Time Slip into a Reverse World

Linhart's fingers, toes, and face felt raw and burnt, as if he'd been stuck in a fire and taken out again. The smell of the magical blast still lingered, acrid in his nostrils.

That had been an Electric attack!

His eyes were barely working, but he could hear the sounds of fighting from all around him. Familiar voices shouting, the guttural sounds of the boob soldiers responded. The pain and chaos flowed through his mind, throwing him back into his darkest memories. He could almost feel the ties at his ankles and wrists, while the two scarecrows cackled away.

He groped for his firearm, but the blastgun had gone flying when he was hit by Electricity, and he was left defenseless, except for a bronze dagger that hung at his belt.

He fumbled with the clasp, unable to draw its short but razor sharp blade. A moment later, he froze, as he heard a voice. It was his worst memory returning to haunt him. A distinctive nasal voice carried over the clamor, calling out from in front of him. Periclum, the evil mage who was responsible for his captivity, had just entered the room.

“Kill’em all… Not the boy!”

He was on the hard floor. A bustle of bare legs bumped into him, unaware that he was there or uncaring, as they flooded the room. Sweaty bodies pressing forward, stepping on him and kicking him while he was down. They were coming through the portal and they were all Boob Soldiers. He knew them by their smell.

The other members of his team were gone. He couldn’t see them. He sensed that they were somewhere around, but had been pushed back by the press of bodies. His eyes stung as he opened them. Shadowy figures were all around him. He couldn’t see through his spell-blasted retinas.

“Please, Sky Father,” he pleaded beneath his breath, “Don’t let the Electric attack disable their armor!”

He stretched his arms and legs, limber in his flexigear. Its sleek rubbery texture may have even provided some protection, but if he'd been wearing anything heavier when the blast had hit, he would've been trapped in a lifeless, metal suit.

Gods or none, he was alone and surrounded. Several of the enemy had noticed him, down on the floor. Their hands clutched him, dragging and hauling him to his feet. He resisted, kicking and pushing them away, but a third latched her arms around him from behind, and he felt his butt being lifted off the ground. They were trying to pick him up.

His mind raced and he felt panic ensuing. If only he still had his blastgun.

Someone screamed behind him. There were cries of pain all around him. His allies? The Boobs?

He elbowed the soldier who was lifting him from behind hard in her side.

“Oof!”

She lost her grip on him and his butt hit the floor with a resounding thud.

“Get him out of here,” Periclum demanded from nearby. It sounded like she was right in front of him. “Take out their Tank before she regains power!”

The girls were once again grabbing him from all sides, but this time their attack seemed more coordinated. Hot flesh pushed against each of his legs, as well as several sweaty bodies mashing against his head as they seized his arms.

The soldiers were better trained than the amateurs he’d fucked for weeks on end, but they were by no means as strong as he was. It was their numbers that were overwhelming. So many girls that they were filling the entire room. How could anyone fight in this crush of bodies?

He fumbled at his belt once more, yanking the cold bronze dagger from its sheath. He’d only get one chance to strike while their guard was down. To them, he was just a boy… no threat at all.

He plunged the blade into the soldier on his right side, who let out a rattling gasp. It sank deep, between her ribs, and she released her hold on his arm as she struggled to pull away from him. Still, he was being lifted and pulled forward, moving quickly towards the portal.

“Idiots! Hold him still! Get that knife away from him,” Periclum commanded.

There was an unhinged edge to her voice. The battle wasn’t going as easily as she’d expected, which was good. Somehow, they’d anticipated his team being here and set a trap for him. What a disaster!

His mind raced, weighing his options. He couldn’t let them take him through the portal! Escape or death, those were his two options, but he must not be captured.

By now, he knew right where the evil mage was. His vision was rapidly returning and he could see a figure, standing straight ahead of him. His legs were being stretched wide open, and he felt her cold fingers clamp onto the inside of his thigh.

She was readying a spell.

Linhart acted faster than he ever thought possible. Shoving both girls away from him at once, he pulled the blade and freed both his arms for just long enough.

Bending his body, he bent his legs and tucked into a forward roll, pushing himself forward with as much force as he could muster. Both soldiers holding his legs lost their hold and he was floating in mid-air for a split-second.

The only hands still holding him tight were Periclum’s evil talons. He could feel her mana flowing into him, but he’d trained for this moment. In a berserk rage, he stabbed at her wildly, landing several glancing slices before sticking the blade home.

His left arm wrapped around the back of her neck, and he felt the searing pain of a paralyzing spell just as he stabbed downward one last time.

The bronze blade sank into the side of her neck several inches, delivering a killing blow before his body hit the ground.

He wasn’t able to move his lower half at all. His joints and muscles screamed to him in pain. His arms still clinging to Periclum, pulled her down with him.

He felt the last shuttering gasp leave her body, as he pulled his knife from her. He was clutching the plush woman tight while he struggled to remain conscious. He could still feel his arms and torso. His legs were numb and lifeless.

He laid there for a moment before realizing that the current in the battle was shifting once more. The Boob Soldiers were in full retreat. Like dumb animals, they were all pushing their way past him. One stepped on his face, causing him to cry out in pain and her to stumble.

