Lilia: A New Dawn

Alistair prowled silently through the shadows, trailing the cultists who had captured his mistress. Concern for Lilia gnawed at him, but he knew better than to act rashly. Patience was essential if he hoped to aid her.

Thus, the imp turned cat silently followed as the robed zealots dragged Lilia's limp form down a winding staircase. At the bottom, a heavy iron door barred with locks awaited. After it creaked open, the cultists proceeded down a torch-lit passageway, their captive in tow.

Alistair slipped inside just before the door slammed shut again. Keeping to the gloom, he crept after the group, relying on his keen senses to avoid detection. The cultists seemed oblivious to his presence, preoccupied with hauling their prize to the cells.

They soon reached a row of barred chambers and carelessly dumped Lilia onto the floor of one. Alistair bristled with fury at their rough treatment of his mistress but held himself in check. All in good time, he told himself.

The cultists conferred briefly before departing, securing the cell door behind them. Alistair surveyed the heavy lock, considering whether he could open it. It looked like he would need to find the proper key first.

Settling in to wait, Alistair strained to listen to the hushed conversations of the other prisoners housed with Lilia. From their words, he deduced they were captive maidens destined for some profane ritual. This insight only deepened his unease.

After some time, Alistair decided to attempt finding the key while the cultists were still dispersed. Keeping low, he prowled swiftly through the corridors, ducking into alcoves whenever a robed figure approached.

At last, he came upon what appeared to be a guardroom. A large ring of keys hung temptingly from a hook on the wall. Glancing around, Alistair saw no one present. Heart racing, he leapt atop a table, stretching his feline body toward the keys.

Just then, heavy footsteps echoed from the corridor, prompting Alistair to abandon his efforts. He hopped down and hid beneath the tablecloth scant seconds before two cultists entered. Cursing his luck, Alistair was forced to remain still as the men talked.

"Did you hear? They found an intruder snooping about," one cultist remarked. "Some curious girl by the sounds of it. It is as if the great one sent us this sacrifice."

The other cultist chuckled darkly. "Yes, quite fortunate indeed. I'll inform the High Priest of this development."

Their conversation continued, but Alistair tuned it out, his mind racing. This intruder must be his mistress! Which meant she was safe, though now also imprisoned. Hope and determination flared within him. Together, they would find a way out of this accursed place.

After the cultists departed, Alistair seized his chance and leapt back onto the table. He stretched up and snagged the keyring in his jaws, muffling their jangling. Just as his paws hit the floor, he sensed a presence in the doorway behind him.

"How did a mangy feline get in here?" one of the cultists exclaimed. Before Alistair could flee, the man lunged forward, grabbing him by the scruff. The keys fell from his mouth, scattering across the floor.

"We can't have filthy beasts wandering our sacred halls," the cultist scolded. Holding the struggling Alistair at arm's length, who yowled and hissed convincingly, he let them believe him to be an ordinary cat.

The cultist carried Alistair through the halls, chastising him all the while. "No respect for our customs, typical vagrant creature." He deposited the disgruntled cat in a small cage, slamming the door shut. "Stay put!"

Frustrated but undeterred, Alistair inspected his new confines, seeking any weakness. But the cage was sealed tight. To escape unnoticed, he'd need a distraction.

Settling in to consider his options, Alistair resolved not to lose hope. His mistress yet lived; he needed only to find a way back to her side. Once together, they would undo these fanatics and their wicked schemes.

 

 

Fury boiled within Lilia as she stalked back toward the cult's underground lair. She couldn't pinpoint the origin of her rage, only that it amplified her determination.

Pausing just outside the concealed entrance, Lilia summoned a bladed staff from her inventory. The weapon felt unfamiliar in her hands, as she had never wielded it outside the game, but she gripped it tightly, ready to defend herself. She knew the cultists would not welcome her return.

As Lilia navigated the gloomy tunnels, her human guise melted away, revealing her cerulean skin and tapered horns. She no longer cared about concealing her appearance from these fanatics. Let them witness a demon's wrath.

The first cultists to spot Lilia turned and fled at the sight of her. However, a handful remained, their conviction overriding their fear. They raised their wicked blades, prepared to fight for their cause.

Despite the unnatural fury surging within her, Lilia still refused to inflict lethal harm, it was last part of her humanity that she tightly clung onto. She focused on using non-lethal blasts of magic to clear her path.

Lilia swept her staff in an arc, gusts of wind amplified by the staff's power buffeting her attackers. The cultists staggered back, struggling to keep their footing. With deft twirls of her staff, Lilia disarmed and incapacitated them with targeted blasts of air.

