Bro, I'm not an Undead!

(A/N: Parental guidance is advised.)

Sila cursed.

"The bastard cast some kind of barrier around the whole room. I can't see a damn thing!"

He had been trying to look inside the room where the action was taking place, but Skullius had warded it off with darkness and the Womb – one of the Seeds of the Fruit of World Myths.

"Don't we deserve to see how he's doing in there? We are the ones who gave him pointers and encouragement. The nerve on this tomato flinger!" the former Tower General grumbled.

Uyuniya rolled her eyes. She didn't share the same sentiment. In fact, she had some faith in Skullius. It wasn't unwarranted.

Since fighting him, she got to understand a few things about him – a few advantages that he held. The Null Lifeform didn't have the inherent flaw of viewing women as that different from men where a comparison of humanity was concerned.

He treated them the same way as men, likely because he wasn't human for a very long time since his days as a skeleton.

Unbeknownst to Uyuniya though, even with his background, Skullius could have grown to adore women as most younger men did after fleeing from Somanda, but two women in particular had disrupted that process.

One was the first woman Skullius ever met: Denille.

She was in Benzard's party back in the Tremur Forest. She had been especially cruel to Skullius during the way to the Labyrinth of the Yoke and when Skullius managed to acquire the strength to fight her, he ended her in a rather, brutal fashion.

Elita was the second woman Skullius had ever met, but she wasn't nearly as evil as Denille, in Skullius' eyes. In fact, she had kindled the sparks of hope and mercy in the Null Lifeform back then, when she allowed him to escape Eofel.

But then there was Damilla, the Diviner Skullius met in Inhone City. She was another cruel wench, who – while rightly judging Skullius for the death and chaos he caused in the city – had made an enemy out of the Null Lifeform.

All these things and what came after contributed to creating the Skullius Uyuniya knew now: the Skullius who could handle himself emotionally and mentally against her and Elita.

He was the Skullius who could admit when he was wrong without sounding like a snot-nosed, pitiable little man flaunting some flimsy mettle against members of the opposite sex. He had authority enough to reel in his strongest subordinate too, after being proven wrong in his ideals.

Surely, such a man could conduct himself exceptionally in bed with a mortal, right?

Right?!

***

Darwel was bouncing on him repeatedly, going harder with the passing seconds while her hands were trying to dig into the skin and flesh of his shoulders. Obviously, they failed, but they transmitted Darwel's passion and pleasure adequately, as did the look in her eyes. Her crimson-gold eyes lanced Skullius with a look of drunk, lustful focus. She might have been drifting off into some lewd dream.

It wasn't enough.

It wasn't fast enough.

It wasn't hard enough.

It wasn't exciting enough.

Mortal and Divine were bonded both in flesh and mind.

They seemed to communicate telepathically and react in unison.

Half a second later, the bed groaned as Skullius slammed Darwel (as gently as he could) on the covers.

She tried to sling her arms around his neck, only for him to seize them and plant them against the bed. She hissed, but not from hate or displeasure.

Skullius had sprouted an extra pair of hands for this feat. He found that he wasn't quite vanilla himself. This was the end of the world and he could be a little freaky for his first time. With [Mystical Macer], he could alter his form freely, as long it didn't contradict his present anatomy too much.

With his other pair of arms, he attacked the two lethal spots standing erect on Darwel's chest. It was like twisting screws… as gently as possible. Inspiration came to Skullius as though he was in the Second Layer of the Empyrean Hatcher. A little Ju`wtte – too insignificant to cause any harm – sparked around his fingers and Darwel's nipples shuddered in an attempt to free themselves.

She shrieked and cackled loudly, her body vibrating, but Skullius sealed her mouth with his lips.

'Flesh you, Somanda!' Skullius thought as he plunged down into Darwel's lower lips. 'This is what you had me missing when you sent me and others into the mines?'

His passion caused him to use a little more force than was necessary. Darwel attempted to set her hands free, but not because she was hurt. Skullius was applying the healing effect of [Sagacious Antiphon of Dawnlight] constantly.

The El Sif didn't want to be outdone.

For now, she would have to be.

His fingers laced with insignificant bits of Ju`wtte, Skullius traced them softly between the mounds on Darwel's chest and just above her lower lips. She convulsed and moaned as loudly as she could. Skullius let go of her arms.

As soon as she was free, Darwel conjured her Perfect Aura over her body and grabbed two of Skullius' arms. He allowed her to force him down. Soon, she was mounting him while the glow of her Aura illuminated them both. Darwel traced her two palms against the skin on his chest, a broad, mad grin on her face. With the way she clutched his skin, one would have thought she wanted to rip it away and see just what kind of hungry beast was beneath this façade Festos had donned for her sake.

Darwel rode him like a bike.

Skullius felt the current of excitement restlessly bounce against all his extremities. The sudden urge to be violent – to be a monster – almost won against his sanity. Darwel was bringing out something that he never knew was there.

'Curse you, Somanda. Instead of those forced bonds I had with Bonnet, Fractures, and the rest… I could have been…' he thought as his mind slipped and slid against itself.

Darwel was about as inhuman as Skullius was. He watched as her Perfect Aura pooled to conjure a shape – a Genuine Incarnation. It was a different one than she what she normally used. She might have gotten inspiration from the ecstasy she felt right then.

A large, feminine shape was formed, thrice as large as Darwel herself. When it sat on her shoulders, Skullius felt the weight against his midriff quadruple.

'Oh…' he thought. It was a trifle to him, but it seemed insignificant to Darwel as well. She heaved the Genuine Incarnation as she rode him. She was powerlifting and enjoying herself at the same time. Hints of the muscles hidden under her supple skin showed as she sweated and tossed her head up, moaning as loudly as she could.

Skullius might as well have lost himself when Darwel grew quicker, riding harder even with four times the weight.

His hands spread against the bed and he faced the ceiling, the breath escaping him.

'I hate you so much, Somanda…'