“You made me doubt you for a moment there,” Miyo greeted him.

“Did I now?” the king asked. He now sat up in the watcher’s area, right next to his queen. The other Contestants were distributed among neighbouring aisles, each of them accompanied by their retinue if they had any. Any and all injuries Rykard had sustained during the fight had been fixed and it seemed the same went for Maliande.

The short mage sat near opposite of Rykard. Thighs press together and clenching the pelvic curtain of her skimpy outfit, she stared down at the ground, face beet red. Shame of losing and the matter she had lost were clearly taking their toll on her.

“I thought you’d know better by now.”

“Hmm,” Miyo hummed, brushing over the side of his neck with her fingers. “I suppose I should…” Nuzzling up against him, she let out a soft whimper, when he put an arm around her. Nothing, truly nothing, got his vixen more excited than victory. “...Master, do you want me to serve?”

The offer made his cock twitch. He was already hard and his hand remembered the soft butt he had been working. So far, they had been keeping their lewdness out of the view of the other Contestants. They hadn’t been shy about the fact that they had been doing it either though. None of the people in and around this arena were of the kind Rykard felt the pressing need to be decent around.

Getting served right here and now could hurt his reputation with them, but did he care?

 

“Serve,” Rykard ordered and that was all Miyo needed to hear. The lightly pregnant woman glided to the floor. Grass and leaves made the ground soft enough for her to get comfortable on her knees.

Rykard continued sitting there so casually, so openly, that the other Contestants did not realize what was happening until his cock was already in Miyo’s mouth. He heard the stutters from Maliande, an amused snort from Tess, the surprised scoff from Iceface, and the disappointed sigh from Benhuldran. Only Altana seemed to have nothing to add to the scene.

Teyla, up above, acknowledged what was happening with an enigmatic smile. Did she approve or did she merely find his lack of care amusing? Who knew. Rykard would ask her if he ever got the chance.

For now, he enjoyed the sensation of Miyo worshiping his dick. Tongue circling around the engorged glans, she made sure she tasted every bit of him. It hadn’t even been four hours since she had last cleaned him this way. This, however, was more than a casual blowjob. This was his queen revealing to everyone that she truly believed in that same world he did. That she wanted to live in this world of lust. That she was all too eager to suck her Master off openly. She was putting her mouth where her words were.

Because Miyo was a good girl.

While Rykard had his fun, Teyla raised her voice once again. “The second fight shall now begin! Benhuldran versus Altana!” Just as the Twinned Goddess spoke their names, the two Contenders were teleported into the arena below.

Marks of damage from the previous fight were eliminated in the same instant. Trees were shuffled around, roots and shrubs re-arranged. While remaining the same in its half-forest aesthetic, the layout was different now.

“Well met!” Benhuldran declared and raised his right hand to his head. In a brilliant flash of light, a helmet manifested. When he lowered it again, a resplendent shield manifested on his forearm, completing the look of his ornate armour. The blue cape fluttered in the golden winds of his magic. “Let us have a glorious battle.”

“Battle is a means to an end,” Altana stated while her form bulked and swelled. The sight of the short, chimeric woman that Rykard had gotten used to was replaced with that monstrous appearance she had shown during their first meeting. Wings and leathery protrusions burst from her leathery skin among squelching sounds. Not a drop of liquid was actually lost, any and all marks of rapid mutation closed as swiftly as they had formed.

Altana dropped on all fours. Her spike-ridged tail extended from the back of her hips, curving and then becoming as still as the rest of her. She was tense, like a tiger ready to break out into sprint at any moment.

If Benhuldran had a response for the redheaded swarm queen, he kept it to himself. Drawing his one-handed long sword, he took a disciplined pose. The scene before Rykard was almost out of a picture book, the knight in shining armour standing against the abomination of alchemy - a tale as old as mutagens.

‘Reality is often stranger than fiction,’ Rykard thought and put a hand on Miyo’s head. With firm gentleness, he pushed her down and she eagerly took him all the way into her throat. VIbrations of her moans around his cock made him groan. ‘Here I am, getting sucked off by my first sex slave during a game of the gods.’ “Now, keep your service light. I have to pay attention. Wouldn’t want to lose out on intel, would we?”

Miyo gave him an obedient nod. She wouldn’t even have offered this service if she thought he wouldn’t be able to watch the fight while she bobbed her head in his lap.

Up above, Teyla lifted her hand. “The snap of my fingers signals the beginning of combat!”

Several seconds passed. Neither Altana nor Benhuldran moved. One crouched, the other in stern, knightly stance.

