Lament for Aurelia 📱 SUBSCRIPTION

Aglaia stood upon the high ramparts, her fiery red hair tightly bound by a wimple, her body clad in the somber black robes of her order. She silently watched the army she had personally sent to its doom march away. The morning light gilded Anna's form with a false, holy radiance, her golden braid falling upon her bare back like a sacred whip scar. In a voice only she could hear, Aglaia whispered, "Go. I shall await you here, for your triumphant return with both supreme glory and utter depravity."

The campaign was an endless torment.

With every jolt of the warhorse, the hard leather saddle mercilessly pressed the mithril chainmail between her legs. The silver beads, sewn by Aglaia herself, rolled with the movement, ceaselessly grinding against the core of her, which had been made excruciatingly sensitive by drugs. This was not mere torture, but a precise, continuous titillation that kept her perpetually on the cliff's edge of desire. The cold metal rings of the chainmail chafed against every inch of her exposed skin, while the thick, masculine miasma rising from the thousands of soldiers around her—a mix of sweat, leather, and earth—assaulted her will like the most potent aphrodisiac incense. Under the gaze of a thousand eyes, she had to play the part of the resolute queen while desperately fighting her body's most primal instincts, a battle that felt like it was tearing her very consciousness to shreds .

As night fell, the army made camp by the river. When an attendant prepared a magnificent, private tent for her, Anna refused with a tone of weary finality.

"I remain with my soldiers."

She chose to sleep by a campfire, guarded by a few of her most elite personal guards. This was not entirely to project the image of a saintly monarch sharing her people's hardships, though that was indeed the image she needed to maintain. The deeper reason was that she feared being alone. She was terrified that once left to herself, the beast of desire caged within her, with nowhere to vent, would utterly consume her, driving her to commit even more unspeakable acts in solitude. She would rather use countless pairs of eyes to build an invisible prison for herself, using public surveillance to chain down the self that was about to lose control.

The fire crackled, its light casting an oily sheen on the bronze, sculpted muscles of two of her guards, Ramon and Gary. They were bare-chested, their scars a testament to their valor, their heavy breaths turning to white mist in the cold night. The sight, the scent, instantly dragged Anna into an abyss of humiliating memories. She remembered being stripped naked in the orc camp, paraded like a trophy ; she remembered being brazenly violated by those noble knights in the banquet hall; she remembered Kalon's cold, slimy tentacles...

A torrent of shame and excitement washed over her body. She unconsciously pressed her legs together, rubbing them against each other in a futile attempt to alleviate the increasingly sharp itch coming through the cold metal. The chastity device, as if activated by her desire, began to work with a vengeance. Its internal mechanisms turned more intensely, and every grinding motion sent a shiver through her, almost forcing a shameful moan from the depths of her throat. This was the torture Aglaia had meticulously designed for her, forcing her to confront her own cowardly and lustful nature, the other side of her that craved extreme stimulation .

She could bear it no longer. The string of her sanity snapped, and her body's instincts took over. Driven by a blank impulse, Anna's trembling hand reached down, slowly moving toward the core of her being, wrapped in chainmail shorts, seeking a sliver of comfort through the pressure of her own touch.

"Your Majesty?"

A low, magnetic, and familiar voice sounded by her ear, striking her desire-soaked consciousness like a bolt of lightning.

It was Alexander.

"It is I. At the Academy of Holy Radiance, I once had the honor of polishing your boots..."

The floodgates of memory burst open, dragging her back to the afternoon a year ago that had sealed her fate and her shame. It had also been under the public eye, on the training grounds of the military academy. She, the kingdom's most dazzling heir, had been defeated by Kalon. When she was struck down, panting in humiliation, Kalon's blade had not pointed at her throat. The cold steel, with playful malice, had slid down her abdomen, tracing the inside of her thigh, tensed in terror. Finally, through the thin fabric of her training uniform, it had lightly, repeatedly, prodded and pressed against the most private, inviolable lips of her womanhood.

