Epilogue: Return of the Bat Lady

---D-Day+210, Siesic(Youyue) 21st, Thursday(Qiri) Evening---

---Black Coast---

“Wasteful.”

A dignified demonkin standing straight in butler-like attire mutters to himself. His well cared for horns spiral up beside gray hair. But his mumbling goes unheard over the crashing of the waves.

And moans of the dying.

Beyond the walled northern frontier of Luyan lies a seemingly endless waste. The Hejide. Black Desert. Vast badlands of short cool summers and long frozen winters. A territory dominated by the exiled Emozu. Demon Clans. Eternal enemy of the yanese empire and its descendant states. With an eastern shoreline winding for a thousand miles northward. Until disappearing under arctic glaciers.

Days north of Yangxu's frontier. On one of the Black Desert’s miles long windswept beaches. Battered by foamy waves of the Haiyang.

*chop* *squich* *splop*

There is a killing field.

Once pristine white sands are now dark with the blood of tens of thousands. Wide empty beaches now choked with the dead and dying. Demonkin and beastkin warriors, armored in scaled lamellar or studded brigandine, roam through the gruesome harvest. Hacking and stabbing with ax and spear. Mercilessly finishing off any surviving wounded humans.

*foosh* *crackle* *sizzle*

Then dragging the slain to scattered funeral pyres. From which columns of greasy black smoke rise into the orange tinted evening sky above the burning mounds. The hot stench of cooking flesh mixes with frigid salty ocean air.

Lining the red foamy waters battering this blood soaked coast is even more mortal ruin. A naval graveyard. Longships in the hundreds dot the seascape. Broken. Burning. Sinking.

But do not believe this massacre was entirely one sided. Tens of thousands of slaughtered northmen in leather, chain and fur do carpet the shore. But among them lie thousands of beastkin and demonkin who joined them in death. Hundreds of wrecked square-sailed viking boats do hug the coastline. Yet among them are tens of black triangle-sailed raiders too.

“So wasteful.” The standing senior looking demon-man sighs again.

“What did you say, Jorgun?” A beautiful winged demonkin woman, seated to his right, distractedly asks.

“I said ‘wasteful,’ my lady.” Her loyal manservant1Jorgun Irzezath | Male | Demon-Human | Chamberlain of Xarkiun Keep | Realm of Kriotux | Dominion of Drasritor | Introduced in Vol 1 Branch 2 honestly answers.

New golden irises appraise the devoted follower. Then swivel back to a devastated shore. Metallic black chain and plate armor covers much of her crimson skin and curvaceous hourglass figure. The sculpted iron fitting the busty succubus like a tight glove. Leaving nothing, even the size of her nipples, to the imagination. A heart shaped face tilts to one side, pondering. And a pointed onyx fingernail taps against pouty cerulean painted lips.

“Perhaps.” She2Khirsa Zuzzoros | Female | Demon-Human | Lady of Kriotux | Dominion of Drasritor | Introduced in Vol 1 Chapter 3 admits and pushes a strand of long blue hair behind a pointed ear. “But a necessary waste.”

The gentleman demonkin knows better than to disagree. So he simply bows and resumes waiting for her ladyship’s next command.

Above the embattled shore, on a sandy cliff, from a large pavilion of red wood and tan fabric. The two observe the results of their labor. She is seated upon a stark white backless throne of bones. Flanked by armored halberd wielding demonkin guards.

The bat-winged infernal shifts on the seat. Leaning on an elbow while still facing the battlefield. She pronounces her next command.

“Anything new from the beggars?”

Jorgun closes his eyes to help calm himself. He knows who his lady is asking about. And this is not how the triumphant leader of a demon host should behave. But ever since meeting that human. His proud queen has become more and more… obsessed. Even the demon kings, including her nemesis Gazrakix, have never received so much attention from her.

