"Close your eyes," Lyssandra commanded, her voice soft yet carrying an undeniable weight. The broken women obeyed without hesitation. Their expressions were serene now, the lines of suffering smoothing away.
They looked almost… peaceful.
Lyssandra raised her hands, palms facing the kneeling group. With a thought, her fingers transformed, becoming incredibly slender tendrils of slime, each no thicker than a single strand of spider silk, almost invisible. They were cool, smooth, and precise.
In an instant, the tendrils multiplied, splitting and elongating until there were exactly 22 of them, one for each woman. They shot forward with preternatural speed, piercing each woman's forehead like needles then slid through bone and brain tissue with surgical precision, targeting the vital centers.
The deaths were instantaneous and painless.
A soft sigh escaped from the closest woman, and she slumped forward. Others fell sideways or simply crumpled where they knelt, their lifeless bodies hitting the damp jungle floor with muffled thuds. The only sound was the gentle rustle of leaves in the humid breeze.
Then, Lyssandra saw them. Emerging from the still bodies like wisps of smoke, thin and pale at first, then gaining form and luminosity.
Souls.
They shimmered with a soft, pearly light, transparent and ethereal and hung suspended in the air for a moment, confused, aimless.
Acting quickly, Lyssandra activated the [Soul Vault] skill. A gentle suction began, drawing the souls towards her like moths to a flame. They streamed into her chest, disappearing within. The sensation was strange, not a physical feeling, but a deep, resonant hum in her core, like a bell being struck. Each soul added to the vibration, layering it with a unique timbre.
A new status line flickered into existence on her System interface:
[Souls Stored: 22]
Lyssandra lowered her hands, the tendrils retracting and reforming into her normal fingers.
She looked down at the lifeless bodies sprawled in the mud. A pang of something stirred deep within her chest, a fleeting acknowledgment of the lives ended. These souls wouldn't fade into nothingness. They would serve her.
With the grim task complete, Lyssandra turned her attention inward, pulling up her System interface. The familiar blue panels floated in her vision, displaying her status. Her eyes scanned the numbers, a faint smile tugging at her lips.
The recent events had indeed pushed her over several level thresholds. While there were no additional rewards like skill points at these intermediate levels, the stat gains were significant doubled for each level.
Name: Lyssandra
Age: 20
Gender: Futanari
Race: Human
Level: 25
HP: 515/515
MP: 190/190
Status: Pregnant.
Soul stored: 22.
Stats:
- STR (Strength): 17
- AGI (Agility): 23
- VIT (Vitality): 10
- INT (Intelligence): 19
- DEX (Dexterity): 17
- LUK (Luck): 10
- LIB (Libido): 100
Skills:
Active Skills:
- Absorption
- Slime Mimicry (Full)
- Alluring Feint
- Fertility Control
- Fire Ball
- Lightning Bolt
- Futanarization
- Cognitive Dominion (Half)
- Web Shooting
- Ice Armor
- Night Passage
- Soul Vault
Passive Skills:
- Natural Regeneration
- Strong Metabolism
- Flesh Conduit
- Beast Tongue
- Static Shock
- CQC
- Dungeon Entity
Titles:
- Goblin Chief
- Slime Tamer
- Broken Web
- Fang Dominion
- Dungeon Master
"Four levels from wiping out half the bandit camp," Lyssandra murmured, her satisfaction evident. "And I get EXP from my monsters too. Very neat indeed."
She closed her System interface and turned back towards the tent.
The women inside were huddled together, eyes wide with lingering shock from the scene they'd witnessed through the tent flap then fell silent as Lyssandra reappeared. She surveyed the group, taking in their fear, exhaustion, and desperate hope.
"Since none of you have anywhere else to go," Lyssandra stated, her voice calm and steady, "how about coming with me? To my place."
It wasn't a question, exactly. More of a proposal, delivered with the authority of someone who expected compliance.
The women exchanged nervous glances, their trust fragile after everything they'd endured.
They whispered among themselves, weighing the unknown dangers of the jungle and potential new threats against the safety of the mysterious cloaked figure who had just offered them freedom and an end to suffering.
Finally, the girl with the braided hair spoke up, her voice trembling but resolute. "I… I'll go."
Others nodded in agreement, relief mingling with apprehension on their faces. Anywhere was better than this hellish camp.
"Good," Lyssandra said. "Follow me."
She turned and stepped back outside, the tent flap falling shut behind her. The women followed hesitantly, emerging blinking into the dim jungle light. They gasped, stumbling back as they saw the three Shadow Goblins materialize silently from the undergrowth, blades in hand.
"Monsters!" one woman screamed.
