7.67 - The Hunt

The first thing Rosalie noticed after breaking out of the sarcophagus was that something was dangling between her legs—she probably should've noticed it earlier. She looked down, and sure enough, there the invader was: a girlcock, magically grown at some point in the past few minutes.

Why?

To be used as a 'secondary weapon.' She knew that much. When she defeated her teammates, she would make good use of the extra equipment. But why? She could deal with her opponents fine without.

While she didn't find the extra part as exciting as, say, Delta, she didn't mind its presence either. To be honest, the only reason she hadn't experimented more with it was because Zoey and Delta clearly preferred having one—and Rosalie was more than happy to take the receiving role for them. There was nothing she enjoyed quite as much as being used however her partners wanted.

She paused, a part of her recognizing that she should have been mortified to admit that. Even in her own head, she never should have formulated the thought. Regardless of whether it was true.

Also, why did she want to 'defeat her teammates' again? Wasn't there something wrong with that?

No, of course not. Those were the rules of the shard. And adhering to the rules of a shard benefited her, and subsequently the team.

Something about the explanation didn't sit right in her head. Her brow furrowed, and she tried to follow the logic. Her confusion grew, and she purposefully pushed the topic out of mind. It didn't matter.

What did was that she would be hunting her teammates down, and that prospect excited her far too much for her to linger on any other less important thoughts, like why she was hunting them.

Rosalie couldn't decide who. She wouldn't get to pick, but still. If she could? Every option tantalized her. Zoey? Swapping the dynamic would be interesting. Taking what she wanted, rather than being Zoey's toy, for once. Delta, to put that mouthy woman in her place? She couldn't make quips with a cock down her throat, and Rosalie would seriously enjoy that.

Maddy, because even to Rosalie, that girl's bouncy and cheerful attitude coupled with her appearance inspired a desperate need to pin the girl down and make her cry out? Or Astrid, who, while those relic panties would keep some things off limits, would be ten times as exciting by the simple matter of treading new ground? Rosalie desperately wanted to welcome their newest teammate into the team the proper way, in as messy and sticky of a manner as she could.

Each of those fantasies helped create a stirring between her legs. Heart skipping a beat, she looked down as blood pulsed into that meaty member she'd woken. Biting her lip, she watched twelve throbbing inches come to life.

Twelve inches. So huge! Not that far off from Zoey's, if not quite there, in length or girth.

She'd barely made use of this thing, which meant the experience of growing an erection still felt all but new. Gently gripping herself, her cock jumped heavily in her hand. She squeezed, and a moan escaped her throat.

As exciting as pleasuring herself with her hand sounded, she had four playthings to track down. Why would she settle for anything less? No matter how desperately her arousal suddenly pounded in her skull. Reluctantly, she tore her hand away from that pale, veiny shaft. It would be getting its due attention soon.

Scanning the room, she saw her spear resting against the exit doorway. She scooped it up and strode through without checking her lines of sight. The shard wasn't hostile anymore, so there was no need. It was her friend. She need not cautiously turn every corner with paranoia like she would otherwise.

The shard was her friend? Why would that be the case? The shard was always the enemy.

Something didn't make sense, but Rosalie didn't care. Not in the slightest. She had been waiting for her turn since she'd first learned the rules of this shard. Now that it had arrived, all she could think about was hunting down her teammates.

For some reason, earlier in the shard, she hadn't admitted to herself how badly she wanted this. Why? Of course she wanted to play the more active, interesting role. Fighting monsters was fun, but this was going to be much more so.

Once more, a tickle in her brain told her something was odd about the series of thoughts, but the absolute truth of the matter was that Rosalie didn't care—the slight unease at the internal confusion paled in comparison to her excitement. The only thoughts passing through her head were how, exactly, she intended to use her victory. What she would do to each of her teammates when she won.

And how to win. That was the prerequisite. As she stalked through corridors, spear at the ready and ears straining as she listened for any disturbances, she formulated battle plans. She knew her four targets intimately; she wouldn't lose to any of them. Nor all of them combined, with how much power thrummed underneath her skin. She felt like she could win even against Elodie, right now.

