“Alright maggots, shower time!” barked a burly guard through the dank corridor of Nathor Prison Camp.

The newly arrived captives, still disoriented and shaken from their ordeal, shuffled forward with hampered movements due to the Ethereum Handguards that shackled their wrists and sapped their strength. They were being roughly escorted towards the bathing area.

“You filthy Aerithran scum!” Another guard shoved Sorah roughly towards a side passage into the male section. “Get moving before I decide to use you as target practice for my Aether Sabre!”

Sorah stumbled, barely catching his balance on the slippery, mildew-stained floor. He glared back at the guard, burning with defiance despite the restraints that dampened his strength.

“What are you looking at, old man?” the guard stepped forward and attempted to shove Sorah again.

However this time, drawing upon his martial arts training, Sorah sidestepped the attack with surprising agility. The guard was caught off balance and stumbled forward and crashed into a nearby equipment rack with a resounding clang before landing in a heap on the wet floor.

“Ha! Serves you right, you clumsy oaf!” Laughter erupted from the other guards as they watched their comrade struggle to his feet, his face flushed with embarrassment and rage.

“I’m going to skin you alive, old man!” he roared, reaching for the hilt of his deactivated Aether Sabre.

“That’s enough, Gorbak,” another guard stepped between them. “Remember Warden Poahf’s orders. The Aerithran is to be brought to her chambers cleaned and unharmed.”

Gorbak reluctantly backed down, though his eyes still smouldered with hatred. “Fine,” he grumbled, spitting on the floor. “But if that old codger even breathes wrong, I’ll personally toss him into a sand coffin.”

“Just get them cleaned up,” the other guard sighed, gesturing towards the showering area. “The Warden doesn’t like to be kept waiting.”

With a final glare at Sorah, Gorbak led the male captives into a large, steam-filled chamber. The air was thick with the stench of sweat, grime, and something far less pleasant. The walls were slick with condensation, and the floor was a treacherous maze of puddles and discarded soap bars.

“Strip and line up against the wall, maggots!” Gorbak barked, enjoying the brief authority he wielded over these helpless individuals. “And be quick about it! We don’t have all day.”

The inmates, handicapped by the Ethereum Handguards, fumbled with their shredded clothes, dropping them on the already dirty floor. Sorah's worn figure, exposed to the harsh light of the overhead lamps, elicited strange looks from the other men.

"Hey, what's with all these weird markings on you, old man?" the guard asked, prodding Sorah's skin with the hilt of his Aether Sabre.

Another man gestured towards the intricate golden black glyphs that adorned Sorah's chest, arms, and back - remnants of his merging with the Sage Curse.

Sorah glanced down at the symbols, their glow was dimmed but still visible beneath the grime that coated his skin. "They are... a reminder of my past," he answered vaguely, not wanting to reveal the true nature of the curse that now pulsed within him.

"Hmm, strange markings," Brokk muttered, squinting at the glyphs. "I've never seen anything like them. They look like some sort of ancient script."

“Could be Aerithran war paint, marking their victories against our glorious troops?” A scrawny man with a earth affinity brand quipped sarcastically, drawing snickers from the other prisoners.

"Perhaps," Sorah replied with a hint of amusement in his eyes. He was glad for the distraction, for the brief respite from the gnawing anxiety that plagued his thoughts.

The guards, clearly bored, began hurling powdered soap at the naked detainees, giggling as the white dust stuck to their damp skin.

"Here, you filthy scum!" one guard yelled, hurling a bucket of cold water at a shivering prisoner.

Splash!

"Haha, look at that one! His little pecker is so small, it's practically invisible!" one guard jeered, pointing at a trembling inmate.

"And what about you, old man?" Gorbak sneered, approaching Sorah with a bucket brimming with soapy water. "Need a little help getting clean?"

“Sure.” Sorah braced himself for the icy shock, but at the last moment, he sidestepped the attack with surprising agility. The bucket clattered harmlessly against the wall, splattering Gorbak and the nearby guards with soapy water.

“Hahaha!”

Laughter erupted once more as the guards sputtered and cursed, wiping the soapy mess from their faces. The angered Gorbak turned towards Sorah, but before he could unleash his fury, the other guard situated closer to the exit intervened.