And now, by this campfire in the wilderness far from civilization, it was him again. Did he see? Did he know? The thought, like a venomous snake, bit deep into her heart. She could only clamp her legs shut, trying in vain to stop the shameful "holy water" from leaking out due to this dual stimulation. The feeling of powerlessness still burned her soul.

Now he had seen her wretched state once more. Shame turned to molten lava, rushing from the soles of her feet to the crown of her head, making her flush with heat, utterly mortified. She could feel the wetness between her legs, the scent... would he smell it?

"I'm fine," her voice was broken and hoarse, as if sanded down. "Just... a little cold."

What a pale, feeble lie. She could feel Alexander's gaze still fixed on her face. It was a deep gaze, no longer the clear look of the boy from a year ago, but a mixture of a warrior's acuity, a man's scrutiny, and something else... something dark and ambiguous she dared not investigate.

He saw. He must have seen everything.

Shame, anger, fear... all these emotions intertwined, but ultimately transformed into a bizarre pleasure that broke through her dams. If she was already exposed, what was the point of pretending? If her sanctity was already shattered, she might as well sink into depravity.

Aglaia's curse, or perhaps "blessing," erupted completely at this moment. Like a magic spell, it fully ignited the fire of desire within Anna, a fire born from humiliation.

Anna's body went limp, no longer struggling. Alexander immediately sensed the change. With a low growl, he swept her into his arms and strode towards a patch of ground by the fire covered with an animal hide—his bed. The surrounding soldiers cast their gazes over, their eyes holding not surprise, but a long-suppressed, bestial greed. They had all seen the Queen's loss of composure, and they saw Alexander's actions. In this wilderness devoid of law and morality, power and desire were the only rules.

The cold metal chains were unfastened. Her breasts, made unnaturally full and pert by Aglaia's magic, bounced violently in the firelight, the tender buds at their peaks already hard as pebbles. Alexander mercilessly gripped one, grinding its rosy tip with his rough thumb, while his other hand delved into the swamp between her legs.

"Ah... no... stop..." Meaningless moans escaped Anna's lips, but her body arched honestly, welcoming his violation.

Just then, another dark figure loomed over them. It was another soldier. He knelt beside them, his scorching gaze fixed on Anna's naked body. He said nothing, merely reaching out to grasp her other full breast.

Alexander chuckled in her ear, his fingers having already found the clitoris, swollen and tormented by pleasure, and began to flick it rapidly.

"Aaaah!" The unprecedentedly intense stimulation instantly shattered Anna's consciousness. She felt her legs being lifted by another soldier, spread to their limit, the cold of her over-the-knee boots a stark contrast to her heated skin. She saw a third, a fourth soldier surround them, unfastening their trousers to reveal their狰狞 and scalding pillars of lust.

She closed her eyes, abandoning all resistance. Her sense of shame was numb, replaced by a reckless, desperate madness. She was a cursed slut, a whore who needed men to survive. This was her destiny.

Alexander thrust forward. With no foreplay, his searing giant pierced her wet, tight passage.

Excruciating pain and ultimate pleasure exploded simultaneously. Anna let out a piercing scream. Her body was pinned in place, able to do nothing but passively endure his stormy assault. Immediately after, her mouth was blocked by another hot member, and another soldier entered her from behind, giving her the humiliation and satisfaction of being completely filled. Countless hands roamed her body, caressing, kneading, slapping. Every inch of her skin became a territory for the soldiers to vent their lust.

She was like a small boat tossed in a raging storm, her consciousness torn to shreds by one climax after another . She couldn't see the faces of the men on top of her, couldn't tell who was who, only feeling different sizes, different temperatures, different forces moving in and out of her body. Her moans turned into tuneless sobs and wanton cries. The holy queen had completely vanished, leaving only a debauched prostitute drowning in a gang rape.

Just as this orgy of depravity reached its peak, a shrill horn blast tore through the night sky!

