Witch Monastery

Just imagining the streets of a great city outside, full of people watching her naked body with that wagging tail and, hidden between her legs, that secret garden dripping wet at this very moment...

Picturing men and women yanking their kids’ hands away, covering their eyes while cursing her shamelessness, made Sulpharlo’s heart nearly stop.

No—this kind of humiliation...

Her eyes filled with tears as she pictured what was about to happen. Charles, of course, paid her feelings no mind. He yanked hard on the leash at her neck and dragged her toward the exit, pushing open the bathing chamber doors—

A cool breeze washed over them. Sulpharlo raised her head and saw the night sky: no moon, a spray of stars.

It was night.

She let out a long breath of relief—then immediately realized that even at night, there could be drunkards wandering the streets, and packs of stray dogs roaming around.

Fear squeezed her chest again. Surely this priest wasn’t going to let other people insult me as well?

She had no idea what he truly had in mind. These last days, he’d already pushed past her limits over and over again in every way imaginable.

Thankfully, Charles wasn’t quite as monstrous as she feared. He just led Sulpharlo around the monastery grounds, leash in hand, saying as they walked, "Take a good look, Sulpharlo. Remember the layout here—the buildings and where everything is."

"In the future, this place will be counting on you to guard it."

Sulpharlo kept her head low, replying with small, obedient hums. As she crawled after him, she endured the strange sensations in her rectum while secretly trying to drink in as much of nature’s power as she could, hoping to speed up her recovery.

Soon, though, she realized bitterly that the toys fixed to her body weren’t just there to make her look more shameful—they were also disrupting the flow of magic.

Her mana felt sluggish and blocked. Even ten full minutes of deep breathing in the open air gave her less power than a single second used to.

This despicable man was cautious to the bone.

She cursed him silently. Still, some recovery was better than none at all. Crawling behind him like a real dog, she listened and plotted in the back of her mind how she’d someday escape.

After circling the monastery once, Charles still wasn’t satisfied. The nuns kept very regular schedules—hard physical work and training by day, early sleep at night—so right now, not a single person was awake in the monastery proper.

He could have woken Hattie and the others to join him in playing with this fallen angel. But scripting the whole show himself wasn’t quite thrilling enough.

Hmm...

Suddenly, a new idea came to him.

"Okay, you’ve seen this home," he said, tugging on the leash and turning toward another direction. "Now let’s go check out my other place."

Sulpharlo offered no resistance, crawling after him as they changed course. Soon, they reached the Amazons’ residential block. Here, not everyone had turned in yet; a few houses still had lights burning, someone clearly up late.

Which meant there could be people around—people who might see Sulpharlo’s naked body and face at any moment.

Her heart slammed against her ribs. Worry surged up, bringing with it images of filthy drunkards stumbling through, catching sight of her shameful pose.

Even Sulpharlo had to admit now: the reason she’d so quickly adapted to Charles toying with her body owed a lot to the man’s cleanliness and high Charisma. He was... easier to accept than most.

She had no idea that every resident in this little neighborhood was an Amazon, and that Charles was the only man free to come and go. Terror clamped around her heart like an iron hand, squeezing until she could hardly breathe.

In that state of mind, she even stopped trying to absorb the ambient magic. All that filled her heart was prayer—a wild hope she wouldn’t run into some diseased drunk tramp who’d see her like this. If that happened, she’d honestly rather die.

"First smash his balls then stab his ass"

"Ahahahaha—!"

"You’re totally off‑key, you lush! One drink and your voice is shot!"

...

Three drunken Amazon voices drifted over from down the street, growing rapidly louder. Sulpharlo’s body shook. She knew it was inevitable now—outsiders were going to see her like this, in all her disgrace.

Charles frowned slightly and glanced over, spotting three unsteady Amazon women, arms slung around each other’s shoulders, bottles in hand, singing at the top of their lungs as they staggered closer.

He raised his voice in a friendly warning. "Girls, keep it down, huh? People are sleeping."

The singing cut off at once. The three turned their heads and, spotting him, broke into silly grins. "Priest, you look good..."

"Hehe, smells so nice, so soft..."

"Like you, Priest. Wanna come play with us tonight..."

...

Babbling drunken nonsense, they lurched toward him—and of course, they couldn’t help but notice Sulpharlo. Their eyes went wide. "Priest, who’s she?"

Charles gave Sulpharlo’s leash a tug. "They asked you a question."

Sulpharlo lifted her head, defiance burning in her eyes. "A captured, defeated female warrior. Nothing more."

She recognized them at once as Amazons and knew they were extreme matriarchs. She hoped playing that card would stir their sympathy and make trouble for Charles.

But the effect of her declaration was the exact opposite of what she’d expected.