"Enough, Gorbak," he said firmly. "Leave the old man alone. We have our orders."

Gorbak reluctantly backed down again. He stalked away, muttering curses under his breath.

“Hahahah! What a knucklehead!”

The male bathing area echoed with laughter and ridicule; total opposite to the relative calm in the female section.

"Ugh, those men are so annoying," a female guard muttered, helping the women with their hygiene. "But thanks to the Warden, we don't have to put up with their nonsense. She keeps them in line."

…

"Alright, maggots, enough fun and games. Dry yourselves off and get dressed. The Warden's waiting," a guard announced.

The prisoners who were dripping like drowned rats, were herded towards a pile of bright yellow prison uniforms – standard issue for male inmates. The women, in their separate bathing area, were given pink uniforms – Warden Poahf's preferred colour.

Still tingling from the cold water, Sorah pulled on the rough fabric of the uniform. It was surprisingly clean, devoid of the stench and grime he'd expected. He glanced around, noting the other prisoners doing the same, though reluctantly.

Standing nearby, Brokk observed Sorah curiously. "You move well for an old man," he remarked. "Where did you learn to fight like that?"

Sorah smiled faintly. "Years of practice," he replied vaguely, not wanting to reveal the secrets of his ZenFlow Kana training or the power of the Sage Curse.

"Hmm," Brokk grunted, seemingly satisfied with the answer. "Well, whatever your secrets are, old man, I'm glad you're on our side."

…

Minutes later, when the prisoners were fully dressed, two guards approached Sorah. "You, come with us. The Warden wants to see you."

Sorah found himself being escorted by two guards towards Sector E – the central hub of Nathor Prison Camp where Warden Poahf's quarters were located. As they passed through a checkpoint, Sorah noticed Elara and Anya being led away in a different direction. Their eyes met briefly and a silent exchange of concern and hope passed between them.

The guards led Sorah across a metallic platform that descended into a shaft. A moment later, the platform began to rise, carrying them upwards towards the upper levels of Sector E.

As they ascended, Sorah couldn't shake the feeling of unease. Warden Poahf was an unpredictably dangerous woman. He had no idea what awaited him in her chambers, but he was determined to face whatever came his way with courage and resolve.

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Clang!

The platform stopped with a jolt, and the guards led Sorah down a long, sterile corridor lined with metal doors. They stopped before a massive, ornately carved door at the end of the hallway.

One of the guards rapped his knuckles against the door and announced, "Warden Poahf, we have brought the Aerithran prisoner as you requested."

"Enter," a sultry voice purred from behind the door.

The guards exchanged nervous glances. "But Warden, your orders were..."

"Only the Aerithran must enter," the voice interrupted, its tone laced with impatience.

With a shrug, one of the guards shoved Sorah roughly towards the door. "Go on, old man. The Warden awaits."

Sorah took a deep breath and pushed open the door, stepping into the unknown.

Creek--

The heavy door swung shut behind Sorah with a resounding thud, plunging him into chamber that smelled faintly of exotic incense and something far more alluring. His eyes, still adjusting to the shift in lighting, struggled to discern the details of his surroundings.

A sultry voice sounded from somewhere within the shadows, "Took you long enough to get here. I thought I would have to come snatch you from the showers myself."

“Hmm?”

Sorah turned towards the source of the voice, and his breath hitched in his throat. Warden Poahf was perched atop her desk with one leg crossed over the other; her posture was radiating an aura of confidence and seduction. The dim lighting made her lithe figure more pronounced, accentuating the curves of her body and the glint of mischief in her eyes.

Her warden uniform, usually buttoned up to the neck, was now unfastened, revealing a tantalizing glimpse of her cleavage. The slit in her skirt was hiked up, exposing a long, smooth thigh that seemed to beckon his touch.

“Ahem…”

Even after seeing this succulent exposer of young flesh, Sorah remained stoic. Instead of succumbing to Poahf's blatant attempt at seduction, he quickly scanned the room, taking note of the exits, the potential weapons, and any other details that might prove useful should the situation turn sour.

"Don't look away from me," Poahf's voice hardened, her playful tone replaced by a steely edge.