Unfortunately, she had no way of finding them. Not a magically expedited way at least. And while the Labyrinth didn't impede her, neither did it offer smooth passage through. She was as lost in the winding corridors as ever. Even jogging through and turning corners recklessly, she saw neither hide nor hair of her teammates.

She grew increasingly frustrated—and flustered. Because she wanted to fight, and more importantly, win, to claim what she desperately needed. Her lust boiled inside her, and she was more than happy to admit that. Why didn't she usually? Why pretend otherwise? Who was she fooling?

…Though maybe she wouldn't admit such things out loud, even now. She had an image to maintain.

It took nearly fifteen minutes before she heard sounds of a fight in the distance. Immediately, Rosalie slowed and masked her approach. She was no rogue to conceal her presence into near invisibility, but naked and wielding only a spear, her bare feet whispered across the ground. Turning the corner, she identified the two women she'd finally, by chance, bumped into.

The first was a tall, dark-haired woman with a curvy build bestowed by the heavens themselves. The other was a redheaded warrior wielding a dragon-scale shield. They had just finished killing a monster and hadn't noticed Rosalie's presence. Her stealth, while not the best, had been sufficient.

Rosalie wasn't Delta, to step around the corner and announce herself just for the opportunity to banter. Nor was she Astrid, who had resisted—

Resisted … what?

Anyway, she was neither of her teammates. Above all else, Rosalie had been trained from birth to win. She would always take the optimal approach. In this case, that meant seizing the element of surprise.

She snuck as far as she could, then burst into a sprint, knowing the noise would eventually grow too loud. Spear held at the ready, she shredded distance toward her target: the mage, the easiest to kill and most crucial opponent, Zoey. With Lead the Charge and her massive empowerment, she might take her out in a single strike. Especially since she'd managed a stealth approach: the woman was only now turning.

Astrid, unfortunately, reacted faster. A red bubble sprung up around Zoey.

"Tch."

Rosalie didn't think she would ever be annoyed at having competent teammates, but there was a first for everything.

A simple defensive barrier couldn't negate Lead the Charge though, not fully. Her spear punched through the shield and slammed into Zoey's side, despite how she had moved away in instinctive reaction. The impact sent her flying backward. She crashed into a pillar, stone splintering, and though something clenched inside Rosalie at that, she knew no one was in physical danger. Combat between them meant exhaustion, not injuries.

Astrid rushed to meet her, and Rosalie happily engaged. The Harkvalen's eyes burned as red as her own, if without the glow of Rosalie's, and the warrior was laughing from the first moment they began to dance. For the first three exchanges, Rosalie outclassed her by an order of magnitude, the fight not even a real fight—but then Zoey's own empowerment hit the warrior, and Rosalie could no longer trade blows with contemptuous ease. But still with a massive advantage.

Rosalie found a grin on her own face, not quite as excited as Astrid, but it was impossible to live the life she had and not enjoy combat against worthy foes.

As was often the case, the end came faster than she would have preferred. Zoey's movements were sluggish, her spells slow and poorly aimed, thanks to the devastating opening blow Rosalie had scored. Lead the Charge combined with her boost in strength meant even Astrid's defensive barrier hadn't saved Zoey. The attack had crippled her, and while she stayed upright, she seemed to struggle to even keep her staff raised, much less aim spells properly.

Astrid put up a better fight, if only because she hadn't been the target of the ambush. But she was no match for Rosalie in her current state. The two of them landed a few blows, and she felt her power wane, but not in any significant manner.

Thus, Rosalie stood over two exhausted women, spear planted into the ground. She didn't gloat. She wasn't Delta, that insufferable yet intoxicating and strangely sweet woman.

Instead, she offered a genuine "Well fought."

Astrid groaned. "Barely … a fight."

Rosalie disagreed. By results, perhaps it hadn't been close. But both of them had carried themselves well—barring how they had allowed the ambush at the start. That, admittedly, she disapproved of. They hadn't stayed alert enough.

Now, then.

What should she do with them?