I couldn’t hide my eagerness.

The mission to seek revenge on the Samurai was no longer as foolhardy as I’d initially thought, though much effort still needed to be put into the planning.

Paz’s moveset was very good at punishing enemies who outperformed him, and just as well, considering he was attuned to [Retribution].

“What about your [Deflect Missile] skill?” I asked. “Won’t that help you fend off the enemy’s finishing move?”

Paz helped himself to the last serving of beer. “No. [Deflect Missile] only works against small-sized projectiles. It can’t do anything against [Fireball] or the Samurai’s [Flying Slash of Death].”

“What about the other annoying skill of his? The one he used to reflect our attacks.”

“[Riposte]?”

“Yeah, that. It’s way better than [Deflect Missile], then?”

“Hah! While [Riposte] may be the superior technique, it only allows the swordsman to counter any melee-based attack right before it connects.”

“By melee you mean?”

“Piercing, slashing, bludgeoning. All of which sadly makes up most of our arsenal.”

“We’re not beating that Samurai if we don’t find a way around [Riposte], even with your [Retaliate].”

Paz ran his fingers through his hair. “It’s a rare skill, exclusive only to swordsmen—Samurais and Warriors both. Unlike [Deflect Missile], it doesn’t count as a passive, which means it possesses some sort of cooldown.”

“Then, my job will be to find out what.” I glanced down at [Silhouette] which slumbered still within my shadow.

In a battle between techniques, [Riposte] could counter [Silhouette] eight times out of ten. But, now that I knew what to watch for, the Samurai had lost the element of surprise.

“Alright, we’re doing this,” I said, unable to believe I had agreed to Paz’s incredulous plan. “Assuming the Samurai is hiding somewhere in Skeelie, how does this work?”

“We just need to wait out in the open. He will come to us himself—”

“No. Negative. Nein. Cancel that. We can’t afford to be at his mercy this time around.”

“What do you suggest?”

I leaned back in my chair. “It’s time for the spider to sally out of the web.”

“Oh, I can get with that,” Paz said, and a demonic grin covered his face.

“What say you about visiting a friend?”

An impressive temple stood in Skeelie’s western district, tucked into a nice part of town.

On the surface, it looked like a regular medieval structure, built with grey stone and slate tiles for roofing. A simple courtyard surrounded the grounds, rife with carefully trimmed hedges.

The temple lacked any statues fashioned in the images of patron gods, but what it possessed was just as curious—if not more so. Large tentacles, about the height of a man, stood at odd intervals around the courtyard. The tentacles were cut from marble and adorned with the suction cups common in octopi. They stretched their grotesque limbs toward the sky, as if in imitation of an eldritch fiend rising from the deep.

“Now, this is . . . something,” I said with awe.

“First time?” Paz asked.

“What gave it away?”

“Well, I didn’t want to assume . . . But, I heard elves suffer from a loss of virility as a consequence of their natural long lives.”

“Wait . . . What first time are you talking about?!”

Paz chuckled. He led the way across the courtyard, right up to one of two lavish entrances built into the temple.

A guardsman, dressed in the city’s formal military gear, gestured at a steel box beside the door.

“Uh . . .” I said.

Paz laughed again and dropped two silver pieces.

“The crown thanks you for your generosity,” the guardsman said in a drab tone. He opened the door and ushered us into a small reception area.

I didn’t know what to expect, but the mildly scented interior, complete with braziers of incense and fresh flowers lining the walls, was plainer than I’d imagined. The barren marble floors and understated furniture spoke of a simpler lifestyle than one would expect from a cult. Especially one of such renown as the Cult of Carnality.

A short counter occupied one end of the wall, opposite a row of wooden pews meant for guests.

“This is rather homely,” I started to say when a pale-skinned woman in dark robes sauntered out of a backroom behind the counter.

My eyes bulged.

I was no stranger to beautiful women, thanks to Nicola, but there was just something about the newcomer’s appearance that demanded attention.

She wore her brown hair in a tight bun behind her head, revealing a slender jaw and rather delicate neck. Her full lips featured a touch of lipstick, which helped accentuate her graceful features and rather stern nose. An actual leather collar adorned her neck, and although her black robes were loose, they featured a slit that went all the way up to her waist.

The woman made it to the counter before noticing us and raised an eyebrow in surprise. “Oh. New faces? I would have remembered such strapping young lads.” Even her voice seemed perfected to whisper sweet nothings in the ear. “Just tell me what you need, honey, and I will ensure an acolyte sees to your demands.”