Then, the fingers clicked.

Everyone had been prepared for Altana rushing forwards. What they, Benhuldran least of all, hadn’t been prepared for was the sheer speed of it. The biological furnace inside the chimera queen burned red hot, showing the shadows of her bones through her leathery skin. The light left a streak behind her, as she sprinted the distance.

Benhuldran’s shield was raised, as knights were trained for, against a strike to his chest. Altana remained on ground level, right up until she was practically underneath him.

Reacting swiftly, the general turned his blade around, to stab downwards. It wasn’t swift enough. Altana slammed her forearms against his. Her spiked carapace screeched over his well-worn armour. No damage was done to the plate, but his arms were forced apart.

Altana’s hand immediately snapped forwards, grabbing the defenseless man’s head - then ramming it with her own. Reinforced bones slammed against metal. Benhuldran tilted backwards like a bell struck by mace.

Pressing the advantage, Altana kicked the feet away under him. He was still falling, when her tail wrapped around one leg. Twisting around her own axis thrice, the Ouroboros Queen picked up momentum, then let go of the general, launching him into a nearby tree.

The mighty oak creaked, its bark splintered, the wood underneath deeply dented. Benhuldran shook his head, trying to regain his composure, but Altana remained on the offensive. Her inner furnace burned even brighter, fueling her with all the energy she needed to bridge the distance.

Wings turned into additional limbs, like spider-legs made for stabbing. They joined her claws as she set into a flurry of motions. TING! TING! TING! TING! TING! The sound of her attacks meeting the hard metal echoed through the arena. It was as if heavy rain was falling on a steel roof.

Mixed in were the pained grunts of Benhuldran. Though his armour held, the body within was being shaken. He tried to attack, tried to defend, but Altana kept on the relentless attacks. A particularly intense hit caused him to lose hold of his armaments. Shield and sword fell to the ground.

‘No, he meant to let go,’ Rykard corrected himself.

Altana continued with her storm of strikes. No pause, just attacking, no stopping, just attacking. Red and purple steam began to rise from venting gashes that opened along her back. The air around her distorted from her heat. Every strike was that little bit slower than the last.

Suddenly, Benhuldran caught one of her hands by the wrist. “Splendid offensive, young lady,” the general complimented her, “but you should know when to retreat and recover.”

Altana tried to rip her hand free. Her additional limbs stabbed at the knight. Ignoring both, Benhuldran kept his grip tight as a vice. With a valiant warcry, he suddenly rushed forwards

His shoulder slammed into Altana’s stomach. The hive queen was carried forwards, as the general ran back towards the centre of the ring. She beat his broad back, but the fire inside her had fizzled. Every impact was futile.

Suddenly dropping, Benhuldran put her between his entire weight and the ground. A sticky, viscous fluid emerged from where the leathery surface of her ‘mask’ covered her mouth. Benhuldran got on his feet swiftly and took two steps back. His breathing was accelerated. Hers was laboured.

“I’ll give you five seconds to gather yourself.” The general stated and just stood there, making no attempt to retrieve his arms.

Growling, Altana rolled onto her stomach. She skittered, faced him, and then absorbed the spider-like protrusions back into her body. She was almost humanoid now: two legs, two arms, one head, one tail, nothing else.

Once again, she sprinted forward. This time, there was no shield for her to get behind. Benhuldran met her advance with a flying knee. Most of the force was dispersed by one of the curved horns of the redhead, which snapped and fell.

Twisting around immediately, Altana went for a sweep with her tail. The heel of the same leg that had broken her horn stomped down on the tail mid motion. Altana let out a very unladylike screeching sound. The next moment, she was lifted by the tail.

Benhuldran spun thrice around his axis, before throwing the Ouroboros Queen. She flew past the tree that they had fought at earlier, skipped once, and would have slammed against the wall of the arena, had said wall not suddenly shifted.

Rykard wasn’t sure when it had happened or how, but it would hardly have been divine magic if he could understand it just by seeing it in action.

Let out a clicking growl, Altana tried to gather herself. Hissing, she drew in fresh air. Hissing, she pushed it back out. Hissing, alchemic steam released from her insides. Humming, the furnace inside began to heat up again.

“Let’s try that again!” Benhuldran encouraged her and raised his fists.

Something seemed to snap inside Altana at that moment. A savage roar, so utterly unlike the melodic voice she usually spoke in, filled the arena. It sounded like cacophonic overlap of so many noises. A screaming woman, a barking toad, a howling wolf, a screeching seagull, a roaring panther, to name only a few of the noises overlapping into the wild, blood-curdling noise.

