Chapter 221

Thea was pulled inside Lyssandra's body.

[Soul Stored: 23]

The glowing tendril of energy retracted, disappearing into Lyssandra's chest. Faint warmth spread through her body, a new, unfamiliar presence settling in the back of her mind.

"Such a weird encounter," Lyssandra mumbled, looking down at Miriel, who was now sleeping soundly, her breathing even. The ordeal had exhausted this poor girl completely.

Lyssandra gently shifted her position, making the Saintess more comfortable.

"Well, the sky is darkening anyway. Let's camp outside for now," her voice soft.

She accessed her system inventory and a large, sturdy tent materialized on flat patch of ground nearby. She carried Miriel inside and laid her down carefully on a bedroll.

"Luna, go out and do your guard duty." Lyssandra called out at the slime girl.

Lucky that she already told the parasite slime to split her body in half. One in her main body and the other in this clone.

As she gave the command, a peculiar and intensely pleasurable sensation began. From within her testicles, the dark slime wiggled and flowed upwards into the shaft, then slithered smoothly out of her urethra. It didn't burn or hurt, but felt cool and slick, an intrusive yet thrilling process.

"Ahhh~" Lyssandra moaned softly, the feeling of something long and soft separating from her always a source of exquisite pleasure. "This… is so good."

The substance poured out of her clothes and form into its own humanoid shape. It perfectly mimicked Lyssandra's appearance, right down to the black, featureless mask and the cloak that covered it from head to toe.

The slime solidified, and another 'Lyssandra' stood before her, identical in every way.

Luna flexed her hands, happy giggle emanating from behind the mask. "As you wish, master," she chirped, her voice a perfect echo of Lyssandra's own, but lighter, more servile tone. She gave a bow before stepping out of the tent to begin her patrol.

'Everything is kinda settled for now,' Lyssandra thought, her consciousness seamlessly shifting from the clone on the road back to her main body. 'I think I should get back to the dungeon.'

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The transition was disorienting. One moment she was standing on a dusty road, the next she was submerged in a warm, viscous pool of white. In the center of her breeding room, surrounded by the moans of the breeders, a figure began to rise.

Her body emerged from the surface, rivulets of thick, white semen streaming from her hair and face. She wiped a glob from the lustrous lips using the back of her hand, then smacked her lips, savoring it like the finest wine.

'Wake up in your own cum whenever you come back to the dungeon… not bad,' she mused before willing her appearance to change. Instantly, the sticky, semen-soaked naked body was replaced by her sleek black bodysuit.

She looked down at her swelling belly. The bump was significantly more prominent now, a firm, round curve that her outfit stretched to accommodate.

'Hmm, the baby is growing fast, isn't it?' she thought, running a gentle hand over the taut skin. 'Soon, you will come to this life, my love.' A tender, genuine smile graced her lips, an expression of pure, maternal affection.

She gave her stomach one soft pat, then turned away from the pool. 'Anyway, I should take a look around the place. Being almost an omnipotent being inside here is awesome, but sometimes, looking at everything with human, naked eyes can do me some good.'

She stepped out of the room, the squelching sound of her heels in the viscous fluid echoing briefly before she emerged onto the stone corridors.

The air, thick with the scent of earth was familiar, comforting. Third floor of the dungeon was alive with organized chaos. Lyssandra walked down the main thoroughfare, observing the industry of her subjects.

Hobgoblins, their faces set in grim determination, tilled the dark earth of the underground farm.

Water slimes flowed between rows of fungal crops, releasing precise streams of water.

Lightning wolves, static crackling around their bodies, trotted in lines, pulling carts laden with materials toward forges and workshops.

The air roared from hammers striking metal, lowing cattle, and the sizzle of cookfires. Every being she passed stopped and bowed respectfully, murmuring "Great One" or simply dropping to a knee. The feeling was intoxicating – heady mix of deference, fear, and genuine loyalty.

Standing at the top of this microcosm of life, wielding absolute power and authority, sent thrill of pure, unadulterated euphoria through her. She was the queen of her own world. She could get very, very used to this.

Her pleasant thoughts were cut short when foul, acrid smell assaulted her nostrils.

'What the hell is that?' Lyssandra wrinkled her nose, expression shifting from satisfaction to annoyance.

Following the scent, she rounded a corner and saw it behind a haphazardly constructed fence.

Piles of feces.

Not just a little, but several messy, stinking piles, some old and dried, some fresh and wet. The smell was thick and sour.

'What the hell? I thought the hygiene issues were addressed,' flicker of irritation igniting in her chest.

"Hey! You!" she called over a nearby hobgoblin who was bent over a fungal root, trowel in hand. "Over here! Now!"

The hobgoblin jumped, scrambling over. "You called, Great One?" He kept his head down, not daring to meet her eyes.

Lyssandra pointed a manicured finger at the disgusting piles. "What is this?" she demanded, her voice sharp.

The hobgoblin's face was mask of utter confusion, as if she had just asked him why the sky was made of rock. "Great One… it is… shit?" He said it simply, stating a fundamental fact.

Lyssandra's eyes narrowed. "I know it's shit. What I want to know is, why is it here?" Her voice dropped, filled with icy impatience. "Who left it? And why here?"

Lyssandra's piercing glare and clipped tone stripped away the hobgoblin's facade. He stood rigid, sweat beading on his green forehead, memory of cruel, inventive punishments he'd witnessed flashing behind his beady eyes. He knew his Great One could be kind and generous, but her wrath was a terrifying, creative thing.

He swallowed hard, throat bobbing. "Great One… it-it was…" He gulped, the words catching in his throat.

"It was?" Lyssandra pressed, her eyes narrowing to slits. She leaned forward slightly, her presence becoming overwhelming, a palpable weight of displeasure.

The hobgoblin flinched, stammering. "It w-was because… the… the 'toite' things… they are far away. And… well…"

His eyes darted around, looking for an escape. "S-some of us… more than some… actually, it was all of us who work this section… we got lazy." He hung his head in shame.

"We decided to… to use the ground here because it was closer. We were going to clean it later, Great One, we swear! We just… forgot. Someone… forgot."

Lyssandra's gaze remained fixed on him, hot and intense. It was an explanation, but it was a confession of a direct violation of her command. Hygiene inside her home was paramount, and laziness was an unforgivable sin.

"Great," she said, her voice dangerously quiet. "So, you and all of your friends disobeyed my direct order to use the proper facilities." Her eyes bored into him. "Do you know what your crime is called?"

The hobgoblin trembled visibly, his mind racing through horrific possibilities. He'd seen what she did to the goblin who disobeyed. The one with the smashed testicle and penis. He had heard the screams. The memory made him want to faint.

"Y-yes… Great One…" he whispered, his voice cracking. "Our… our crime is… laziness and… and insubordination…" His body sagged in defeat, awaiting the punishment that was sure to follow.

"Good," Lyssandra's voice boomed with absolute authority, the sound cutting through the ambient noise of the dungeon floor. "Round up all your friends here who didn't want to walk just a little bit distance to do their things so we can get this over with."

The hobgoblin, his head still hanging low, could only mutter, "Yes, Great One," before shuffling off to gather the other culprits. His posture was one of utter defeat, movements sluggish with dread.

Lyssandra watched him go for a moment, the foul stench of the mess still stinging her nose. Her presence, and the brief, intense confrontation, had not gone unnoticed.

A few nearby monsters paused their work, turning their heads toward her, fear and curiosity evident in their eyes.

Her gaze shifted, landing on one of her children goblin, who was busy watering a patch of luminous fungi with a water slime.

"You, my child. Come to me," she called, her tone softening just enough to show the familial bond.