Funatic
patreon
The Gamer Chapter 944 – Righteousness 3 – Dark City
🕑 Added 2021-02-23 20:31:24 +0000 UTCNew Alexandria was so incredibly different from the city of St. Louis that John had to assume the barrier was older than the mundane town. The buildings around were an odd mixture of demonic outposts, renaissance farm houses, medieval castles and mansions. Fine black particles covered the landscape like grass and dust usually would have, doubtlessly falling off the Darkshed Trees.
The landscape was a giant bowl, with a massive mansion sitting at the centre of the depression. The mansion had the shape of a pentagon, with the outside rim being flat and surrounding a slanted roof of black crystal. Standing at the very edge, John could see that the road network of the city was shaped like a pentagram. Because of the red tear glowing menacingly in the sky, he very much doubted that this was a decision purely to stay in theme.
This was a city of demons.
A lot of them, as John could see from the people bustling around. By quickly counting the houses he could see, estimating a number of people per household and then separating this number into segments according to the people he saw on the streets, he arrived at a total population of about five-thousand. About a tenth of that seemed to be human, the rest was made up of different kinds of demons: succubi, primarily, fiends, as second most numerous, and devils as the last notable group. There were some other demons, but they weren’t numerous enough to be statistically relevant.
In Abyssal terms, this was a respectable number of people. Yet, despite them being so many, John had no doubt the Golden Rose would split this place like a cleaver would a log. There was no military unity here and, even if there had been, the levels were so low that their resistance would be broken on Moira’s shield. Although the exact level of the Shield Warden and the other knights of the Order were outside John’s knowledge, he did know that the blessed redhead had been strong enough to defeat Rave a few months back. If Rave could have dominated this place then, which she could, then Moira could as well.
This place was going to fall, unless John decided it deserved to exist. “Let’s see who is in charge here,” he told his gathered harem and started walking at a leisurely pace. They were in no hurry. The Golden Rose was trying their best to get in and they would likely have succeeded in the next thirty minutes, had John not taken control of the barrier. Now the meagre efforts of their mediocre Fateweavers were clashing against his extreme willpower. As impressive a fighting force as the Golden Rose could muster, when it came to the utility side of warfare, they seemed lacking. Until he slept, had his concentration seriously disrupted or relinquished control, New Alexandria would stand.
As they walked through the streets covered by the ash-like particles, they caught more and more attention. Their colourful little group stood out among the population by being, for once, too normal. Between the infernal looks of the many demons, with their horns, tails, scales, claws and whatever else, they were simply too human. Sure, many of the demons around, particularly the sexual deviant variety, were visually human enough that Salamander and Siena could have mingled with them, but many more were bulky monstrosities or mouthless horrors. The humans around universally wore black robes with different levels of decoration to them, signalling their rank.
If they had somehow gotten a set of those robes, they might have been able to just barely blend in. As it was, there was no chance. Not that John cared all that much for people noticing them anyway. He just continued on his path towards the centre of the pentagram, analysing the tear in the sky as he walked.
Observe called it the Crimson Rift, an uncreative but accurate title. It’s blood-red outline wavered slowly, like an ever-lasting Aurora Borealis, and in its centre images from different worlds flashed up. That alone meant that it couldn’t have been a regular Kingdom connection and Observe confirmed that there was something to the pentagram that kept the rift this wide and sustained. Where exactly it led, however, was beyond the revelations he got through his Skill.
Further answers had to be sought out.
“You.” John pointed at an attractive succubus in passing. Like many demons, even the less visually pleasing ones, she was naked. The only demons that seemed dedicated to wearing things were devils. Everyone else forewent the opportunity or wore fairly little. “Follow,” he commanded and the succubus was quick to do so.
She moaned out loud when she reached him, struggled to keep walking as clear juices ran down the inside of her thighs. Even if he hadn’t used his Libido Perk to motivate her to obedience, his presence alone would have caused her immense pleasure. Succubi were instinctively turned on by the aura of powerful men. The opposite was likely true for Incubi, given the lecherous gazes with which they stared at his women.
The Gamer was fine with other men taking some desiring gazes at his women, but there was a line beyond which things turned disrespectful. That line was certainly crossed when he heard a wolf whistle from somewhere in the curious crowd. All of the anger he felt at this obvious lust towards his women seeped out into the air and immediately silenced any murmurs. Those who stood closest went completely pale. A particularly weak set of men even fell to their knees.
