Ch. 118 – Why I Chose Her Magic

Rhys wasn’t in shock anymore; he genuinely felt as if his soul had completely vacated his body. It had to have been well on its way out by now, which would certainly explain the legion of spectral shades currently surrounding him in the cramped kitchen space.

"R-Rhys... how—how exactly did you just do that?!" Durin stammered out, nearly falling over backward onto his rear.

The utter, hollow confusion plastered across Rhys’s face was fully misinterpreted by the stout dwarf as a cold, terrifying threat to fight. Durin’s lingering, fiery anger completely fizzled out into pure panic at the sight of the shadow clones surrounding Rhys.

Without missing a beat, the eleven spectral figures set about cooking immediately. They moved with terrifying, fluid synchronization, chopping, stirring, and plating like world-class expert chefs in a five-star establishment. Omen drifted among them, barking out silent orders and directing their movements with sweeping hand gestures like a dark orchestral conductor.

Can my power really do something like this? Rhys thought in absolute wonder, his mind reeling. I mean... the other "one" trapped here in my head pretty much hijacked my body and snapped my fingers for me! What even ARE you?! Rhys demanded, glaring internally at the shadowy phantom.

Omen didn’t pay him the slightest bit of mind. The specter was far too busy reveling in playing supreme commander over his newly minted spectral army.

"You’re asking the wrong questions again, Rhys," Omen said smoothly, not even bothering to look back at him. "You really should be asking WHY I chose that ifrit woman Shula’s magic to take for a spin first."

I hate how you always do that cryptic bullshit! Rhys shot back mentally.

Before he could push the thought further, a violent, electrifying jolt of pure ecstasy hit him straight at the groin from down below. Ariadne was still working her voluptuous hips against him, though she had slightly slowed her pace. She had clearly picked up on the sudden commotion and shadow magic surging in the kitchen, her sensitive fox ears listening intently to the conversation above.

Her heightened awareness didn't stop her from being utterly ruthless beneath the bar counter. Her smooth hand moved in fast, wet circles over her exposed center as she bucked her hips upward onto Rhys from below the ledge. She took him all the way to the absolute root, grinding her hips in tight, deliberate side-to-side motions.

Rhys glanced down beneath the counter, his primal urges roaring in his chest despite his moral panic. Dione came into full view directly beneath Ariadne’s swaying hips. Through the red spatial portal lodged squarely in the sea goddess's throat, Dione was taking Rhys’s length in deep, a visible, thick bulge moving all the way down near her collarbone as the blood-red light glowed out from her open mouth. Her eyes looked up at Rhys with devoted, tear-filled worship while she swallowed quietly, her neck and throat muscles tensing around him.

Rhys almost felt a pang of genuine guilt for the sea goddess—if it weren’t for the intoxicating, primal thrill the sheer depravity of it gave him.

A sharp, breathless giggle from Rhea, who was still clinging to him tightly from behind, snapped Rhys right out of his pitiful reverie. The golden woman had her arms locked under his armpits, her fingers gripping his shoulders as she absorbed every pulse of sensation transmitted through the spatial ring portal under her dress. Her internal walls tightened fiercely around him as she rode out another wave of intense, euphoric bliss.

Durin looked even more utterly flustered at his wife's strange behavior, spluttering and gesturing wildly. "Rhea, nugget, please! WHY are you still clinging to him like a vine?! Why are you making those noises right now?!"

"Why did you do that?!" Rhys blurted out out loud, aiming the question directly at Omen. He desperately wanted to know what the hell the phantom was being so cryptic about regarding Shula's copied djinn magic.

Omen casually ignored the outburst, continuing to direct the clone army by simply waving two fingers through the air as if participating in his own silent dance.

Beside the dwarf, Ging finally picked his jaw up off the floor. The staggering, impossible display of shadow cloning had effectively shocked the drunken tiefling right out of his slurred stupor.

"I-I swear... I’ve seen this exact kind of magic done before..." Ging muttered, narrowing his bloodshot eyes in deep thought.

Before Rhys could process Ging's sudden sobriety, another violent wave of ecstasy rippled up his spine. Ariadne had suddenly picked up her tempo, bucking up into Rhys with three sharp, heavy bumps over and over in rapid succession.

She has got to be fucking stopped! Rhys screamed in his mind, squeezing his eyes shut.

In all honesty, he was rapidly losing his desperate struggle against finishing hard right then and there. When he opened his eyes and glanced down again, he saw Dione fully slumped backward on the floor, her entire frame spasming violently. Her mouth was drooling heavily, glowing red as her throat bulged in the exact same three-burst rhythm as Ariadne’s relentless hips. A thick puddle was rapidly forming at Rhys’s feet—Dione had silently hit a massive, body-racking finish.

At the exact same microsecond, Rhys felt a heavy shudder press against his spine as Rhea let out a quiet moan-laugh behind him. The three-burst rhythm had sent her crashing over the edge as well. Her golden genasi legs and hips spasmed uncontrollably beneath her dress, her back arching sharply against Rhys as her slick wetness ran down her thighs in long, hot trails.

"I chose that ifrit woman’s djinn magic for one simple reason, Rhys," Omen finally spoke up, his dark voice carrying a playful, sing-song cadence. "Because now... I get to have full, unyielding reign over these eleven perfect, obedient soldiers."

Dear... LORD?! Rhys boomed, completely mortified in the depths of his mind.

The sickening realization washed over him like ice water. The phantom had been planning this absolute takeover all along.

You... so you were really out to betray me from the very start?! Rhys asked, feeling a profound, aching sense of betrayal.

And worst of all, it was a betrayal by something he had been so certain was just a fractured, dark aspect of his own psyche. But like any man whose mind was actively cracking under immense trauma and unhinged pleasure, Rhys was no longer certain if the terrifying entity he called Omen was really him at all.

"Don’t go putting on the straight jacket just yet, Chef," Omen teased darkly, turning his masked face toward Rhys. "You have to understand... this setup is actually MUCH better for you."

"Ho—"

Rhys couldn't even finish his sentence before his body involuntarily bent over the bar counter again, his head light and his vision swimming.

When he managed to open his eyes, his brain couldn't immediately process how rapidly the physical layout had inverted beneath the bar.

I think the world just turned completely upside down, Rhys thought dumbly.

Ariadne had somehow flipped her entire body under the narrow bar ledge. Her long, toned legs were now stretched out, lining the underside of the bar top while she bucked her massive, voluptuous bottom downward onto Rhys. Her internal muscles contracted in tight, desperate waves, her walls gripping the full length of him with suffocating force.

"Oh, my word~!"

A smooth, sultry voice chimed out in pure, unadulterated excitement from the other side of the counter.

Welp... I guess this is officially the end, Rhys thought, completely giving up and accepting that he was finally caught red-handed.

He slowly lifted his heavy gaze to see who the new voice belonged to. Standing just a few feet away from the bar was Shula, the fiery ifrit woman herself. She had her hands pressed against her cheeks in absolute glee, her bright eyes wide as she took in the sight of the eleven shadowy clones efficiently preparing food. She was happily, overwhelmingly surprised to see her signature djinn duplication magic being manifested, even if she didn't fully grasp how Rhys was executing it.

By the glittering, fiery look in her eyes, Rhys could tell her emotion wasn't anger or suspicion at all. It was pure, unadulterated... pride.

That is... weird! Rhys thought, shuddering under the weight of her gaze. You are SO weird for looking at me like that!