"Orcs—! It's the orc charge!!!"

Terrified screams and the clash of weapons erupted from the camp's perimeter. The soldiers on her body froze, their faces showing alarm. Alexander cursed, pulled out of Anna's body, and grabbed his sword. The other soldiers also scrambled to their feet, hastily pulling up their pants to face the enemy.

However, Anna had no reaction. She lay limp on the animal hide, her legs spread wide, her silver boots hanging limply. Her body was a mess, covered in the marks and fluids of men. The juncture of her thighs was a mixture of white turbidity and her own juices, slowly trickling down her legs. Her eyes stared blankly at the night sky, pupils dilated, a satisfied yet empty smile on her lips. She was clearly still lost in the endless tide of carnal pleasure, not yet returned to her senses.

"ROAR—!"

With a tremor in the ground and a deafening roar, a massive green figure broke through the human soldiers' line and appeared by the campfire. It was a powerfully built orc, over two meters tall, wielding a giant axe. Its bell-like eyes glinted with cruelty and lust. When its gaze fell upon the naked, enticing body in the center of the firelight, that greedy look was instantly ignited.

It saw its most perfect prize—a human woman still lost in the afterglow of a sexual climax. The orc let out a low, desire-filled gurgle. It could smell the thick scent of the female and the tang of copulation hanging in the air. It tossed aside its blood-soaked axe and took heavy steps, one by one, towards the still-dazed Anna. For it, the true reward of this battle had only just appeared.

She used all her strength, her trembling arms propping up the body that no longer felt like her own. She was sticky all over, reeking of a mixture of lust and blood. On her breasts, made unnaturally full by the curse, even hung droplets of milk that had been squeezed out by the orc, jiggling with her movements. She crawled through the mud, and with every inch she moved, a searing pain shot through her ravaged secret place. Finally, her fingertips touched a cold sword hilt.

Anna struggled to her feet, raising the longsword high. The effort drained her last ounce of strength, and her body swayed precariously. She wanted to issue a final command to her remaining soldiers, to awaken their shattered morale with her posture. However, when she opened her mouth, all that came out was a broken, tear-choked moan. She was barely clothed, her golden hair matted with filth, her pale skin covered in purple bruises and savage fingerprints. This shameful, exposed state, far from inspiring anyone, became the last straw that broke the soldiers' will, plunging them into deeper fear and despair.

The orcs watched her futile gesture and erupted in thunderous, mocking laughter. The orc leader walked over with a playful expression. It didn't even bother with the sword in her hand, simply reaching out with a rough hand, grabbing her by the ankle of one silver boot, and effortlessly lifting her entire body upside down.

The world spun violently. The sword slipped from her weak grasp, clattering to the ground. She hung upside down in the air, her tattered chainmail bikini sliding completely away, fully exposing her ravaged, swollen breasts and privates to the greedy gazes of all the orcs. The viscous fluids on her body flowed downwards, trickling over her abdomen and dripping onto her humiliated face.

This brief resistance earned her an even more thorough humiliation. The orcs bound her hands and feet tightly with coarse ropes. Then, like stringing up prey, they tied her to a thick wooden pole, her limbs bound behind her back in a humiliating inverted shrimp position. Two strong orcs hoisted the ends of the pole, parading her as a trophy through the camp. She was held high, illuminated by countless torches, carried slowly forward amidst the cheers and lewd whistles of the entire tribe. Countless filthy hands reached up from below, brazenly grabbing and kneading her completely exposed body. This scene was so similar to the fate her mother had suffered after being captured, a memory she carried deep within. That shared, blood-bound despair and humiliation made her stop struggling completely .

After the parade, she was roughly untied from the pole and thrown before the largest bonfire in the center of the tribe. Surrounding her were hundreds of lust-crazed orcs. They formed a circle, their bell-like eyes glinting with the same light, like a pack of wolves about to devour their prey. Anna lay naked on the ground, ropes still binding her wrists. She looked at the savage, excited faces. She was like a sacrifice, thrown into the center of the tribe, awaiting the victors' pleasure. The orc leader let out a roar, signaling the start of the revelry, and the surrounding orcs surged forward like a tide.

