Notification:
You have saved the Crimson Fort.
The egregore level increases by +1.
All stats increase by 1.
Necromancer's Core obtained.
"A lousy quest. What am I supposed to do with a necromancer's core? I'm supposed to be the hero."
Chreíos prepared to leave the cave. He glanced at Gedrick's body before turning away and exiting.
Gedrick died with an indescribable expression on his face, drowned in the blood of the Orc Shaman, Gu.
Interlude
"You're telling me he died valiantly, fighting alongside the hero?
Then why did this same hero drag me to the bedroom, attempting to abuse my body?"
Béatrice Maxwell
Recently, envoys from the royal palace visited Béatrice's home to announce that her husband had died defending the Crimson Fort. She was informed she would likely receive financial compensation and benefits—not only due to her husband's position but also because of his so-called bravery in facing the enemy.
Béatrice gazed out the window, watching the wind gently sway the curtains.
Each rustle reminded her of her husband, Gedrick, and the way he would return from the fort with that tired but genuine smile. He always had a kind word for her, even after the most grueling days. She remembered the evenings they spent together over a simple meal, as he recounted the hero's exploits with almost childlike admiration. "A man like him could change the fate of his family," he would often say.
But now, that admiration felt painfully ironic. A tear rolled down her cheek. All she wished for was one last evening with him—to hear his voice again and ask him why he had placed so much faith in a man she had never met.
The family was expected to present themselves before the king during this time. There was much to handle. It was strange how someone's death brought so much administrative burden.
Béatrice was drowning in despair; she couldn't manage everything alone. Her husband's family lagged behind in their journey to the capital. After all, her father-in-law held a noble title, and leaving his estate—even as quickly as possible—was no straightforward matter.
Someone appeared before her. It was their maid, announcing the arrival of a guest. Béatrice was sitting in the chair her husband often used to listen to the sound of the wind. She was engulfed in melancholy.
Poisoned light knocked at her door. There were rumors about the hero—people tended to dismiss them given the hero's celebrated service. Her late husband had often spoken of the hero with pride, so Béatrice hoped he was a good person, someone who appreciated her husband, someone who could understand her despair.
He offered her his shoulder. She wept, captivated by this hero who had led her husband to his death. At that moment, her resentment faded, leaving only sadness.
The hero lifted her. Disoriented, she didn't understand what was happening. He carried her to the bedroom she had shared with her late husband.
"Hey, hero, what are you doing?"
You have activated the Charm skill.
"This should be obvious."
He threw the woman onto the bed and began undressing her. The second phase of Chreíos' Charm skill activated. Béatrice's mind grew hazy, but her strong connection to the place and the thought of her recently deceased husband helped her resist.
"To think you could resist, but the same can't be said for your body."
It would have been better for Béatrice if she had been entirely subdued by the hero's skill. She was aroused, struggling between pain and pleasure, like someone experiencing a drug for the first time.
"Stop. I beg you."
She could no longer think clearly; all she could do was plead for the hero to stop. She couldn't resist—not only due to the difference in strength but also because of her body's condition.
"This skill is truly vicious, and I haven't even done anything yet!"
The hero began sucking her nipples. Tears streamed down her cheeks, and all she could do was scream, hoping someone—anyone—would come to help. But the hero had taken precautions.
"You're resisting your libido? Such willpower. But now that it's gone, we can begin!"
"Your husband couldn't even resist my Charm skill, even as I killed him. He was just confused, without a shred of resentment or hatred—only fear and incomprehension were written on his face. And you're resisting, despite the pleasure? I can feel your hatred for me."
In truth, it wasn't hatred as the hero thought, but a mix of conflicting emotions, with anger being just one of them.
"That's very admirable."
Béatrice's spirit shattered.
Who would have thought the man her husband respected so deeply was the one who led him to his death? It was tragic, and Béatrice Maxwell's mind couldn't bear it.
Chapter: The Hero's Child
Having read the second chapter, you're probably wondering: why name the third chapter "The Hero's Child"?
Well, it could have been "Monster of the Hero's Lineage" or something darker. But I don't want my personal feelings to influence the story.
Oh, you're asking if I have feelings?
Ah.
Well, I'll let you guess.
So, as I was saying, I don't want to obscure or sugarcoat the tale I witness. My judgment could affect the narrative I write and share. As the narrator behind the curtain, I must remain neutral.
So no, I won't change the title of the second chapter.
Shall we begin?
…
The hero had broken the spirit of his devoted servant's wife. They made love all day and all night, Béatrice succumbing to pleasure and despair.
Chreíos indulged his vices and unfulfilled desires, using his Charm skill to stimulate Béatrice, his immense stamina to endure the physical exertion, and his magic to enhance his vitality.
His erection seemed eternal, and the violence with which he made love to Béatrice was beyond human tolerance. She lost her mind; the pleasure faded, and the pain exceeded her limits.
She no longer responded, conditioned like a doll whose sole purpose was to fulfill Chreíos' wild desires.
"Did I go too far? No, she's still breathing."
Medium Healing skill activated.
Béatrice's body regained its vitality, and her breathing, which had nearly stopped, returned to normal.
"Let's go again!"
The cycle of healing, buffs for both himself and Béatrice, continued throughout the night until dawn.
Chreíos sat on the bed near the woman, admiring his work.
"Béatrice, such a beautiful woman, and now she's finally mine. That bastard Gedrick didn't deserve you."
"Tsk, tsk."