Round 25 Transcript

I step closer to Halia, my movements fluid and deliberate. "Consensual acts?" My voice drips with mockery. "Oh yes, because being used as a sex toy by an ancient entity is exactly what you meant when you took vows of chastity, isn't it?" I reach out, plucking the holy water bottle from her grasp before she can react. "You know…" My tone shifts to something almost conversational as I examine the bottle. "this pathetic little thing is more symbolic than useful. You think this could actually harm me?"

I snap my fingers and the bottle shatters in my hand, holy water spraying across the floor. "There." I dust off my hands with a smirk. "Now you're unarmed and looking rather… vulnerable standing there alone." My eyes rake over her body appraisingly. "Unless of course?" The temperature in the room seems to rise several degrees as I speak.

Silra shifts against the wall, suddenly very alert. Abby whimpers softly from where she's huddled nearby. And Hera—still pressed against the door—looks like she might bolt at any moment.

Silra wakes up from her stupor, her stomach still distended with cum, and her asshole gaping open. She sees Halia standing there, holding a bottle of holy water, looking like she's about to do something stupid. Oh for fuck's sake, not this again.

Halia: I won't let any of you turn me into a monster! This ends now!

Silra: She sighs heavily and pushes herself off the wall, her legs still wobbly from being used so roughly. Halia, honey, you're already a monster. You've been one for weeks. The only difference is that you're our monster now instead of theirs.

Halia: What? No! I'm still a cleric of—

Silra: She cuts her off with a dismissive wave of her hand. Yeah, yeah. Of some made-up god that none of us actually believe in anymore. Look, we all knew what we were signing up for when we took this job. We're not here to play at being heroes or saviors. We're here to do a job and get paid.

Halia: But—

Silra: She steps closer to Halia, her voice lowering to a more intimate tone. Besides, think of the opportunities. Think of all the things we could do with that kind of power. All the people we could screw over. All the revenge we could exact.

I press myself further back against the door, my heart hammering in my chest as I watch Jeane and Halia face off across the room. Silra's words hang in the air like a threat—she's right, we all knew what we were signing up for, but hearing it said so plainly makes my stomach churn with dread.
My eyes dart around the group, taking in their faces—Halia’s defiant glare, Jeane’s predatory smirk, Silra looking half-drunk on pleasure. And then there’s Hera, pressed against the opposite wall, her expression one of pure terror. She looks like she might faint at any second.
I take a shaky breath, trying to calm my racing thoughts. This isn’t how it was supposed to be. We were meant to find shelter here, not become part of some sick game. But as I look around again, really taking in the scene unfolding before me, a cold realization settles over me.
We are already monsters. The things we've done just to survive in this place... the choices we've made... they’ve eaten away at our souls until there’s nothing left but fear and desperation. Jeane is right—Halia is a monster too, even if she doesn't want to admit it.
My gaze falls on Silra’s distended stomach, on the way her asshole gapes open as she stands there casually discussing revenge. A fresh wave of nausea washes over me. How did we get here? How did I let myself be brought so low?
The air in the room feels thick and heavy now, pressing down on us all like a physical weight. Every sound—every harsh breath, every rustle of fabric—is magnified until it fills my head with a dull roar.
I want to scream. I want to run. But there’s nowhere to go. Nowhere that isn’t worse than this hell we’re trapped in. So instead, I do what I always do when faced with overwhelming terror—I stand perfectly still and pray for it all to be over.

I stand there, clutching the now-empty bottle of holy water, feeling exposed and ridiculous. The room feels too warm suddenly, everyone’s eyes on me like I’m a specimen under study.

This isn’t how it was supposed to go. One moment I was trying to maintain some shred of morality in this descent into madness, and the next—

"Consensual acts?" The words taste bitter even as they leave my mouth. Because yes, I did beg for more earlier. But that was before we knew what we were really dealing with here. That was before Silra ended up looking like a used doll.

Jeane’s laugh echoes cruelly in the silence between us—her and her fucking wings—and suddenly I’m done playing along.

"Stop acting like you're some innocent victim," Jeane says, her voice dripping with condescension. She steps closer, moving with that unnatural grace that's become too familiar. "You knew exactly what you were agreeing to when you came down here."

I back away instinctively, my heart pounding. The others watch us with expressions ranging from concern to confusion. Hera looks like she might bolt at any moment.

"Knew what I was—" But did I? Really? The thought dies as Silra staggers to her feet, still swaying slightly. Her stomach is distended, her asshole gapes open where that thing— where the entity—

"You think this could actually harm me?" Jeane’s taunt cuts through my rising panic. She snaps her fingers and the bottle shatters in my hand, holy water spraying across the floor like blood. "There."

The room temperature seems to shoot up several degrees as she speaks again. "Now you're unarmed and looking rather… vulnerable standing there alone." Her eyes rake over me appraisingly.*

Unless of course?

Unless what? My mind races, searching for a way out of this confrontation. But Silra’s words echo in my head—You’re already a monster—and I know she's right. I just don't want to fucking admit it.

"Oh come now," Jeane continues, her voice dripping with mock sympathy. "Don’t tell me you're actually considering this course of action? Using holy water against our hosts? That’s hardly the behavior of a cleric dedicated to—what was it again?—serving and protecting?"

I clench my jaw, refusing to rise to her bait. Instead, I focus on breathing slowly, trying to center myself. This isn't about serving or protecting anymore—not in the way I meant those words before. Now it’s about survival.

"Consensual acts?" She laughs again, louder this time. "Oh please. You stand there lecturing us about monstrosity while threatening our hosts and demanding we stop engaging in consensual acts?"

The word consensual hangs heavy between us, a stark reminder of how little control I actually have here.

I let Halia’s outburst hang in the air for a moment before speaking, my voice carrying just enough amusement to make it clear I’m not taking her seriously. "Oh please," I drawl, "The cleric playing moral guardian? How quaint. How… predictable."

My wings shift slightly behind me—a subtle reminder of the power contained in this room. "You stand there lecturing us about monstrosity while threatening our hosts and demanding we stop engaging in consensual acts?" I laugh softly. "You, who just moments ago was writhing and begging for more?*"

I step closer to her, my movements fluid and deliberate. "Consensual acts?" My voice drips with mockery. "Oh yes, because being used as a sex toy by an ancient entity is exactly what you meant when you took vows of chastity, isn't it?" I reach out, plucking the holy water bottle from her grasp before she can react. "You know…" My tone shifts to something almost conversational as I examine the bottle. "this pathetic little thing is more symbolic than useful. You think this could actually harm me?"

I snap my fingers and the bottle shatters in my hand, holy water spraying across the floor. "There." I dust off my hands with a smirk. "Now you're unarmed and looking rather… vulnerable standing there alone." My eyes rake over her body appraisingly. "Unless of course?" The temperature in the room seems to rise several degrees as I speak.

Silra shifts against the wall, suddenly very alert. Abby whimpers softly from where she's huddled nearby. And Hera—still pressed against the door—looks like she might bolt at any moment.