The air in the clearing became thick and syrupy, vibrating with the Mind Jacker’s psychic pulse. The chanting of the knights grew louder, a drone that seemed to pull the very air out of Alaric’s lungs.
The Ritual of the Void
Seraphina was now at the front of the line. She was "shilling" for the monster—her voice rising in a haunting, melodic pitch that led the others. She wasn't just a victim; the Mind Jacker was using her natural command to anchor the group's collective trance.
"The Master is the only light," she sang out, her voice devoid of its usual iron. "In the belly of the God, we find our peace."
As she spoke, her fingers didn't falter. Her armored corset was cast aside, hitting the obsidian with a hollow ring. She stood in her thin silken undershirt and leggings, her movements graceful and fluid, as if she were preparing for sleep rather than a slaughter. She began to unlace her leather leggings, her eyes wide and staring at nothing, a chilling, blissful smile fixed on her lips.
"She's fully under," Michael growled, his own eyes glowing with the effort of holding back the hum. "It’s using the 'Queen’s Protocol'—the same way Marek broke my mother. It makes them want to be naked and defenseless before the end."
The Wall of Brainwashed Steel
Alaric tried to rush forward, his hands crackling with lightning. "Seraphina! Look at me!"
But as he moved, the other victims—Jace, Kaelen, and the four veteran adventurers—turned in unison. They were still in their underwear, pale and unarmed, but their eyes were white fire. They formed a human wall between Alaric and the Commander.
"Do not disturb the Master’s meal," Jace whispered, his voice a distorted echo.
The brainwashed knights lunged. They didn't use swords; they used their hands and teeth, fighting with a feral, mindless intensity. Alaric was forced to parry Jace’s bare-handed strikes with the flat of his blade, his heart breaking. He couldn't kill his friends, but they were trying to tear him apart to protect the monster's "sanctity."
The Desperate Gambit
"Michael! Clara! I can't reach her!" Alaric shouted, ducking under a swing from Kaelen.
Clara stood in the center of Michael’s fire ring, her hands pressed to her ears. She watched Seraphina, who was now stepping toward the vertical slit of the monster’s maw. The Mind Jacker’s tentacles, dripping with green slime, were beginning to coil around Seraphina’s bare ankles, tasting her skin.
"It’s the mantra!" Clara realized, her voice high with panic. "The sound of her own voice is keeping the loop closed! We have to drown her out!"
Michael looked at the monster, then at Alaric. "I'll hold the knights! Alaric, you have to break the sound! Use your royal frequency—blast the air itself!"
The Prince’s Roar
Michael dove into the fray, using the blunt side of his greatsword to knock the naked knights aside without killing them, his white flames acting as a barrier.
Alaric focused every ounce of his mana into his lungs and his spark. He ignored the whispers in his head, the images of his mother, the fear of the dark. He looked at Seraphina—his partner, the woman he loved—standing there in her underwear, her skin inches away from the monster’s digestive bile.
"SERAPHINA! WAKE UP!"
Alaric released a Sonic Thunder-Clap. A massive wave of blue-white electrical energy exploded from him, not as a bolt, but as a wall of pure sound and light. The frequency shattered the green fog and momentarily silenced the chanting.
For a split second, the white in Seraphina’s eyes flickered. Her hand, which had been reaching up to stroke one of the monster's eyes, stopped. Her smile faltered, replaced by a look of sheer, agonizing confusion.
"Alaric...?" she whispered, her voice cracking.
But the Mind Jacker let out a psychic shriek of its own, the tentacles suddenly tightening around her waist to pull her into the dark.
ns216.73.216.181da2
and then Add to home screen.