Book Three – Chapter Five – Part Eleven – The Act of Subterfuge and Sabotage (R-18)

“Carrie!!! He’s a fucking traitor!! I’ll kill him!! I’ll FUCKING KILL HIM!!!” Carrie went to grab Servi, but she wasn’t fast enough. Kicking with her legs, Servi rolled forward and converted that into a full-blown sprint. Blood, not belonging to her, dripped down from her face and onto her ruined tunic.

Liron, backed by his years of experience, shook off any emotions that may have held him back.

“Calm down!” he shouted. He brought his axe up, meeting metal with metal as he used his strength to push Servi away. She lost her footing, tripping over a stray piece of debris, but she managed to toss a dagger before she fell. It soared in the perfect trajectory, impaling itself in Liron’s left eye.

The injured Dwarf roared in pain and yelled out two words. “METAL SKIN!!” His brown, dirt-colored skin gleamed for a moment before gradually turning the cold color of steel. Servi rolled backwards, getting to her feet.

“YOU’RE GOING TO DIE, YOU GODDAMN HUMAN!!! CARRIE, KILL HER!” Liron screeched. He moved a hand to the dagger in his eye and ripped it out, eyeball and all. He stared at it for a fraction of a second before he attempted to stab his exposed biceps. The tip of the dagger bent, ruining it for good.

If he’s Rank 3, then he probably learned Instant Cast. If not, then he was born with it. Watch out! Itarr shouted, but her words didn’t reach Servi. At that moment, the Goddess forgot she couldn’t speak with Servi.

Her words might’ve fallen on deaf ears, but Itarr knew that somewhere, deep inside the inner confines of hers and Servi’s interconnected soul, her words reached her beloved friend.

“Don’t do it, Carrie! Remember the worst-case scenario?! It’s fucking coming true! I know he’s dealing with the 6th! They’re behind this!! FUCKING BELIEVE ME!”

“CARRIE, DON’T BETRAY THE MAFIA. I’ll CUT OFF YOUR FUCKING LEGS AND USE YOU AS A FUCK PUPPET!! RAISE YOUR GODDAMN SPEAR AND TAKE HER HEAD!!!!"

As Carrie was torn between a situation she didn’t want to be in, Old Man ran away and took cover behind a sturdy-looking wall. He didn’t dare to peek out, for their anger might somehow turn to him. He thought about screaming for help but quickly argued against it.

It wouldn’t help in the slightest. Shit, what do I—

Like a brief breeze, a man walked right past Old Man. He wasn’t there before, and try as he might, Old Man couldn’t hear a single thing. There were no footsteps and no rocks and gravel crumbling underneath the thick leather boots protecting the man's feet. His long hair, tied in a ponytail, didn’t touch Old Man at all even though he was practically millimeters away.

His long green cloak was something that an Elf would choose. His long ears certainly reinforced that possibility, but he gripped a metal bow in his hands. Surely the nature-loving race of Elves wouldn’t stoop so low to use a metal bow built by the hands of Men and Dwarves. Even odder, the weapon he held had more than one string.

Things and people that were normal inside the Mafia probably wouldn’t be that common outside the Mafia.

“…CARRIE, YOU HAVE TO CHOOSE ME!! I—“

Before she knew it, Servi was thrown back by a mysterious Elf wearing a green cloak. He had suddenly appeared in front of her, and a single pluck from his metallic bow radiated an invisible force.

She slid, her back tearing against the hard gravel until her tunic ripped. At that point, she had nothing to protect her skin. Like a crayon of meat being forcibly pushed, the rocks tore chunks of flesh, painting the grey gravel crimson with her blood.

Her back was set aflame, and she did all she could to not cry out. Itarr couldn’t heal Servi. The only thing the Goddess could do was hold back True Immortality until someone else used a healing skill or potion on her.

But something was strange. It was like that attack did something to Servi because a brief second later, the fire on her back felt wanted and pleasant.