Again she rushed forwards.

“Not like that!” Benhuldran chided. Effortlessly, he met her with a sideways kick, breaking the second horn on impact.

The cacophony continued. A ripple went through Altana’s body. A gush of viscous fluid and fresh horns replaced the broken ones. Feral, she continued her offensive.

Benhuldran effortlessly side-stepped the first strike, blocked the second with the back of his hand, and pre-empted the third by slamming his fist into her face. The chimera queen stumbled back three steps, then immediately rushed back in - to much of the same effect.

It became increasingly obvious with every exchange that the general was a veteran of many battlefields. He ducked, weaved, and struck, completely uninhibited by his full plate. Strikes that he could have taken, he dodged just to make the point. All the while, he kept laying into Altana, punishing every opening, of which there were many.

Every broken horn, every gash, every shattered bone, were regenerated within seconds. The healing factor of the chimera queen was impressive. Her physical strength and her speed were similarly impressive.

But Benhuldran had her outclassed in those departments. His armour prevented more damage than she healed. When their fists met knuckle to knuckle, it was her arm that gave. Whenever they engaged in contests of speed and reflexes, he came out on top. He moved with purpose, with experience, and she kept wasting breath on feral screams.

“NOT - LIKE - THIS!” the general roared and slammed his fist into her face again.

The punch was devastating, delivered with enough force to throw Altana onto her back, to have her bounce once from the excess force, and to have her lie there, dazed.

Rather than put his foot on the helpless enemy. Benhuldran beheld her for a few seconds. Then, he turned around and walked to the tree where his armaments still laid. By the time he had them in his hands, Altana was stumbling back to her feet. She growled - and so did her enemy.

Harshly, he turned around, pointing his blade at her. The silver-white steel seemed to glow in the moonlight. “Am I fighting a beast…” he roared, “...or a sovereign?!”

Altana suddenly stopped. The cacophony of sounds ebbed away and were replaced by silence. “...A beast that would like to be worthy of ruling,” she answered, her melodic tone reclaimed.

“Earn that journey.”

Benhuldran charged.

Something changed with Altana. Something beyond the reclaiming of her body language. The internal furnace changed colour, from red to purple. Her skin began to shift and boil.

The change in motion was interrupted by the general’s blade. He had given her three chances to get back up and it appeared that was the limit of his mercy. The moonlit sword drew a crescent arch and sliced through Altana’s arm.

The stump left behind knotted and pulsed, a new arm was born within seconds. Seconds within which Benhuldran had swung his sword two more times. One swing narrowly missed her head, once again claiming one of her horns, the other she halted by engaging in an attack of her own.

The high-rise kick slammed against Behuldran’s shield. “Yes!” he encouraged her. “Like that! Your body is a weapon, do not flail like a child!” He took a step back and then lunged at her.

Altana had no choice but to take the attack. Accepting the piercing blade into her ribcage, she grabbed Benhuldran by the shoulder and pulled him in further - before delivering another headbutt. This time, the knight was prepared, and met her attack with equal force.

“Very good, use your regeneration to your advantage!” With one terrible yank, he ripped his sword out her side. Purple viscera scattered everywhere. Twitching pieces of flesh wiggled about, rapidly mutating into lifeforms of their own. They crawled back towards their origin, while Altana attempted to keep up with the knight.

Still, her body was shifting. Still, her body was changing. The purple kept on pulsing within like a slow heartbeat. All that she grew, however, Benhuldran cut down. He scattered parts of her around, painting the arena with ichor.

What had been her original arm jumped at Benhuldran’s back. The general flared up some kind of magic, enveloping him in an aura of grey light. All the animated bits and pieces of Altana nearby were set alight, burning with red flame. The sound of sizzling meat filled the air.

Yet, that singular moment was all Altana had needed. The rapid mutations surged so intensely that she released a shockwave of her own. Benhuldran was driven back and then driven back further, as a cocktail of malicious chemicals filled the air with purple fog. Benhuldran shrunk. Everything shrunk.

“The arena is getting bigger,” Rykard hummed and caressed Miyo’s ear. The redhead was obediently working his cock, even during all of this commotion. “Now, what is that?” he asked, staring up at the shadow that formed in the chemical cloud.

The entity was enormous and grew larger still. Manifold legs of black, craggy skin and chiting were attached to a lizard-like central body. The head, sitting on a thick neck, reminded of fractally overlapping dragon heads. Purple boils and additional eyes covered the back of the expanded form of Atalanta, pairs of insectoid winds fluttering about her.