“Um,” I said. “We’re not here for acolytes.”

“Oh? You came for a confession instead?”

“No. Not that . . .”

“What is it, then? We don’t do public sermons until the seventh of the week.” She settled at her desk and offered us a bowl of almonds.

“We’re here to see Nicola,” Paz said, turning down her offer.

This tale has been unlawfully obtained from Royal Road. If you discover it on Amazon, kindly report it.

The woman let out a small sigh and said with forced sweetness. “Sister Ainsworth is no longer available for any services, including requests and consultations. She does, however, hear confessions on the seventh of the week.”

“We’re not interested—”

“I have a bevy of young acolytes for you handsome lads to choose from. Sister Isolde is well sought after and currently has a free schedule. Or, if the sisters aren’t to your tastes, Brother Brendan may—”

“Are you even listening?!”

The woman frowned. “Look, darling, I get it. Everyone from far and wide wants some time with a Hero of the Labyrinth. But, Sister Ainsworth is a bit of a big deal now. Even if you were to offer one thousand in gold—”

I stepped in before Paz could blow his top. “Just tell her Paz and Damien wish to speak with her. We’re members of the same party.”

The woman narrowed her eyes. “You’re telling me you’re the companions who beat the Labyrinth alongside Nicola?”

I pointed at my ears.

She instantly paled. “Oh, gosh. Oh! Please, have a seat! I’ll send word to Sister Ainsworth right away!” She scrambled out of the counter.

“Alongside Nicola,” Paz said, shaking his head. “Can you believe this?”

I settled on a pew. “You know she has lived in Skeelie ever since her birth. She’s pretty well known among rankers here. In contrast, we’re practically strangers.”

Paz looked around the reception. “Well, it doesn’t matter. Should we request a few acolytes now that we are here?”

I groaned into my palm.

“Damien!” Nicola said and launched out of a side door. She wrapped her hands around me and almost succeeded in lifting me off the ground. “I know I told you two to come find me whenever, but I didn’t expect you to visit the temple!”

“You’ll be refunding us for the donation to the crown,” Paz said.

Nicola shot him a sour look. “Paz . . . I see that no one has managed to remove that head of yours from its shoulders yet.”

“Not for a lack of trying,” he said smugly. “Though you are also welcome to pitch in.”

I chuckled and patted Nicola on the back. We hadn’t spoken much since the events of the Labyrinth. She had been busy securing the release of her brothers and finding a place to live as a family.

Nicola still looked the same as ever. Her full cheeks, dark skin, and warm golden eyes radiated with life. Her attire, however—

“What the hell are you wearing?!” I said as I looked over the rest of her body.

Her robes, if they could even be called that, were cut in a different design from her fellow sister. They clung tightly to her body, riding high up her thighs. The dubious ensemble featured an array of belts, straps, a pair of thigh highs, and actual six-inch heels.

“It’s a symbol of my status!” Nicola said proudly. “You have no idea how much Eros I gather from passing glances alone.”

“Sorry, Sister Nicola,” the other woman said. “I had no idea they were your friends.”

“Oh. Don’t apologize, Brigitte. I should have notified you beforehand.” Nicola paused. “Keep word of this out of Mother’s ears, though. I’m not sure she would approve of the intrusion.”

“I take it,” I said, “that the cult does not allow courtesy calls?”

“Well, this isn’t a courtesy call.” Nicola’s eyes gleamed. “Brigitte, schedule a room. Damien has just become a paying devotee. I’ll foot the bill.”

“Wait. What?!”

Nicola grabbed my arm and pulled me through the side door. “Paz . . . Well, I don’t care what you do. I suppose you’re not a first-timer here. You can request any of the other acolytes to put up with your nonsense.”

“Oi!” Paz said. “I also came to speak to you!”

Two more guests arrived as Nicola whisked us away. They beamed the instant they saw her and adopted downcast looks when we vanished through the door.

“Where are we going?” I asked in a tiny voice.

Nicola led me through a hallway and into a lush parlor hidden away from the reception. A handful of guests sat in plush cushions around the room, drinking wine and speaking in hushed tones to beautiful people covered in dark robes. The air here smelled strange, heavily charged with perfume and lust, just like one would expect from a carnal cult.

A few occupants—men and women both—showered the half-naked Paz with appreciative looks as we passed. Nicola didn’t linger. She ushered me past this region and into another corridor, adorned with red carpets and sinfully-sculpted statuettes.