Rough hands grabbed her limbs, pinning her firmly to the cold, muddy ground. Before she could even let out a full scream, a scalding, massive foreign object forced her mouth open, choking off all sound. This was followed by the tearing pain of being brutally penetrated from below. Not just one, but two, three... she felt herself being completely torn apart, used as a public flesh-toilet for them to vent their lust. Her vision blurred, her ears filled only with the orcs' heavy panting and conquering growls. Each thrust felt like it would shatter her soul from her broken body.

Gradually, her body betrayed her will. As one orc brutally gnawed on her unnaturally full breasts and another thrust wildly inside her, a trembling warmth uncontrollably rose from her lower abdomen. Her long-numb secret place secreted a slick fluid, making the orcs' violation smoother. She bit her lip hard, trying not to make a sound, but when an orc climaxed inside her, an intense, guilty pleasure struck her like lightning. Her whole body convulsed violently, and a suppressed, tear-choked moan escaped from the depths of her throat.

The orcs noticed her "enjoyment." They let out more excited and savage howls, their movements becoming even more frantic. They loved seeing her struggle between pain and pleasure; it satisfied their primal possessiveness more than mere conquest.

From then on, things spiraled out of control. Her body seemed to have a will of its own. It would become wet on its own when violated, uncontrollably lactate when her nipples were bitten, and even instinctively swallow when an orc's giant member filled her throat. The phrase "I am the orc's whore," forced out of her in Kalon's dungeon, began to echo in her mind like a vicious curse. She no longer needed to be forced; in the hazy waves of pleasure, this humiliating phrase would murmur tunelessly from her own lips.

She understood what her mother had gone through in the prison camp. The broken moans and tears from her childhood that she could never comprehend, she now felt them herself. No, it was even worse. Because in her mother's eyes, she could still see unyielding hatred. But deep in her own soul, that sacred hatred was being slowly devoured by a desire for humiliation, a desire born from her own body.

Months later...

In the depths of the Shadow Cathedral, where the Holy Light could no longer reach, Sister Aglaia sat upon a black obsidian throne carved with fallen angels. She listened nonchalantly to the frontline report from an armored knight.

"...The Queen fornicated with her own soldiers and was captured by orcs while being gang-raped in her tent... This is a disgrace to the kingdom! How can we tolerate the Empress of a nation falling so low!" The knight's voice trembled with agitation.

A faint smile touched Aglaia's red lips, her eyes betraying no emotion. She tapped the armrest with a finger adorned with a crucifix ring, as if listening to a story that had nothing to do with her. "The kingdom no longer exists, knight. As for Her Majesty... perhaps this is the 'penance' she must perform for her sins. God will guide her to her true place." Her voice was cold and ethereal, sending a chill down the knight's spine.

Meanwhile, on a border patrol path in the orc territories, another "penance" was underway.

Anna was on all fours, a cold, hard horse bit chafing the corners of her mouth, saliva uncontrollably drooling down her chin. A rough leather saddle was strapped to her naked back, and a small, cunning goblin was riding her, brandishing a thin whip and periodically kicking her ribs with its sharp heels to urge her forward. She was no longer a princess, not even a captive. She was a mount, a walking tool. Her once-noble golden braid now swung like a horse's tail with her humiliating crawl.

As she numbly passed through a patch of woods reeking of decay, a scene made the blood in her veins freeze.

Not far away, a tall orc scout was resting against a tree, holding a leather leash. At the other end of the leash was another naked, blonde woman. The woman was kneeling on the ground, and behind her, a black war hound the size of a giant wolf was thrusting its hips, its thick bestial root moving in and out of her body. And the woman, far from struggling, had her head thrown back, her throat emitting intoxicated, broken moans, her full breasts heaving violently with the hound's thrusts.

