Chapter 239 Silver Horned Blood Python

The Sunken Grottos fell silent, save for the grisly sounds of the harvest. Alaric’s team worked with practiced efficiency now, stripping the monstrous corpses of anything valuable under the watchful, approving gaze of their leader. The sheer volume of slain Sea Monsters – well over five hundred bodies littering the mudflats and staining the grotto pool – was a testament to their coordinated assault and Alaric’s decisive intervention.

While Lyra, Cassandra, and the others focused on extracting cores, durable hides, venom sacs, and other potentially useful monster parts, Alaric assigned a specific task to their newest, somewhat reluctant, addition.

“Shaila,” he called, approaching the Oasis Witch where she stood slightly apart, observing the cleanup with a mixture of numbness and lingering grief. The raw vengeance achieved, she seemed adrift, her purpose fulfilled yet leaving a void.

She looked up, her green eyes meeting his. The fire of hatred was banked now, replaced by uncertainty. “Lord Steele?”

“Your knowledge extends beyond simple desert flora, I presume?” Alaric asked conversationally, gesturing towards the diverse array of sea monster corpses. “Poisons, yes, but also their antidotes? Medicinal properties? Unique biological components?”

Shaila nodded slowly. “The deep sea holds potent reagents, Lord Steele. Different from the desert’s gifts, but powerful. Some scales possess unique reflective qualities. Certain glands produce bioluminescent oils or potent neurotoxins. Even their blood can sometimes be refined into catalysts for… specific concoctions.” Her expertise, dormant during her quest for revenge, began to surface.

“Excellent,” Alaric smiled, pleased. “Then your task is clear. Examine these creatures,” he swept a hand across the carnage. “Identify and harvest anything of unique value beyond the cores and basic hides. Glands, specific organs, scales, toxins – anything an Oasis Witch might find… useful. Bag them separately. Label them if you can identify their properties.”

He was essentially tasking her, a woman who had just avenged her people on the kin of these very monsters, with meticulously dissecting them for parts. A subtle way to further integrate her, to focus her mind on practical tasks under his command, away from debilitating grief.

Shaila hesitated for only a moment, looking from the grotesque corpses back to Alaric’s calm, expectant face. It felt… strange. Clinical. But it was a task. A purpose given by the man who had granted her vengeance and offered her sanctuary.

“As you command, Lord Steele,” she replied, her voice quiet but steady. She drew a set of specialized knives and vials from the pouches at her belt and began her grim work, her innate knowledge guiding her hands, providing a welcome distraction from the echoing emptiness inside her.

‘Good,’ Alaric observed her compliance. ‘Practical application channels residual emotion. She’ll be useful.’

His attention then shifted. Brita. The Seventh Order core. The Dark Seed.

“Brita,” he called, beckoning her away from the main group sorting cores. “Walk with me.”

Brita glanced nervously at the others, then obediently followed Alaric towards a more secluded section of the rocky cliffs overlooking the grotto, away from prying eyes and ears.

Alaric didn’t stop until they reached a small, hidden alcove, naturally shielded from view. With a gesture and a surge of mana, he activated a portable artifact – a fist-sized orb that projected a shimmering dome of energy around them, sealing them within a powerful barrier designed to contain energy fluctuations and dampen sound.

“Privacy,” Alaric stated simply, turning to face her. The interior of the barrier hummed faintly.

Brita looked at him, her expression a mixture of apprehension and anticipation. She knew why he had isolated her.

Without preamble, Alaric retrieved the massive, pulsating Seventh Order core he had extracted from the paralyzed Sea Monster Lord – the creature he now knew, from its own terrified confession, was named Volnaxx. The core thrummed with immense, cold, abyssal power, far exceeding the Sixth Order cores she had absorbed previously.

“You said you required Seventh Order energy,” Alaric stated, holding the core out to her. “I fulfilled my part of the bargain. This belonged to the creature Shaila executed. Take it.”

Brita stared at the core, her eyes wide. It pulsed like a captured fragment of the crushing abyss, radiating power that made the air around it feel heavy. This was it. The key.

Her hands trembled slightly as she reached out and took the core. It felt surprisingly heavy, cold to the touch, yet thrumming with contained energy that made the Dark Seed within her resonate, almost painfully.