A series of rooms, secured by wooden doors, lined the walls on both sides of us. A few of those rooms seemed occupied. Strange noises escaped from them . . .

Oh gosh.

“N-Nicola,” I said, “when you spoke about requesting an acolyte . . .?”

Nicola grinned. “The acolytes here have all been taught the ways of the cult. The promising ones get a chance to specialize in the Pleasure affinity. But, they don’t see enough combat for it to matter anyway.

“You can find whatever you want here, Damien. We have slime tanks and tentacle pits. Dungeons, torture cells, vore rooms . . .”

“Vore rooms?!” I gasped.

“Oh? Interested?”

“What part of my tone made it seem like I was?!”

“Don’t touch that Paz,” Nicola warned our teammate who had picked up a naked bust. She turned back to me. “We have everything you can wish for here and more. Sure, we’re not as exhaustive as the temples in larger cities like Kholingar, but we do our best.”

She sighed with a dreamy gaze and clasped her cheeks. “Walking these halls fills me with so much Eros. On really busy nights, I manage to fill my pleasure meter three times over!”

My head spun as we walked further down the hallway. In some ways, this expedition proved to be even more dangerous than fighting in the Labyrinth! Who knew that brothels could be so overwhelming?

Up ahead, an acolyte emerged from a room with a mop and bucket. He bowed at Nicola, and I forced myself not to look at the contents of the room he had been cleaning.

“I can understand beating the Labyrinth,” Paz said, “but how come you’re such a big deal around here? Are your talents really that amazing?”

Nicola rolled her eyes. “The founder of the cult, Geraldine, was also [Born of Pleasure]. That trait has not been seen in a hundred years and certainly not in the Skeelien Temple since its inception. It offers me a lot of clout within the grounds and is the only reason the cult paid for my release from the Archon Bank. But, enough of that.” She kicked open a door and shoved me inside. “Paz, wait out here. I’ll kill you if you dare peek.”

My heart rate skyrocketed. “What will we be d-doing?”

“Oh, Damien,” Nicola purred. “You came to me for this, right? I’ll show you a time you’ll never forget.”

The fittings in the room were as lush as the rest of the hallway. A comfy-looking bed sat beneath thin, linen drapes. Someone had possessed the bright idea to equip the room with not just a sofa and a wardrobe, but also a shower stall surrounded by freaking glass walls.

I had never visited a place like this in my former life, but my heart wasn’t ready—

“I didn’t come to do this, Nicola!”

Nicola stiffened. “Huh? What did you come for, then?”

Paz guffawed and sprawled on the sofa. “We came to talk about our plans: two of them.”

Nicola looked like she wanted to sink into the ground. “Oh. That’s . . . that’s alright. I guess I have not been an easy person to reach.”

I plonked on the bed and gestured at her to join me. She did so and averted her gaze. She was probably disappointed. But, I had also not conveyed any intent to do . . . whatever she had in mind.

“So, you know about my family in Dreadwood . . .” I started.

“Your family?” Nicola’s eyes widened. “Oh, how could I forget? The goblin horde! Have you received news from the guildmaster?”

“I have. We spoke this morning. The scouting party didn’t return, but they confirmed the horde’s existence. For now, my primary concern is ensuring the Dark Elves are safe.”

“To do that, you’ll need to travel to Dreadwood . . .”

“Yeah. Ezin has authorized the formation of a party—one which would deliver supplies to the Wood Elves and investigate the goblin horde. We will be joined by a dwarf noble and other rankers from the guild.”

“Fucking dwarves,” Paz interjected.

“That’s racist,” Nicola said.

“Nah. I don’t mean it in a bad way. I’ve gone on enough adventures with dwarves to respect their hardiness. Vizhima has been unkind to them, and some of that aggression bleeds into their mannerisms.”

Paz’s words stood at odds again with how low-leveled he had been when we’d first met.

Nicola must have noticed it too because she wrinkled her nose. “Anyone who listens to you would think you have lived a thousand lifetimes. You’re younger than twenty-five.”

Paz shrugged. “Age has nothing to do with it.”

“Well,” I said, “we will be working with a dwarf who has already proven to be a real pain in the ass. Mind you, none of this is public knowledge at the moment to prevent mass panic. I’ll cut right to the chase. We leave at dawn tomorrow. Would you be coming along?”

Nicola glanced at me, then at Paz, and stared at her feet.

I knew what she was going to say before she said it.

“I’m sorry, Damien. But, I don’t think I would.”