The three women looked her up and down, taking in the collar at her neck, the big characters scrawled across her ass, and the tail plugged into her backdoor. Then they all started chuckling like idiots. "Got it. You’re the Priest’s pet bitch. Hehehe..."

"Didn’t know the Priest was into this kind of thing. Ahh, why doesn’t he keep me as a dog too? I’m great at barking. Woof woof woof woof..."

"Oh my gods, for someone as nice as the Priest to be treating you like this, what kind of horrible stuff did you do, little doggy?"

...

They took turns teasing her, and Sulpharlo stared in stunned disbelief.

What...?

How could they be like this?

Her teeth chattered. She refused to accept it and tried again to defend herself. "All I ever did was what any of the gods would do. And what he’s doing now is nothing but the humiliation a dark‑hearted victor inflicts on the loser!"

"Think about it, Amazons. If you were defeated, is this how you’d want to be treated?"

She shouted with all her might—but she’d only ever heard bits and pieces of Amazon legends. She had no real idea what these women were truly like, or how vicious they could be.

The three Amazons just waved off her outburst, utterly unfazed. "Winners always get to claim everything the losers have. Losers don’t have any rights or dignity. You don’t even know that?"

One of them said it, and the other two exchanged glances and laughed. "If we’d captured you, we’d definitely go way further than this."

"And if someone did this to us after beating us, then that’s that. We wouldn’t care."

"Yeah. They couldn’t keep it up for long anyway—not before our sisters came to rescue us..."

"Good comrades for life. First one to find a man’s a dog..."

...

sisters?

That single word stabbed into Sulpharlo’s heart like a thick steel spike.

All at once, she remembered Mount Celestia—remembered the band of sisters she’d had there, sharing life and death, joy and grief. They’d sung together, laughed together, drunk together, fought together...

They’d gone into battle a countless number of times, shoulder to shoulder, staring down missions that promised certain death, only to carve out one glorious victory after another. Then, when the fighting was done, they’d drink themselves silly, collapsing into sleep together in the flower‑covered seas of Mount Celestia...

And now, they no longer understood her at all. They clung to the chains the gods had locked around them, refusing, no matter what, to let her study.

In the end, she’d had to part ways with them—and even worse, the next time they met, they might have to face each other as enemies, blades drawn.

Sulpharlo’s heart throbbed with pain. In her mind, those familiar faces replayed one by one: those beautiful smiles, flushed with tipsy warmth or bright with the joy of victory, and those warm, soft arms and embraces when they’d held her close...

Ahead of her, the three Amazon drunks had already stopped paying her any attention. Instead, they turned to one another, teasing and laughing.

"If I got captured by an enemy, would you come save me?"

"Of course I would. I’d fight to the death if that’s what it took to bring you back!"

"If I got captured and trained into some kind of Amazon dog‑girl, would you take care of me for the rest of my life?"

"Huh? Aren’t you already my little doggy? Come on, bark for your master..."

"Woof‑woof, woof‑woof‑woof‑woof..."

...

They joked back and forth, their affection for each other plain as day. Sulpharlo suddenly wondered: if her old comrades—those closest sisters—saw what she’d been reduced to now, what would they do?

They... they would...

Agonizingly, Sulpharlo realized one simple truth: no matter how defiled and filthy her body became, her old sisters would absolutely break in to rescue her, and then cried and hugged her, begging her to quickly find a way to redeem her sin before the gods noticed it, and to return to her lost ways...

They were the ones in all the Multiverse who had loved her most.

And she had betrayed them.

All of this—everything she’d done—had originally been for them.

A sharp, tearing ache suddenly ripped through Sulpharlo’s heart. Up ahead, the Amazons’ banter felt like a steel knife twisting in her chest.

"Get out—!"

She snapped. One furious, ragged scream tore from her throat, so shrill and hoarse it sent several birds in the distance flapping up into the sky. "Get out of here! All of you, get out—!"

She snarled, hair flying, looking half‑crazed. She even tried to stand and hurl herself at the three women—but Charles only had to tighten his grip on the leash, and she couldn’t move an inch.

The three Amazon women weren’t the least bit intimidated. They just snorted at her. "What are you barking about? Still can’t accept your own fate?"

"Yeah, honestly, I can’t accept mine either. But I believe my sisters will come save me."

"All of Amazonia would come for you. It’s our proud tradition! La‑la‑la..."

...

Still giggling, the three drunks staggered off, holding each other up as they headed home to sleep it off. Charles watched them go, and only once they’d vanished into the distance did he give the leash a tug, signaling Sulpharlo to follow. It was time to head back.

But the always‑obedient Sulpharlo didn’t move at all this time.

Charles frowned and glanced down at her—only to see that this usually sharp‑tongued, arrogant fallen angel was actually crying.

He crouched in front of her and pulled out a handkerchief, gently wiping away her tears. "You’re seriously crying?"