“Thank you… Master,” she whispered, the gratitude genuine, overwhelming the fear for a moment. He had actually done it. Risked a confrontation with a Seventh Order being, subdued it, and saved the core specifically for her.

“Do not thank me yet,” Alaric cautioned, his ruby eyes watching her intently. “Absorb it. Awaken this ‘Beast Essence’ your former masters spoke of. Show me if the risk was worthwhile.”

He stepped back slightly, giving her space but remaining within the barrier, observing closely. “And Brita,” he added, his tone hardening slightly, “remember who facilitated this. Remember who holds your leash now.”

Brita flinched at the reminder but nodded mutely. She understood. This gift came with invisible chains, reinforcing the ones already forged.

She closed her eyes, centering herself, clutching the cold, powerful core in both hands. She took a deep breath and began the process.

She channeled her own Grand Mage mana, directing it towards the Dark Seed nestled beneath her collarbone. Simultaneously, she opened herself to the torrent of energy contained within the Seventh Order core.

It was like trying to drink from a firehose.

The energy surged into her, vast, overwhelming, and chillingly alien. It wasn’t just raw power; it carried the essence of the abyss, the crushing pressure, the lightless cold, the predatory hunger of Lord Volnaxx.

Brita gasped, her body arching involuntarily. Pain, far greater than absorbing the Sixth Order cores, lanced through her. The Dark Seed flared, a point of intense heat now, greedily drinking the abyssal energy, using it as fuel.

Sweat beaded on her forehead, her knuckles white as she gripped the core. Her breathing became harsh, ragged. The barrier Alaric had erected shimmered, absorbing waves of uncontrolled magical and spiritual energy pouring off her. Without it, the entire grotto, perhaps miles around, would have felt the violent fluctuations.

‘Immense power,’ Alaric observed clinically, impressed despite himself. ‘The core alone is potent, but the Seed… it’s acting as a catalyst, a converter, twisting the abyssal energy into something else.’

Inside Brita, a war raged. The abyssal energy threatened to overwhelm her, to freeze her from within, to crush her consciousness. But the Dark Seed fought back, absorbing, refining, transforming the energy. It pulsed faster and faster, growing hotter, sending tendrils of dark, altered energy throughout her mana channels, reforging them, strengthening them.

She felt something shifting deep within the Seed. A slumbering consciousness, ancient and serpentine, began to stir. Not Volnaxx’s will – that was too alien, too abyssal. This felt different. Scaled. Cold-blooded. Powerful.

The Seventh Order core rapidly dimmed, its vast energy reserves being drained at an astonishing rate. Brita cried out, a long, keening sound that was part pain, part ecstasy, part transformation.

The pattern on her skin reappeared, darker now, spreading from her collarbone down her arm and across her chest – intricate, silvery scales shimmering faintly beneath her skin, overlaid with blood-red markings resembling flowing script or serpentine coils.

A surge of power, greater than anything she had ever felt, erupted from the Dark Seed. It flooded her being, pushing her Grand Mage core to its absolute limit and beyond, infusing her very soul with a new, predatory essence.

Her aura exploded outwards, slamming against Alaric’s barrier. It was no longer just dark and ice. Now, it carried a palpable serpentine presence, a hint of primal constriction, a chilling aura of venomous power.

The Seventh Order core in her hands crumbled to dust, utterly depleted.

Brita gasped, her eyes snapping open. They weren’t quite the same. Her pupils seemed slightly elongated, like a reptile’s, and faint silver scales shimmered around her irises before fading back to normal. The intricate pattern on her skin pulsed once more, then subsided, becoming almost invisible unless one looked closely.

She collapsed to her knees, panting heavily, sweat plastering her hair to her face. She felt… utterly drained, yet simultaneously brimming with a new, terrifying power. She could feel it coiling within her, a cold, potent presence – the awakened Beast Essence.

She looked down at her hands, flexing her fingers. A faint, almost invisible layer of silvery energy seemed to coat them for a moment.

“It… it awakened,” she whispered, her voice hoarse, filled with awe and fear. “Silver Horned Blood Python,” she breathed, the name settling into her mind from the awakened essence. “That’s… what it is.”