‘Let that be a reminder,’ John thought, before toggling off the Perk. Exuding his emotions in such a way was a shortcut to get his point across. His eyes turned to the succubus who was, rather than fearful, openly drooling at him with both mouths. Fingers digging into her cunt and sizable breasts, she stumbled along walking and masturbating. From the look of things, she came every couple steps. Her black hair trembled and her dark grey skin started to glisten with sweat. ‘I can’t have a conversation like that.’ “Stop touching yourself.”
“Yeshhhh, mhhmmaasssterrrrr,” she responded, hit with one more orgasm from the obedience.
John gave her a minute to recover, before requesting, “Tell me about yourself. Who you are, how you came here, what you do, that sort of thing.”
“I came because of your glorious words, Master,” the succubus purred flirtatiously, reaching for his arm. Rolling his eyes, the Gamer pulled away, and a second later, Siena was in that position instead. The midnight elemental transformed into her Unleashed version for a second, an embodiment of the night and its constellations, and hissed warningly. Her tail dragged a trench into the dust. “I-I’m Teruria, a grey succubus,” the demonette stumbled over her words. Whether it was the rejection or the warning that had her taken aback, she managed to properly communicate. “I was summoned to this place about 30 years ago. I’m one of the cum dumps and breeding slaves.”
‘She says that almost as proudly as Eliza in the middle of a session,’ John noted. ‘I guess that would be somewhat of a dream job for a succubus.’ He threw a quick Observe at her, just to validate what he had heard. ‘For 85, she sure looks like mid-twenty despite her low level…’ John noted and asked out loud, “If you don’t mind, could you tell me why you still look that young? My experience with demons is limited.”
“There is no question you have to be afraid of asking,” the succubus stated. “As a succubus, I receive vitality through semen, simple as that.”
“So, you’re immortal as long as you keep wringing out men?”
“Not immortal, but I’ll live a whole lot longer and I’ll stay beautiful the entire time,” Teruria explained. “Succubi only age under the surface – unless we’re going for the MILF appeal.”
“Are there similar conditions for other demons?” John wondered.
“Fiends slow their aging by spilling and drinking blood, but I don’t know about everyone.”
‘That could be a problem,’ John thought. Longevity was another factor in the question of whether succubi could outbreed humanity. On that matter, the Gamer could now get clarity. “So, you say you’re a breeding slave – so you have sex every day with the goal of getting pregnant?”
“Correct, at least five times a day.”
“And how many children do you have?”
“Two,” Teruria revealed, and seemed rather proud of that fact.
With that, John’s worries were blown away. There was no way a species that had two children when trying continuously for thirty years could ever outcompete humanity in the population department. Especially if they started from a few a hundred people.
‘And when an Incubus impregnates a human, the child comes out mostly human anyway,’ John thought. When it came to demons, the species of the mother seemed a lot more influential than with humans. ‘I don’t think the occasional pair of horns is any issue. Integration of people that can’t feel love might be, but that’s where the interbreeding question kicks in again.’ “Your children, do they have human parents?” he asked, doubtful to get a conclusive answer.
“Yes,” Teruria responded firmly.
“You seem pretty sure of that, despite the raw number of people you must have slept with,” John pointed out.
“I’m a breeding slave with standards, not some lilim,” the grey succubus scoffed. “I keep a book on who I sleep with on what day and from there we did a fatherhood test. Can’t have my little girls fuck their father by accident.”
‘Not sure if that’s a moral concern or a practical one regarding inbreeding,’ John thought, but he had other questions. “A lilim would be…?”
“A lesser succubus, shorter, more easily influenced by auras and weaker – generally.” Teruria shrugged. “We keep them indoors. They wouldn’t stop masturbating in the streets otherwise.”
“Right, that reminds me, how popular is scat, gore and watersports around here?” John wanted to know.
“Wha- Eww, not popular,” the succubus told him.
“Oh thank God,” John mumbled. Fetishes like that weren’t grounds to deny someone refugee status, but it would have made the experience less comfortable. “Back to your daughters – you are a pure succubus, yes?”
“That is a true fact.”
“And your daughters are ‘half’ human – would you say they took over some notable human characteristics?”
“They care more about their fathers than I do, I can tell you that much,” Teruria gave him the desired information. “They get tangled up with your human feeling stuff. It’s a minor bother.”
‘Alright, so succubus procreate slowly, they, at least somewhat, take over some of the father’s attributes, and they don’t naturally have any strange fetishes – they’re just supernatural whores,’ John listed in his head. ‘Alright, that definitely crosses them off the list of genocide candidates.’ He breathed a sigh of relief.
“You sound stressed, master,” the succubus purred. “Want me to suck your dick?”