Venturing deeper, Lilia extended her senses, trying to pinpoint Alistair's location. But the labyrinthine tunnels seemed identical, frustrating her efforts. Anger simmered within her once more at the thought of her companion being held somewhere in this accursed place.

Rounding a corner, Lilia seized a cultist by the throat, slamming him against the wall. "Tell me, have you seen any imps or other demons here?" she hissed.

The man's eyes widened with terror. "I don't know what you're talking about!" he gasped.

Lilia tightened her grip, baring her teeth inches from his face. "Don't lie to me! What have you done with him?" she demanded.

The cultist clutched at her arm desperately. "I swear I haven't seen any demons!" He met her burning gaze, tears welling in his eyes. "Have mercy, I'm just a lowly acolyte! The priests never share their plans with us!"

Realizing she teetered dangerously close to losing control, Lilia hurled the cultist aside in disgust. He collided with a wall and collapsed, unconscious but alive. Shaken, Lilia forced herself to regulate the unnatural rage threatening to consume her. She had never been prone to such violent impulses before, not even in this body. What had changed? Why had it started now?

Jaw clenched, Lilia pressed onward, smothering the invasive fury. She had to maintain focus. Nothing mattered except finding Alistair unharmed. She trusted her intuition to guide her to him.

As she stalked through the corridors of the underground base, Lilia's superhuman senses finally picked up a familiar sound.

"Mistress, is that you?" The pleading query was underscored by a plaintive mewl.

Lilia sprinted toward the source, bursting into a wide corridor. There, she spotted Alistair trapped in a cramped transport cage, being carried by a robed cultist. At the sight, rage reignited white-hot inside Lilia, barely contained behind her clenched teeth.

In a blink, Lilia was upon the man, knocking him out cold with a swift strike. She wrenched open the cage, freeing Alistair, who leapt gratefully into her arms. As she held him close, Lilia felt the fury slowly subside, replaced by profound relief. It seems that she had grown attached to her loyal companion more than she thought. Some part of her had come to truly care for the little imp.

Alistair nuzzled against Lilia, his voice trembling with gratitude. "Thank you, Mistress, for coming to my rescue. I never doubted you would find me."

But Lilia had no time to savour their reunion. In the distance, alarms began to blare, signalling that her presence had finally been noticed. She doubted that mere acolytes would be sent to confront her now.

With the unnatural fury now cleared from her mind, Lilia realized she should not have charged into the cult's stronghold so impulsively. But it was too late for regrets; she was committed to stopping their plans, no matter the cost.

"Alistair, go! Bring Akari here," Lilia instructed. "Follow the traces of combat I've left behind; they will lead you to the exit. I know you'd prefer to stay with me, but I need allies just in case."

Alistair nodded reluctantly. "As you wish, Mistress." With a final affectionate nuzzle, he disappeared into the shadows, hastening to summon reinforcements.

Alone once again, Lilia composed herself, ready to face whatever adversaries might come. She had previously underestimated the cult, but now she was primed to unleash the full breadth of her powers.

Lilia advanced further into the cult's subterranean stronghold, her senses keen for any hint of movement. Strange glyphs shimmered on her palm; her magic primed for use. She moved with silent purpose through the dim light, guided by the upward incline of the tunnel. Her earlier impetuousness had given way to a steely focus and resolve.

Ahead, electric lights flickered against the damp stone walls. Lilia slowed her advance, her nostrils flaring as she discerned the scent of humans intermixed with the stale incense. She tightened her hold on her staff, poised to unleash havoc.

As she rounded the bend, the tunnel opened into a larger chamber. Five robed cultists awaited her, their curved daggers catching the light. Yet their attire was more elaborate than the simple robes Lilia had previously encountered. Intricate symbols were embroidered in silvery thread, and their cowls were trimmed with crimson. These individuals were certainly not mere acolytes.

"What business does a demon have in our sacred halls?" one cultist challenged, his voice saturated with disdain.

Lilia's eyes narrowed. "You have no right to know," she replied, her tone icy.

The cultists met her declaration with derisive laughter. "Such audacity from a solitary demon! You will rue the day you trespassed into our sanctum."

With blinding speed, one cultist darted forward, dagger poised to slash. Lilia barely twisted aside, the blade leaving a shallow gash along her arm. She lashed out with her staff, grazing her attacker as he retreated out of range.

So, this one possessed some kind of superspeed. Lilia kept him in her peripheral vision, wary of another blurring charge. Without giving her time to relax, a second cultist launched a shadowy bolt at her. She deflected it with her staff, the magic dissipating harmlessly against the metal.

Lilia responded by tracing a rapid succession of runes with her staff. Empowered, ice crystals burst from the ground, encasing two of the cultists up to their waists. She then swept her staff around, unleashing a fiery wave. However, the two mobile cultists rolled clear, closing in on her flanks.

