Savior in Shadow Slave

Murphy lay there, motionless — collapsed beside the twitching remains of the root-core, his blood soaking into the cursed soil beneath him. His blade was still clutched weakly in one hand, though his fingers had long since gone numb.

He didn't hear the voice.

Didn't hear the spell's melodious echo rang out.

If he had heard those words, he would've laughed — maybe even cried.

He would've danced, howled, shouted in exhausted triumph.

An attribute?

How rare was that?

But Murphy wasn't awake.

He wasn't even conscious.

The blood loss had already pulled him deep into death's door, where warmth faded and the world dimmed into a silvery fog. His body twitched once — a feeble protest.

Death was already reaching for him.

Its claws, cool and indifferent, curled around his chest like frost.

All he could do was fall.

In those final, fading moments — as the world around him dulled and death loomed close — he heard it:

An obscene, tempting sigh.

Not loud. Not urgent. Just… intimate.

Close enough to feel on his skin.

Like breath on his neck.

Then, something strange began to happen.

His wound — the deep, ragged stab in his stomach — began to close.

The flesh knit itself together with impossible speed, the torn muscle restoring as if time itself was bending backward.

The blood stopped.

The pain dulled.

The warmth returned.

It was healing.

But Murphy was too far gone to care.

He watched the last of the torn skin seal without a scar, and a strange comfort swept over him, thick as silk.

He didn't even wonder who — or what — had healed him.

He simply let his eyes close.

And slept.

Trusting the embrace… even if it came from the Devil's hands.

***

While Murphy slept, his mind drifted — not into restful blackness, but into a dream laced with something ancient.

A fragment of memory…

But not his.

He stood — or rather watched — from nowhere and everywhere, as if pulled into the vision.

A battlefield stretched before him: a twisted glade carved out of time, soaked in blood, broken branches, and shattered spells.

At its center:

Two women.

One obscene in her beauty — the Druid, radiant with sensual corruption, her body adorned with writhing vines and dripping with power.

Druid seemed a bit weird? Like stronger, deadlier and more beautiful.

The other — tall, proud, and fierce. An Ascended, clad in silver-gold essence armor, eyes glowing not with righteousness… but with greed.

She stared at the Druid not with hatred, but with desire — not for her body, but for what she represented.

A prize.

A being of pure arousal and transformation.

A key to something more.

They clashed — again and again.

Essence howled with each strike.

The grove groaned under their power.

The Druid phased — slipping through trees to strike from behind. Her fingers trailed across the Ascended's neck like a lover's touch, right before her thorns raked across flesh.

The Ascended spun, retaliated with waves of strange, sinuous seals, sealing off attacks like locking away emotion.

The battle raged for an entire day.

Neither yielded.

Neither spoke.

Only breath, blood, and raw will.

By the end, both stood panting — bodies torn, essence near empty.

They were no longer gods or monsters.

Just women burning through everything they had.

And then—

The Ascended burst into laughter — not mocking, but breathless, wild, almost euphoric.

"Ah, you fiend…" she gasped between breaths. "You really do know how to wear someone down. But that's exactly what I wanted."

Suddenly, the earth trembled.

With a grinding hiss, glowing chains burst from the ground — forged not of metal, but condensed essence carved with forgotten runes. They wrapped around the Druid's limbs, her waist, her throat — pulling her to her knees in a brutal, binding embrace.

"You see the seal I have activated could only be used by those who are devoid of essence. And thanks to your relentless struggle, I am pretty depleted. Almost at 0."

The Druid thrashed, vines lashing instinctively — but the chains held firm.

The Ascended stepped closer, sweat-streaked and blood-splattered, but triumphant. Her eyes gleamed with something twisted and hungry.

"Thanks to the hidden records buried in the deepest vaults of the Grand Library — secrets reserved only for those of my level — I know exactly how to tame you."

She crouched before the bound Druid and stroked her finger across her body, smiling like a goddess offering mercy.

"To make you bark when I say… wag when I wish… crawl when I command."

The Druid growled, her teeth clenched, body tensed in defiance.

But even then — bound, restrained, humiliated — her beauty didn't dim.

If anything… it burned brighter.

And in her eyes, there wasn't just fury.

There was amusement.

Not fear.

Not defeat.

Amusement.

The Druid let out a soft, sultry laugh — a sound that curled through the air like perfume, warm and lingering.

"Hahaha… it really went just the way he said it would."

Her voice was a velvet whisper — smooth, slow, inviting — the kind that made your ears lean closer even when your gut screamed to run.

"Mmm… he's such a terrifying man," she sighed, licking her lips slightly. "Terrifying… and delicious."

The Ascended's grip on her essence tightened.

"What are you talking about, fiend?"

But the Druid was hardly listening. Her hips shifted subtly against the chains, not to break free — but to enjoy being chained. Still desirable.

"You found it, didn't you?" she cooed. "The book. Bound in smooth, black leather…"

She tilted her head, biting her lip, her tone softening into something almost conspiratorial.

"Symbol of a wounded eye on the front, along with at the end… written in blood-red ink… that sweet, whispering line…

She gave a breathy little giggle and leaned forward, letting the chains bite into her skin, her voice dropping to a teasing purr.

"Each time you open a book

And read,

A tree smiles, knowing there's a life after death."

She let it hang in the air, moaning softly at the coldness of chain — as if even being bounded was a guilty pleasure.

"It really is pleasurable. Being bonded helpless and allowing others their way with her."

The Ascended took a shaky step back, color draining from her face.

"…Correct."

The Druid's eyes glinted — not with power, but with delight. She could taste the fear… and the confusion. She found them extremely pleasurable.

"How do you know that? You— you must have some kind of mind-reading power—"

The Druid laughed again, this time low and warm, like a secret told under the sheets.

"No, sweetheart," she whispered, pressing her thighs together just enough to make her chains creak.

"I don't need to read your mind…"

But the Druid only laughed again, deeper this time. Not mad. Not mocking.

Just… delighted.

As if the game had only now begun.

The Druid's smile curved wider, eyes half-lidded as if lost in a memory both sacred and sinful.

"Let me tell you a little story…" she purred, voice dipping low — smooth like honey over smoke.

"It was over a hundred years ago, in this very grove. Aman walked in. He was like a force of nature, untouched by my vines, unmoved. None of my power worked."

Her voice grew softer — almost moaning.

"He looked at me… with those cold, grey eyes."

She exhaled, as if remembering the weight of that gaze.

"And he simply said, 'Stop.'"

Her body shuddered.

"No roar. No command. Just a word — and I couldn't move. Couldn't breathe. Couldn't resist."

She closed her eyes briefly, a strange tremor moving through her body — not fear, not shame… but something like longing.

"I think… that was the first time I understood the pleasure of being bound. Of having no control. Of yielding."

Her fingers clenched softly in the dirt.

She shifted slightly where she knelt, slowly — subtly — questionable liquid dripping out from between her legs.

The Ascended's face contorted — not in pity, but revulsion.

"Wretch."

And then, with no warning, she attacked.

A flash of radiant essence surged from her palm, laced with burning fury. The blast arced toward the Druid, lighting the grove with unnatural brilliance.

The chains rattled.

The air cracked.

And the Druid—still smiling—did not flinch.

And said "Stop."