"Come on, they just ran their mouths a bit. Me and Hattie tease you like that all the time and I’ve never seen you shed a single tear."

As he spoke, he half‑heartedly tried to comfort her, his mind working in the background, replaying everything the Amazons had just said.

Which word had slipped past this fallen angel’s defenses and broken her like this?

"Bitch"? "You had it coming"?

Or... "good sisters"?

One guess after another flashed through his mind, and he began considering how he might test it.

Sulpharlo lifted her head, eyes red and brimming, tears clinging to her lashes. Biting down hard, she forced out, her voice still thick with tears but already filled with naked hatred, "I’m right."

Charles snorted. "You’re still clinging to that line? Not ready to turn back yet?"

Sulpharlo’s voice trembled, like a drowning person clinging to the last scrap of driftwood. "I’m right. My research works. I’m walking the right path."

"It’s just that fate was cruel. Crossing paths with you is the only reason I’ve fallen this far—but the research I did before this is still correct. I’m on the one and only right path!"

She howled it, half at Charles, half as if she were trying to keep herself from breaking, desperate not to let him shake her resolve.

Hearing this, Charles raised a brow and smiled. "I’ve read your research notes too. I’ll concede this much—you made some very useful progress in things like genetics."

"But, Sulpharlo, the road you chose was wrong. If you’d taken a different path back then, you wouldn’t just have avoided ending up my prisoner—you’d probably have the whole material world of mortals thanking you for your work. Even the gods in heaven would have lined up to praise your greatness."

His eyes turned quietly pitying, almost sad. "But you chose wrong. And where you are today is nothing more than the price of your own choices."

Sulpharlo let out a cold laugh and seemed to get herself under control again, her expression sliding back into that familiar icy mask. "Arrogant mortal. You have no idea what my work really is."

She didn’t understand this "gene" he mentioned, but she had unshakable faith in her own research. To her mind, there was no way someone this young, this stiff‑necked, this devout to the Goddess of Life, could ever grasp her ideas.

Charles only smiled faintly. "Then just wait and see, Sulpharlo. It won’t be long before I prove to you just how outrageously wrong your choice was."

"But for now..."

He rose and gave her leash a light tug. "Time to head back."

Sulpharlo didn’t resist. Still on her knees, she crawled step by step behind him, following his lead all the way back to the dungeon.

Once there, Charles first undid the collar at her throat. Then he grabbed the tail at her rear and slowly, carefully pulled the beads out of her one by one, cleaning them up afterward.

Only after taking care of all that did he finally turn and leave.

Sulpharlo lay down on her narrow cot and quickly slipped into a deep sleep.

Soon enough, the dreams came again. In them, she wore the collar and tail of a dog, her naked body scrawled all over with words of shame, crawling down the city streets while faceless onlookers lined the way, laughing at her in the same grating, hateful way as those three Amazon women.

Charles walked ahead of her, leash in hand, and she seemed completely used to it all. Until, suddenly, a heartbroken cry echoed from somewhere in the crowd. She looked up and saw her old sisters—wings spread, eyes full of tears and pain—as they looked down at her in her current, humiliating state...

She went mad trying to escape the nightmare, but there was nothing she could do.

Meanwhile, Charles, after leaving her cell, didn’t go straight back to bed.

Turning over Sulpharlo’s last, defiant declaration in his mind, he mulled it over for a long moment. Then he summoned Sephera to his room and instructed her to find a way to acquire some plant seeds—and some chimera eggs.

After that, he indulged the witch’s little desire and his own freshly rekindled lust—stoked again by Sulpharlo—before finally collapsing into sleep.

The next day.

He and Sephera shared a "good morning" round, then he sent her off to run her errands. For once, Charles himself had some rare free time.

He sprawled on his bed, lazily pulled up his system, and started counting up this trip’s gains.

From the earlier battles, the Death Knight had netted him ten thousand Purification Points, and the Lich seventeen thousand. On top of that, all the elite skeleton warriors he’d purified along the way had given him nearly eight thousand more Purification Points.

Add it all up, and his current Purification Point balance had rocketed to a total of forty thousand. It took twenty thousand to go from level thirteen to fourteen. Even after spending that, he’d have points to spare.

With that in mind, he didn’t put it off. One tap on the system interface, and twenty thousand Purification Points poured out. Gentle, purifying white light flared and sank into his body, pushing his power up another notch.

Before long, the level‑up was done.

Going from thirteen to fourteen didn’t change much about his total Spell Slots—eighty‑three was already insane at that tier.

But his class features did see an upgrade.

Specifically, his core ability, "Hexblade’s Curse," gained a new trait that paired perfectly with it.

Master of Hexes: When a creature afflicted by your Hexblade’s Curse dies, you can forgo regaining hit points to instead transfer the curse to another creature, refreshing its duration.

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