"Hmm?..." I stood facing the cages, my finger tapping against my chin as a deliciously wicked idea began to form. It was a simple plan, but sometimes the simplest plans were the most elegant. The most… satisfying. "Why fight them when we can just... eat them all?"
Rina stared at me, her mouth slightly agape.
"E...Eat them? All of them? Azariel, there are dozens of guards out there! Maybe more! And we're only... well, there's just you, me, and Umbra."
"Hehehe..." I chuckled, a low, throaty sound that made the nearest captive flinch. "Oh, you sweet summer child. You're still thinking like a succubus. Like prey. You forget who you're talking to."
I turned to face her fully, my grin widening.
"We're not the outnumbered ones, Rina. We're the goddamn apex predators. They're cattle."
I took out the key to the slaving crystals. At first, I wanted to remove the crystals, freeing the slaves, but then I stopped. The rescuing part would proceed more smoothly if they were still weakened and docile. They wouldn't panic and run around, making things complicated. They would just follow my orders without questioning them, and I could remove the crystals when we got out of here.
"I can't take them all out, not without raising an alarm that would bring half of Hell down on our heads," I said, my eyes gleaming with a predatory light.
Step!
"!!!" Suddenly, I heard footsteps coming from the far end of the corridor. Someone came down from the tavern.
From the memories of the pigman, there should be two more guards patrolling this floor every fifteen minutes, and around ten demons always in the tavern pretending to be patrons, but they were actually the pigman's enforcers.
They were weak, not even worth being called enforcers, and more importantly, the pigman invested a heavy sum of gold in placing a sound barrier on this floor—a special kind of barrier that not only blocks sound from going out but also from coming in. So no matter how loud the screams are on this floor, no one will hear them from the tavern above.
That also means I can have as much fun as I want in here... and eat as much as I want.
This place is not a prison; it's a pantry. A well-stocked pantry.
"Hehehe..." I chuckled, turning to Rina, picking her up like a toddler, and placing her on Umbra's back. "Rina, I need you to do something for me."
"W-what is it?" she asked, her arms instinctively wrapping around Umbra's neck to steady herself.
"I need you to go back and inform Eva and Mother Beatrice about our situation," I said, my tone leaving no room for argument. "Tell them to send someone to pick up these slaves, and don't worry about me. I'll be fine."
"A-Azariel!" Rina's eyes widened with panic. "B-but you can't stay here alone! What if—"
"It's not a request, Rina, it's an order," I cut her off, my voice firm, my eyes glowing with a dangerous light.
"Go."
I turned to Umbra and gave him a silent command. He growled softly before turning around and running down the corridor, disappearing into the darkness, with Rina's protest fading away as they got farther away.
Now, let the feast begin.
...
The two demon guards rounded the corner, their heavy boots thudding against the stone floor. They were laughing about some joke, probably something crude and vile, their armor clinking with every step.
"I'm telling you, the boss is gonna let us have a turn with the new elf tonight," one of them, a scarred-faced demon with broken tusks, was saying. "He's in a good mood after that shipment of—"
He stopped dead in his tracks.
The stench of fresh blood and the sight of the pigman's office—or what was left of it—hit them like a physical blow. The door was hanging off its hinges, and the hallway was painted in a vibrant, dripping red. And there I was, leaning casually against the doorframe, tossing a heavy gold coin into the air and catching it with a rhythmic clink.
"Evening, boys," I purred, my eyes glowing a deep, predatory crimson in the dim light. "You're late for the party. The pig is already served."
The two demon guards froze, their grimy faces twisting into masks of confusion and fear. The one with the broken tusks gripped his rusted mace tighter, his knuckles whitening, while the other—a lanky, horned bastard with a patchy beard—fumbled for the short blade at his hip. Their eyes darted from me to the blood-smeared room behind me, and I could practically taste the panic rolling off them.
"W-who the fuck are you?" the tusked one growled, taking a cautious step forward, his weapon raised. "What'd you do to the boss?"
I caught the gold coin one last time, flipping it between my fingers before slipping it into my inventory with a sly grin.
"Me? I'm just the cleanup crew. As for your boss, let's just say he's..." I paused, tapping on my belly with a theatrical flourish, "...being put to better use. As fertilizer."
That did it.
"You're dead, bitch! You got no idea who you're messin' with!" The horned demon let out a shaky snarl, his blade trembling in his grip.
"Oh, I think I do," I said, stepping forward with a slow, deliberate sway of my hips, my voice dripping with menace. "I'm messing with dead men walking... And I'm really hungry."
I didn't give them a chance to scream. I summoned my [Hell Chains].
Six obsidian-black chains erupted from the shadows behind me, their links glowing with a faint, hellish heat. They moved like snakes, faster than the eye could follow. Before the guards could even draw their swords, the chains had them.
Two wrapped around the tusked demon's throat, snapping his neck with a sickening crack before he could make a sound. The other four lunged at the horned demon, binding him from head to toe in an unyielding grip of searing metal. He tried to scream, but a chain slithered into his open mouth, gagging him as it tightened around his jaw, muffling his cries to a pathetic gurgle.
"Pathetic," I sneered, sauntering over to the struggling demon. I could feel the fear emanating from him, a sweet, intoxicating aroma that made my pussy clench with anticipation. "Is that all you've got? I was expecting more of a challenge. Guess the boss wasn't paying you enough for real courage."
I reached out with a single, sharp tendril of shadow from my pussy. It latched onto the horned demon's head, wrapping around his skull like a crown of thorns before snapping his neck with a swift, brutal twist. His body went limp, the chains releasing him with a soft clatter as he crumpled to the floor in a heap.
"One down," I murmured, turning my attention to the tusked demon, who was still twitching on the floor, his eyes wide with a mixture of pain and disbelief. "Let's make this a two-for-one deal, shall we?"
I didn't waste my tendril on him; I just stomped on his head, crushing it like a grape. The wet squelch of his brain splattering across the floor was music to my ears.
"That's much better," I said, a satisfied smile on my face as I looked at the two dead demons. "Now... It's time to feed."
I stepped over the two dead demons, widening my stance as the familiar, insatiable hunger coiled in my belly. The dark tendrils, sleeker and more confident now, slithered from between my thighs. They didn't hesitate. They lunged at the corpses, sinking into the cooling flesh with a wet, sucking sound.
"Ahh~" Two corpses at once were different. It was a richer, more complex flavor. The tusked demon's essence was sour with cheap ale and cruelty, while the horned one was spicier, laced with the bitter tang of desperation.
'Is this what a mother feels when her children finally leave the nest?' A random, absurd thought bubbled up from the depths of my mind. I almost laughed. No, this was better. This was power. This was evolution.
As I finished my quick meal, a new wave of memories—most of them useless garbage—flooded my mind, but one, a single, clear image, stood out. A specific location where the guards sleep and fuck the slaves. And a rough estimate of how many demons were inside.
A dozen. Maybe more.
"Hehehe... perfect."
I didn't even bother wiping the blood from between my legs. I just let it trickle down my thighs as I moved toward the tavern, my hips swaying with a predator's grace.
The sounds of the tavern grew louder as I approached—a raucous mix of drunken laughter, clinking tankards, and the low hum of conversation. I could feel the vibrations through the floor, the thrum of life, of potential meals.
I stopped at the door, my hand resting on the cool wood. I took a deep breath, savoring the scent of stale beer, sweat, and the faint, coppery tang of blood that always seemed to linger in the air in Hell.
"Showtime."