Itarr didn’t alter anything. She was just as confused. Frankly, Servi didn’t want to talk about it in the first place because, in her mind, the reason didn’t matter. Servi knew, mentally speaking, she had quite a few screws loose in her head.  She hypothesized that maybe it was a fragment of her past that had activated. Maybe? Maybe not.  As of that moment, when Servi slowly stood up and walked towards the tall intruder, any and all reasoning had left the confines of her mind.

“A 6th?!” Carrie exclaimed. She saw that the Elf’s ears weren’t just pointy. They were crudely carved, cut, healed, and manipulated by sticks and pins until they took on the shape of a ‘6.’

“Would you two mind telling me what the hell happened? I was out on a nightly walk...and…this…all...of this distracted me,” his voice was calm and serene like it couldn’t have belonged to the man who had the power to throw someone with his bow alone.

“THAT HUMAN BITCH ATTACKED ME!” Liron yelled and pointed to Servi. Her clothes were in awful shape. Brown and dirtied, her shirt was barely more than a scrap. Her injured back revealed itself to the world. Her pants faired better, but not by much. The whites of her thighs peeked through in gaps that were a bit bigger than a dupla.

“He betrayed the Mafia. He ordered his men to attack the buyer for his drugs, then he was going to frame us for it.”

Liron raised his axe, but a hand from the Elf put a stop to it. Using a graceful motion, he flicked his gray hair out away from his hazel eyes and spoke. “Speaking such acts, when they are untrue, can have drastic effects on your well-being. You must have evidence if you don’t want me to strike you down now for the crime of betrayal.”

“The evidence is right there,” Servi pointed down at Liron’s feet. Right beside his boot sat a letter. More specifically, right beside his boot sat a letter from the 6th that was forged by Servi.

“Are you resting your entire fate on a random letter? Should I read this and find it unsatisfactory, you, your Numbered, and that elderly gentlemen hiding behind that wall will die by my Clarence,” the Elf said. He affectionately cradled his metallic bow and plucked its strings. A visible gust of wind flowed from the metal handles and soared through the air until it touched the letter. Then, like it was traveling in reverse, the letter followed a specific pattern until it sat in the Elf’s hand.

With a graceful and intellectual eye, the Elf scanned it for a few short moments before carefully folding it in a tiny square.

“Liron, from what I see around me, you are hereby charged with treason. Clarence, seal him!” barked the Elf. He held his bow up and plucked it like one would a guitar. The same green wind flowed out, taking on a darker shade, and wrapped around Liron’s hands and feet. It happened in half a second, at most.

“Wha—“ Liron started to speak, but a swift punch to the gut quieted him.

“Clarence, heal!” The Elf plucked his bow, and green light enveloped Servi’s body, healing her of nearly every wound she'd sustained. The same couldn’t be said for her clothes, however.

“6th, I—“ Servi started to speak, but she was cut off by the Elf.

“Say nothing, do nothing, smell nothing, and touch nothing until we arrive at your base. You, 9th, tell me.”

“Deset, sir!” Carrie answered quickly.

“Good. My dear elderly man, come out of hiding, or you will join these corpses that are filling the rocks and dirt with their blood!” the Elf yelled.

Saying nothing, Old Man emerged from the walls and obediently went to Carrie.

“You, do you know what was on that letter?”

“No, sir!”

He handed it to Carrie. She sped read it before fighting the urge to rip it up. The Elf saw this and quickly snatched it back before she lost the battle.

“It seems to me that Deset has a poisonous apple I must get rid of myself. Since you’re all witnesses to this, it only makes it right for you to see the outcome of his foolish nature. Now, 9th, lead the way.”

One hour later, Servi held a knife to a particular 6th’s face. It had been years since his head had the cat ears his race was known for. The area above his tailbone hadn't felt the warmth of a tail in many moons, either.  He was a Singi in name only. Servi didn’t know how it happened, but the loss of his racial body parts didn’t matter at all. To her, she was glad to be rid of him.

