MOLTENCONFLICT04: CONSEQUENCES OF WRATH

An ashflake landed on Vadill’s nose, broke apart with all the rest, and mixed with her tears. Her breath had long since lost any stability, as had her ability to sit or stand still. Spiritual pressure so momentous that it rocked Comforto to the core had sent her and the rest of the arrancar and hollow living in the castle into a frenzy. Many had left to go scout, and only a handful had come back. Vadill watched as one by one they not only brought in no tidings of Vaaen, but returned horribly scarred. 

“Hell’s gone to hell,” Blanc had told her. His face, once handsome and rugged, had been melted away. Now he wore bandages to hide his scars and rotted away at the doors of the castle. That’s where they had put all of the sick and wounded. Those too weak had been killed and devoured, as the food imports had stopped. There was simply no room for them anymore. 

Vadill had stepped out into the cold Comforto herself. Inside the castle, everything had been flipped. The beautiful sky was now a broken thing, red and dyed in blood. Many of Vaaen’s fraccion had taken to devouring the slaves, and the rest were participating in a violent orgy where the women were as likely to cum as they were to be torn limb from limb. It was disgusting, yet she knew that when her master returned he would embrace the scene with open arms. He always was one to indulge in chaos as much as he did her own body. 

A trickle of wetness ran down her thigh at that thought. “Vaaen,” she whispered, looking out into the blackness beyond. “Where . . . are yo—“ 

The roar was thunder, its meaning was lightning, and Vadill was the victim. 

She looked up as the spiritual pressure of the one man she cared more about than anything else sunk into her. It filled her bones, slickened her legs, and brought a smile to her face. She stepped away from the pile of rotting bodies that had served as her warmth and into the open space of Comforto.  

“VAAEN!” she screamed. “MY LOVE, COME TO ME!” 

Vadell was not sure if it was the smell of ash or blood clinging to Vaaen that she loved more right now. With just a simple hug, his aura slithered into her broken soul and filled in the holes. Unlike many women, who experienced a whole wide range of emotions when something like this happened, Vadell only felt one: fullness. The empathy that pushed her on day in and day out devoured the reiatsu the Quatra Espada put off and overwhelmed her senses. The trembling grew in intensity, and her fingers dug hard into his coat’s fur collar. 

“They tried, Vaaen,” she whispered, too elated to acknowledge the severity of the situation. “I killed at least five of the bastards. I sliced the wrath into them and came out here, waiting for you.” 

With all of her mental strength, Vadell pushed away from Vaaen. In his eyes she saw the hatred he bore her, as well as the love. The Quatra Espada’s feelings were no mystery to a soul who thrived off of understanding others. She knew that one day, he would choke the life from her. That day might even be now. His Kingdom had crumbled, his position had risen, and she could smell the reek of his excess power. Vaaen was stronger now, more formidable. It was as if the two arrancar were completely different species. 

But she loved him nonetheless, and would ride his cock and kill his foes until her body turned to mush. “They’ve forgotten what wrath is, my lord. Look.” Vadell  turned, a sickle rising out of her cloak and pointing at the heaps of rotting bodies outside of his castle’s walls. “They throw their waste out without a care and fuck until they cry and bleed.” 

Vadell turned back to him with a toothy smile plastered on her face. “Shall we beat the wrath into them, my lord?” Because that’ll make you happy, and then I’ll feel whole again.