Conquest Of The Fallen: Dark Dominions

'It is often disputed among factions of our realms forces that the autonomy of Rocasus has played a major part in breeding hardened soldiers of those enlisted in the Capitol...' – Excerpt of the Speech of Major Midas Azubuike, [003] Dragonrider Covenant.

. . .

[#adultlanguage #incest #insinuation]

Winter of that Year hit the Eldorian Capital city last among the nine realms. The ton of the polis even heard it had begun to shower in the Freelands. And not a [High Caster] or clairvoyant could've guessed that one. Nevertheless, the southerners were glad for rain. Each passing moon, the brown stretch of desert miles formerly known as vulture country got closer to the haven of waterfalls and meadows.

Phorcys, their storm god may have finally forgiven his truant bride, Ceto, for fucking her half-brother, because it had been raining in the Freelands now for the last nine days. Toucans flocked to the high Mountains of Skoatl. Tendrils of [Songspire] seeds planted after the War of Three Cities littered the acres of germinate fields.

One could gaze from the rebuilded walls of Titans Landing and spot the glassy shimmers of the vestal towers. The Seat of Sétland was now a major part of the Continent's holy tourisms. Pilgrims flocked from all the realms for a see of [Central Core]. And Israfel's good friend, the Mother Supreme of the Seat, Indiravasanathārekalee always did lead the throng of visiting worshippers past statues of the many glorious gods.

Also, she always did halt at the Golden [Majsa]: the faceless idol with the bronze cock.

And always, she was hotly reminded of Rafel. Miles away in the Capitol he was, but the memories of that torrid night in the tent during the days of his campaign never ceased to make her smile. Tourist girls did blush at the robust stone penis. But Indira, Indira had a small orgasm each one of those times.

Of those rebellion days, only tales and bard songs remained. Of that blood-soaked battlefield, new merchant roads now stood. Hamlets of Eldoria and its people had near forgotten the whole affair of demons. The walls of Titans Landing had been built up stronger, higher and more golden than the former. Four hundred feet high with ramparts for the Watchguard every thirty meters breadth.

It had being sixty and two days since the Rebellion Army defeated [140 000] horde of the Fallen. Forty eight since Rafel had last descended into the grim dungeons of Eragonn.

The Hel prince stood in a shamrock tower of the Royal Hill—Rafel had disbanded of its former name, Darkwake no sooner than he burned all the red Morningstar flags. He stared out into the distance where a sleet of cold rain poured on the green horizon. The new, green South.

The hail didn't breach the borders. But Rafel knew: it wouldn't be long before those same frigid cloud tears came knocking at every door of the Capital.

He anticipated it.

It was fucking too hot in Titans Landing.

One would think with the demons gone, the rage temperatures would've slinked back to normal.

He didn't need to be clairvoyant or a [Rank C] Mage to know it'd soon rain. All he needed to be was what he already was: a demon. Rains came into the golden city last of all the realms. Even Rocasus on the western banks of River Sana'a got showers before the Eldorian capital. Across the Cold Sea, Corynthia too. But the good thing was, when the polis finally met its wet season, it met it real good.

—Like a whore riding a married Gentleman in the back of his lordly carriage.

Rushed. Frequent. In secret.

It snowed in Frostholm. It rained in Castamere and the Rocasian Republic.

But in Titans Landing, it rained and snowed.

A big need for celebration to Rafel's immortal life should be that he'd finally leveled up to [S Rank]. Yep! The Supreme rank of Divinity. The level of his Uncle's chained right now in the darkness of [Middle Earth]. The tier no mortal could ever get to. At least not before dying a thousand times in surrender to a [Soul Stitcher] wraith. His infernal birth had granted him starting advantage, sure, but no one who had watched his evolution from [Rank A] Apollyon to [Rank S] Principality would say he didn't fucking earn it.

[Ding!]n/ô/vel/b//jn dot c//om

[You're still Apollyon, my Lord.]

"I know, Peitho." Rafel drummed his fingers on the head of the stiff gargoyle. A bunch of them lined the turrets of the tower in which he stood. At night, the monsters came to life.

His system, in her voice even sweeter than the sound of rain, tried to assuage his hurling mind by giving him a list of all his laurels. Peitho was in his mind, bonded to his psyche and [mama core], and [Arcane Rune]—a Host bond. She knew what he was thinking and tried to help:

[DING!]

[At the conquer of the Fallen Ones in the Rebellion War, my Lord host has obtained a ton of godling Influence and Immortal Instruments. Arsenals of ancient Alexandria and Thomopolis. Uzbekhistan and Haddholst. Weapons of equal carnage and creation. By successfully imprisoning nine Abyssal deities and their Titans, Host gained...]

[+ 7 million Influence, Godling level]

[The Divine Mercy Charm, amongst others.]

[This is valued at over three billion souls. I choose to mention this because among your newest goth collection of IMMORTAL INSTRUMENTS, the Divine Mercy Charm is the most potent of magic.]

[Invulnerability is ranked at over 1000% and—]

"Why am I not happy, Peitho?" Rafel questioned his system, suddenly breaking her dialogue. His forefinger pushed down on the gargoyle's stone skull. Despite him capable of telepathy with his [S.I.N.S], he stuck to speaking aloud. "Two Moons ago, I led the greatest military the Continent has seen in a millennia to victory. . . against demon gods!" He blew air out his lips. "I leveled up into the Supernatural. I evolved [Mahayana]. I have [Kaos] Influence now. [Krato] energy. Green Cosmo, the magic of creation.

I have glyph keys of abundant dimensions. I am Septimus Filius Helorum... the Seventh Son of Hel. I have more grade weaponry than the Dragonrider Covenant." He scoffed. "—the shit I have is banned among four realms. I have get-away-with-murder money. Hell! I could get away with genocide."

