Emilia’s heels dug long trenches into the dirt as she writhed in agony, the congregation of beast-men watching on silently in the dim light. Christoph looked up from her naked form to search over the crowd. Even the people he had seen cheerfully greeting the cat-girl the day before remained still. In the distance, he could see children kneeling down in silence, ears trembling as Emilia released her breath with a piercing scream. Was it part of her trial to suffer alone?

Clenching his fists, Christoph began to pull at his bindings, but stopped as the presence above the clearing suddenly resolved into a massive weight, Emilia’s limbs forced flat as she was crushed against the floor. The crowd of onlookers likewise shifted as the weight pressed onto them, and only Leila seemed unaffected. No, Christoph saw her arms shaking as she held them raised into the air. Was she that strong?!

“Bastias!” Leila repeated. “Your daughter calls to you!”

At the same time, the sisters began to shine with a light, a new source of warmth following the blue glow that only Christoph could see, but everyone could feel. Energy enveloped Leila’s body as she stood calling out to her god. Emilia, too, surged with mana. Even during her fight with Henry, she had not shone so brilliantly. A blinding light flashed out, and two figures appeared standing over the cat-girl as she jerked in pain, the weight keeping her pinned to the floor despite her muscles bulging with effort. Leila lowered her arms, dropping to her knees without a word.

“Oh? Isn’t she a bit too old for her first ritual?” A beast-woman leaned over Emilia, standing carelessly above her as even as the girl struggled to lift her arms from the ground.

“Still, she certainly chose a large monster, didn’t she?” A man stood next to her, their furred forms naked in the firelight. More than Diana, more than Emilia, more than anyone else had ever been, they possessed a beauty to which nothing could compare. Every inch of their bodies was perfect, every movement they made exuded sexuality, lust pouring over the assembled crowd as they appeared.

“Looks painful, Bastias…” the woman said, leaning down until her face was almost touching Emilia’s. Bastias! Was the man their god, then?

“You’re right, Bastias, that does look painful,” replied the man, turning towards where Christoph was pinned up with his back to the bonfire. Christoph frowned. The woman was Bastias also? “Is this the monster, then? Here, you’re going to need a clear head for this.” Waving his hand, Bastias grinned as Christoph’s headache disappeared.

“Eh? A human monster?” The female Bastias bounced up to him, head shifting left and right as she looked over his body. The pressure as she approached was immense, the air stiffening until he had to fight to take each breath.

“Has he healed up already?” the male asked. “Isn’t that a bit too convenient?”

“Mm-hmm.” The woman grinned up at Christoph cheekily, and he opened his mouth to say something before she reached up and turned his head away. “I wonder if he can go another time,” she said. Gripping his head in both hands, she leaned forwards and crushed his windpipe between her teeth, tearing away a chunk of flesh and letting blood spray out over the already wet ground. Christoph writhed on the wooden cross in a bloody parody of Emilia’s own struggle, the timber cracking as he jerked against his bindings.

Chewing and half-swallowing her mouthful, she opened her lips to catch a mouthful of crimson blood before the man wrenched her back with a hand, spinning her around into a kiss. Lifting her off the ground, he held her up by the head, the contents of her mouth pouring into his before he lowered her to the ground with a passionate kiss.

“Tastes like Tempter’s children,” Bastias said, smearing blood over her skin as she rubbed at her stomach and breasts. Tiptoeing back to the wooden cross, she licked over Christoph’s wound, and he blinked in surprise as her tongue swiped over untouched skin. Had his wound already healed over? No, it was as if he’d never been wounded at all.

“The humans did call him a demon, didn’t they?” Bastias replied, licking blood off his palm. “There’s something else, too…” He was suddenly in front of Christoph again, eyes locked onto his from a mere inch away.

“Oh? What is it?” Bastias said, bloody fingers running through her hair as she looked over the crowd. Smiling down at Leila, she reached out and grasped onto the beast-woman’s hair with one hand, dragging her to her feet in an instant.

“The world serpent…” Bastias trailed off as he gazed into Christoph’s eyes. “Do you know him, boy?”

“The Ouroboros?” Bastias asked, pulling Leila into a forceful kiss and groping her chest before tossing her back to the ground. “Is he one of the wyrms, then?”

“Not likely,” Bastias said, letting go of Christoph’s head. “It’s too faint for that. You know he likes to make them as large as he can.”

“Hmmm…” Bastias looked down at Emilia again, kicking at her with a furred foot. “What do we do about this little girl?”

“Eh? No matter how you look at it she’s going to die, right?” Bastias said, walking over to stand next to her as she trembled in the dirt. “That’s what she gets for biting off too more than she can chew.”

“She should have worked her way up properly instead of trying to skip so many steps, like Lei-Lei did.” Bastias smiled over at where Leila had collapsed in a daze to one side.

“Well, if she’d prepared a sacrifice we could have saved her,” Bastias said.

“She did have a sacrifice!” Christoph found his breath under the pressure, shouting out to interrupt to gods’ conversation. “Isn’t that what I’m here for!”

Bastias raised an eyebrow at his outburst. “Aren’t you a brave one?” They smirked down at Emilia. “You aren’t her being sacrificed to us,” Bastias said. “You’re being sacrificed to her.”

What? Was that true? Christoph looked over the crowd, but each and every one of the beast people had their eyes locked on their gods. It wasn’t hard to see why. Even now, he stared over at them as they grinned towards him. Shaking his head, he tried to clear his thoughts. What would is be like to be held in those arms… A memory pierced through the haze, a mass of naked bodies, cold and bloody.

