Gathering of the Betrayers #5
The imperial capital, which he hadn't visited in quite some time, still looked bright, majestic, and solid.
As the heart of the Empire where the Emperor stood firm, that was only natural.
A strong heart did not necessarily make a nation strong — but no nation with a weak heart could ever be strong. Without exception, for any country.
Castro, who had been granted a mansion in that capital, stood on the second-floor terrace by the window and smiled as he looked down over the picturesque scenery.
He who had been nothing more than a thug who knew how to throw a punch now held a proper title and lived in a beautiful mansion. It should have grown familiar by now, yet every time it still felt new and thrilling. Every time he looked down below, happiness filled him completely.
He'd gotten rid of the ones who displeased him and claimed extra credit for his achievements besides. Castro smiled as he recalled the money the Emperor had secretly pressed into his hands. It had been slipped to him under the pretense of fairness issues, but the sum was considerable. He'd heard that some of the Emperor's own private funds had gone into it as well, and he was deeply grateful for that sincerity.
"Nice."
Today was the day the former expedition members would gather together for the first time in a while. In the end, Aria did not seem likely to come — but the others had long since sent word that they would. Everyone except the hero who had abandoned even his territory and vanished.
The hero. That bastard would never know how much Castro's insides had boiled because of that damned hero's shadow. No matter what he did, the label "the hero's expedition" always trailed after him. Castro had always resented that. Even when he grew stronger, even when he earned merit, the hero had always been one step ahead. And thanks to the goddess's blessing and the holy sword, even with the same effort their growth rates had differed by double — enough to make anyone seethe. At least, he did.
But that hero had collapsed of his own accord and disappeared, and like a fool, even when the people around him betrayed him, he never even thought of revenge. If the hero had gone on a rampage claiming he wanted revenge, he would only have drawn more contemptuous looks — and in that case, there might have been a chance to cut his life short completely. Castro found that somewhat regrettable.
"My lord. Your companions have arrived. Judging by the way they all came at once, it seems they met outside beforehand."
While Castro was still enjoying the view from the terrace, a middle-aged butler entered and reported that several carriages had pulled in at the same time. Color rose in Castro's face at once, and he nodded as though things had worked out rather well. No need to greet them one by one — receiving them all at once would spare him that much trouble.
"Good. Give the coachmen rooms so they can rest comfortably, and when the others arrive, bring them straight to my chambers. After that, tell them not to enter unless I call for someone."
"Yes, my lord. Understood."
It was a rare chance to gather with people he was close to, and he clearly wanted no interruptions. The butler bowed as though he understood perfectly and left at once to carry out Castro's orders. The master he served was generous — but also strict.
The door opened with a sudden clatter, without so much as a knock — yet Castro's face only brightened. The women who stepped through were precisely the ones he had been waiting for.
Vivian. Isabel. Olivier.
All of them now occupied positions of their own and were hard to see these days, so the sight of them gathered like this was quite the spectacle.
"It's been a while."
Isabel, in her white clerical robes, was the first to offer a warm greeting. Castro strode forward at once, as if he had been waiting for exactly this, and pulled her into a welcoming embrace. His frame was large enough that Isabel's small body nestled neatly into his arms.
"Yeah. It's really been a while! I wanted to thank you for coming today."
"Mmm… being welcomed like this makes the trip worth it."
That still-solid chest, that thick male scent. Isabel felt herself grow wet without meaning to and smiled softly. Part of her wanted nothing more than to be skewered right then and there on his splendid cock — but she still had to greet the others. So she stepped back a pace, and the two women who had been watching with envious eyes immediately pressed into his arms in turn.
Vivian and Olivier. Both still worked in physical roles, and the firm, appetizing feel of their bodies came through clearly against Castro's. Isabel kept herself in reasonably good shape as well, but she could not compare to the two of them.
"Olivier. Vivian. You two made it too. Stay a few days, rest easy, have some fun. We can catch up on everything we've missed."
"Stating the obvious, aren't you? Hmm…"
Just as Castro held the two women and savored the feel of them, the two of them likewise recalled the splendid bulk of the man who held them. Inside tents, sometimes in the brush, sometimes at inns — memories of coupling in the shadows while that clueless hero cocked his head and looked their way flashed through Castro's mind. The three women remembered it just the same.
"Aaahn?! Castrooo…! You can't start groping there the second I walk in…♥"
Castro's rough hands squeezed and kneaded the flesh of her ass, and Vivian cried out in surprise. But the smile at her lips, the eyes half-glazed with pleasure, and the coquettish pitch of her voice were all quietly goading him on.
"Honestly. Wanting to fuck the second we get here? You're incorrigi— nnngh♥"
"We're wasting time. There's a bath in the room and purification artifacts, so don't worry about it — just enjoy yourselves."
Olivier started to scold him, only to let out a moan instead, and Castro gave a short laugh. These were the women he had made his through countless couplings; even a light brush against their private parts through their clothes was enough to send them into heat on their own. They dripped with anticipation for a male, filling the air with a thick scent.
Still kneading both women's asses in his hands, Castro called to the one left standing alone.
"Vivian. Come over here and kiss me. Stroke my cock while you do it. You know how."