“My lady, the latest messages from the Gaibang report that John Barton’s harem has expanded again.” Pointedly ignores her fist clenching. Nails dig into red flesh. “As predicted, Ling Yi Shen, the necromancer, has joined the harem. And Xiao Su is expected to soon.” Mentally prepares for another irrational outburst. “Raising the total to twenty-five, including the two who remained in Iagreth plus Isueda Baschion.”

…

‘Nothing?’ He thinks.

The demonkin called the Ruin of Calador raises her right hand. Causing a yanese slave dressed in rags to scramble over from one of the campfires outside the huge tent. Precariously carrying an ornate golden tray with a jeweled goblet upon it. Fortunately, the fearful servant keeps it balanced enough to not spill any of the rare vintage within.

*sip*

After a long slow drink, Lady Zuzzoros inquires. “And the factions?”

Knowing where the lines are drawn among a harem’s wives, concubines and mistresses is vital to anyone with designs on its master.

“Unchanged. The strongest remains the first wife’s, Edelys Barton3Edelys Gilend | Human(Tourinese) | 1st Wife | Pregnant | Edel, Red, Knight-wife.” Hears her ladyship’s teeth grind. She had always hated the Gilend House. And was quite pleased when John crushed them. “The weakest remains the fourth wife’s, Hitomi Barton4Hitomi Chigusa | Human-Elf(Japanese/Dark-Elf) | 4th Wife | Ninja-wife, Japanese highschooler, Shinobi girl.” No reaction again? “Who still only has the former cripple, Miltinnia Alnus, and fellow summoned one, Elizabeth Carter, as allies.”

“And the bitch?”

Sigh. His queen’s hatred for anyone who ever served the goddess Metia is even more well known.

“The second wife’s, Ushinua Barton5Avalina Faphyri Angelles | Human-Elf(Tourinese) | 2nd Wife | Frankie, Priest-wife, Ushi, faction is still the second strongest.” Ignores the hiss. “But it is expected that Li Zexi Tiang’s6Human(Yanese) | Mistress | Little Li, China girl, Young Li faction will surpass it as more yanese women join.” Feels a bit uncomfortable. “However, the ‘Godbeast’ cult remains a concern. The beggars have confirmed it now has a foothold in Luyan.” Worries about his ruler’s lack of care. “There are even rumors of missionaries spreading it in Drasritor.”

“He tasks me…” The succubus raises a fist. “He tasks me, and I shall have him.” Confidence. “I will chase him around the moons of Nibia.” Obsession. “Around the Antares Maelstrom.” Madness. “And around Perdition's flames before I give him up!”

“Nibia?” The manservant mutters. “Must be another memory.” He worries. Flashbacks to her old lives have been getting worse the longer her conquest gets delayed.

*clink* *clack*

Shackles and chains interrupt the butler’s musings as two armored demonkin approach the pavilion. Half pulling half carrying a heavily injured very muscular towering northman between them. Covered in cuts, bruises, and blood. His tattered furs and the sticky sand present a sad sight. Though a powerful aura hints at high status and formidable skill.

Thrown before the throne. He barely manages to stay on his knees instead of face planting. The viking raises his chin and locks eyes with the demon lady. Well one eye now. The other is a messy ruin. Filthy braided gray hair and beard do not detract from his furious expression. Runes in his mana disrupting manacles glow brightly.

Blood drips from the mouth as he growls. “We had a deal, bitch.”

Blue lips peel back from pointed teeth as the Lady of Kriotux leans forward with a vicious grin. “Not with me, human.”

“Where are the sisters?” The viking king’s remaining eye slowly pans across the crowd behind her under the canvas canopy.

Besides the queen, chamberlain, and guards, are a couple dozen assorted allies, subordinates, and sycophants. Demonkin, beastkin, elves, dwarves, orcs, goblins, and even a few humans are present. Dressed in various styles of clothing. From simple primitive tribal leathers to complex silk cultivator robes. Their arms range from crude goblin staffs to elegant yanese jian.

“Dead.” Khirsa answers bluntly then snarls. “One tried to touch what wasn’t hers to covet.” Shrugs. “The other chose to resist my… requests.”