Alaric stepped forward, deactivating the barrier now that the energy surge had subsided. He looked down at her, his eyes gleaming with intense curiosity and something else… raw, possessive hunger.

She was kneeling before him, trembling, sweaty, her clothes slightly askew from the force of the awakening, her body radiating a newfound, dangerous allure. The lingering serpentine aura mixed with her natural voluptuousness was an intoxicating combination.

‘Silver Horned Blood Python,’ Alaric mused. ‘A high-tier serpent beast, known for its crushing strength, potent venom, and potential for draconic evolution. Not quite the Azure Spirit Lion’s raw majesty, but formidable. Very formidable indeed. And now… it’s mine.’

He saw the exhaustion, the vulnerability, but also the sheer power shimmering just beneath her skin. And it ignited a primal urge within him. To claim her again. To dominate not just the woman, but the newly awakened beast within her.

“Excellent, Brita,” Alaric purred, his voice dropping into that familiar husky register that made her shiver. “Truly excellent.”

He knelt down in front of her, reaching out, not to help her up, but to cup her sweat-slicked face. His thumb brushed across her lips.

“You look… delicious,” he murmured, his eyes darkening with undisguised lust. “Sweaty. Powerful. Ready to be claimed again by your Master.”

Brita looked up at him, her reptilian-tinged eyes wide. She should feel revulsion, fear. But the lingering adrenaline of the awakening, combined with the conditioned responses he had brutally ingrained in her, mixed with the genuine gratitude she felt… it created a confusing cocktail of desire. She felt overwhelmingly drawn to his strength, his dominance, especially now, when she felt so raw, so changed.

“Master…” she whispered, the word less forced this time, almost instinctual.

That was all the invitation Alaric needed.

With a low growl, he lunged forward. His hands weren’t gentle. They seized the front of her tunic, already damp with sweat.

RIIIIIIIIIP!

The fabric tore easily, exposing the pale skin beneath, the faint, shimmering pattern of the awakened essence, and the full, heavy curve of her breasts, already beaded with sweat.

Brita gasped, not entirely in protest this time. Her nipples hardened instantly under his gaze.

He didn’t stop there. Her trousers were next, ripped down the side with brutal efficiency, revealing the soft curve of her hip, the trembling muscles of her thigh. Within moments, she was naked again, kneeling before him in the secluded alcove, her newly empowered body exposed to his hungry eyes.

“Much better,” Alaric grinned, his own erection already pressing hard against his trousers. He reached out, grabbing her hips, pulling her flush against his groin, letting her feel his hardness through the fabric.

Brita whimpered, instinctively arching her back, pressing her full breasts against his chest. Her body, infused with the Python essence, felt strangely energized despite the draining awakening. More sensitive. More… primal.

“You enjoyed that, didn’t you?” Alaric murmured, his lips brushing her ear, referring to the awakening. “Feeling that power surge through you?”

Brita nodded mutely, shivering as his warm breath hit her skin.

“Good,” he growled. “Now feel this power surge through you.”

He pushed her back slightly, forcing her onto her hands and knees on the rocky ground of the alcove. Her voluptuous backside was presented perfectly to him.

He didn’t bother with removing his own clothes yet. He simply unfastened his trousers, freeing his massive, eager cock. He stepped behind her, pressing himself against her buttocks.

He didn’t wait for permission. He didn’t offer foreplay. He gripped her hips tightly and drove into her from behind with a single, powerful thrust.

“AAAAH! Master!” Brita screamed, the sound echoing slightly in the alcove. He filled her completely, stretching her accommodating passage, the sensation amplified by her heightened senses.

He immediately began pounding into her, his rhythm fast, brutal, relentless. It was a raw, primal claiming, asserting his dominance over her newly awakened power.

“Take it, Brita!” he grunted, slamming into her again and again. “Take your Master’s cock! Show me the snake can handle the lion!”

Brita sobbed, not from pain, but from overwhelming sensation. Her body moved instinctively, meeting his thrusts, her hips grinding back against him. Her awakened essence seemed to revel in the raw power exchange. She felt less like she was being violated, and more like she was being… mated. Dominated by a superior predator. It was terrifying. Exhilarating.