It was Mother...

Anna's mind went blank. The mother in her memory, who held her head high even in a prison camp, her eyes burning with an unyielding flame, was now...

As if sensing her gaze, the woman immersed in bestial lust slowly turned her head. When she saw Anna being used as a warhorse, the daze on her face vanished, replaced by utter shock and shame. "Anna?... What are you doing here?"

The word "Mother" was stuck in Anna's throat, unable to come out. She could only stare at her mother with the same shocked and desperate eyes, looking at the humiliating scene she was a part of, and trembling out a few words: "Mother? You... how..."

"What are you staring at, you bitch! Move!" The goblin on her back shrieked impatiently, lashing Anna's buttocks with the whip, leaving a fiery red welt.

The sharp pain made Anna stumble, forced to continue crawling forward. The mother and daughter's gazes met for that brief moment in the air before being torn apart by merciless reality.

The two once-brightest stars of the kingdom, now reunited in this filthy land in the most wretched state imaginable. Anna finally understood. Her mother's whispers in the prison camp, the so-called encouragement, had perhaps already soured back then. The so-called strength and defiance had long been ground to dust by daily humiliation. All that was left was the same as her own: a shameful submission, dominated by a body that had betrayed the soul.

The orcs' coarse laughter echoed in the cave. The "chance encounter" during the day had been a carefully orchestrated play, designed for them to enjoy the look of instant collapse on the faces of this once-high-and-mighty mother and daughter when they recognized each other. To the orcs, that despair was a vintage more delicious than blood.

That night, Anna and her mother, Irena, were roughly thrown into a damp, dark stone cell. The cold stone floor made their naked bodies tremble uncontrollably. Before they could exchange more than a few words from the shock of their reunion, the cell door opened, and a swarm of goblins with greedy green eyes rushed in, cackling. These vile creatures swarmed over their bodies like a tide, their filthy little hands brazenly kneading their full breasts and buttocks, their sharp teeth gently nibbling at their sensitive earlobes and necks. It was a pure, non-sexual torment, designed solely to completely destroy their will.

After the mother and daughter's whimpers and struggles grew weak, a tall orc entered and drove the goblins away. With a savage grin, it bound them together with a thick rope in an extremely twisted posture. They were forced face-to-face, their breasts pressed tightly together, their lips almost touching. A deeper humiliation followed. A thick, purple dildo, with狰狞 fleshy protrusions on both ends, was forcibly shoved into their bodies by the orc. One end disappeared into Irena's passage, long since loosened by the war hound, while the other pushed open Anna's still-tight and shy secret entrance.

The cold foreign object pierced through the bodies of mother and daughter, connecting them in the most shameful way imaginable.

The cell door slammed shut, leaving only the heavy breathing of mother and daughter in the cave. In the darkness, Irena was the first to break the silence. Her voice trembled, yet carried a strange calm. "It's alright, Anna... This... this is alright too..."

Anna's body was stiff, tears mixing with humiliating saliva trickling from the corner of her mouth.

Irena seemed to want to maintain her maternal dignity. She sighed and said in a lecturing tone, "Why were you so foolish... why come back to die? You should have run far away..."

"Foolish?" The word, like a needle, pierced the last line of defense in Anna's heart. She jerked her head up, her eyes burning with a fire of anger and despair. She could feel the other end of the dildo inside her mother stir with her movement. "What about you?!" she shrieked, tightening her thighs and buttocks with all her might.

"Urgh!" Irena let out a suppressed moan. Anna's movement had driven the dildo connecting them deeper inside her, precisely grinding against a sensitive spot of soft flesh. An uncontrollable wave of pleasure shot up her spine.

"You're no different!" Anna's voice was choked with sobs, but her movements became more forceful. Like an enraged cub, she used all her strength to arch her back, using her own body as a weapon to slam into her mother's. "That feeling... you dare say you don't like it?! When you were being fucked by that dog, weren't you screaming with pleasure?!"