When they arrived at Deset, the Elf, Carmelo, rushed to the 6th and demanded he call an emergency meeting. He did, and every Numbered within Deset met up ten minutes past that.

Carmelo had opened the emergency forum with the letter Servi had pointed at. He explained to everyone there that Deset’s 6th was a traitor to the Mafia.

“This letter, in his handwriting, is all the proof we need to make a vote. HE was behind everything. I’m sure of it. From what I gathered from Carrie, Deset had a problem with an Elf named Eletri? I can almost assure you he had something to do with that entire situation,” Carmelo had said, convincing everyone of something he didn't know was false.

Servi, who had been standing next to Carrie,  had internally smirked. She hadn't expected this development, but she wasn’t going to complain.

“Carrie also told me that HQ didn’t send a response for that entire incident? I can assure you he falsified the report he sent. It is clear to me that he believes he is more than the Mafia. Poisonous apples like him must be carved up and used as an example to prevent anyone else from thinking they can do the same thing.”

The 6th, whose name was Mel, had tried to say something in his defense, but he hadn't been able to get a single word in. In the big room where Servi had been interrogated, she felt pleased to be the one who orchestrated everything.

She half-thought that it wouldn’t be that bad to rule the Mafia from the shadows like a puppeteer. If she could, then perhaps this room would become her personal quarters. It was tall and spacious, and after going there for the second time, she was growing fond of it.

Mel’s ‘trial’ lasted all of fifteen minutes. Carmelo’s excellent way of controlling the mood, tone, and emotion of a forum was instrumental in turning everyone against Mel in less time than it took to cook a meal.

For a brief second, Servi believed Carmelo to be someone who desired power, and he saw his chance. In the end, it didn't matter if he was just a simple power-hungry Elf; he would still die by her hands when the time came.

She would create the most spectacular banquet and bless it with the blood of every Mafia member.

When his trial ended, Mel begged for a chance to say something. Carmelo responded by giving Servi a single knife.

“I’ll give you the first cut. You will strip a piece of meat off of Mel's skin and give it to Liron,” he said. Servi looked at the bald Dwarf sitting nearby. He struggled against ‘Clarence,’ whatever that was, but he couldn’t break free its iron-like grasp, which took the form of dark green wind. She looked back and saw the wide circle of Numbered surrounding her. Carrie was there. She met Servi’s blue eye for just a moment before averting them.

Servi didn’t think anything of it and brought her knife to Mel’s face. His mouth opened in protest, but it was useless. There was no combination of words in the known or unknown universe that he could say to make her stop.  She decided to carve out a piece of skin on his neck. More specifically, the back of his neck where the nape would be. As she walked around his restrained body and leaned down, she whispered eight little words.

“The. Mafia. Will. Be. Destroyed. In. Five. Days.”

Before Mel could say anything, pain filled his body. Servi had held her knife perpendicular to his skin and scraped it across like one would sharpen a blade in a grindstone. A thick piece of flesh, 30 or 35 cm long, hung from a thin piece of skin that stubbornly clung to his body. Servi, enjoying it immensely, ‘ accidentally’ stuck her fingers inside the wound as she attempted to pull the meat off. After pretending to apologize, she finally finished the job.

Carrie couldn’t contain her excitement anymore and rushed to Servi. She immediately grabbed her fingers and stuck the bloody ones in her mouth. As she did, warmth radiated from her waist, putting her in an excited state. Her wet tongue did not leave any crimson behind as it lewdly lapped up any trace of the red liquid while coating Servi's fingers in her spit.

Carmelo coughed from behind and ordered Carrie and Servi to leave the room. Her task was done. Carrie wanted to argue that she hadn't peeled off any of Mel's skin, and Servi was about to say she never had a chance to force Liron to eat it, but they refrained from saying anything. They both felt like it wouldn’t be a good thing to talk back against someone so high up on the totem pole. Before Carrie's hand gripped the doorknob to leave, Carmelo assured her that his report would reach HQ and they could expect a response in a few hours. He also told Carrie to be ready for a meeting in the morning.

