Prologue: Golden Maso Empress – Eternal Petrification in the Female Exhibition Museum

※This chapter includes illustrations of body modification, status abnormalities, and other elements that may cause discomfort for some readers.

A ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠chilling mechanical whir begins to emanate from the device mounted above the altar.

Complex runes composed of hieroglyphs etched into the central floor of the altar glow, spreading light across the entire platform. The mana flows like blood toward the edges of the altar, climbing the pillars and transferring to the sun-shaped disk rising from its center.

The spectators all kneel before the disk shining with brilliant golden light.

Normally, petrification wouldn't require such an elaborate process, but Gloria is no ordinary woman. She possesses a noble lineage with exceptional aptitude, an outstanding bloodline, and unparalleled talent. Simple petrification wouldn't suffice. Executing and killing her would be fine, but ultimately, it would be a waste of resources—that was the empire's current policy. Of course, the very idea and proposal came from Gloria and Samiel themselves.

Thus, the empire will taxidermy the lewd tyrant empress in a new way and put her to use. Through this, the empire leaps into a new era of history.

Everyone clasps their hands together, gazing up at Gloria. She is to become the empire's eternal convict and its first resource. Even for someone as base as Gloria, this can be seen as a sacred, transcendent ritual. After all, she has become the empire's property from the start, so there's no need to formally desecrate her.

For that reason, Gloria senses the sublime emotion emanating from the masses before her eyes.

——Awe.

But this awe is not directed at Gloria herself. It is awe for the sacred petrification ritual itself.

"————Guh, ooooooh?! ———Aaaaaaaaah!!?"

Hot heat and electric currents whirl from all directions. It feels like every vein and mana circuit inside Gloria's body is burning away. It's not just searing heat—pure agony several times more intense surges from one end of her bloodstream to the other. This must be what it feels like to be cooked alive.

Gloria wants to writhe in agony, but she can already feel her skeletal frame rigidly fixed in place.

"——————Ooooooooh!! Ooooooo...................!!"

With her entire body hardening, she can't even scream properly. Die, die. I'm dying♡ Gloria feels pure terror of death amid the boiling pain while still alive. Her vocal cords won't move. She can't breathe. But that doesn't feel inconvenient. It feels natural, as if her body is firmly cooking and solidifying.

Petrification—no, perhaps gilding is the better term.

Her vision gradually dyes in translucent golden light. Soon, she can't even roll her eyes. Her pale skin gains a hard epidermis like a thin coating. Gloria can only stare at her reflection on the wall.

Clunk! The machinery atop the altar shakes for a moment.

(Is it... over!?)

As if answering Gloria's inner question, the devices spring back to life in unison. Until now, it was just preparation. The massive sun disk above her head begins to tilt. Beneath it, a torrent of hot, pure golden mana pours down onto Gloria's head.

Like water spilling from a tilted cup, the thick flow of scorching mana cascades down. It's a mana irradiation device crafted by grinding down all of the empire's noble magical spirit beasts. Gloria had desired perfect petrification. The magic tower, receiving her commission, demanded countless magic tools and manpower, and she provided them without stint.

—And this is the result.

(——Hooooh?! Hah?!♡♡ Haaaaaaaah!!♡♡ I'm dyiiiiing♡♡♡ Guh!! Guuuuuuh♡♡)

With her mouth stupidly agape, Gloria thrashes and screams inwardly. But her body won't budge an inch. She can't even raise veins on her forehead while screaming. The only thing she can sense is herself being enveloped ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠in something new.

The pure mana irradiated onto her head touches and absorbs into her body's mana. Normally, humans can't absorb others' mana, especially not from magic tools or extracted from nature. Unstable foreign mana simply can't intertwine with one's own.

It's not about dying from acceptance. Like opposite poles of a magnet, they physically repel contact.

(——Aaaaaaaaah!!!! Oeeeeek!! Ah, it's still coming iiiiiin!! Ooooooh!!♡♡♡)

But Gloria can. As the empress of the empire, inheritor of the kingdom's noblest golden bloodline, possessor of the greatest mana reserves, and shining with brilliant talent—

—She can accept it.

A thick flow of mana—thousands of times her total capacity, gathered and refined through every method—pours entirely into her body, clashing with her own mana.

(Ugrrrrrrrgh!!! Groooooooooh!!!)

Torn apart at the cellular level, Gloria screams in agony. Without a flicker in her expression, her brain whites out in pure pain more intense than anything before. The pure agony gradually weakens, replaced by burning heat in her erogenous zones—nipples, ass, pussy, anus, womb—accompanied by a ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠pleasurable sense of release.

Manas collide, clash, and explosively birth new energy. She feels the omnipotence of infinite mana and heightened clarity in every sensation across her body.

Without the petrification status abnormality, she would have exploded from the immense mana. (Oogh!!!♡♡ Hah!! ♡Haah♡♡!! Is it... over?!)

Gloria's sanity slowly returns as the pain subsides. She can't move her eyes, but she confirms her reflection on the wall ahead.

(Ha... haa... that's... me? A mere fixture?♡)

There stands a statue gleaming in bright gold with a lustrous sheen. Adorned with beautiful golden jewelry, it boasts its supreme form in a lewd pose and expression. Slightly parted tongue, upturned eyes. The depressions from clothes and restraints are perfectly gilded as-is.

Becoming a sentient golden lump—is there greater desecration of dignity? Feeling the intense pleasure surging within, Gloria screams inwardly.

(Ugh?!♡ Ongoooooh?!♡♡♡)

The tentacle machines embedded in her body writhe. They seem unaffected by the gilding. Though it was an intense gilding ritual, it apparently reacts only to Gloria's mana and flesh.

