hadn’t a clue I’d even arrived.

She’s the reason the fire started, huh?

Then you’re getting your ass beat to hell.

A hell of a beating and then the pyre! You fucking cunt!!

I charged at the Collector.

And…

“W-wait, how did you get here?!…KYaaaH!!”

The Collector’s teeth went flying.

*

The Collector couldn’t comprehend it.

The Miracle of Concealment was, without exaggeration, one of the most potent miracles bestowed upon followers by the evil gods.

Even the most exceptional high priests.

Even other gods had been deceived by it, records proved the miracle’s power.

But how in the hell did that mad Healing Saint b*stard, suddenly popping up right in front of me and whipping his belt around, find the hidden passage entrance, even with a concealment miracle laid on it??

The Collector, spitting corn kernels from where the belt struck, was back on her feet in an instant.

A black aura seemed to swirl around her cheek, and then, all the wounds vanished, healed clean away.

She gritted her teeth.

Now that it’s come to this, she had to deal with the Saint somehow, or her plans would be utterly ruined.

“You filthy whore’s dogsbody!!”

The Collector offered up the grudges she’d gathered from the factory, and forged a curse in exchange.

A high-grade curse.

No matter how much of a Healing Saint he was, he couldn’t possibly be unharmed by this curse.

A pitch-black curse crackled and burned on her hand.

“The one who drinks blood will never leave you be!…..”

The Saint’s reaction was strange.

Seeing the curse burning on her hand, he didn’t try to dodge or run, but rather started charging at her, like he was begging to be hit.

The faint smile on his face even held a touch of crazed joy.

Feeling a shiver of dread, the Collector unleashed the curse.

The flying curse hit the Saint squarely on his body and…

It had no effect whatsoever.

“What?!”

Almost at the same moment the Collector’s eyes widened in astonishment, the belt came flying at her cheek.

Again, she was violently spitting corn as she went flying, crashing down, but scrambled to her feet immediately.

And then, the certainty.

“The fear of curses… is it just *gone*?”

Curses, they ain’t like magic.

Magic, whatever the other guy’s head’s like, the outcome, it’s fixed. But a curse? A curse, it all depends on the soul, the mind, how *they* are. The result, it twists and changes.

A curse, it feeds on dread and fear, a parasite gnawing at the spirit and soul of its host.

Pile on all the defense spells, miracles even, but if there’s a flicker of fear of the curse itself, that’s it. It’ll cling to your soul, torment you, again and again.

But turn it ’round, and if there’s *nothing* there, no fear, no dread, then the curse, it’s got nothing to bite.

Even a babe, fresh from the womb, feels the sting of dread when faced with a curse.

But this…saint…his mind, his soul, sound as a bell, and he feels *nothing* from the curse.

The Collector, she laughed at the sheer ridiculousness of it all.

“Not some ordinary fool, eh? Seems my curses ain’t got the teeth to kill you.”

Curse won’t bite, so she’s left with nothing but body enhancement to fight.

Her nails, they lengthen.

Black nails, sharp as blades, capable of rending steel with scorn, jutting out, keen and cruel.

A miracle made flesh, fueled by the spite of humanity, her body, it surges.

Muscles, stronger. Tendons, clinging tighter to the bone.

Bone hardening, she feels it. Nerves firing faster, she feels that too.

And that’s not all.

The pain of battle, the wounds and gashes, twisted into pleasure by the dark god’s miracle, nesting deep within her.

Perfect.

With this much, could fight endlessly, no pain, a berserker, pure.

Look at that saint’s scrawny frame.

Clearly, a body that’s never known a brawl.

“For the Blood-Drinker! I’ll tear your soul and body apart!!”

She bellows, charging toward the saint.

Won’t lose.

For the Evil God.

For the Plan.

She could burn everything she was.

Her fingernails dug lightly into the saint’s body.

The Collector’s lips curved into a smile, just as…

“That was but an afterimage, you see.”

*Thwack!* The sound of flesh and belt colliding, and the Collector was airborne again, slamming unceremoniously into the floor.

*

Like that curse Baron Hanson slung a moment ago.

And that curse that Collector woman just launched.

Why don’t curses… *take* on me?

“Not just any dog. Certainly, my curses cannot kill you.”

Shit.

Can’t kill me with curses?

Was that it, then? Ordinary curses just bounced right off me?

No?

Why not??

Just give me a regular curse that’ll shatter my soul, dammit!

So, unless it’s a shard of some evil god level curse, my soul’s just un-shatterable from the get-go?

Trying to force my thick skull to think, maybe it’s the lingering thoughts clinging to my skin, yeah?

I’d heard tales like that before.

Curses, they say, are influenced by intent.

Someone radiating good vibes, thick with ’em, a curse just can’t latch on.

Fixed and saved countless souls, didn’t I? That gotta be it, the reason curses can’t get a grip!!

Shit-fuck!

Meaning only a chunk of some evil god, overflowing with concentrated curse energy straight from the soul’s core, is gonna do the trick!!

While I’m howling inside.

The Collector, suddenly, her nails grew long as blades, charging right for me.

I threw up a hasty time stop, slipped behind her.

This goddamn time stop.

Drains the mind like nothing else, the b*tch.