“Williana, I—” Carrie said a few minutes after leaving the large room. After navigating the twists and turns, Servi found herself in her room, standing in front of the door leading to Carrie’s room. She glanced to the left and saw Old Man asleep on his side. His light snoring was the only source of noise echoing about the room until she and Carrie entered.

“Look, 9th,” Servi opened the door and walked inside. “I have no qualms about you breaking my face with your spear. You can do whatever the fuck you want to if it counts as pleasure. After all, you are paying me to sleep with you,” Servi grabbed what was left of her clothes and violently ripped them off. She took her daggers from her hip and tossed them at the ground, then she turned to face Carrie, who watched as Servi sensually ran a hand across her rich bosom.

Carrie didn’t have the time to think of anything. Servi rushed up to the red Singi and placed her mouth on her neck. She embraced her in a hug and twirled around until the two of them fell together on the bed.  Servi's upper body pressed against Carrie's cloth-covered breasts.  Their nipples danced with each other, becoming firmer by the coarse shirt sending waves of pleasure through to each other.

“You wanted me to do this, didn’t you?” using her hands, Servi ripped Carrie’s shirt up off her head to reveal her bare chest. Two pink nipples met her gaze, and Servi didn’t let a moment go to waste. She placed her mouth on Carrie's stomach, allowing her tongue to taste the Singi's flesh. Then Servi moved upward, leaving a trail of spit behind that seemed to burn Carrie's skin. Eventually, she reached the left areola, and Servi didn't spare it. For five solid minutes, Servi toyed with her prey, leading her to the pit of pleasure, but never allowing her to make the final leap.

But then she did.

“Williana, ho—Nnnneeehhhhh!!!!” Servi’s hot tongue flicked Carrie's left nipple while her hands maneuvered up towards her throat.  A salty, sweaty taste filled her mouth but soon disappeared when True Immortality kicked in.

Servi thought long and hard about wringing Carrie's pretty little neck. She squeezed and squeezed, only stopping when an utterly guttural noise erupted from her would-be victim’s throat, and her hands went wild trying to pry Servi’s arms off.  At the same time, Servi noticed a wet spot in between Carrie's legs.

“You wanted me to fucking lick this too, right? That’s what you FUCKING wanted, right? You fucking PERVERT!” The tormented Singi coughed when she tried to say stop, but Servi took it as an affirmative answer.

Sinisterly smiling to herself, Servi ripped a hole in Carrie's shorts using her teeth. She was going commando, and a juicy peach stared right at Servi. Her nostrils, filled with the scent of a cat in heat, flared slightly as a hand pinched Carrie’s clit. As her body convulsed in pain and shock, twenty sets of Telekinesis assaulted both nipples while Servi’s other hand parted the lower pink lips staring at her. A copious amount of liquid dripped down it and onto the bed. A feminine odor wafted up, coating Servi's nostrils in the warm scent of a Singi in heat.

Carrie did her best to close her legs, but Servi stretched them open in protest. After flicking Carrie's stiff clit with more force than she needed, Servi laughed when it became slightly engorged. She wondered what would happen if she bit it off. How much blood would escape? Would it be enough to kill Carrie? Would she ever recover from such a brutal wound? Shaking her head, Servi removed those thoughts from her mind for the time being.

“That should be enough. Itarr, fill the room with sleeping gas. Don’t let it leak out.”

Of course.

As if it was all an act, Servi stood up and the damaged clothing she had torn off appeared back on her body.

A red ID flew next to Servi.

That was all an act, right? What you did with Carrie? Itarr asked.

“Yeah,” Servi took a seat on the bed and poked Carrie's stomach with the handle of her dagger. She slid the blade down the Singi's sleeping body, rubbing cold steel against her inner-most area.  When Servi pulled it back up, a glistening liquid dripped from the sharp edge. Servi shook her head and absorbed the weapon. “I did it that way because I don’t want her to remember this when she wakes up. I acted completely different. That, when combined with the sleeping gas, should distort her memories. Somewhat, at least. I’m sure I have to do it tomorrow night, and again each night after that until I have the chance to destroy the Mafia. Then, I shouldn’t have to force myself to do any of this with someone I don’t want to.”