Thanks to that, the tentacles filling her breasts and milk ducts wriggle faintly, stimulating her insides. (Oo♡♡?? Ooooooh!!!?!)

They scrape the inner epidermis of her breasts—supposed to be filled with soft fatty tissue—like grinding stone: grrrrk♡ grrrk grrrk♡. Pleasure akin to scraping hardened, erect erogenous zones surges from within her chest.

Gloria's entire body, including internals, has become a solid golden mass. Her throat, milk ducts—all expanded and developed organs inside are perfectly solidified. Hardened, erect erogenous zones are more sensitive than soft ones. The rigid endures more friction than the yielding—meaning more pain, more torment, more sensitivity.

Moreover, the lewd runes etched into her body amplify it. Waves of ecstasy from the runes alone drive her to extremes. The same for the invisible vibe inserted deep in her pussy. Though not moving violently now, its mere presence delivers utterly novel stimulation.

(Grk♡♡ Ooh?!♡♡ ———Oooooooooh?! Hiiiiiiiii?!♡♡♡)

Sudden pain and pleasure on her skin make Gloria scream inwardly. Regaining her wits, she scans her surroundings (unable to move her eyes, only blurry fixed focus reveals priests holding something.

Hard sandpaper and brushes rub her body, stripping rough or dirty surfaces from her gilded form. Bumps, sweat, or keratin petrified on her skin—they meticulously remove them to perfect the statue.

With devotion and force, they scraaaape scraaaape her skin.

For an ordinary statue, it wouldn't matter, but Gloria is different. She's alive—that's the key difference. Her ultra-hardened golden skin is more sensitive than anything.

Ssh♡ ssh♡ ssh♡ ssh♡ ssh♡ ssh♡ ssh♡ ssh♡ ssh♡ ssh♡ ssh♡ ssh♡ ssh♡ ssh♡ ssh♡ ssh♡

(———Hihihihihihihihihihi?!♡♡♡ Hoougrrrrrrooooooh!!!!♡♡♡ Nooo♡♡ Stop♡ That brush!!♡♡♡ Ooooooh!!!♡♡♡)

Her entire skin feels like rigidly erect erogenous zones. In human days, orgasms would soften her after exhaustion, but now? Her steel-hard skin and zones remain intact as brushes and hands assault from all sides.

Belly, sides, back, ass—meticulously cleaned. Gloria screams inwardly from pleasure and tickling. (——Ahhheeeeeeeeh!!!!)

What terrifies her is how this pure cleaning differs from past tortures. She wants to explode air from her lungs, clench abs, scream, and flee—but as a perfectly gilded statue, she can only silently endure the ecstasy within.

Like offering a sacrifice to a god, the spectators bow reverently. Many pay homage to the spine-chillingly beautiful golden statue; some smile contentedly at the tyrant's fitting end.

After all, Gloria has paid her debt by becoming this.

Scraaape♡ scraaape♡ scraaape♡ scraaape♡ scraaape♡ scraaape♡ scraaape♡ scraaape♡ scraaape♡ scraaape♡ scraaape♡

(Ehee♡♡ Ooooooh?!♡♡♡ Armpits, nooooot the armpits♡♡♡♡♡ Ahahahahahahahahahahaha!!! Ooooh!! Oooooooo♡♡)

Regardless of her inner screams, the sanding continues. Pain of flayed skin and ensuing pleasure transmit to pussy, womb, clit, toes, fingertips. Heavy jolts of ecstasy circulate through her body.

She wants to cum explosively. Crave a carpet-bombing of pleasure.

Beneath the altar where the petrified Gloria writhes in pain and pleasure, the mana circuits etched into the floor begin to glow, absorbing her emitted mana energy and transferring it to the empire's mana storage.

Gloria has become a living mana fusion reactor. Interaction with the mana from the sun disk triggers active fusion inside her— like a miniature sun. Not hot, but purely burning with mana.

Normally, it would explode, but the solid golden epidermis maintains its form. Even Gloria feels the boiling mana throughout her body—thousands, millions of times more than before. Enough to obliterate half the imperial capital with one grand spell. She also senses mana overload perks: sharpened vision, acute senses, crystal-clear mind.

She nears transcendent existence.

But——

Scraaape♡ scraaape♡ scraaape♡ scraaape♡ scraaape♡ scraaape♡ scraaape♡ scraaape♡ scraaape♡ scraaape♡ scraaape♡

(Aaaaaaaaah♡♡ Yes♡♡ Hyaaaaah♡♡ Ehehehehihi!!!♡♡♡ Ahahahahak♡♡♡♡ Mmmmuuuuuuh!!!!♡♡)

No matter how transcendent the body, immobility renders it useless. Even roadside pebbles are happier now. Semi-immortal flesh and eternal beauty gained, yet powerless. All she can do is writhe inwardly against the scraping pain, tickling, ecstasy on her epidermis.

Graaain♡♡ graaain♡♡

After scraping her—the empire's hardest material—with the toughest sandpaper hundreds of times, they wipe sweat from their brows. Her skin has hardened that much.

(Heugh!!♡♡ Still♡♡ Still more♡?? ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠Ha♡ hahahat♡♡ No♡ Don't come♡♡)

Gloria knows it hasn't even started. She chose this. Thus, amid despair, she maintains an attitude of enjoyment at her core. She's achieved total defeat as planned, capping her glamorous life with a finale of despair.

——But Gloria doesn't yet know the endless orgasmic pain and despair of her perfect golden body. Nor the terror of becoming a semi-immortal who can't utter a word. She's gravely underestimated it.