Jorgun suppresses a shudder as he recalls the second pirate queen’s torture and execution. Grieving over her twin sister’s death? Understandable. But plotting revenge against the object of his lady’s affection? Unforgivable.

And fatal.

The chained survivor spits blood onto the ground. “Very well.” He sneers. “Do your worst, bitch.”

A smirk graces the succubi’s face. “Sometimes, there is value in the old ways.” Glances at the demonkin flanking the norseman prisoner. “Crucify him.”

Grabbed by the arms. The grumbling viking lord is hauled towards the line of crosses being erected atop the dunes to the south of the pavilion.

An arrogant voice intrudes from the back of the tent. “With such a host, no state nor sect can oppose you, jade fairy.” The attempted praise falls flat. Though the prideful speaker does not seem to notice as he steps forward

The infamous patriarch of the Xuejinghui7Blood Fiend Society(血精會) has dominated the surviving “demonic” sects for centuries. And despite his age, Gao Hei Feng is a powerful, virulent looking yanese man. Tall, muscular, and tanned with a sharp face. His ebony eyebrows, mustache, and goatee are shaped to points. While long curly black hair falls far down the back. Wearing black and purple silks, a mighty two handed swordbreaker is strapped to his back.

“Ha.” Jorgun snorts. The losers from one of Luyan’s early civil wars, between opposing sect ideologies, were branded “demonic” by the “righteous” victors. And now no one remembers what they originally called themselves, because they chose to embrace the title. But aside from accepting demonkin into their ranks? They are not really demonic at all.

A few fellow cultivators stand behind Patriarch Feng. Leaders of other demonic sects and their seconds. Each attired in dark silks and furs with pieces of chain or lamellar armor. Flanking Gao Hei are two voluptuous yan women. The openings and slits in their thin robes expose even more tempting skin than their patriarch’s bared chest. Though the various sheathed knives the pair also display strapped prominently to their bodies. Promises a bloody price for any who try to satisfy that temptation.

Jorgun is unimpressed. “What do you mean, Lord Feng.” He inquires dryly. The powerful cultivator has been lustily staring at the Lady of Kriotux ever since they first met, weeks ago.

Seeing the object of his desire turn her head to observe. The patriarch of the heretical demonic sect puffs up his chest even more and dramatically replies to Jorgun. “Do you not see the legions vast, demonkin?” Sweeps his arms left and right. “The righteous fools and their mortal cronies stand no chance!”

Indeed, arrayed north and south of the large open sided tent. On the dunes bordering the beach. Tens of thousands of demonkin and beastkin stand in orderly rows and columns. Silently watching their comrades continue to sort the battlefield. Numerous pennants and banners above their ranks flapping in the wind.

The demonkin butler nearly comments on how little the demonic sects contributed to today’s victory. But besides being too professional to speak impolitely. He knows it is an understandable lack. The losers of the sect wars that survived, fled to the poorest remotest regions. And so naturally lack the resources to match the wealthier righteous sects. Infiltrations, assassinations, traps and ambushes are usually the best they can manage anymore.

In fact, their organizations have as many demonkin and beastkin, as human, members nowadays. Desperate as they are for anyone with talent. While the “righteous” sects are still predominantly yanese. With only minorities of beastkin. Though the fact that every sect member high ranking enough to be in this tent is human?

Shows that yanese racism is still going strong.

Gao Hei’s jade fingers run through his ebony goatee. Leering as he walks closer to the throne of white bones. “Fairy Khirsa, why don’t we retire to my sect while the,” glances dismissively, “common soldiery deal with the northmen remains.” Nears her seat from the right side. “We can celebrate your victory in my personal chambers.” Only a few feet away now. “Let this humble servant show you the joys of dual cultiva-”

*slich* *cough*

Sect Leader Feng’s own surprise cough interrupts his latest effort to woo the succubus queen from beyond the eastern sea. Droplets of blood unexpectedly flying out. One even reaches her ladyship's cheek. The dark red dot looking black against her already red skin.