“Oh, that was nice.” Bastias said, turning towards Bastias. “Maybe we should try that someday.”

“Don’t be disgusting,” Bastias replied. “You know I hate killing people.”

“Don’t kill her then!” Christoph screamed. “If you can save her, and you let her die then isn’t that the s-”

His cry was cut short as Bastias’ furred fingers shoved his mouth open wide, fierce eyes boring into his skull as the god’s claws scraped his tongue nearly in half. “She is the next in line,” Bastias said, pulling Bastias away from Christoph as he screamed around the blood filling his mouth.

“Eh… Well, in that case I suppose we could just take a sacrifice,” Bastias said. “I’m sure that all her subjects would be more than willing to give themselves up for her sake.” Bastias looked over the crowd, the many beast-men’s ears perking up as they edged towards their god.

“I want that one!” Bastias said, pointing out to someone standing among the excited members of the congregation. One by one, they realized that their god had chosen another, turning to look at who it was. Standing where Bastias had indicated, one of the beast-men trembled as she was singled out. Out of all the people in the crowd, she had been only one who had not wished for this.

“Diana.” Bastias said. “That is your name, isn’t it, outsider?” Smiling over at the shaking beast-woman, the god made a swiping gesture, and Diana yelped as she was suddenly standing next to the bonfire, held tightly within their furred arms.

“Where are you from?” Bastias asked. “Somewhere up north, perhaps?” Chuckling softly, Bastias began to nuzzle at Diana’s neck, ignoring the almost imperceptible shaking of the woman’s head as she froze in fright.

“Still,” Bastias said. “You were a fool to be here now. Did you really think that we wouldn’t notice?”

“Now now, Bastias,” Bastias said. “Let’s let them figure it out themselves.” The god smiled over the crowd, patting Leila on the head as she began to stir once more.

“For now, we’ll take this woman as payment,” Bastias said, as Bastias leaned down to pull Emilia into a long one-sided kiss. After a while the god dropped the cat-girl back onto the dirt, moving to embrace Diana despite the beast-woman’s choked protests. There was a flash of light, and the pressure in the air disappeared, the gods vanishing as they spirited Diana away.

“Oh.” Bastias’ voice rang out of the clearing, an ounce of the former pressure returning as the god spoke. “This one came from up near the mountain somewhere. I’m counting on you to get her back, Lei-Lei.”

A disheveled beast-woman appeared above Leila’s throne, dropping a short distance through the air and landing bodily on the wooden chair. The woman groaned at the sudden transportation, a mess of wet fur that reeked of sex and shivered softly in the warm forest air. Writhing on the dirt in front of the bonfire, Emilia drew a shaky breath as her eyes snapped open once again.

…

The main chapel of the Creator’s Blessed loomed large over Cliff and Sierra as they stepped through the heavy wooden doors into the church. Two Templars raised their swords in salute as the siblings passed by, lowing the blades again behind them. The marble pillars seemed to glow in the firelight, the ceiling distant and dark as they held it aloft in the night. At the other end of the building, Archbishop Kale of the Creator’s Blessed waved his attendants away as the adventurers approached.

“Cliff, Sierra, you have returned,” he said with a smile. “I had been worried that you might follow that half-elf into his shallow grave.”

“Sir Henry was an admirable companion, and he shall be missed,” Cliff said, kneeling down on the red carpet and bowing his head. Beside him, Sierra did the same, laying her staff flat on the stone floor of the church.

“Yes, yes,” Kale replied. “Molt would be moved, were he not still weeping at the top of his bell-tower.”

“Father Molt is grieving the loss of his son,” Sierra said quietly. “Grief is an emotion that cannot be ignored.”

Archbishop Kale laughed as Sierra’s comment. “To be hearing that from you!” Chuckling, he leaned back in his chair, muscles shifting on his large frame as he looked down at them. “Contact between the church and the guild ends with the elf’s death. Saint Lucius has his own plans for the adventurers, and we will not interfere. Gideon informs me that you were prepared to leave the guild in any case.”

“Gideon is mistaken,” Cliff said. “I have no wish to return to the Templars.”

“You shall not,” the Archbishop replied. “But you will give up your trinket to the guild and serve the church faithfully from now on. The two of you are far too powerful to be wasted playing around with those Willful fools.”

“The Church of the Creator’s Willful-” Sierra began.

“Enough,” Kale raised a hand to silence the young woman. “God’s Compass was never anything more than child’s play. The Pope’s faction has grown weak with time. Tell me truthfully,” he said. “Did Molt’s boy and the elf ever approach your level during your little adventurers?”

There was a moment of silence before Cliff answered. “They did not,” he said.

“And did they ever once come close to seeing through your little act?” the Archbishop asked. “Did they ever come close to realize how weak they really were?”

“They did not,” Cliff replied.

Archbishop Kale grinned widely, leaning forwards in his throne as he spoke. “And did you ever once consider those ‘knights’ to be a threat?” he asked.

Cliff opened his mouth, but it snapped shut again as he stared up at the Archbishop in silence. “We-”

“We did not,” Sierra replied, cutting off her brother’s response.

“So it is,” Kale said, leaning back into his chair again. “The Pope is weak, as are his men. With Saint Lucius on our side, the Creator’s Blessed will seize control again.”

Cliff and Sierra bowed their head again as he spoke.

“When I leave this world to be with our lord, my children will inherit my duties,” the Archbishop said. “The two of you must be prepared for that.”

The siblings bowed to Archbishop Kale before rising to their feet. “Of course, father,” Cliff said evenly. “We will not disappoint you.”