He reached around, grabbing her breasts, squeezing them roughly. He bit her shoulder, harder this time, drawing a gasp and a fresh wave of trembling pleasure from her.

“Yes! Like that!” she found herself crying out, shocking herself with her own eagerness. “Harder, Master! Please!”

Alaric chuckled, a deep, satisfied sound. “Begging already? The little python learns fast.”

He increased his pace, hammering into her with punishing force. He felt her body tightening around him, building towards release far faster than the first time he took her. Her newfound power seemed to amplify her physical responses.

He drove her over the edge quickly, her body convulsing violently around his shaft, her cries echoing off the alcove walls. He didn’t stop, continuing his relentless assault through her climax.

He pulled out abruptly, leaving her gasping and trembling on the ground. He spun her around, forcing her onto her back, spreading her legs wide.

“Look at me,” he commanded, kneeling between her thighs.

She obeyed, her dazed, pleasure-filled eyes meeting his intense gaze.

He entered her again, smoothly this time, her body already slick and yielding. He moved with long, deep strokes, watching her face contort with pleasure.

“You like this, don’t you?” he murmured, leaning down to kiss her roughly. “Being used by me. Owned by me.”

“Yes… Master…” she whimpered, wrapping her legs around his waist, pulling him deeper.

This time, the sex felt different. Still dominant, still possessive, but laced with a new current. Brita wasn’t just enduring; she was participating, almost eagerly. Her body, infused with the serpentine essence, moved with a new fluidity, her hips arching to meet his thrusts, her hands exploring his back, his shoulders, clinging to him.

She climaxed again, screaming his name, her body spasming. He met her climax with his own, roaring as he filled her with his seed.

But he wasn’t done. Not even close.

He pulled her up, pressing her back against the cold rock wall of the alcove. He lifted one of her legs, wrapping it around his waist, and entered her again, standing, pounding into her against the unyielding stone.

He moved her to the ground, positioning her face down, taking her from behind again, his thrusts deep and punishing.

He flipped her over, demanding oral service, fucking her throat until she gagged, then forcing her to swallow before mounting her again.

Round after round. Position after position. The alcove became their private stage for a relentless performance of dominance and burgeoning, complex submission. Brita, fueled by the lingering energy of her awakening and Alaric’s own incredible stamina, met his demands with surprising endurance.

Her initial fear and reluctance melted away under the onslaught of sensation and his overwhelming presence. The lines blurred. Master, conqueror, lover… he was all of them. The gratitude for the core, the thrill of her new power, the ingrained submission, and the sheer, undeniable physical pleasure – it all combined into a potent, addictive brew. She found herself craving his touch, his force, his seed.

She screamed his name again and again, her voice growing hoarse. She scratched his back in moments of overwhelming ecstasy. She wrapped herself around him, desperate for more, even when her body screamed for rest.

Alaric reveled in it. Her surrender was deeper now, tinged not just with fear, but with genuine, desperate need. Claiming her newly awakened power felt like conquering untamed wilderness, breaking a wild beast to his will.

They continued through the afternoon, into the evening, and deep into the night, sealed within their private barrier, lost in their marathon of lust and power exchange. Twenty rounds blurred into thirty, then more. Alaric’s godly stamina pushed them both far beyond normal limits. Brita, exhausted but strangely energized by the Python essence, somehow kept pace, her body becoming exquisitely sensitive, climaxing repeatedly until she was lost in a sea of sensation.

Finally, as the first hints of the pre-dawn light began to filter over the desolate coast, Alaric delivered one last, deep thrust, emptying himself inside her one final time with a guttural roar.

He collapsed beside her on the rocky ground, pulling her trembling, sweat-slick body against his. Brita lay limp in his arms, boneless, utterly spent, yet strangely content. The last vestiges of her old loyalty to Lord Vortan felt distant, burned away in the crucible of pain, pleasure, and power she had just endured.

“Mine,” Alaric murmured against her hair, the word both a statement of fact and a possessive endearment.

Brita didn’t answer. She couldn’t. She simply burrowed closer, seeking the heat and strength of the man who had broken her, transformed her, and now utterly owned her. Sleep claimed her swiftly, her last conscious thought a confusing mix of exhaustion, soreness, and a deep, unsettling satisfaction.