“W-what?”

For perhaps the first time in Gao Hei’s centuries long life. The evil cultivator’s face shows confusion. Lifting up the fingers that were stroking his beard reveals blood on them. A glow then attracts eyes down his chest. Exposing two sharpened blades protruding from it. Each having glowing runes carved into them. One at his heart. The other at his stomach. Piercing both the middle and lower dantians.

Xuejinghui’s leader hesitantly looks back over his own shoulder. Revealing those same two enticing yan women now each holding the hilt of a dagger that's been driven into his back.

“H… how?” He asks. Stunned that their once obedient submissive faces have transformed into expressions of loathing and disgust.

The Lady of Kriotux giggles. “Bewildered, Lord Feng?” The question causes his head to turn her way again. The Ruin of Calador lifts a black nailed crimson finger. Wiping the blood off her cheek, a forked tongue stretches out to lick it but pauses. Revulsion sours her seductive looks before she chooses to wipe the droplet off on the backless throne instead.

“Sigh.” Chamberlain Irzezath laments. His ladyship’s condition continues to worsen. Lately not even wanting the touch of any male. Apparently even their blood is, now, no longer acceptable.

Lady Khirsa continues. “Stupid men.” Observes her finger. Making sure it's now clean. “Make a woman cum? And you think you own her. Use [Sex Magic]? And you think you own her.” Blood trickles from the demonic sect patriarch’s mouth. “Curses, brainwashing, dual cultivation, whatever, and your ego proclaims us property.”

Small sparks can be seen from different places among the Xuejinghui leader's robes and jewelry. Defensive and life-saving treasures failing one by one. Gao closes his eyes and mumbles. “What a clever little succubus.”

The demonkin in question scoffs. “Clever? No, you fool.” Motions behind him. “Your newest pair of pets? Have been fighting your mind control for months. Poisoning you, slowly, for weeks. Sabotaging your magic items for days.” Smirks. “They just needed an opportunity for a final blow.” Waves hand towards the beach. “Hello opportunity.”

*thunk*

Gao Hei Feng’s knees crunch on the ground as he falls to them. His skin paling more and more from blood loss. Robes becoming stained, soaked, heavy and sticky.

*thunch*

A noise attracts the dying cultivator’s eyes to the left. Witnessing two other demonic sect leaders fall to the ground. One bleeding profusely from her eyes. The other's head is missing. Decapitated. Patriarch Feng recognizes both. His closest allies in the Black Desert.

Lady Zuzzoros stands up. Her wings unfold and stretch. Causing some to retreat several steps, making space for their eight foot wingspan. She looks down at the man who believed he could conquer her. Thought his dick could tame her. Attracting Gao Hei’s attention once more.

“John Barton is mine.” Glances at the crucifixions taking place. “Not some pouting king’s mercenaries.” Looks upward. “Not some tantrum throwing goddess.” Stares down at Feng. “And not some wuxia pimp with delusions of grandeur.” Turns to the peanut gallery of scum and villainy. “Every year, the demon clans and beastkin tribes attack Luyan. And every year, you fail.” Guards drag the dead and dying out of the tent. “This year will be different. The sects will join the clans and tribes. With my legions, you will have the power to finally shatter Luyan’s walls.” Sits back down and commands. “Now, go, prepare.”

Wisely choosing to stay silent. Her new allies file out the other side of the tent. Returning to their forces. And readying them for the war to come.

Her red chin rests on a red palm as she watches the burning pyres of bodies. The fires’ orange glow reflects off the soaked sand under darkening skies. “Soon, my darling.” Khirsa Zuzzoros whispers. “Soon…”

“So wasteful.” Jorgun Irzezath mutters and quietly watches her ladyship. Wishing, again, for something lethal to happen to the outworlder before the Lady of Kriotux reaches him. Unsure what will happen to his increasingly fixated ruler.

“Sigh.”

End

Volume 4