In a blink, she was standing before him, gripping his jaw and forcing his gaze to meet hers. Their eyes locked; a silent battle of wills commenced unfolding between them.

"Do you find me attractive, old man?" her voice was a low rumble that sent shivers down his spine. She trailed her free hand down his uniform, brushing her fingers lightly against his muscular chest before moving lower towards his groin.

Slither--

"Control yourself, little girl," Sorah growled, pushing her back with surprising strength. He stumbled back a few steps, putting some distance between them. "I am not here for your... amusements."

Poahf stumbled back, landing on the edge of her desk with a soft thud. A flicker of surprise crossed her face, quickly replaced by a smirk of approval.

"Oh, so you like it rough, do you? Big daddy" she was licking her lips suggestively. "I can certainly accommodate that."

Sorah scowled at her lewd behaviour. "I'm not your daddy. Have some respect and clothe yourself properly."

He turned his back on her, but Poahf's anger flared. "Don't you dare turn away from me!" she shouted and rose from the desk with a fluid and predatory movement. She circled Sorah slowly, tracing the contours of his body with her eyes as if appraising a piece of meat.

"Come now, old man. Let's have some fun. We can't truly enjoy ourselves with all these clothes on, can we?" She reached out and began unbuttoning his uniform, working her fingers with practiced ease.

Twak!

Sorah slapped her hand away. "Stop this," he growled, his patience wearing thin. "Have some respect and recede your lust."

Poahf's eyes narrowed, and the playful facade shattered completely, revealing a flash of anger. "Respect?" she spat. "You dare lecture me about respect, you Aerithran scum? You who trespass on our my lands, attack my troops, destroyed my Elemental Imprinter and impede our branding mission?"

She stepped closer and wiggled her tongue on his left ear. "Do you have any idea who I am, old man? I am Warden Poahf, ruler of Nathor Prison Camp. I hold the lives of a thousand prisoners in my hands, and I can snuff them out with a mere flick of my wrist. And you dare speak to me of respect?"

Sorah ignoring her threats, took in her youthful features. "You're quite young to be the Warden. How old are you, exactly?"

Poahf bristled at the question, her face flushing with indignation. "I'm twenty-four, you insolent old fool! I've earned my position through skill and cunning, not by batting my eyelashes and flaunting my body."

"Your age... you're barely older than my own students," He was genuinely surprised by this revelation. How could someone so young hold such a position of power and authority in this brutal regime?

Poahf laughed coldly. "Age is just a number, old man. Power is what matters. And I have more power than you can possibly imagine."

She lunged at Sorah, reaching for his uniform once more. "Now, let's get back to business, shall we?"

Sorah sidestepped her attack and then pushed her back onto the desk. She landed with a soft thud, yet her eyes blazed with fury and lust.

"So, you like playing hard to get?" she purred. "I find that incredibly arousing." She rose from the desk and launched herself at Sorah again, this time, raking her nails across his chest, leaving trails of burning scratches.

Sorah grunted in pain but managed to grab her wrists, pinning her arms behind her back. "Stop this childish behaviour of yours! Why are you doing this? Why are you serving this corrupt regime?"

Poahf struggled against his grip, writhing like a caged animal. "Because I enjoy it," she hissed. "Because I revel in the power it gives me. Because I can do whatever I want, to whomever I want, and no one can stop me."

Sorah shook his head in disbelief. "You're delusional. This power... it's consuming you. It's turning you into a monster."

"Perhaps," Poahf conceded with a smirk. "But it's a monster that gets what she wants."

She twisted her body, breaking free from Sorah's grasp. With a swift kick, she sent him sprawling backwards. He landed on the floor with a thud, slightly dizzy.

Whoosh!

Poahf pounced on him like a breeze, straddling his waist and pinning his arms above his head. "Now, where were we?" Leaning in close, her lips brushed against his ear. "Ah, yes... stripping you naked." She began tearing at his uniform, her fingers working with a frantic urgency.

“Gah…” Sorah struggled against her, but his strength was no match for her ferocity. "Why are you targeting Aerithrans?" he asked between grunts. "What have we done to deserve this? Just what is the Ignis and Terravolt Kingdom plotting by throwing the realms off balance?"