"Behind you!" cried another, pointing a shaking finger.
"Watch out!" a third shrieked, trying to pull back into the tent.
Lyssandra raised a hand, a gesture for calm.
"Do not worry," she said, her voice cutting through the panic. "They are mine. They will not harm you."
To emphasize her point, she slowly reached up and pulled back her hood, revealing her face.
Then, she removed the black mask entirely.
A collective gasp swept through the group of women. Lyssandra's blonde hair tumbled free, framing a face of startling beauty: sharp cheekbones, full lips, and piercing blue eyes that held no malice, only deep sultry. The transformation was dramatic. From a shadowy figure to a breathtaking woman, her presence radiating an undeniable allure made the women stare in awed silence.
As the women stared, captivated and confused, Lyssandra activated [Alluring Feint].
Her irises melted away, replaced by perfect, glowing pink heart shapes that seemed to pulsate with warmth. She stepped closer to the group, her movements fluid and hypnotic. The air around her thickened with a subtle, intoxicating scent, a mix of sweet musk and jungle blooms that seemed to bypass the nose and go straight to the brain.
"You will come with me, won't you?" Lyssandra asked, her voice dropping to a sultry purr.
It was a suggestion that seeped into their bones, weakening their resolve.
"Who else will protect you? Look at my underlings. They killed every bandit here without breaking a sweat. Isn't strength reassuring?"
She stopped mere inches from a woman near the front, her body language intimate and invasive.
Her hot breath brushed against the woman's ear and cheek, smelling of wild berries and something deeper, more primal.
"Tell me, beautiful," she whispered, her lips almost grazing the woman's skin. "What's wrong with following a strong protector?"
The woman flushed crimson, a visible tremor running through her. Her breath hitched, caught in her throat. She couldn't form words, only manage a small, breathy gasp.
Lyssandra pulled back slightly, her heart-shaped eyes scanning the group and saw the flicker of desire, the softening of postures, the unconscious swaying towards her. Their initial fear and hesitation were melting away, replaced by a hazy longing. She moved closer to another woman, trailing a delicate finger along her jawline.
"No one will ever harm you again," she promised, her voice like liquid velvet.
"You will be safe with me. And…" she let her gaze drop to the woman's lips, "…perhaps you will even enjoy your new life."
She leaned in, her own lips parted slightly. The woman before her closed her eyes, tilting her head back instinctively, awaiting for something. The air crackled with sexual tension, thick and heady. Lyssandra chuckled low in her throat, a sound that vibrated with dark amusement.
"See?" she said, stepping back slightly, breaking the spell. The women swayed, dazed, their resistance utterly shattered.
They looked at Lyssandra with starry-eyed devotion, ready to follow her anywhere.
"You three," Lyssandra addressed the Shadow Goblins, her voice cool and commanding once more, the hearts vanishing from her eyes.
"Escort them back to the dungeon. See them safely to the guest quarters and ensure they are fed and cleaned up."
The goblins bowed sharply, their movements fluid and silent before stepping forward, gesturing for the women to follow. Without hesitation, the group moved towards the waiting monsters, their trust in Lyssandra absolute.
As they began to file past her, Lyssandra felt a soft hand grasp her wrist. She looked back to see the girl with the long braid, her brown eyes wide with urgent hope.
"Miss… Mistress," she stammered, "Please… I want to go home. My village… it wasn't destroyed. I was just too deep in the jungle when they took me."
Lyssandra paused, surprise flitting across her face. She'd assumed all the captives were refugees with no ties anymore. She studied the girl. The plea was genuine, raw with longing.
"You said you had nowhere to go," Lyssandra stated, not unkindly.
The girl ducked her head. "I thought… I mean, the others… and you seemed… powerful. I didn't want to cause trouble."
Lyssandra considered. The girl's bravery, asking now despite her obvious fear of offending, was unexpected.
"Very well," Lyssandra decided. "I will personally escort you home."
She turned to the shadow goblins. "Get the others to the dungeon. I will join you shortly."
The girl's face lit up, her eyes sparkling with unshed tears of gratitude.
"Really? You'll take me? Oh, thank you! Thank you so much!"
She clutched Lyssandra's arm, bouncing with sudden, almost childlike excitement.
Lyssandra offered a small, genuine smile, the first she'd worn in days. "Come, we should go before they return."
She led the way out of the camp, the girl hurrying to keep pace. As they slipped into the dense jungle, Lyssandra paused for a moment, looking back at the bandit encampment and snapped her fingers, a corpse of the goblin materialized on the muddy ground near the tents.
'As for the rest of the bandits, I'll leave them alive as a grinding stone for the future,' Lyssandra thought.