We only need a 5th, right? Then we save Momo?

Servi fell back and turned her head to the right. Her right hand extended outwards and groped Carrie's breasts. “That’s right. We just need one. I’ll torture the ever-living-fuck out of him, find his base, and slaughter every fucking Mafia member I come across. I was serious, Itarr. They made the wrong fucking enemy when they took Momo." She raised her hand a little and flicked Carrie's nipples for a few seconds, stopping once they became hard. Then she placed her palm down on the Singi's breasts. The softness of her hand and Carrie's supple skin did nothing to Servi. Perhaps if it was Momo she saw lying bare, with her cute ears lightly twitching while staring up at her lover, maybe Servi would feel something akin to lust or affection.

But it wasn't, and Servi found herself growing angrier by the minute. "I'm going to fucking kill Carrie... I'll rip off that fucking tail, choke the fucking life out of her, and then stuff it down her goddamn throat! I'll take a fucking knife and carve off her skin! She's going to die!!! SHE'S GOING TO FUCKING DIE!!!!"

Red flashed across Servi’s eye. Before she knew it, she had squeezed and ripped Carrie's left breast off and crushed it. Liquid red rained all over the bed and covered a part of Servi’s body.

The pain had to be unbearable. There was so much crimson covering nearly everything.  The whites of Carrie's ribs and the beating of her heart were on display.

Even with all of that, the red-headed Singi did not wake up, but her breathing increased.

“Shit, can’t have you die on me, can I?” Servi happily chucked to herself as Carrie’s grotesque wound healed right in front of her. The remains of her once torn breast rested in her hands. For a split second, she thought about forcing it down its owner’s throat and suffocating her. If she played her cards right, she could blame it on Mel and his ‘supposed gas attacks.’

However, she decided it wouldn’t be worth it to put more suspicion on her, and she stored the torn breast in her ring.

Servi’s ID flew in front of her face.

“Skills are a wonderful thing, aren’t they?  I mean, I ripped her tit off, and it’s healing up perfectly. Look! You can’t even tell it's not the original one!!” After pointing with both hands, Servi used Telekinesis to lift the girl she almost killed. Once she absorbed the bloody bed, she took one of the beds she took from Parrel's mansion out and laid it down. After that, she took out a rag and cleaned the blood off her would-be victim.

Won't she know it’s not the same bed she fell asleep on? Itarr asked. She chose her words very carefully because she sensed something wasn’t right. Ever since Carrie’s attack, something deep inside Servi’s core essence was changing, albeit slightly. It wasn’t like when the mysterious box leaked out the energy that forcibly altered Servi’s emotional make-up, but it felt so similar that Itarr believed it was the same for a few hours. However, like nearly everything else, Itarr was powerless to do anything but hang on for the ride ahead of her. She could use skills to assist her beloved Servi, but that was it.

“I’ll say it’s always been here. If she argues, I’ll say she wasn’t acting right, and she fell over on the bed after stripping. Oh, that reminds me.” Servi rolled off the bed and walked around to the front of it. Even though it was unnecessary, she snapped her fingers, and all of Carrie's clothes disappeared from her body. They reappeared a moment later next to her spear.

After rubbing her hands up and down Carrie's succulent thighs, Servi hopped into bed. Her ID flew down and stopped a few centimeters away from her pretty blue eye. “Itarr, I’m about to go to sleep.”

Good night, Servi. I love you.

The mentally fractured girl took hold of her ID and held it close to her armored chest as she curled into a ball. “I love you, too,” she whispered, losing the overwhelming battle against exhaustion that shouldn’t be there.

But her dreams weren’t a paradise.

For the next six hours, Servi was trapped in the inner machinations of her dreams, and each one was a nightmare. As if she was an outside spectator, Servi watched as Momo died a hundred horrific ways while she was powerless to save her best friend.