They were like a herd of sheep. Behind them came the sheepdogs.

“Linhart!”

“Boss!”

Four shapely legs, clothed in flexigear were suddenly crouched beside him, filling his vision. He looked past the legs and saw the faces of Nyx and Blythe, painted in concern and relief.

“Are you hurt?”

“You’re bleeding!”

“No, I’m fine,” he rasped. His voice sounded like he’d been hit by a truck. “It’s not my blood.”

A third figure went dancing by, yodelling like an insane amazon. He’d never seen Ami looking so hot and so deadly.

“They got us good, boss,” Blythe was saying. “Shut our armor off even before the battle started. Big sis is losing blood real fast and the other one, Helen… she’s not moving.”

“Shit…” Linhart said, reflecting. He didn't have an ounce of strength left in his body.

The deadweight of Periclum was still on top of him, and he really wanted to get her off, but he knew there were more pressing matters for the team to attend to.

“The other mages… Bridi and Wilda. Don’t let them get away…”

Nyx nodded. “I’m on it.” She had found a long length of solid wood from somewhere. She spun it around at a blinding speed, before leaping away out of field of vision.

“Boss, you sure you’re not hurt… there’s so much blood.”

“I’m sure. Go to your sister. If she’s trapped in her Heavy Armor, she’ll need help getting out.”

Blythe’s face looked grim. He knew there was tension between the two of them, but they were still family. She’d regret it if she didn’t help Altheia when she had the chance.

There were almost no Boob soldiers left now, other than the dozen or so figures spread out over the floor. Some were moving, in pain. Others were still.

He set about trying to get out from under Periclum. She was doubtlessly dead now, but her hands still had a firm grip on his legs. His vision had almost entirely returned to him, and he could now see how much blood had poured out of her neck.

He held her face in his hands, reflecting on her stern beauty, even in death. He didn’t pity her one bit. She was doubtlessly responsible for this ambush. Also, casting a paralysis spell on him had been a bitch move.

Good riddance.

Looking at the dead mage, he realized that he had dodged a bullet. That this woman had set a trap to enslave him again, and he had eluded her. He laughed bitterly. Something clicked inside of him. Inside his brain. He kept laughing and for a long time he couldn’t stop himself.

Ami appeared once again. Her hair was matted with blood from an obvious head wound, but her eyes were still sharp and her small body looked to be in perfect condition. Her slim torso and round hips looked amazing in the flexigear.

She dropped a long blade from her hand, as she stooped to help him up. His legs were not cooperating, and he ended up leaning completely on her as lifted him to his feet.

“You okay?” she asked, concerned. “Need healing?”

“Nah, I’m okay,” he said back, finally taking a hold of himself. “I was just hit by a spell.”

Her arms held him real close to her. He could feel her heart hammering in her chest. He hung completely in her power, but she was holding him tenderly, as though he were a princess that needed rescuing. She was his rescuer.

“I saw you stab her…”

He kissed her, cutting off whatever she was going to say. Her lips were plush and she tasted sweeter than wine. For a moment, she froze, but then she was kissing him back. Their mouths opened and their tongues danced together.

“Mmmm...”

She groaned in appreciation. Her hands were clutching his tight, but he still couldn’t anything below the waist. His hands seized upon her butt, which was firm and round beneath the skin-tight layer of flexigear.

He pulled his head away from her, and dodged as she hungrily chased him, seeking another kiss.

“Let’s get out of here…” he said breathlessly then, in a louder voice, added, “Incursion team, time to fall back! The enemy may return at any moment.”

“I found the two magic ones,” called Nyx, who was carrying Wilda over her shoulder like a sack of flour.

“Are they dead?” Linhart asked. He hoped to the gods that at least one of them survived. Otherwise this whole operation was for naught.

“This one’s not dead, yet. Should I just toss her down the chute?”

“No! She’s got valuable information. Bring her to the elevator and I’ll carry her down with me.”

Turning to the others, he saw that the situation was grim. Altheia was dragging herself painfully from the depths of the Heavy Armour. It looked like she sustained wounds, being stabbed a great many times.

“Helen’s dead,” the mighty senior said plainly, rising to her feet with the help of Blythe. “Her Force Armor didn’t cover her legs and they butchered her like a pig.”

She gestured to a body nearby. A mess of blond hair and long bloody limbs was all he saw.

“Can you bring the body?” he said, steeling himself. “They do bad things to the dead of the enemy.”

“Sure thing, boss,” Altheia and Blythe said together. There really was a strong family resemblance.

As quickly as they could, which was still painfully slow, the team limped to the central elevator and exited the Spire. Standing outside, just out of the light of the entrance way, they were met by Xenia.

She was dressed in a tight black outfit, as dark as the night. Her green hair was covered by a hood, making her nearly invisible, except for her eyes, which shone in the darkness like those of a cat.

She watched with a hard stare as the team stumbled out of the Spire and made their way over to her. Blythe and Altheia carrying Helen, Nyx with the mage on her shoulder, and Ami helping Linhart along, though his legs were already starting to work again.

Xenia pushed Ami away from him and took him in her arms like a damsel in distress. Then, with steel in her voice, she turned to the others.

“What the fuck happened?”