As Rafel kept pouring the words, his face was lit in the balmy rain sun. He was devilishly gorgeous. A dark Cherubim. Ruggedly handsome. His citrine pupils studied the rainbow appearing to the south. His eyes gleamed out the fields like the sun. He gazed out, beyond the tower and beyond the one hundred-and-one red roofs of the city. His sharp jaw had a great five o'clock shadow; amazing on his aristocratic chin.

Ginger locs of hair curled up his sculpted, Roman cheekbones. He had savage eyes. Gold that didn't melt. His look, out into the world was almost mean.

Rafel's soft hair was warm, and auburn as sunset in corn fields. His coiffure was a short ponytail—his hair was longer down. But his harem had had him groom out the back to a close scalp shave. He had this pansexual thing going for him. Rafel didn't want to... to look like he might fuck boys. But then Ravenna said she'd got this new fantasy of seeing him a bit effeminate. And who was he to deny his Queen?

Empress of the Nine freaking Realms! Hell nah!

Aside she being queen of his cold, demonic heart, she was Queen of the Known World. In the mortal realm, there was no one of higher political rank than Ravenna de Vríes, [Her Imperial Majesty].

Rafel's finger, stroking the gargoyle abruptly sank into the statue's skull, piercing the stone easy as knife through butter. The tip of his finger pulsed with points of [Darkfyre]. The crimson laser flame cut into the statue's rock. Obviously he was still mad about why he was denied the pleasure of celebrating his rank evolution, by some cautionary subconscious factor. He admitted to Peitho.

"I have a harem of the most luscious babes in the world! So WHY THE FUCK am I straining to smile?"

Peitho allowed sixty seconds of calm—and the misty rain breeze to wash over his ire before she intelligently offered the reason for his aggravating emotional turmoil. And all in a single sentence.

[Perhaps, my Lord, because you learned your Aunt is actually your birth mother.]

This sank in like millstone dropped in water.

Bloop!

"Since when are you my Shrink?"

[I am anything you desire, Lord host.]

"Hmm." Rafel scoffed, but then rolled back his shoulders. He pulled his burning fingers out of the gargoyle's stone head. If it were a real creature, it would now be dead of a steaming brain. "You're right, Peitho. Possibly learning of this giant secret is the reason for t-this... for this way I feel. But I refuse to have an existential crisis! Dammit! Still, who wants to learn their hot Aunt—the one they've been pounding in every [Kama Sutra] fucking position is their FUCKING MOM!

I ate her pussy for shits sake! Fuuucccckkkkk!!!"

And she tasted fucking proper, yeah!

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Rafel didn't add the last part. Not out loud anyway. But Peitho was in his head, so she probably heard it. He looked into the pouring rain miles over. "I am a perv. A big fucking one. But I ain't fucking my mom in the ass! Nuh uh!"

The cold breeze of the storm, reaching the Capital from the South rippled in his gilded doublet and ash breeches.

[From what I understand, my Lord, you have done so already. . .fucked her in the arse, I mean.]

"I KNOW WHAT YOU MEAN, PEITHO. GODDAMN!"

[Sorry! Ish!]

Again, his system surprised him by this very human woman reaction and apology.

Rafel's mind whirled back moment, to the moment when Lilith had said:

"...You want truth, my boy? Well, here's some for you. I'm not your aunt, I'm your mum."

Boom! Like a fired cannon.

He remembered her moving behind him naked to touch his shoulder as he screamed. He was mute all the way up to the long steps that ascended from the dungeons, and the shuttle wagon that sped him away from Eragonn. Rafel had swore Rias [Two Moons], his chauffeur to secrecy. He hadn't visited his aunt... or rather, his mum since then.

And he hadn't told his girls either.

Rafel grunted. "Aargh. I need someone to suck my balls and make me forget. Peitho, is Naamah close by?"

[That would be a No, my Lord. Your slave Succubus is currently at the Lords District farmer's market. She intends to prepare a healthy roast and soup for you tonight.]

"Ravenna?" Rafel tried next.

[Still a no, my Lord. I'm afraid your Little Raven is currently at Council hearing. She is now Empyrean Empress. Surely, you don't expect her to perform fellatio in front of eighty two Nobles. She has duties to a whole Kingdom now, Sire. But I get the appeal of having your cock sucked by a powerful woman. Of all the things she could do with her time, she goes on her knees.]

"Shit." Rafel scratched his head. "How about Corazón? Surely, my Cora is—"

[Lady Mortimer is at this moment supervising drills for cadets at Fort Sandringham. Apologies, my Lord.]

"Fucking army! Why did she have to be stationed at the military!" Rafel cussed, but only because he was horny—and tired of thinking of how fleshy Lilith's titties had looked the last time he was at Eragonn.

Large as melons.

Fat and ripe.

Areolas like berries.

His mother's breas—

"Aargh!" Rafel knocked himself straight.

Peitho was just about to suggest offering up her own sexy, android self, but then Rafel pronounced loudly. "The undercity is a caterer to all kinds of banned pleasures. Surely, I can find a willing slut eager for fast and filthy. Peitho, put up the shortest route to the grimy alleys of the undercity."

His system sighed in her honeydew accent.

[As you wish, Lord host.]

Instantly, a [Cloud Map] scrolled open before his yellow eyes. Rafel hopped off the shamrock tower, dropping soundlessly 300ft below. He dipped into the alcove behind a pub with harsh spray paint and began following the little golden light arrows Peitho used to direct him. Thunder cracked open the sky and the first drop of rain hit his nose.

"Finally," Rafel breathed, making his way deeper into the shittiest part of Titans Landing.