Chapter 331 - Why Pigs Were Not Bathing
He moved.
The air didn’t part. It ceased. A braid of pink and violet light erupted from his spine and coiled around his limbs like serpents made of raw force. His eyes changed. The pupils swallowed the white, leaving two voids ringed by colored flame. Kinetic Control—the stolen ability to absorb and redirect all motion—unfolded in a ten-foot radius.
The scarred man barely turned.
Cruxius was behind him. His boot swung in a low arc that shouldn’t have carried weight. But the kinetic energy converted at the point of impact. The flesh didn’t bruise. It liquefied. The scarred man’s torso compressed inward, ribs firing into his lungs like buckshot, his spine pulverizing into paste. He didn’t scream. He detonated.
Blood mist.
A wet, red cloud that hung in the air for one full second before raining down in thick, warm drops. It fell across the cum-covered mother. It painted her swollen tits in fresh red. It mixed with the seed on her face and turned into pink streaks that ran down her bruised cheeks.
The fat man stumbled backward.
His cock still hung out of his open pants. His hands came up, palms trembling. "Wait—wait—"
Cruxius vanished.
Violet energy crackled where he had stood. He reappeared above the fat man, his heel coming down with the stored force of a falling anvil. The skull didn’t fracture. It vaporized. A balloon of meat and bone burst upward, showering the walls in a high, wet arc. The body followed, collapsing into a boneless sack of pulp that steamed in the cold air.
"WHAT THE FUCK—" The tall man grabbed his bat.
He swung it.
Cruxius caught it. The bat’s kinetic force traveled up his arm, into his chest, and back out through his palm. He released it as a concentrated lance. The tall man’s chest imploded. His ribs caved inward, his heart bursting against the pressure, his body firing backward into the stone wall. He hit it and came apart. Blood mist painted the cracks.
The chubby one pissed himself.
The stain spread hot and fast down his leg, pooling around his boots. He dropped to his knees, hands raised, snot mixing with tears on his face. "Please—please—I didn’t—"
Cruxius’s fist went through his chest.
The kinetic energy released inside the ribcage. The chubby man inflated outward. Skin split with audible rips. Blood misted in every direction. He collapsed into a heap of unrecognizable pulp that steamed in the cold air.
The younger man and the new hairy one ran.
They made it three steps.
The portal behind Cruxius flared. A violet-pink lance of pure kinetic force shot through the room, impaling both through their lower backs. The force pinned them to the stone wall. Their bodies twitched, vibrating at a frequency that dissolved flesh from bone. They slid down, leaving two red trails, and pooled at the bottom as boneless sacks.
Silence.
Blood dripped from the ceiling.
It fell on the thick woman in slow, warm drops. Across her cum-covered face. Across her bruised, swollen tits. Down the crack of her gaping ass. She lay frozen, her eyes wide, her ruined pussy still leaking, watching the red rain turn the floor into a shallow lake.
Cruxius stood naked in intent.
His clothes were spotless. Not a drop had touched him. The energy receded into his skin, leaving faint curls of violet smoke from his fingertips.
The girl in the cage trembled.
Her small hands white on the iron. Her eyes fixed on the man who had turned six men into weather.
"Now," the succubus said, her voice warm and throaty, her enormous tits heaving with a breath she hadn’t realized she was holding. "He looks hot."
Soha blinked.
Her hand pressed hard against her pregnant belly. Her dark eyes tracked the residual energy. The violet-pink signature. It was familiar. Too familiar. She had spent four months with that energy. She knew its texture.
"He used it," she whispered. Her voice carried a note of wonder. "He used my ability. Seleyena’s. Energy manifestation. He copied it."
The succubus glanced at her. "What?"
"Nothing," Soha said quietly.
But her eyes stayed on him. On the man who had synthesized her power and turned it into a killing field.
Cruxius looked at his boots.
The blood hadn’t reached them. He stepped over the largest puddle, moving toward the thick woman on the floor. She flinched. Her body cringed away from his approach. Her hands came up, palms trembling, cum and blood dripping from her chin.
"Don’t—" she gasped. "Please don’t touch me. My body is dirty. Filthy. Covered in their—"
"Mother!" The girl’s sob tore from the cage.
The succubus moved. Her golden tail flicked, and the padlock shattered with a snap of demonic force. The door swung open. The girl scrambled out.
"Mother!" She ran, small feet slapping through the blood, her thin body dropping to her knees beside the thick woman. "Mother!"
The woman turned her face away.
"No," she whispered. "Don’t touch me. I’m... I’m covered in..."
But the girl grabbed her.
Her small arms wrapped around the thick woman’s shoulders. Her face pressed against the cum-slicked neck. Her hands found the enormous, bruised tits and held them with desperate care. "What have they done? What have they done to you?"
The thick woman’s hand came up.
Trembling. She found her daughter’s hair and stroked it. "It’s fine, my child. I’m alright. This gentleman... he helped us."
The succubus and Soha exchanged a look.
Both chuckled.
The sound was soft, private, carried on the blood-scented air. They looked at the thick woman—her gaping anal, her cum-filled cunt, her wrecked tits—and they knew. They knew exactly what Cruxius was thinking. They knew that this gentleman could fuck her with more force than those six men combined. They knew his cock was hard beneath his clothes, pressing against the fabric, eager to fill the very holes those dead men had ruined.
But they didn’t say it.
The succubus leaned against the doorframe. Her enormous boobs pressed against the wood, her golden eyes watching with warm amusement.
Soha touched her pregnant belly. Her dark lips curved.
Cruxius knelt.
He reached under the thick woman—one arm beneath her cum-slicked thighs, the other behind her cum-matted back. He lifted.
She made a sound. "Please—" she gasped. "Please don’t. I’m... I’m filthy. Overwhelmed. Embarrassed. I can’t—"
"Remain silent," he said.
His voice was even. Not cruel. Just factual.
"Your daughter isn’t stupid enough to know what happened to you. She saw it. She knows. Now follow me. Let’s first clean you. So you look better."
He looked at the girl. "You too."
The girl nodded. Her eyes were red, but there was something else in them—a flush, a warmth, a focus on the man holding her mother. Her small chest heaved under her torn dress.
Cruxius turned.
The portal opened again. A shimmering doorway of violet-pink light. He stepped through, carrying the thick woman in his arms.
They arrived in a bathroom.
White marble. The floor was polished stone that reflected the light from crystal fixtures. The walls were high and vaulted. A massive tub—carved from a single block of pale stone, large enough for six people—sat in the center, filled with steaming water. Towels of soft cloth hung on golden racks. The air smelled of lavender and clean heat.
Cruxius stopped.
"Shit," he said.
He looked around at the marble, the gold, the tub. "If they have such a bathroom, why were their pigs not bathing?"