“Who would need you?” Siena reminded the demon of her presence with those mocking words and puffed her chest out. Her tail wrapped around his waist. “You’re here to answer questions, lesser one, know your place.”
‘You’re being quite jealous today, Siena,’ John communicated with her mentally. ‘Didn’t know you were this bothered by me looking at other women.’
‘I don’t care how many you approach as cum dumps as long as they know that they aren’t part of your harem,’ Siena told him. ‘These demons just ooze disregard for our arrangement and I despise it.’
Since John had chastised the incubi not too long ago, he couldn’t disagree with that statement. “Why do you call me ‘master’?” he instead continued his questioning of the succubus.
“Don’t you like it?” she asked as sexily as she could get away with.
“Yes, but it makes me wonder if your loyalties lie purely with who is strongest,” the Gamer told her.
“My loyalties lie with who my contract is with, being New Libraria and the Demon Lord. I just call you ‘master’ because men like that.”
She was definitely right in regards to John.
“I assume your Demon Lord lives there?” he asked his final question, pointing at the mansion they were heading to. If he had been wrong this whole time, it would be best to find out before he started walking through the corridors. He wasn’t pressed for time, but he also shouldn’t linger forever.
“Yes,” came the swift answer.
“Alright, you can get back to what you were doing,” John told her. The succubus opted to stay close, basking in his aura for as long as she could keep walking while her fingers returned to her cunt. Once she fell behind, one of the human men quickly dragged her aside. Moments later, an ecstatic moan echoed from an alleyway.
“They’re being pretty lax for people under siege,” Salamander stated the obvious.
“Might just be the local attitude towards life,” John told them, “or maybe they have something that makes them believe everything will work out? I should have asked about that.” He considered calling another succubus to answer that question, but they were already so close to the mansion that he didn’t feel the necessity.
A cloud of black particles rose and quickly fell whenever anyone took a step, behaving more like snow than ash. The proper ground underneath had blackened from years of exposure as well. The exception to this was the gleaming stone path that started in front of the mansion and guided John’s step through a field of grey grass and bloody red lakes. Before him rose a three story building, with the intertwining forms of two succubi making up the arch around the black door. The walls were made from purple bricks, the mortar a pure black, and the windowsills highly decorated pieces of gold. Obsidian spikes, shaped from shattered glass, rose from the rooftop’s rim. The pentagon-shaped building screamed luxurious evil.
‘The sides in this conflict are almost hilariously stereotypical,’ John thought as he approached the door and the person standing in front of it. She was another hermaphrodite, which John could make out clearly by the bulge in her panties. Wearing something that could barely be described as a maid uniform, being essentially just lingerie with a theme, the red-skinned, white-haired demon was an afrit. John knew that word to be a different translation of Ifrit, who was a very specific entity. Apparently, it had been used for a kind of demon in categorization. That hermaphrodite opened the door for him.
“The Demon Lord awaits you, Master Newman,” she said.
‘Interesting,’ John thought and wordlessly wandered into the mansion, where another afrit, the twin sister by the looks of it, greeted him with a bow. She was purely a woman, otherwise they looked the exact same. ‘I wonder what the percentage of hermaphrodites among demons is. Clearly much, much higher than it is in humans.’ The Gamer had purely academic interest in the topic. Everything beyond a glorified strap-on was outside his sexual comfort zone and he didn’t want physical contact with even those.
The corridors of the mansion were as full of splendour and darkness as the outside. John ignored the oil paintings of debauched and gruesome scenes. Ancient Greek pottery, broken Roman pillars and hieroglyph-covered tablets of sandstone were certainly more interesting. The Demon Lord either had a long history or was very interested in it.
The infernal servant guided the group straight to the centre of the building. Through one long corridor and past a gate of blackened iron, they entered into a space dominated by hellish heat and red light. Through the roof of darkened crystal, made up by five slanted surfaces, fell the crimson light of the Kingdom connection. In opposition to the rising ceiling, the ground slanted downwards. Candles and incense burned on the many layered steps that brought people downwards. At the lowest point stood a cyclopean throne of black stone. It’s smooth surface was interjected with shards of black and red crystal, rammed into the tall backrest in a pattern that seemed random at first glance. Red runes covered the floor around it, pulsing with energy that bled up the steps in a steady, desperate pulse.
Given the supernatural sights of the room, the modern medicine equipment scattered around the throne was incredibly out of place. Breathing apparatuses, blood purifiers, bags for intravenous delivery, all of them were connected with tubes and pipes to the old man sitting on the throne.
The Demon Lord barely managed to look at John.
