Tmkoc Sex Stories The Edge of Fate
The Edge of Fate
(THWAAAAAACK!!!)The sound was not that of an ordinary blow; it was a dry explosion of flesh against absolute force.
"¡¿?!"
Yumemaru’s body bent unnaturally in mid-air, as if an invisible mace of tons of pressure had struck him directly in the side.
(¡¡BOOM... CRASH... RUMBLE!!)
In a blink, his figure ceased to be that of a warrior and became a human projectile launched at an absurd speed that defied air friction, only to moments later slam into the facade of a gear-driven building with the force of a meteorite.
"¡¡Ghuuu-AAAAAGH!!"
There, after tearing through metal walls and support beams, leaving a trail of destruction in his wake until becoming embedded in the heart of a structure, Yumemaru’s body released a violent spray of crimson blood from his lips, painting a red fan across the rubble.
"Ghaaa!… Cough!… Blegh!"
Yumemaru, seizing the brief lapse of time created by the aftermath of the blow, tried to breathe despite the state of his broken ribs, which ground against one another.
(Dammit...)
His bloodshot eyes darted frantically from side to side.
(That wretch is still doing it!)
There had been no flash, no gust of wind, no fluctuation of essence; even as he took another hit, Yumemaru realized he would be incapable of perceiving her.
"Oh, no... Are you all right?"
Buried within the metal entrails of the building, Yumemaru desperately tried to pull himself onto one knee. He clutched his chest with his left hand, trying to contain what felt like an internal fire beneath his tattered robe. In that moment...
"It worries me so much to see you like this... Why haven't you broken yet? I tried to be so 'gentle' when delivering those fourteen blows... I worked so hard not to overdo it..."
A voice laced with a sickly sweetness undulated through the air once more, sounding genuinely distressed as she revealed a devastating truth.
"Fourteen...?"
That truth caused Yumemaru, his gaze lost among the rubble, to feel a chill that froze the very blood in his veins.
(¡¡D-D-D-D-D-D-D-D-D-D-D-D-D-BOOOOOM-KRRR-ACK!!)
In that instant, Yumemaru understood the terrifying nature of what he was facing.
"¡¡!!"
She had struck him fourteen times right in front of him, but reality, confounded by the glitch she triggered, had remained frozen, postponing both the pain and the impact.
(¡¡¡RAT-TAT-TAT-TAT-TAT-TAT-TAT-TAT-TAT!!!)
So, when the error was corrected and reality caught up to the truth...
(¡¡VZ-VZ-VZ-VZ-VZ-VZ-VZ-VZ-VZ-VZ-VZ-VZ-VZ-SHATTER-BOOOM!!)
As if the universe had finally registered the assault, Yumemaru’s body and the surroundings exploded in a chain of delayed violence. Bursts of pure force, which had been suspended in a temporal limbo, hammered into him simultaneously from every angle.
(¡BRRR-A-A-A-A-A-A-A-A-A-A-A-A-A-VRA-KAAAA-DOOOM!)
The debris surrounding him didn't fly into the air; instead, it was pulverized into ash by the destructive friction of the blows that "appeared" out of nowhere.
(¡¡DAMN HER!!)
Yumemaru was shaken like a broken puppet, suspended in the air by the sheer frequency of a punishment that had already occurred, but which his body was only just beginning to suffer.
(¡K-k-k-rrrr... shhh!)
When the storm of invisible impacts finally ceased, silence fell once more over the central plaza—a sepulchral silence that only the creaking of the disintegrating building dared to break.
(¡THUD!)
Yumemaru’s body, broken and smoking, hit the ground with a dull thud.
(...Tap... tap... tap...)
That was when she emerged.
"Oh... how horrible..."
She walked with a slow, measured pace, almost shy, as she made her way through the rubble.
(...Tap... tap...)
Her expression was a walking contradiction: her lips trembled in a silent lament for the devastation, but her eyes shone with undeniable delight.
"It truly hurts me so much to see you like this, so fragmented, so small... My heart beats with such sadness for every one of your wounds..."
She was a young woman with shoulder-length silver hair, streaked with golden locks that shimmered like threads of liquid sun. Her right eye was a pure, almost ethereal white, while her left glowed with a warm amber hue.
"But you just look so... perfect now that you cannot run."
She wore a loose, flowing robe of black and white silk that fluttered in the breeze, but over her shoulders, she carried a heavy blood-red mantle that fell like a dry river to the ground. She stopped before Yumemaru’s shattered body and bowed slightly, hands clasped in front of her lap like a sorrowful maiden.
"It's so beautiful..."
From the ground, his vision clouded by blood, Yumemaru watched her stop just a few meters away.
"I love this world so much... I love every fiber of your being. Every drop of blood you shed is a treasure I want to protect forever..."
She didn't look at him as a lover, nor as an enemy; she looked at him as one looks at life itself: with a devout fervor that instantly twisted into visceral disgust.
"And for that very reason, you sicken me. I hate you so much that the mere fact that you breathe feels like an unbearable insult."
Her hands, clasped over her black and white robe, trembled.
"I want to erase you. I want to grind your existence until not even the memory that you once occupied a space in my sight remains."
Suddenly, her timid face contorted into a grimace of pure loathing, and her eyes seemed to burn with an ancient fury.