Dagger met staff as Lilia reflexively parried and riposted, struggling to fend off both opponents at once. Her lack of skill and experience was apparent, but her inhuman agility compensated for her shortcomings. The quick cultist harassed her from all directions, stabbing whenever her flank was exposed.

Lilia's frustration grew as the fight dragged on. Her mana was rapidly depleting, drained by the effort of maintaining her defensive glyphs amid their combined assaults. She tried to disengage and create some distance, but the speedster refused to grant her even a moment's respite.

Soon she would be forced to draw more heavily on her reserves just to cast defensively. At this rate, she risked descending into mana starvation.

As another dagger slipped past her guard, leaving a bleeding gash along her hip, Lilia realized drastic measures might be required. She could siphon an enemy's vitality, healing injuries and replenishing her waning mana.

But the ability also brought a flood of unwelcome memories. Of nearly killing three men in a starved frenzy. Of Akari stealing a kiss to revive her. Both cases were unsettling in their own way, as was the pleasure she felt each time she indulged in it. The ability's possible nature unsettled Lilia, yet she saw no other path to victory.

As the swift cultist launched another blurring charge, Lilia seized her opportunity. Allowing the dagger to plunge into her shoulder, she bit back a scream. As the cultist withdrew the blade, she clamped down on his forearm with her uninjured hand.

Crimson energy instantly spiralled up Lilia's arm, coursing toward her heart. A shudder of pure euphoria shook her frame as the siphoned vitality flooded her body and mind with rejuvenating energy. Pain faded to a distant echo as her wound knitted closed, her magic humming eagerly from the influx of mana.

Forcing herself to release the cultist before she took too much, Lilia steadied her racing thoughts, trying to ignore the craving for more that tugged at her mind. She let go of the cultist's arm. He collapsed, his skin pallid and paper-thin, weakened but alive.

Now with one obstacle gone and infused with renewed vigour, Lilia switched to the offensive. She enveloped herself in a whirling tempest, blinding her foes with wind and debris. With the speedster cultist incapacitated, the odds were now even.

Lilia bombarded the two remaining foes with a relentless barrage of elemental strikes. One fell to a well-aimed bolt of lightning, smoke rising from his charred robes. The other managed to close into melee range, but Lilia fluidly outmanoeuvred his wild swings before landing a solid blow to his head with the blunt end of her staff.

Only two partially encased cultists remained awake, struggling against their icy bonds. Lilia dispelled the weakened ice with a gesture before placing the tip of her staff against each cultist's throat in turn.

"Yield," she commanded, "or I will show no mercy."

The cowed cultists exchanged anxious looks before holding up their hands in surrender. Lilia regarded them coldly. "Tell me what your masters plan, and where I can find them."

One cultist paled further at her demand. "The sacred ritual... it will soon be complete. Our priest awaits atop the altar, where he will channel the relic's power into himself," the man confessed, his voice quavering.

Lilia's eyes narrowed. So, the zealots' leader meant to use one of these so-called relics for his own ends. She had to reach him before he could enact whatever madness he intended.

Knocking out the remaining cultists, Lilia raced onward, following the sloping passage leading to the main chamber. She would confront the High Priest and put an end to his schemes, no matter the cost.

Lilia approached the towering gates leading to the main ritual chamber, her senses primed for confrontation. She could feel the thrum of gathering power radiating from within. Steeling herself, Lilia traced a flaming glyph on the metal gates. They slowly melted away before her, opening the path ahead.

She strode into a massive cavern, lit by braziers of sickly green flame. At the room's centre, a raised dais held a robed figure presiding over a group of kneeling acolytes. It was the High Priest, desperately trying to complete his ritual, arms outstretched, head thrown back in rapturous chanting.

Before Lilia could react, the acolytes surrounding the priest let out blood-curdling screams in unison. To her horror, their bodies exploded in a shower of viscera. The High Priest seemed to inhale the sanguine mist, his form wreathed in crackling crimson energy. When he turned to face Lilia, his eyes were pits of endless darkness.

"Welcome, intruder," the High Priest hissed, his voice resonating with eldritch power. "You have arrived just in time to bear witness to my ascension."

Lilia's lip curled in disgust. "You slaughtered your own followers for power?!"

The High Priest laughed, a grating, mirthless sound. "Though their lives were temporary, they allowed me to tap into a fraction of the wellspring I shall soon unleash. Once the blades are mine, I will have no need for snivelling sycophants."

Descending the steps of the dais, each movement radiated menace. Lilia's skin prickled as she felt his aura probe her defences, slowly clawing at her flesh. She quickly shielded herself with magic, but even that would not halt this strange power forever.

