The Useless Extra Knows It All....But Does He? - Chapter 205

205: Chapter 205 – The other side of desert!!

***WARNING!!

THIS CHAPTER CONTAINS SOME CRUEL VIOLENCE AND SEXUAL CONTENT ,THAT MAY OTHERS FIND DISTURBING!

YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED!*** The other side of the desert was nothing but rot and ruin.

The air stank of blood and sulfur, thick with corrupted mana that turned the sky a poisonous shade of red.

The dunes themselves seemed alive, writhing faintly as if the earth rejected what stood upon it.

At the center of it all, five figures loomed.

They were not just commanders-they were calamities wrapped in flesh.

Around them, five thousand cultists stretched in every direction, their twisted chants rising like a choir of the damned.

One cultist staggered forward, bowing so low his forehead scraped the blackened sand.

His voice trembled with manic glee.

“Your grace!

Our original numbers… cut by half in those children’s slaughter.

But with your arrival…” His lips curled back, exposing bloodstained teeth.

“With your grace leading us… we are confident!

We will wipe them out completely!

Eji-eji-eji-ejiejiejieje!!” His cackle spread like a disease, the cultists all around echoing it until the desert itself shook with their madness.

Yet the five in the center did not laugh.

One of them, tall and broad-shouldered, clicked his tongue in open disdain.

“Tch.

Why the need to send five of us here?

Just to kill some brats?” His tone dripped with annoyance, as if his very presence here insulted him.

Before the laughter could rise again, a woman among them stepped forward.

Her beauty was poisonous-curves that could topple empires, eyes gleaming with a hunger that was not merely carnal but ravenous.

Her lips curled into a cruel smile.

“Because the trash you call subordinates were useless,” she purred, her voice sharp as venom.

“They couldn’t even crush children.” Her words silenced the cultists instantly.

Heads bowed lower, fear running like ice in their spines.

But then, without hesitation, the broad-shouldered man stepped toward her.

His eyes burned with savage amusement as he reached out.

His hand tore her garments aside, baring her breast to the corrupted desert air.

Gasps spread through the cultists-but none dared look away.

The man’s fingers dug into her flesh, squeezing, fondling with open mockery.

The woman did not resist.

Instead, she threw her head back and let out a long, sultry moan, her body arching into his touch.

Her tongue slid across her lips as if savoring every eye upon her.

“Mmm~ ahhh… yes… yes, that’s it,” she breathed, her voice thick with corrupted delight.

“Their stares… their filth… I can feel it.” Her nails dug into her own thigh, shuddering.

“Every drop of lust feeds me…” The man laughed, leaning in to lick the corner of her mouth.

“That’s true, isn’t it?

These are all nothing but trash.” “Trash!” she echoed in ecstasy, the word spilling from her like a hymn.

Around them, five thousand cultists drooled openly, their faces twisted with hunger and awe, saliva dripping down their chins as they watched their mistress revel in corruption.

Not a soul blinked.

Their desire only fueled her more, her moans rising louder, drowning the desert in a chorus of madness.

Then, as if the scene were not vile enough, another disturbance broke the fever.

One cultist dragged another forward, throwing him at the feet of the five figures.

The accused thrashed, his eyes wild with terror.

“Your grace!” the first cultist barked, pressing the prisoner’s face into the sand.

“I caught him!

He was sending messages, secretly.

Suspiciously!

I think he is a traitor.” With a vicious kick, he forced the man to his knees.

The desert swallowed his scream as blood spattered from his mouth.

The prisoner looked up at the five, his lips trembling, eyes darting.

He didn’t speak.

He didn’t dare.

From among the five, another figure moved.

This one was cloaked in layers of black chains that rattled with every step.

His presence alone froze the air, silence suffocating the chants of five thousand cultists.

Slowly, he knelt before the prisoner.

His hand, skeletal and pale, reached forward and gripped the man’s chin.

“Defiance,” he whispered, his voice like steel dragged across bone.

“Suspicion.” His grin widened, teeth jagged like a beast’s.

“Do you know what I do with liars?” The man shook his head desperately, tears spilling down his cheeks.

His lips opened, but no sound came.

The chained figure didn’t wait.

With a sharp twist, he plunged his fingers into the prisoner’s mouth, hooking them deep into his jaw.

Bone cracked as the man screamed.

With deliberate slowness, he tore-pulled-ripped the jaw wide open until the flesh split, blood gushing down the cultist’s chest.