"Shut up! You... ah..." Irena tried to scold her, but each of Anna's hateful thrusts turned her words into broken moans. Not to be outdone, she began to writhe her hips, trying to seize control, countering her daughter's attacks with the same movements.

And so, what should have been a reunion of comfort and tears devolved completely into an unthinkable sexual battle. In this cold, dark stone cell, the former queen and princess, connected by a vile dildo, writhed, thrust, and ground against each other like two copulating snakes. They cursed each other, yet moaned uncontrollably under the other's attacks; they wounded each other with the most vicious words, while their bodies sought shameful solace in the most primitive friction.

Sweat, tears, and sexual fluids mixed together, soaking the ground beneath them. Each of their struggles made the double-ended dildo churn deeper in their respective passages, bringing wave after wave of sinful ecstasy. For the entire night, they struggled in this contradiction of mutual harm and mutual comfort, until they collapsed in exhaustion, falling asleep in each other's arms, the evidence of their sin still cold and present deep within their bodies.

The memory of a dream was the only light in the dungeon now.

It burned in Anna's mind like an unhealable wound. It was a memory from Aethelgard's golden age. Sunlight poured into the royal square, and the cheers of tens of thousands of citizens merged into an ocean of sound. She wore a pure white silk dress, like an iris about to bloom, while her mother, Queen Irena, was dressed in a magnificent red royal robe, wearing the crown that symbolized supreme power, her hand gently placed on Anna's cheek.

Her mother, back then, was so dazzling, so holy. Her voice, full of pride and love, was magically amplified, echoing in every corner of the capital:

"My daughter, Anna Anastasia."

"From the day you were born, the bells of the entire capital celebrated your name. I have watched with pride as you grew day by day, becoming the heir to the throne. Remember, child, rule is never achieved through violence and tyranny. I have taught you wisdom and mercy, and you will use them to lead our kingdom to eternal prosperity."

"You will be a wise queen, using your kindness, your courage, your justice, to protect this land, to protect our people."

...Kindness, courage, justice.

These words now sounded like a distant, cruel joke.

Cold iron chains hung from the cave ceiling like malevolent vines, tightly binding the naked bodies of mother and daughter, suspending them in the air. Their skin was pressed tightly together, what should have been the warmest embrace in the world now a breeding ground for shame and desire. Every unconscious shift brought a shuddering friction; every breath carried the fallen scent of each other's sweat and lust.

Irena's body was trembling slightly. She bit her lip, trying to use her last ounce of willpower to fight the craving that the enemy had planted in her with drugs and humiliation. Her breathing was rapid, her full breasts, pushed up by the bindings, gleamed enticingly in the dim light.

Anna felt her mother's struggle. She knew this feeling all too well—the feeling of the soul screaming while the body yearned, a tearing schism. She remembered what she had seen in Kalon's illusion: her mother's numb and sorrowful eyes in the orc camp. She knew her mother's "resistance" had been worn down to a thin sheet of ice.

"Mother..."

Anna's lips moved to her mother's ear, her voice as soft as a sigh, yet carrying an undeniable magic.

"Don't fight it anymore..."

Irena's body went rigid, as if stung by her daughter's words.

"I know... I know everything..." Anna's tongue lightly licked her mother's earlobe, a forbidden gesture they had learned in their despair to comfort each other. "The fire is burning, isn't it? Starting from your belly, spreading through your whole body... your body is getting hot, your legs are getting weak, and down there... it's getting wet and itchy, craving to be filled, to be treated roughly..."

She used the most direct, most obscene language to describe their shared sensations, each word a small hammer shattering Irena's final pretense.

"We have been defeated, Mother. Our country, our dignity... we have nothing left. 'Kindness' and 'justice' can't save us. Only this... only sinking into this feeling can let us forget the pain for a while."

Anna's hips gently rubbed backwards, moving the cold, purple instrument of torture, slowly grinding it in the most sensitive, private part of her mother.