"I love how much I hate you... and I hate how much I love you."
She pressed her hands to her cheeks; the tears that welled up from her mismatched eyes were born of genuine sorrow, even as her lips curled into a smile of ecstasy.
"It is such an exquisite pain! That is why I must break you. It’s not personal; it’s simply that I cannot allow something I love so much to continue existing in such an imperfect form."
At her words, the red mantle falling from her shoulders seemed to take on a life of its own, billowing with a silent fury as the pressure in the central plaza became unbearable.
"I have to destroy you so that I may worship your ashes!"
But at that moment, just as the figure in the red mantle raised her hand to deliver the coup de grâce—at a point where time itself seemed to have surrendered to her will—the floor of the central plaza exploded.
(¡¡¡CLANG-GRRR-CHONK!!!)
It wasn't an explosion of force, but a coordinated irruption of thousands of bronze pipes that emerged like metallic tentacles from the depths of the underground.
"Such action must be denied."
Before the figure could react, the metal enveloped her, restricting her movements and suspending her in the air with a precision calculated to neutralize without destroying.
"There are still critical data to be gathered. The premature termination of the specimen would invalidate eighty percent of the current research."
A new voice emerged, mechanical and cold, rising from a gap in the floor exhaling steam.
"Aww... But Machina~!"
From amidst the steam and metal, a figure of ethereal and disturbing beauty appeared.
She wore a fluffy dress with black and white ruffles, its fabric seemingly imbued with unknown technology; circuits intricately etched into the cloth emitted a soft bluish glow that pulsed like an artificial heart.
"No buts. You owe me this after destroying every form of consciousness you found before I could collect their information."
Her hands and feet were encased in gloves and boots of mirror-polished bronze, reflecting the devastation of the plaza in every metallic curve.
"Ugh... I already apologized..."
Her silver hair fell with elegance, interspersed with copper locks that shone with an industrial hue under the erratic light.
"Your apology was an attempt to blow my head off."
Just like her counterpart, she possessed a mismatched gaze: her right eye was a pure white, devoid of a pupil, while her left was a brilliant copper, resembling a precision lens that was constantly adjusting.
".... I'm sorry."
But the most unsettling thing about her were the mechanical wings sprouting from her back; a masterpiece of bronze engineering where every gear, piston, and joint remained motionless for now, yet radiated a sense of potential movement as beautiful as it was terrifying.
"You cannot destroy him yet, Mirabellis. Protocol is clear: we were requested to assist solely to ensure his capture and set the stage."
At that moment, Dea-Machina adjusted the lens of her copper eye, ignoring Yumemaru’s spasms of pain while keeping the pipes taut around her sister.
"¿Can you... can you let me down now?"
In response, suspended in mid-air by the metal, Mirabellis lowered her head.
"I promise to be good..."
Her red mantle fluttered slightly as an expression of shyness and resignation crossed her face, fidgeting with her fingers despite the restriction.
"Negative."
Machina’s response, however, as she stared without blinking, was one of total rejection, a small hiss of steam escaping her mechanical wings though they remained still.
"I am well aware of your tendency to dismember and strike everything you love within your immediate radius. I will not allow data collection to be interrupted by one of your 'affective outbursts'."
In response, Mirabellis puffed out her cheeks in a childish gesture, though the murderous intent in her amber eye had not faded.
"Fine..."
She knew Machina was right; if she were released, there was a ninety percent probability she would blow the head off any living being that crossed her field of vision.
(This is my chance!)
Yumemaru, who had remained in deathly silence recovering every grain of spiritual essence possible, seized the moment during the exchange between the other two.
(¡V-vrum!)
In a burst of energy, he released an expansive sonic wave that kicked up a curtain of dust and debris, hiding his position for an instant.
"See you later, lunatics!"
Without hesitation, he propelled himself backward, seeking the same escape route that had served him in their previous encounter.
"I told you that this time, you wouldn't escape."
Unfortunately, a cold and authoritative voice resonated right at the nape of his neck, freezing the very flow of his blood.
"¡¡Kghh!!"
Yumemaru’s instinct, forged in centuries of duels, took control.
"Good reaction."
His body spun in mid-air before his mind could even process the command, unleashing a descending slash with Split Moon, heavy with the full weight of his desperation.
(¡¡¡CLANG-SHAAAAA!!!)
A deafening clash of metal rang out as a sword of silver and blue intercepted his blade in a perfect collision.
(¡¡KLANG-VROOOOM!!)
The shockwave repelled both combatants, forcing them to retreat and put distance between them as their feet tore through the plaza floor.
"Haaaa... Haaa... Hahhh... Dammit..."
Yumemaru stabilized himself, gasping, and looked up to find himself face-to-face with the primary cause of his agony.
"Sirael..."
She was a young woman with long platinum hair that fell like a waterfall of mercury down her back. Upon her brow shone a delicate tiara adorned with blue gems, whose cold light accentuated the deep melancholy of her mismatched eyes: one a milky white, and the other an ocean blue so deep it seemed to hold eternal storms.
"The game is over."
She wore imposing gala armor, a design that fused the elegance of a dress with the resilience of a war machine.
"This time..."
The mixture of black and white fabric was reinforced by silver and bluish metal plates, whose intricate details were reminiscent of dragon scales.
"We are going to fight to the end!"