V1P3A
---D-Day---
"Ahhnnn..."
It's good, sometimes, to reflect. Take a step back. Smell the roses, so to speak.
"Unnngh..."
From the isekai I recall, these abductors perform their dastardly deed using a glowing circle full of arcane symbols only a chuuni could love. Sometimes the entire body is brought over. Sometimes just the “spirit.” Unless, of course, the almighty Truck-kun is involved.
"Un... Stop... No... Hurts..."
The ones physically brought over remain the same age or get younger. Whichever strokes that summoner's fetish. For the ones astrally stolen? Their lives might start over as babies. Maybe keeping their past-life memories, getting them back later, or even losing them completely until some “accident” restores them.
"For... giv... Pleas..."
If the kidnapped soul is not starting over? Then there will be a “vessel” waiting for it. In my case? They “just” stole my soul.
"So... ry... Plea... Fo... give... Me..."
Ritual summoning, instead of divine meddling or cosmic coincidence, can be a pretty involved affair. According to miss complains-a-lot here? This one was extremely expensive and very difficult. Taking weeks to prepare and days to cast.
"Ah... You... Hur... ing... Pai..."
Now, if “something” interferes with the ritual? Does all that effort go to waste? In my case?
No.
What was my summoning like?
Uh, pretty bland I guess.
Just suddenly found myself in an all white empty square room with some angel looking bitch blathering away. There was no accident, murder, or suicide scene. No robbery, bullying, or netorare scenario.
At least not one that I can remember.
Was a typical night at home. Had dinner. Watched some TV. Put the kids to bed. Watched more TV. Put the wife to bed. Surfed the interweb. Mastur- pondered the meaning of life. Then I put myself to bed.
Next thing I knew? White room with a holy whore standing in front of me. Feathery wings, white robes, etc... Even had blonde hair and big tits. But this divine skank wasn't even facing me. Just yakking away while reading some old looking scroll in her hands
Called for a higher purpose? Never see my family again? Brave sacrifice? A world needs me? Demon lord?! What the fuck!?!
"Oh? Passed out again? Pee-yew. There go your bowels again too. Tsk, tsk. Come on whiny. Let's patch you up some. Still lots to ask and you haven't even paid down the interest yet."
This setup was all just a crazy, old leftovers for midnight snack, dream until…
She said my son's name.
Then it hit me like a bolt out of the blue.
This is the intro to one of those isekai stories. These fuckers are trying to steal my son!
But somehow they screwed up and swiped me instead.
Wait. What happens when she figures it out? Will they go after him again? My god. To wake up and have our child just… gone. It will kill her. It would kill me. We’ll never be the same.
What do I do? What can I do? Maybe we can talk it out? Will she leave us alone? No. If talking mattered they wouldn’t have tried kidnapping my son in the middle of the night.
You are reading story A Fathers Wrath at novel35.com
These are not good people.
Gotta take her down. Grab the initiative. Best defense is a good offense. Damn the torpedoes. Ramming speed.
Don't recall ever hitting a woman before. Not even sure if I can. Well, it's now or never. French fries, motherfucker.
Turned out? I can.
"[Touch of Menerva]"
While the punch to the face just pissed feather brain off? The kick to the crotch did wonders. That can’t be right. Is she a trap? Whatever, anything that seemed to hurt, I did more of. Had no idea angels were so vulnerable to indian burns.
After the weirdest wrestling match I’ve ever had, including that night in Panama, and a whole lot of feathers flying. She finally started begging for mercy. Eventually, we reached an “agreement.”
Yeah I let her go but I wasn't sure if she could actually, “die.” Plus, she claimed she was only the “middle man.” Seriously, should I check down there for scars?
Said the douchebags aiming for my son? Are actually the assholes on the other end. It's the one performing the ritual that sets the target. And this one has my son in its crosshairs.
Well, clearly, they gots to die.
Since even if this summoning failed? They could just try again and it might go through a different guy next time. So with a fond-less farewell, and ice packs on her arms and crotch, the divine ditz sent me on my way.
"No. P-please. Let-t me d-die."
Now, I gotta admit. This whole magic thing is pretty freaky. Watch all the holes I've put in her, again, heal a thousand times faster than they should. Even her pale color from blood loss returns to normal.
This magic must be spurring blood production on top of stitching her flesh back together. Not recovering the blood. Since the quarts of blood she's lost are still pooled on the floor, mixed in with her piss and shit.
Hard to believe that, per the miss here, Earth has magic too. Magic’s fuel, mana, is just so “thin” back home that no one notices it. Makes spells a lot weaker and harder to cast. This also makes it much easier to grab someone from my world. Less resistance from the local mana.
Conversely a mana thin world causes its inhabitants to develop large mana reservoirs. Where we store the mana that’s naturally absorbed from the environment.
So what happens when a mana thin worlder is brought to a mana thick world? Our bodies get supercharged. Usually. We become faster and stronger than most locals. Can cast more spells. Cast bigger spells.
Basically a built-in cheat mode. Of course the kidnappies have no idea how to use all this mana they suddenly have. But with enough time and training? You turn into a fucking superhero.
At least that's what miss complains-a-lot says. So I guess Earthlings on Ipra, that’s this world’s name, are kind of like Kyptonians on Earth?
"No, no, no, no..."
Granted, this elf didn't have much fight in her to begin with. But now all she can manage is to mumble and stare in horror at the blood and gore covered blade as it gets closer and closer to her.
Deep blue eyes quiver and shed tears down her already remarkably filthy face. Doesn't even try to move from the rubble she’s propped up against. I find her exhausted terror almost cleansing. Cathartic.
This time, start on her arm. What was the last question I asked? Gently press the edge down on her wrist until the skin pops and splits. Slowly inch the tip up to her elbow.
I'm now used to the resistance from flesh that doesn't want to give. Expose the muscle and bone within.
"Unnngh..."
Suffer, bitch.
I've got pounds of flesh to collect before I finally let you die.
Angelles, Avalina Faphyri (female, elf-human, tourinese)