The chaotic melee had turned the battlefield into a frenzy, with Elise and the other offensive magic users picking off the lower-ranking members of the Hyahhaa Hooligans one by one with precise magical attacks. However, the enemy’s numbers were still overwhelming.
To avoid endangering the girls they were trying to rescue, they refrained from launching magical attacks toward the center, where they presumed the enemy leader, Bigcock, was stationed. As a result, forbidden-class spells were out of the question in this situation.
Nevertheless, Elise’s magical attacks had cleared the line of sight, revealing a scene much like what Mai had reported. An overturned, well-crafted black carriage lay nearby, with the corpses of horses and the coachman scattered around it. A red-mohawked bastard was straddling a girl who seemed to be on the verge of death, gleefully hacking at her with a knife.
The girl appeared to be on her last breath or perhaps already dead. Was that mohawked bastard the vice-captain of the Hyahhaa Hooligans, Mohican? His ecstatic expression suggested he was a deranged psychopath. The girl’s attire suggested she might have been a maid. Wait, was this carriage owned by a high-ranking noble or royalty? Yet, there were no bodies of knights or their steeds who should have been escorting them. Perhaps they had been traveling incognito without guards, and the Hyahhaa Hooligans had seized this opportunity to strike.
The only survivor was a girl who, while still alive, had been captured by a bald giant. Undoubtedly, that giant was Bigcock, their leader. The girl’s face was swollen and purple, blood pouring from her mouth, likely from being punched. But her blue dress, a well-tailored piece, hinted that she must have been beautiful.
Bigcock was now roughly groping her chest. Her breasts were being squeezed and kneaded through the dress, and the girl writhed in pain. Even accounting for the pain from being punched, such rough handling was bound to hurt. A girl’s breasts are delicate; they need to be caressed tenderly, but this brute was doing the opposite. That bastard even punched her in the face—utterly despicable.
Then, Bigcock pulled up the hem of her blue dress in one swift motion, exposing her pure white panties. He pressed his thick fingers against them, causing her slender legs, clad in white socks and navy-blue high heels, to stretch out. Her right high heel had fallen off, oddly adding a touch of sensuality to the grim scene.
The blue dress, now lifted, revealed her lower abdomen. The girl squirmed and tried to pull the dress back down, but Bigcock wouldn’t allow it. Her white panties, stained yellow and wet, suggested she had lost control from fear. The fabric clung tightly to her skin, outlining the curves of her mound and the shape of her labia—an obscene sight.
My son below couldn’t help but react. In the next moment, his fingers wriggled lewdly inside her panties, likely spreading her labia apart and thrusting his middle finger into her vagina.
“Ahhhhh! It hurts! Stop it! Don’t put your fingers inside me!” the girl screamed.
Bigcock continued to thrust his fingers into her without hesitation. There was probably no love juice, but her panties were now stained with red. She must have been a virgin, and he had just broken her hymen. The girl cried out in pain, her virgin blood staining her panties as Bigcock grinned and pulled them down. His massive member—as thick as my thigh—stood erect, possibly thicker than the head of a baby she might one day bear. It was blood-soaked and fully erect, a biological weapon.
Nearby, a desiccated corpse lay on the ground. Upon closer inspection, it was likely a girl who had been used as a disposable sheath for his member. A massive hole in her crotch suggested she had been penetrated by Bigcock’s weapon. Her inner organs were exposed, her vagina and uterus torn apart. Her abdomen was grotesquely distended, as if his biological weapon had been thrust all the way up to her chest. Perhaps his tool had the ability to drain life force. Her hip joints were dislocated, and her pelvis was split—a horrifying sight.
It was clear that the girl would be destroyed if left in Bigcock’s hands. I needed to rescue her before she was penetrated by his monstrous member, as even my Resurrection Magic couldn’t repair the damage.
Turning my gaze, I saw Elise and the others in action. Aria, the original Breast Magical Princesses, and others like Ly, Liliana, Tirna, and Alicia had joined the fray with their saturated magical attacks. Even Astarotte and Freya, using the magic-attack guns Zwei had created, were contributing. Only Swan Hilda, Kirika, and the former vampire sisters were not participating.
Swan Hilda was on standby for guerrilla tactics, while Kirika, a summoner, likely planned a tricky attack. Deeper in, Edele was preparing to throw her chakram. She probably wanted to charge in but stayed back to support Garbador and the others. Serena, the Holy Spirit, was hiding again, but she would strike at the right moment. Maybe she intended to deliver divine punishment to Bigcock.
The three Berze sisters—Lara, Lili, and Rulu—now human, huddled together, trembling but strangely alluring. They were becoming beautiful girls in their own right.
Garbador and Nestela’s knights, with their orthodox swordsmanship, were cutting down the mohawked hooligans. Meanwhile, Mai and Sharon, from the Assassin’s Guild, were artistically dispatching their targets with hidden weapons. One by one, the lower-ranking hooligans were being eliminated.
Despite Garbador’s warnings about the Hyahhaa Hooligans being formidable, the battle had turned into a one-sided slaughter. Still, Bigcock remained unfazed, focused on tormenting the girl, while Mohican did the same, cutting up another girl mercilessly. The poor girl was now unrecognizable.
At that moment, the last of the lower-ranking hooligans had his head severed by Edele’s chakram. Mai and Sharon returned, while Garbador and Nestela moved toward Mohican.
“You were a virgin? What a hassle. Let’s destroy your vagina and uterus and turn you into a sheath,” Mohican sneered.
“Someone, help me!” the girl cried.
“I love watching a girl’s vagina being torn apart, her despair painted vividly,” Mohican grinned.
“Please, stop!” she sobbed.
But Mohican remained calm, intent on turning her into a living sheath. Her crotch would be ruined beyond repair. Despite the lower-ranking members’ annihilation, Bigcock and Mohican didn’t seem to care. They were likely disposable to them.
“You fiend! You’ll pay for this!” Garbador roared.
“Die, enemy of women! We’ll avenge the girls you’ve mutilated!” Nestela added.
Garbador and Nestela attacked Mohican with perfect coordination. The girl under him was likely already dead. Mohican dodged their strikes with fluid movements and flashy knife work, but he was gradually losing ground. He was no match for two knights.
Meanwhile, the infamous Ponkichi-sensei, a raccoon beastkin, emerged from the bushes, glaring at Shera. “To think I’d meet you here, you damn fox. Hand over your tail.”
“What? You want to take my precious fox tail? You’ll regret this!” Shera retorted, ready to fight. “But raccoon tails are said to be trophies among my kind.”
Their duel began, while Garbador and Nestela’s fight with Mohican reached its climax. Garbador severed Mohican’s left arm, and Nestela moved in for the kill. Exhausted, Mohican could no longer evade.
“Die, you scum!” Nestela thrust her sword into his chest, piercing his heart. Mohican collapsed, blood frothing from his mouth.
The fight had taken its toll on Garbador and Nestela, who sat down, breathing heavily. They were likely just exhausted, with no fatal injuries.
Thank you for reading.
Episode 52-8: To See Righteousness and Not Act is to Lack Courage (Part 3) is scheduled for January 13 at midnight.