"Ah..." Irena could no longer hold back. A moan mixed with pain and pleasure escaped her throat.

"That's it, Mother..." Anna's voice was full of seduction. "Don't hold back anymore. I know you're desperate to release it... just like me. Here, there is no queen, no princess. Only two... women who need each other. Let us... enjoy our reunion together."

As her words fell, Irena's final line of defense completely crumbled. She turned her head and kissed her daughter with all her might. It was a desperate, frantic kiss. Their tongues intertwined wildly, exchanging saliva and tears. The chains groaned under the strain as their bodies writhed and ground against each other in mid-air, climbing, in the extremity of their humiliation, to the sinful, inevitable, and only peak of ecstasy available to them.

In the city-state of Aethelgard, sunlight generously bathed the central square. The High Abbess Aglaia personally presided over the unveiling of a magnificent, pure white marble statue. The statue depicted the Queen and Princess, holding high the sword symbolizing royal power and justice, their gazes fixed firmly on the horizon. The beautiful, voluptuous curves of their bodies were faintly visible beneath their holy white robes, symbolizing justice and glory. This was not just a statue; it was the unquenchable hope in the hearts of the people of Aethelgard, a vow that justice would triumph over evil. Citizens gathered beneath the statue, led by Aglaia, singing an ancient anthem in unison. The song was loud and solemn, every note filled with reverence for their rulers and hope for the future.

However, beyond this land bathed in sunlight and song, in the dark, orc-ravaged occupied territories, another "totem" also stood.

It was a crude wooden pillory, stained with filth. Anna and Irena, the subjects of the anthem, were currently bound tightly to this totem in a very different posture. They were not holding swords high, but were forced into the most obscene positions.

Anna was on top, Irena below. Their bodies were marked with red welts from the ropes, their full breasts and buttocks squeezed and deformed by the bindings, making them look exceptionally enticing. Anna's legs were forced apart, hanging helplessly in the air, exposing her repeatedly ravaged private parts. And her mother, Irena, with her hands tied behind her back, was forced to hold a thick, greased wooden wedge, and under the coercion of an orc overseer, inch by inch, guide it towards her daughter's already swollen and abused rear. Every slight push would elicit a suppressed whimper of pain and shame from Anna, while Irena could only weep, carrying out this inhuman command amidst her daughter's cries and the orcs' savage laughter. The posture that once symbolized glory had now become a punishment for mother and daughter to torture each other, the most vicious mockery of their former status.

This "living totem" was just one scene in their endless nightmare. The orcs' creativity went far beyond this. Every time their front line conquered a human settlement, there would be such a ritual.

Sometimes, they would be hung upside down from a giant wooden frame, their feet hoisted high, their bodies swinging like pendulums. Two tall orcs would stand on either side, slapping their trembling buttocks with large, calloused hands as if inspecting livestock, producing sharp, slapping sounds. Their bodies swung helplessly in the air, their golden hair falling to cover their humiliated faces, with only intermittent sobs leaking from between the strands.

And at night, they would be thrown into the goblin lairs. These vile and lustful creatures would drown them like a tide. They would be arranged in shameful, wide-legged positions, their hands and feet bound tight, unable to move. Swarms of goblins would surround them, their greedy green eyes glinting with excitement. They would bury their heads between their legs, licking their most sensitive parts with long, rough tongues; they would crawl onto their bodies, suckling their full breasts, leaving sticky saliva behind. In this endless violation, the mother and daughter's consciousness would gradually blur, their bodies convulsing uncontrollably in humiliation, emitting sweet, cloying moans that sounded foreign even to themselves. They were like sacrifices offered to a demon's den, enjoyed by countless greedy mouths at once, their sacred bodies thoroughly reduced to a feast for the goblins' revelry.