Poahf paused briefly. "Why?" she repeated, tilting her head as if pondering the question. "Because you're weak. Because you're naive. Because you cling to outdated traditions and refuse to embrace the future." She leaned in closer, "And because... you taste delicious."

She lowered her head and licked his neck, her tongue tracing the contours of his wrinkly skin. Sorah shuddered as mixture of disgust and arousal coursed through him. He had to get out of this situation, to escape this woman's clutches before she consumed him entirely.

With a surge of desperation, he bucked his hips, throwing Poahf off balance. She landed on all fours; her back arched and her head tilted back, and her hair cascading down like a dark waterfall.

"Ooh, I like this position," she glanced back at him mischievously. "It's been a while since I've had a man take me from behind."

Sorah scrambled to his feet, his body aching and his mind reeling. He had to get out of here, to escape this madness before it consumed him entirely.

Just as he turned to flee, Poahf lunged at him again, tackling him to the ground. They rolled across the floor like snakes in a tangle of limbs and grunts.

"You're not going anywhere, old man," she hissed, her breath hot against his skin. "You're mine now." She pinned him beneath her, pressed her buxom chest firmly against him. Their lips were inches from touching.

"Enough of this nonsense," Sorah growled, pushing her away. "Tell me, girl, the true reason why you and your Dune overlords are targeting my people? What is the purpose of this... sorting?"

Poahf let out a frustrated groan. "Ugh, do you ever shut up? All you want to talk about is politics and regimes. Can't you see I'm trying to have a little fun here?"

She ripped open a gap in his uniform, exposing his chest. "Now, be a good boy and let me enjoy myself. I promise I'll make it worth your while."

Sorah dodged her advances, frustration mounting. "I have no interest in your depraved games, girl. Answer my questions, or-"

But Poahf cut him off by stuffing her wet panties into his mouth. "There, that'll keep you quiet for a while."

When did those come off? Sorah wondered bewildered.

“Surprise. Fuhuhu.”She grinned wickedly, straddling Sorah and leaning in close. "Now, where were we?"

"Mmm! Mmm!”

Sorah's muffled protests were drowned out as she lowered her head and captured his lips in a rough, demanding kiss. He struggled against her, but it was futile. Her strength, fuelled by the potent combination of TerraFlow Kana and lust, was overwhelming.

Just when Sorah thought he might lose consciousness from the sheer intensity of the situation, a sudden, earsplitting alarm blared through the chamber, shattering the moment.

Poahf froze, her eyes widening in surprise. She lifted her head and listened intently. "What the..." she muttered in annoyance.

Bang! Bang!

A frantic knocking at the door followed.

"Warden Poahf!" a guard's voice called out urgently. "We have a situation! A special guest has arrived at the prison gates - Duke Theodore of the Dune Empire Imperial Court!"

Poahf's eyes widened further, and a string of colourful expletives escaped her lips. "That pompous ass? Here? Now? Of all the inconvenient timings..."

She scrambled off Sorah, hurriedly straightening her dishevelled uniform and smoothing down her hair. With a frustrated sigh, she called out to the guards, "Give me a moment! I'll be out shortly."

She looked at Sorah, a naughty sparkle returning to her eyes. "Looks like our little rendezvous will have to wait, old man. But don't worry, I'll be back for you later."

With a wink and a final lick of her lips, she strode towards the door, leaving Sorah lying on the floor, his body aching and his mind still reeling from the bizarre encounter.

Moments later, the door swung open, and two guards entered the chamber. They glanced at Sorah, then at Poahf, a knowing look passing between them.

"Get him out of here and back to his cell. And not a word about what happened here, understand?" Poahf ordered curtly, gesturing towards Sorah with a dismissive wave of her hand.

The guards nodded and approached Sorah, hauling him to his feet. He stumbled slightly, still feeling the effects of Poahf's assault.

As they were leading him out of the chamber, one of the guards noticed the silken panty still stuffed in Sorah's mouth. He leaned in and whispered, "Lucky bastard. The Warden must really have a thing for you."

‘Lucky?’ Sorah simply glared at the guard with the warden's panties still stuffed in his mouth. He had a score to settle with Warden Poahf, and he would not rest until he had rescued his students and escaped this prison.