Flies buzzed all around her, pouring out of gaps in her form. They swooped down to the forest below, turning everything around from grass and trees into lifeless sand. Biomatter was carried back to her in a matter of moments.

Was that what she truly was or something she could push herself into being if she needed to? Was it something she desired to be? Did it even matter?

The fresh biomatter swelled the body of the living hive. Her throat swelled like that of a toad, skin stretching in royal purple, before she bellowed a noxious could of spores, bacteria, and chemicals down at Benhuldran.

Despite the vast distances now involved, Rykard could hear general coughing. He was a spot of grey light in a sea of purple fog. Like a single boat out at sea at night, he moved about, casting shadows where he went. Enormous flies assaulted him from all directions.

One after the other, he hacked them down. It was like watching a lightshow. The silhouette of the knight slashed, twisted, and turned, fighting off shadowy assailants from all directions. The lightshow never failed to follow him, since he was his own lantern.

His head suddenly rose, just in time to look at the enormous foot coming down on him. The impact boomed loudly and the light was extinguished.

All there was, was Altana, her form seating among the desert of her own making, and the purple toxins of her making. Hissing, the more of the fog streamed from gashes in her enormous form. Hissing, she inhaled, drawing in enough air out move dunes. Hissing, she strained against something.

The light returned.

Altana crushed down on it. Crushed her enemy with all she had to offer. Biomass shifted under her skin, several legs becoming shrivelled husks, pumping more and more muscles into the one leg she had on Benhuldran.

The light was extinguished once again.

Moments passed. Time ticked by. Rykard took his eyes off the battlefield and enjoyed the pleasant sight of Miyo slowly gliding up his manhood. “Is it over, Master?” she asked and licked his cock.

“Well, he has been crushed by an enormous chimera dragon creature - and yet a victor was not announced.” Rykard gestured for her to go back down. Good girl that she was, she didn’t even turn her head to verify. Sucking him off was that much more important. “I don’t like her chances.”

And the grey light shone anew.

Altana roared. Not a cacophonic, feral roar, but the roar of a desperate being that was sound of mind and unable to compete of body. She weighed down on Benhuldran, weighed down with all she had to offer. Then, the shadow of Benhuldran showed again.

The knight rose. His shield raised overhead, a layer of glorious gold and somber grey protected him from the crushing weight of the living hive. From bent knees, to squatting, to finally standing tall, the general straightened. He swung his sword.

The strike extended far beyond the tip of his blade, drawing a crescent shape in the silver colour of the moon. Slicing through the claw above, then the arm of the claw itself, Benhuldran dismembered Altana.

It would not be of consequence for long. The nearby fog was sucked into the gashes. Alchemical compounds knit back together mutated flesh, formed fresh sinews, skin, and muscle. Rivers of purple ichor soaked into the sand, turning into a wave of sharp-teethed maggots eager to devour the knight whole.

Benhuldran crouched and leapt. Leapt onto the arm of the living hive and ran. Tendrils and teeth sprouted all around him, turning the sheer surface into a parkour of deadly proportion. All obstacles in his path, he cut through, he weaved through, without ever stopping. From arm to shoulder, from shoulder to spine.

Swinging his far-reaching blade with every step of his storming march up her back, Benhuldran sliced open boils of mutagenic fluid. Altana screamed in pain and unripe combat forms fell from her skin and scales as sacks of disgusting flesh.

Rykard closed his eyes. The sight was getting a bit too gruesome for the pleasantries he was receiving at the side. He knew how this would end anyhow: with a head about to be separated, and a goddess intervening.

The sudden end of noises proved him right.

Then, the words announced what he expected.

“The winner of the second match is Benhuldran!”

Rykard opened his eyes again, to look at Miyo’s face. With the combat over, the redhead redoubled her efforts and brought him to climax a moment later. She kept working his cock afterwards still, but with less fervour. She wanted to let him think.

‘Seems like Benhuldran might be the second most powerful person around here - after myself,’ Rykard reckoned. ‘As for Altana… she can definitely take more than Maliande, but I’m not that certain she’s actually more powerful. Turning into a massive chimeric beast looks impressive, but she doesn’t seem to have much in the ways of offensive power besides bulk. Not that it matters. For now, my chief worry should be the general.’ Rykard beheld the old knight, who looked back, a challenge in his eyes. ‘I suppose he has the same thought.’