The orcs' "gifts" were endless. Sometimes, a massive war wolf was led into the cave. Its eyes, glinting with cruel green light, stared intently at the naked mother and daughter, a low growl rumbling in its throat. Driven by the orcs, the beast pounced without hesitation, its heavy body pressing down on Irena's back. Its sharp claws raked bloody lines across her smooth buttocks and thighs as it brutally took her.

"Ah...!" Irena let out a piercing cry, her body trembling violently.

"Mother..." Anna felt her mother's pain, her heart twisting like a knife. She couldn't push the beast away, couldn't protect her mother. In this ultimate despair and helplessness, the only thing she could do was lift her head and seek her mother's approaching lips with her own, the only act of comfort and release she could perform.

It was a deep, sorrowful kiss. In the moment of being penetrated from behind by a beast, the mother and daughter used this most primitive, most intimate method to convey their final solace. Their lips and tongues intertwined, tasting each other's tears and saliva, as if trying to find a small patch of sanctuary from this cruel reality in each other's mouths. Their bodies were mercilessly ravaged by an external force, but their souls were tightly connected through this kiss. In this dark cave, mother and daughter used this depraved and desperate carnal act to soothe each other. It was the only thing they had left to give each other after being reduced to playthings.

The scene cuts back to the capital of Aethelgard.

In the monastery attached to the city's most solemn Cathedral of Holy Light, Aglaia sat quietly by the window. Sunlight streamed through the stained-glass windows, casting mottled, shifting patterns of light on her, enveloping her in a sacred yet eerie atmosphere.

Outside the monastery, a choir spontaneously organized by the populace was loudly singing a marching anthem, the music soaring and holy, echoing in every corner of the city.

The Holy Light shines on Aethelgard,
The holy princess, pure and white,
The shield of justice, her guardian bright.
An unbending spine, that holds its might,
You are Aethelgard's glory and hope, no evil can ever defile your liiight~~

Listening to this uplifting song, a subtle, meaningful smile touched Aglaia's lips. Her power was now secure.

However, the same song, in the distant fallen lands, had become the most vicious of curses.

Before the tent of the orc warlord, the bonfire burned brightly. Countless orc warriors sat around it, tearing at roasted meat with their teeth while their greedy, mocking eyes watched the "entertainment" on the high platform.

The lead singer was Irena.

"The holy princess, pure and white... An unbending spine, that holds its might..."

She was forced to sing the anthem she had composed for her daughter before the campaign, the very song she had sung at her daughter's coming-of-age ceremony when she was declared the heir. And her daughter, Anna, the heir of Aethelgard, was being subjected to the most unspeakable desecration before her very eyes. A massive orc battle-axe was firmly planted in the center of the platform, its rough, cold handle serving as Anna's "stage." Her tattered chainmail bikini barely concealed any of her charms.

"The shield of justice, her guardian bright... You are Aethelgard's glory and hope, no evil can ever defile your liiight~~" Irena's voice was choked with tears, but her face was forced into a contrasting, seductive smile by the orcs.

The orc leader grinned savagely. He roughly grabbed Irena's breast, kneading it without restraint. Milk spurted out, and he stuck out his tongue to lick it up, forcing her to continue singing.

She watched as her daughter's back was bent by an orc, forced to arch her hips to accommodate the filthy hand behind her. Anna's face was a mixture of pain, numbness, and humiliation, sweat and tears mingling as they streamed down her pale cheeks. She was like a broken puppet, manipulated by these conquerors, turning her once-noblest body into a lewd plaything for public amusement.

As the last line of the song was squeezed from Irena's lips, the orc leader let out a bestial roar. He violently yanked Anna off the axe handle, throwing her like a sack of potatoes into his lap. Then, in front of her mother, he demonstrated in the most direct, most primitive way, how he "defiled" the glory of Aethelgard.

The orcs' raucous laughter, Irena's broken wails, and Anna's irrepressible moans of pain intertwined with the holy anthem, composing a symphony of the absurd and the cruel. On this conquered land, glory had long been trampled to dust, leaving only endless shame and depravity.

[End of Part One, Reboot Pending]