Although her instincts screamed at her to escape, Lilia stood her ground. She felt that if she left the leader would claim many lives. She had to prevent him from leaving this place.

Hoping to catch him off guard, she summoned a volley of ice darts that hurtled toward the priest with supernatural speed. But with a mere flick of his hand, he caught the projectiles and crushed them into glittering dust.

"Is this the best you can muster, demon?" he taunted. "I expected more after you so boldly invaded my sanctum."

To drive his point home, he unleashed a devastating beam of blood-red energy. Lilia barely managed to erect a magical barrier in time as the beam slammed against her defence. She strained to reinforce the ward, the High Priest's amplified magic nearly overwhelming her own. If it weren't for her training with Mia, she wouldn't have been able to maintain control under such intense onslaught.

Before she could recover, the High Priest closed the gap between them in a burst of speed. His hand clasped around her throat, hoisting Lilia aloft until her feet dangled helplessly. She clawed at his arm, his grip infused with inhuman strength.

"Pitiful," he spat. "Is this the extent of your power?" the High Priest mused, his fingers tightening slowly, threatening to crush Lilia's windpipe. In desperation, she traced an explosive glyph directly onto his flesh. With a choked grunt, the priest was flung backward by the force.

She crumpled to her hands and knees, gasping for air. The High Priest had already recovered, idly brushing dust from his robes. "Fool, you only delay inevitable!" He exclaimed.

Lilia's mind raced as she pushed herself up. Her best offensive magic had barely inconvenienced this monster, while his smallest gestures nearly shattered her defences.

Then inspiration struck, born of desperation. The vivid dream from earlier flashed through Lilia's mind. Effortlessly, she traced an intricate series of glyphs. Though unfamiliar with this magic, her body moved automatically, as if guided by an unseen hand. The gleaming runes melded together before bursting skyward in a blinding pillar. For an instant, the dark chamber was illuminated in brilliant radiance.

The High Priest's eyes widened in shock as the summoning portal tore open above him. An enormous, molten rock plummeted through with crushing force. He thrust his right arm skyward, barely managing to block the meteor. It sheared away his arm in a spray of black ichor before exploding in a starburst of heat and fury.

Lilia was flung back by the explosive impact, her vision filled with billowing fire and debris. As the dust settled, she saw that the meteor had blown a massive crater in the centre of the chamber. The High Priest remained alive, though one arm had been obliterated by the strike. His aura flickered erratically now.

"A valiant effort, but not nearly enough," the High Priest growled through gritted teeth. Crimson energy crackled around the smouldering stump as he staunched the bleeding with profane magic.

Rising on trembling legs, her mana nearly exhausted. With mana starvation looming over the horizon, she had no choice but to attack directly. Gripping her staff in both hands, she charged, ready to slice her foe apart if that was what it took.

"You wish to embrace oblivion? So be it!" he roared.

But as Lilia drew close, she felt prickling pain all over her body. It was the High Priest's aura of decay gnawing away at her body. It threatened to claim her life if she could not end this quickly.

In desperation, Lilia jumped and tackled the High Priest, triggering her life-drain ability. She immediately felt some energy return as wisps of crimson energy entered her body. But it barely offset the ongoing decay.

Agonizing pain wracked Lilia's body, her muscles spasming uncontrollably, her body broken and mended repeatedly. But rising above the torture was an undeniable undercurrent of euphoria from siphoning her enemy’s essence. The perverse pleasure mingled with the blinding torment until Lilia could no longer separate the two.

Darkness crept at the periphery of Lilia's vision, her stamina ebbing dangerously low. The Priest's stolen power, too, was finite and now rapidly diminishing beneath her relentless grasp. They both teetered on the brink of oblivion.

Yet, her drain slowly lost ground to his aura of decay, her body succumbed faster than she could regenerate. In a desperate, instinctive bid for survival, Lilia pressed her lips against the High Priest's. Instantly, she felt his life force surge down her throat, her ability amplifying tenfold.

As the priest's life began to fade, his once-arrogant visage twisted into a mask of terror. He writhed weakly, powerless against Lilia's voracious kiss that devoured his life force. But with his vitality, something deeper and more profound poured into her—a deluge of dark ecstasy that gripped her mind more intensely than any pleasure she had ever known.

Lilia's body spasmed as she consumed everything that High Priest had to offer, driven beyond reason by all-encompassing euphoria. With a final shuddering gasp, the zealot leader went limp in her clutches, emptied of all vitality.

Abruptly, the bliss gripping Lilia reached a dizzying crescendo then vanished, leaving her spent. Exhausted, with darkness clouding her mind, she slipped into unconsciousness, heedless of the High Priest’s cooling corpse locked in her embrace.