In one dream, Momo’s decapitated head rolled amongst the nightmarish floor filled with Servi’s victims, and the Singi taunted Servi’s inability to save her.

“You hid all of this power from me, and you couldn’t even use it to save me. You hated me, didn’t you? You weren’t my friend at all.” Momo’s voice filled the dark atmosphere as her sky-blue eyes leaked blood. “WHY WON’T YOU SAVE ME?! WHY WON’T YOU CRY FOR THE LIVES YOU’VE TAKEN?!” the head yelled.

Servi tried to open her mouth, but an empty scream escaped. No—more than that— sheer laughter made its appearance known as Momo’s head exploded. Chunks of blood, far too big to have been contained in her pretty little head, covered the dreamscape in an eerie red. Then, the blood drained from everywhere as it converged onto one spot. It grew and coagulated together until it was in the shape of two people.

It was Servi and Momo—no, that wasn't correct. It was their blood forms created from the inner demons of Servi’s dreams.

The blood Servi forcibly impaled the blood Momo and ripped her down the middle. Momo’s earsplitting cries of pain and anguish were drowned out by the maniacal laughter of both Servis. The blood Servi locked eyes with the real Servi and spoke.

“This is what we are. We kill. We kill some more. We destroy. We destroy some more. This isn’t the life for you. Let the rage explode and burn this town to the ground. Better yet, burn this kingdom and this continent. Scorch the oceans, the mountains, and the forests. Burn this whole fucking planet to ashes!! You’re the Mad Dog, aren’t you? Do you think someone like you can be contained by a single fucking girl? We’ve killed hundreds. Before this week is over, thousands will have died by our hands,” it said.

A flash of light appeared around Servi’s neck. When it dissipated, it left a stone collar.

A dog collar.

The bloody doppelganger grinned and flattened her palm. “You know what you have to do, don’t you? If it was off, you would’ve slaughtered that damn gambler and his family. If it was torn asunder from your neck, that fucker who fucked his wife would’ve died after you tossed him out of the window. If you were even a shred of the person you used to be, you would’ve burned down the Berrycanta Inn, destroyed the town, and fucked off to satisfy your destructive urges.”

“Shut up! Hahahahah!!!!! Shut! HAHAHAHAHAHAHAH!!!!! THAT’S NOT!!!!! HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHA!!!” Servi did her best to respond to her lookalike, but the situation of it all was far too funny. She didn’t know why, but laughing was the only thing she could do.

“You know what to do. The day will come when the thrill of destruction is too great to ignore, and it will come soon. You know what you have to do to be free. See? You’re almost there. You need that one little push. I wonder what it will be? Will it be this Singi? Will it be that armored Kobold? I know you want to fight him. You want to rip through his armor and crush his innards with your bare hands, don’t you? Maybe I’ll be back later.” The blood Servi jabbed her pointed hand in her neck, severing it from her shoulders.

The dreamscape exploded as a river of crimson erupted from her body, drowning everything.

The red gave way to a familiar roof and walls as Servi’s eye opened. She quickly leaned up, glancing left and right.

She had escaped from her nightmare. Carrie’s naked body and snoring were proof of that.  The soft blanket under her, the stiffness of her clothes, and the red ID hugging her chest were further evidence.

But was it over?

Servi realized something was off. After retrieving a mirror, she gasped and nearly rolled off the bed. She saw herself, of course, but that wasn’t the reason she was surprised.

Like the doppelganger from her nightmare, Servi’s fingers were about twenty-five percent of the way through her neck. A never-ending crimson waterfall marinated the bed, submerging most of the blanket in a sea of red. In only a few more seconds, the bed wouldn't be the only thing Servi would have to replace.

Servi looked back at the mirror and nearly screamed. Lasting only a split-second, she felt the cold, gritty sensation of a stone collar wrapped around her throat, and Servi wanted nothing more than to take her own head.