The man’s screams choked, gargled.

His tongue lolled helplessly.

Still not satisfied, the chained figure dragged his nails across the man’s exposed throat and ripped it open, blood spraying in a crimson fountain.

The corpse collapsed in the sand, twitching, broken.

For a moment, silence.

And then-an eruption.

Five thousand cultists roared with approval, their cheers shaking the desert like thunder, chanting in ecstasy at the cruelty on display.

The woman moaned louder at the sound, her body trembling as if feeding on their depravity, her eyes rolling back in dark bliss.

The five stood tall, surrounded by worship, cruelty, and madness.

And the desert swallowed the scene whole.

The cultist who had dragged the traitor forward now found his eyes drawn elsewhere.

His breathing grew shallow, his chest heaving, as his gaze lingered shamelessly on the woman’s exposed chest.

His lips parted, dry and trembling, unable to hide the raw hunger in his eyes.

The broad-shouldered man beside her noticed, his mouth curling into a wolfish grin.

His thick fingers kneaded her flesh once more, eliciting a languid moan from her lips-low, husky, and filled with mockery.

“Don’t you think you should reward him?” he said, his tone half-taunt, half-suggestive.

The woman tilted her head slowly, her eyes narrowing in amusement.

Then, with deliberate grace, she turned toward the trembling cultist.

Her hips swayed with each step, the sound of her heels clicking softly against the cracked stone ground.

Every movement made the horde of onlookers lean forward as if bewitched.

She stopped before the man and let her hand trail upward from his waist, pressing against his chest, feeling the frantic hammering of his heart.

He quivered under her touch like prey before a predator.

Her eyes locked on his, glowing with cruel delight, and her lips parted just enough to let her tongue graze across them.

“Do you want the reward?” she asked, her voice low and sultry, dripping like poison honey.

The cultist opened his mouth, but no words came-only ragged, desperate breaths.

His face contorted between disbelief and euphoria.

She chuckled, a throaty sound that seemed to coil itself around every ear present.

Her hand slipped lower, seizing him with bold finality.

The man gasped aloud, his knees buckling.

Her smile sharpened.

“Your little friend answered it for you.” The horde rippled with shivers and murmurs, a wave of sick anticipation passing through five thousand throats.

She laughed, rich and mocking, before tossing her wild mane of hair back.

Then, with unhurried precision, she gathered the strands into a messy ponytail, tying it high as her eyes never left the trembling man before her.

She knelt slowly, her lips brushing his skin, and the cultist convulsed as if touched by divinity itself.

The crowd howled, each one imagining themselves in his place, their frenzy mounting.

The broad-shouldered man barked out a booming laugh.

“That slut!” The chosen cultist’s entire body quivered, his face flushed scarlet.

His eyes rolled upward, his voice cracking into an unrestrained cry of ecstasy.

As the broad-shouldered man turned toward the crowd, his expression twisted with delirious triumph.

“LOOK!

Don’t you want this too?!

Kill those brats-tear them apart-and she will be YOURS!

Every last one of you!” His words struck like sparks into dry tinder.

The horde exploded-throats roaring, fists pounding the earth, feet stamping in rhythm.

Some clawed at their own skin in mania, others bit their lips until they bled.

The sound of laughter, screams, and guttural moans melted into a chorus of madness.

The entire desert air seemed to quiver with it, a storm of lust and bloodlust merging into one grotesque hymn.

The woman rose slowly, swaying her hips as she stood, her breath steady while the cultist collapsed in delirium.

She lifted a finger, dragging it slowly across the corner of her mouth, then slipped the white substance between her lips with obscene relish.

Her eyes glinted as she gazed back at the broad-shouldered man.

“Don’t you think you should ask me first?” she teased, her tone mocking yet charged with heat.

The man’s chest rumbled with laughter, dark and thunderous.

“Were you going to refuse?” She threw her head back, laughter spilling forth like shattering glass, high-pitched and unhinged.

“Of course not!!” And with that, the madness reached its peak.

A single voice became a thousand, a thousand became five thousand.

The horde screamed as one, their voices breaking the air like thunder.

Their eyes gleamed red with lust and bloodthirst, veins bulging, spittle flying.

“KILL!

KILL!

KILL!” The corrupted desert trembled under the weight of their frenzy, and for a moment it felt as though the entire world itself recoiled in horror.

CREATORS’ THOUGHTS WishToTransmigrate Well, they have their own way of raising morale it seems!!

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