You slowly return to your senses. You finally notice how fast your heart is beating, pounding against your chest. You breathe heavily as if you’ve just sprinted half a mile. Your upper garments are soaking wet from your own sweat. None of that matters though. The first thing you do is lower to Delta’s level, who is still recovering from the experience, gently place both your hands to the corners of her face and give her a long, soft kiss, straight on her moist, sticky lips, which gave you heavenly pleasure just moments earlier.
When your lips part you look into Delta’s watery eyes, beaming with light, more than they could possibly reflect from a single torch. The ragged breaths, the trembling bunny ears, the corners of her mouth turned upward forming a smile, the slightly raised eyebrows—her face is in an adorable mix of countless different emotions. Exhaustion, satisfaction, confusion, happiness. You place your hand on the back of Delta’s head and give her a warm hug, pressing her against you.
Neither of you say a word. You’re not sure how long you stay like that. Eventually, both of you do separate and get dressed. The silence that was first cute, even romantic, now feels slightly awkward. What do you say after something like this? Last time you were quickly distracted by the sight of three bleeding bunny girls. But now there is no such excuse.
“That was… incredible!” you finally speak up.
Delta looks at you, blushes, and, with a quick nod, turns away.
“You don’t speak much, do you?” you ask when you realize that you can’t recall her speaking even once.
Delta shakes her head in confirmation.
“Is there any particular reason—”
You stop mid-sentence when you notice a body in the darkest corner of the cell, obscured by the moving shadows. You grab the torch and move closer to inspect the body. The person is long dead. The body is shriveled up, not unlike the previous Demon Lord. However, it is much shorter and in an even worse state—rotting away, in several places all the way to the bones. The Graf must have been an imposing figure in his time, by comparison, this fife-foot-two man looks like a child. It very well might have been—you’re no expert on dead bodies.
Blueish skin, semi-skeletal face, with deeply sunken cheeks, missing nose and the jaw hanging on one side by the torn tissue. The only piece of clothing covering the body looks like an old potato bag. Whoever it was—they’ve been dead for a very long time. You have no idea how long it would take for a body to get to such a state—especially in these cool and surprisingly well-ventilated conditions—but it must have been many years.
It’s not particularly surprising to find a dead body in a prison cell of a Demon Lord. You’re about to walk away when you notice that its skeletal fingers, laying at the stone wall, are just beneath some sort of carvings, etched into the stone. You bring the torch closer and try to see what the carvings are. It takes you some effort, but you’re able to tell apart the letters and words of the last message from this prisoner. The words are written in a strange language, but you’re able to read it as if it was in English. That’s the first time when you stop to wonder – what language have you been speaking up to now? You just assumed it was English since you could freely communicate with the inhabitants of this world, but now, presented with clear evidence, you have to question that. Either way, it is convenient that you didn’t have to struggle with that at least. For now, you just try and read what the fading carvings say. Some words are beyond recognition, but most of it you can read.
“Graf, if you ever […] your torturers are useless garbage. As I die […] comforted by the thought that you will never see my niece’s daughter again. I spit upon you for what you did to my pure and […] Veg Cho clan will cleanse your taint. I hope you die […] fucked […] parasites.
Alexander the Small.”
Unfortunately, apart from the spiteful message, there is, apparently, nothing else to be found. No relics or valuable treasure. And if there was, it would’ve probably been scavenged by Ariadne long ago. Perhaps on your journey, you could ask about this ‘Veg Cho’ clan, but now you really have to hurry to have any chance of meeting your own deadline.
You are reading story The Demon Lord’s Successor at novel35.com