"How could I forget?"
Called for in that low voice, Vivian pressed a hand to her trembling lower belly and walked over slowly. She pressed her mouth to Castro's slightly lowered lips, and as their tongues tangled, wet sounds tickled the ear. Still kissing him, she ran her hands over his body until her fingers found the swollen front of his trousers. She could feel that the thing burning hot inside had grown even more monstrous than before.
"Mmm…"
Even as they kissed so frantically that her face grew a mess, Vivian's fingers yanked his trousers down hard. After that, there was nothing left to say — they mixed their bodies like beasts. Forgetting they were even human, they rolled on the floor and tangled on the bed like snakes. Wherever there was a hole, he shoved into it; wherever there was a cock, they greedily devoured it — the whole scene was as vulgar as could be.
The sheets grew soaked with love juices and semen. From the cunts of all three females, Castro's seed gushed out in thick spurts. Their wombs, too, were packed full of what the male had pumped into them.
"Haa… haa…"
While the three women lay half-rolling their eyes and panting hot breaths, Castro reached toward the table beside the bed, wanting a moment to catch himself. He grabbed the water bottle he had prepared in advance — clear water — and upended it into his mouth.
"Huu… Now I can live again."
He drained half the bottle with loud gulps, then finally let out a breath of relief and set it down. They had been thrashing their bodies together so mindlessly from afternoon until the moon hung high in the sky that only now had he somewhat regained his senses. He looked down with satisfaction at the three females still crushed beneath his vigorous stamina, then turned his gaze toward the terrace.
It was an empty nightscape of nothing but stars, darkness, and the moon — and yet it felt sweetly pleasant. Probably thanks to the three women he had held for the first time in so long, Castro thought.
Should he call it a night here? Or play with those females a little more?
Castro stroked his chin and fell into untimely deliberation. His stamina and virility were still going strong, and while his lust had been somewhat sated, he was nowhere near fully satisfied.
Yeah. A little more.
Having decided to keep playing with the females, he looked down with pride at his cock, still standing stiff. Even to his own eyes it was a vicious thing, and that only made him prouder. It was thanks to this cock and this stamina that scheming had been so easy.
But the moment he took a step toward the bed with a low, ugly smile —
"Still having a good time, I see. I'm jealous."
"Hhk?!"
Realizing that a voice which should never have been heard had lodged clearly in his ear, Castro spun around in a panic.
Gaunt limbs. Hollow eyes. Dull-colored golden hair hanging limp like a half-dead plant. A small frame. The hero who had vanished without a trace roughly half a year ago — Adonis — stood with the window leading to the terrace at his back. Looking somehow ghostlike and indistinct.
"A-Adonis…"
"Yeah. It's me, Castro. I'm glad you're doing so well. The others seem… to be doing well too."
The emaciated Adonis wore a twisted smile as he fished around inside the robe wrapped about him. Then he took out a small ornament shaped like a tower and, with deliberate show, set it down on the floor. His somewhat hoarse voice sent a strange chill down the spine.
A low hum filled the air. The moment the little tower rooted itself against the floorboards, it vibrated softly, then released a single large, silent ripple — exactly like a water drop striking a lake.
"What kind of artifact is that?"
"One that keeps sound from leaking outside and keeps the door from opening. Your way of speaking has gotten a lot rougher, hasn't it?"
Adonis smiled as he looked at Castro, who was already beginning to glare at him with cold focus, then turned his gaze toward the bed — toward the three females still sprawled in the wreckage of pleasure.
Pathetic things. All for whores like that.
Adonis kept the smile on his lips and ground his teeth in secret.
"You seem to have something to rely on, but this is far too reckless. Thinking of trying revenge at this late hour?"
Hero or not, looking that wasted, he ought to be manageable. And if Castro woke the women and they all piled on together, his odds would be even better. With that in mind he reached toward the bed — but unfortunately, Adonis was a step faster.
From inside his robe he drew a plain gray sword, closed the distance in a single breath, and drove the blade through Castro's shoulder.
"Ghh, ghhh…! Y-you little shit…?!"
He had taken plenty of wounds during the expedition, and the times he had danced with death were more than one or two. So even with a long blade punched through his shoulder, he still had the strength and judgment to swing a fist at once. However rotten his spirit had become, real combat experience did not simply vanish.
But his opponent was a man who had lived through that same combat — and always at the very front.
Castro had let his guard down because of Adonis's corpse-like appearance, and he had overlooked that fact. The fist stopped cold by a bony arm and hand that looked ready to snap at a light touch was the result. Even more shocking was that Adonis had driven the blade into his own shoulder without the slightest hesitation.
"This can't be…!"
When that steel-hard, massive fist was caught in a gaunt hand with a dull thud, Castro muttered in shock. One shoulder might have been run through, but the other was not. He could still put his full strength behind a blow. And yet the punch he had thrown with that full strength had been stopped by such a thin fist and arm.
Castro could not hide his confusion at a situation he could not understand. But the confusion lasted only a moment. Adonis gave a crooked grin, yanked the blade free of the shoulder, and stamped it down into Castro's instep — and a scream thick with agony tore out between Castro's lips.