Step. Step. Step. Step.

The sound of shoes on broken tiling echoed out through what once was a trio of shopping malls from three different sections of Old Earth, all having been ripped from where and when they once were and torn apart, then put together again in a new and unnatural way during the Fog Fall, otherwise known more simply as ‘The Apocalypse’. If you had an eye for detail, you would see pieces of an American Super-Mall fused haphazardly with a Japanese Underground Mall and a few twisted and distorted parts of what was formerly an outdoor market/ mall from some other place as well, though the words native to that place had worn off with time and exposure to the elements.

But the setting for the upcoming execution was second to the fact that an execution was to be carried out here. Frosrahsa, formerly the roughly 12-year-old girl named Olga, was walking slowly, methodically, and menacingly around the gathered trio of humans, all of whom were in the final stages of dealing with Lyrhea’s venom.

She was watching, waiting, observing, and preparing for what was to come. The moment one of them moved to do anything after the venom wore off would be the moment in which she would strike.

They had, back before she was reborn, used her like a mere toy, and in the vilest and most debased ways that could be imagined. But then again, pedophiles tended to be even more degenerate than most others as a rule, and since their kink was immoral by even the lowest standards they would sometimes no longer see anything wrong with going that one step deeper into such a twisted path.

After all, they had already gone that far, so why not keep going? If the Dark Prince of a certain fiction setting were real, they would all, to the last, almost certainly have pledged themselves to him/ her/ it by now. In fact, now that Gods were real, they might have already done so and just not told anyone.

As she walked circles around the trio, Frosrahsa felt a growing, seething contempt for them. For five whole years (or just about) they had turned her and her only pre-apocalypse companion into nothing more than a pair of dolls. Sure, her elder sibling had been less affected by their machinations, becoming an astoundingly ‘loyal’ healing sadist, but she too had been under their sway, though her waking body knew it not.

Now, after five, fucking, years, she had these damn bastards in a position where they would need to beg her for mercy, for survival, and more. She had screamed out these things for just around five goddamn years in her head as her body was used and abused, but only after the recent events had she been unshackled from her prison and allowed to speak her mind.

As they sat there, helpless, afraid, and cowering in fear, she had berated them alongside her sibling. For thirty minutes she raged, letting her fury and hatred flood out in a bit of catharsis that she had been dreaming of for too damn long.

With her voice now too horse to scream any longer, all that was left was to give these damn bastards the death they deserved. She would not kill them quickly, no. They were not deserving of such a quick and painless end. She eyed each of them again, locking her eyes onto every weakness in their armor and clothing, every place she could slash and slice and freeze that would not kill but instead merely inflict pain and suffering.

As the first of them began to twitch, Frosrahsa generated a pair of curved swords out of ice and traced waving patterns in the air in an almost dance-like motion, still moving her legs and whole body as she circled her foes like a shark waiting for the chance to snap up some prey that was hiding on a boat. She watched closely as one of her former abuser’s eyes began to dart around; he would likely be the first to try something.

…

Haruto could not help it. His eyes darted around, swapping gazes from the former unwilling lover he once had to every conceivable avenue by which he could try and escape. He then felt a tap on his side and his gaze shifted to Johann and Ralph.

The Party Leader’s eyes betrayed a solemn acceptance of what was going to happen and a message that Haruto would be the one to run and tell their version of the story. Johann and Ralph would buy time, and in so doing throw their lives away to allow their brother in arms to escape.

He nodded curtly as he accepted this, and tensed his body in preparation for his mad dash to safety. Johann got up first, and he swung his fist at the monsterized version of the former nightly companion of all three survivors.

It was a swing and a miss, and that was to be expected. It did, however, buy Ralph enough time to stand p, his heavy armor slowing him down long enough for Johann to swing his fists again. Haruto made it to his feet in the meantime, and he tried to bolt for any possible escape route.

Unfortunately for him, Haruto was still wearing his robes and his feet caught the fabric of his clothing and he tripped and fell flat on his face, knowing himself out in the process. No venom was needed to put him out of action this time, and while Johann and Ralph fought to keep from face-palming, the monsterized twelve-year-old cracked a wide smirking smile and ignored the fallen third member of the pedo trio to focus on the other two.

Ralph tied to move to go get his tower shield and his shortsword that had been taken from him, but a light impact to the back on one of his heels saw him look down to see that the thrown ice sword had turned into a mass of ice locking that leg to the ground.

He roared in anger and defiance as he pulled and pulled, eventually not pulling his leg free but instead pulling up a few broken tiles along with the ice. His leg started going numb due to the cold, but after a few plodding steps, he managed to reach his removed equipment and start hammering away at the block of ice that encapsulated his lower leg.

He whaled away at it for what to him must have felt like hours, but eventually, the ice cracked and then shattered, and he turned to reenter the battle and try to help his side win against all odds.