And I already burned through some of it saving that girl in the factory, not to mention all that healing frenzy with the sickos.

Can feel the mental reserves dipping low already.

Gotta figure out a better way to use it, more bang for my buck.

No.

Not really.

Soon I’ll be cursed and back in Korea.

This er*ge skill stuff…

It’s useless to me now.

“That’s just my afterimage there, you see.”

Moved behind her, released the time stop, and cracked her in the back of the head with my belt.

The Collector went flying, crashing into the floor.

No matter how tough she is, that’s gotta sting.

If she foams at the mouth and passes out, I just need to get close, use Absolute Hypnosis and subdue her.

Just as I was thinking that.

“Uhhhnnn♥ aaah♥♥”

The Collector, moaning like she’s in some p*rn flick, lifts her head from where she’s planted in the floor.

She giggles, looking at me.

“Beat me as much as you like. You think I’ll even blink? Pain… only makes me happy.”

If she just throws up a double V with both hands, that famous Ahegao Double Peace is complete.

No.

How can you take a hit that sends you flying and slamming into the ground and make *that* face?

Ah.

Right, she’s a worshiper of evil gods, isn’t she?

Applying logic to a madhouse only makes you the odd one out.

“Hit me harder! If that’s all you’ve got, you can’t beat me! Never!!”

The Collector bursts into manic laughter, flying toward me.

His movements are a blur.

If this becomes a brawl, I’m 100% screwed!!

Quick, put a stop to things with Time Freeze… but!……

[Mental fortitude critically low.]

Son of a b*tch, seriously!!

I’ve used it way too much today.

Used Time Freeze to save that girl back at the factory, used it just before this.

Then there’s no choice.

I’ll have to freeze him with Absolute Hypnosis for now… but!……

[Please precisely designate the target’s location.]

He’s moving too fast to designate.

And on top of that, Absolute Hypnosis drains mental fortitude during the designation process, and I’m already running on empty, making it damn near impossible to pinpoint him.

Shit!!

I wanted to hypnotize that Collector and make him spill every secret he knows!

“Die! Whore’s lackey!!”

While I’m fumbling, unable to use Time Freeze or Absolute Hypnosis, I see the Collector’s claws slashing at my throat.

If that hits, I’m dead.

If my head gets lopped off, body mods and whatnot become impossible, right?

The fear of death turns my head white.

A reflexive action, practically instinct, bursts out.

My body, possessing monstrous strength thanks to body mods, pulls back with desperate speed.

The Collector’s fingernails narrowly graze past my face.

And almost simultaneously, I grab the Collector’s arm reaching towards me and, cranking the sensitivity up 3000 times, lash out with my belt.

*CRACK!* With a tremendous sound, the Collector, having taken a direct hit to the face, goes flying and slams into the ground like before.

And.

“Nghhh♥♥♥”

A moan erupts.

The Collector begins to tremble violently, then immediately starts spraying a fountain of piss between her legs.

“Ogggh♥ Ogogogogg♥ Hooot♥ Ahng-at♥ Nggh-euut♥”

Her eyes, groaning, begin to be stained crimson.

Her heart is beating so fast that every visible blood vessel seems to burst.

Blood flows from her nose, blood flows from her ears.

Sticking out her tongue and shuddering like a broken machine, the Collector collapses while emitting a tremendous, orgasmic shriek.

“Eunnyooohhh♥♥♥♥♥”

Spraying another fountain of piss, the Collector convulses and shudders.

Wow.

When I first saw this on a tears site, I laughed, thinking, who cries like that?

“So, there really are people who moan like that, huh?”

The Collector, eyes rolled back, climaxing for a good long while, suddenly slumped like a marionette with cut strings.

No response at all. I moved closer, placed a hand on his body.

No heartbeat.

And look at all this blood spurting from his nose, ears, eyes.

No matter how you slice it… every blood vessel in his brain just burst.

Looks like…

Death by pleasure, too much of it?

If it weren’t for the mental fortitude, I’d have hypnotized him and squeezed out every last secret…

What a waste.

“Holy Saint! Are you safe! W-what in the world…”

“By Grace! A worshiper of the dark gods!”

While I stood there, blankly staring down at the Collector who’d exploded with pleasure,

The police and the paladins of the Lilia Order, along with that old codger, High Priest Yodel, having heard the rumors, rushed into the room and froze, aghast.

“A worshiper of the dark gods. I just dealt with him.”

“G-good heavens! A worshiper of the dark gods!!”

“Call the White Order! Right now!!”

The police scrambled, hurrying out of the room.

Meanwhile, the people of the Lilia Order dropped to their knees before me.

“Ah! At the end of your righteous fury for the weak, you have slain the worshiper of dark gods!”

“Grace be! Grace be!”

“Guide us!!”

Watching the priests, spouting tears again over god-knows-what sentimental mush, I couldn’t help but let out a dry laugh.

No wonder Lilia, the Goddess, is pissed and wants to send me to Hell.

“I am not the Saint. I’ve said it time and again, I am not the Saint…”

“He denies his divinity! O Saint! Guide us!!”

Fuck it.

Do as you please.

Soon, when a fragment of the Evil God enters my soul, I’ll detonate the b*stard and go back to Korea with him.