The camp was quiet when they returned.

The fire girl was crying. Her name was—something. Raven had already forgotten. She was sobbing against the middle-aged healer’s shoulder, her body shaking, her robes torn and stained with dungeon filth and her own virgin blood. The healer patted her back with a motherly hand, but her own eyes were glassy. Fucked-out. Still leaking his seed from both holes.

"He is dead," the fire girl wailed. "He is dead. I saw him. The sword. The blood. He is dead."

The other adventurers gathered around. They saw the body. The young man with sandy hair lay on a makeshift stretcher. His chest was caved in where the blade had pierced. His eyes were open. Empty. His mouth hung slack. The blood had dried black on his tunic.

Everyone was shocked.

"How?" a boy whispered. "We were just fighting. He was beside me. How is he dead?"

The fire girl sobbed harder. "It was a monster. A hidden monster. It came from behind. It killed him. I tried to save him. I tried—"

She was lying.

Raven stood behind her. He watched her shoulders shake. He watched her thick thighs press together as she cried. He remembered how she had screamed on his cock not an hour ago. How her virgin pussy had gripped him. How she had squirted while he kissed her and killed her little boyfriend.

’What hypocrisy,’ he thought. He sighed. The sound was warm and amused.

He walked to the body.

The fire girl looked up. Her eyes were red. Her face was streaked with tears and snot and the dried cum of the dungeon fucking. She saw Raven approaching. She flinched. Then she scrambled forward.

"You want him alive?" she gasped. "Sir— you can do it? You can bring him back?"

Raven looked down at the corpse. The young man’s eyes were milky. His skin was cold. His heart had stopped.

"Of course I can," Raven said.

The fire girl trembled. "Please. Please bring him back. I will do anything. I will serve you. I will—"

"Silence," Raven said.

He knelt. He placed his hand on the dead man’s chest. The wound was wide. The heart was pierced. The blood was still. Raven closed his eyes. He muttered a word. Not a spell. A command.

The wound began to close.

Flesh knitted. Skin sealed. The chest rose. The heart did not beat, but something inside it twitched. A parasite. A thin, writhing thing of black mana. It latched onto the dead nerves. It sent false signals. It pumped false life.

The brain activated.

Magicules flooded the corpse. The eyes snapped open.

He gasped.

"Oh!" the fire girl cried. She fell to her knees. "You are all right! You are alive! Oh, thank the gods! Thank you, sir! Thank you!"

The young man sat up. He looked at his hands. He looked at the fire girl. His eyes were wrong. The pupils were too wide. The gaze was empty. He sucked his hand. His tongue lashed against his own knuckles. He made a wet, animal sound.

Raven looked into his eyes.

He smiled.

"You survived," Raven said. His voice was soft. Intimate. "Make it count."

The young man blinked. He did not understand. The parasite did not give him understanding. Only hunger. Only the illusion of life.

Before, suddenly, it trembled as it sensed its eyes turning towards Jacob, who stood at a distance. As if a parasite recognizing the other, it gave a small nod, accepting the hierarchy instantly.

Raven stood.

The young woman trembled before him. She stood up. Her thighs rubbed together. She still had his seed inside her. It was leaking into her panties. She could feel it. Warm. Thick. A reminder of what she had done while this young man died.

"Thank you," she whispered. She grabbed his hand. She pressed it between her palms. "Thank you, sir. You are a miracle. A savior."

Raven chuckled.

He turned. He walked toward his tent. He did not look back. He simply said, "Follow me."

The two women followed.

The fire girl and the healer. Their faces were flushed from tears. Their eyes were bright with a false, desperate happiness. They walked with their thighs pressed together. The seed inside them shifted. They were marked. Ruined. His.

They did not care.

He brought them to the tent.

He entered. The two women followed. Inside, Vess and Lena lay naked on the bedroll. They were tangled in a blanket. Their bodies were limp. Exhausted. Rope marks circled their wrists. Red impressions marked their tits. Bite bruises dotted their inner thighs. Their hair was matted. Their faces were peaceful in unconsciousness.

"Make them wear some clothes," Raven said.

He could have snapped his fingers. He could have dressed them with magic. But he did not.

The two women nodded instantly. They moved to the bed. They knelt. They gently lifted Vess’s thick body. The older sister groaned. Her eyes fluttered. They pulled her torn armor over her bound-marked tits. They laced her pants over her swollen, seed-leaking pussy. They dressed her like a doll.

Then Lena.

The younger sister was lighter. Easier to move. But her body was more bruised. Her ass was raw. Her pussy was puffy. They pulled her dress over her head. They covered her bite-marked nipples. They hid the ruin.

Raven watched.

He saw the rope marks on Vess’s neck. He saw the slap prints on Lena’s ass. He saw the dark hickeys on both their thighs. He could have healed them. He could have erased every mark with a touch.

He did not want to.

He wanted his marks to remain. He wanted them to carry the evidence. He wanted them to feel the bruises and remember who owned them.

Vess’s eyes opened.

She looked at the fire girl. At the healer. At their flushed faces. At the way they stood beside Raven like obedient bitches. She smelled the sex on them. The same smell that clung to her own skin.

"So," Vess rasped. Her voice was a commander’s voice, even broken. "You even fucked these two."

Raven smiled. "Of course. You both were exhausted. I needed something to pent up my lust. My hunger. My demonic needs."

He declared it casually. As if discussing breakfast.

Vess sat up. She winced. Her pussy ached. Her ass burned. But her eyes were sharp. She looked at the fire girl. At the healer. She assessed them. Young. Weak. Broken. Useful.

"You both," Vess said, "will now become assistants to Lena."

Lena’s eyes snapped open. "What? My assistants?"

"Of course," Vess said. "Because you are promoted. Vice guild leader. You will command these two. You will lead them. You will answer to me."

Lena was stunned. She sat up, clutching the blanket to her chest. "What? What are you saying? I am not— I cannot— I am just—"

"You are mine," Vess said. Then she looked at Raven. "Where are we going? When are we leaving?"

Raven adjusted his coat. "Of course now. We leave now. Pack your bags. All of you."

He stalked toward Lena. He grabbed her chin. He forced her to look at him. "You are stupid. Don’t you know why he is here? Why I am here?"

Lena trembled. "Leaving? Now? But I thought—"

"He is here for me," Vess said. Her voice was flat. "For us. For the capital. For revenge. For the Crown Prince. For the palace. For everything."

Raven chuckled. "I like smart girls. Girls who understand their place. Their purpose. Their destiny."

He stood. He turned to the tent flap. "Pack your bags. Now. We depart."