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Night Raven College was in utter disarray. A sandstorm was disintegrating everything in the Coliseum. A poisonous mist choked nearly all life from the Botanical Garden. Dark, blobby monsters started popping in from every corner of Sam’s Emporium, destroying everything they can get their hands on. Those unlucky enough to get caught in the library were cast into an unwakeable slumber. Chaos was sewn among the students within the main campus building: in the music room, all the students fainted as they were drained of their powers; in the kitchen, they all marched around in a zombie-like formation as they were puppeted around; and in the labs, everyone found themselves shackled and unable to do magic and were freaking out about it. Everyone who’d overblotted within the school year had suddenly done so again.
For what reason, none could fathom at the moment. The most pressing issue was the fact that seven very talented and very powerful overblotted magicians were now wreaking havoc on the school with very little stopping them. One overblot at a time had already been nightmare enough to deal with, but all seven? There wasn’t a prayer that the college could get all of them under control. Not helping was the fact that the strongest fighters and magic users among the students had fallen asleep, got depowered, fell under mind control, succumbed to poison, or got seriously injured immediately after the rampage had started.
The Night Raven Faculty, in their infinite wisdom, decided that the best course of action would be to lure the overblots into groups of two or three and let them duke it out while everyone else could figure out what was going on.
It was surprisingly easy to get Riddle, Jamil, and Azul to the same location. Riddle was informed of the presence of two rule-breakers at the same time Azul was given a tip on the location of two phenomenally powerful magic users, causing both of them to converge on Jamil’s location for the battle. Idia and Malleus were a bit more tricky. The faculty didn’t want the two of them to fight in the library and endanger the sleeping students. Likewise, Sam was eager to get Idia and his monsters away from his store. Nothing that they had on hand at the college could lure Idia or Malleus to the open field where they needed the fight to take place. They had to borrow a large container of blot from S.T.Y.X. to lure out Idia. The organization also lent the school some drones to make noise outside the library and pester Malleus into chasing them out into the field. S.T.Y.X. was surprisingly proactive in lending out aid. Perhaps they knew more than what they were letting on. Regardless, the headmage was not going to turn away all this free expensive gear.
Fortunately, with Malleus stripped of most of his magic after his previous overblot, he was less of a threat than he’d been last time. Idia should be able to handle him on his own.
Now came Vil and Leona. Though the faculty judged that the two would be the best matched against one another, they were on opposite ends of the campus. After destroying the Coliseum, Leona had no interest in venturing beyond the stadium. He just wanted to lie down and sulk amidst the ash and rubble. Vil, however, was very active in the eastern section of the campus. A cloud of poisonous mist followed him wherever he went as he seemed bent on corroding and withering every “ugly” thing in his sight. Crewel came up with the idea to roll a golden apple towards him, one that was resistant to corrosion. The apple was inscribed with the words:
You will find the fairest one of all at the site of the SDC.
Vil immediately marched off in a fury, leaving behind a trail of dead plants in his wake.
Desolation, decay, despair, despondence. That was who Leona was. That was what he was. The drought that brought the famine. The hunger that gnawed at flesh and bone. The slow march of death that siphoned life and vigor from all that he passed by. All that he touched crumbled to dust. He was hated. Oh, how he was hated. Hated and feared for what he could do, who…what…he was. He was alone, so alone in that hate and fear and dust. Nothing he built could ever last, except the destruction he left in his wake. All endeavors ended in failure.
He was so, so alone in that hate and fear and frustration. He was avoided, mocked, passed over, left to languish in the dust that he created, leaving him with nothing to do but to lash out at everyone and everything that got too close.
Prince of sand. King of nothing.
Leona’s ears pricked up as someone intruded on his ruined demesne. The dark blot within him boiled with rage. How dare? How dare that other person come in and disrupt Leona's thoughts and pain? They’ll crumble and desiccate for this challenge. Leona would make him…
Leona stopped in his tracks when he gazed at the one who’d so confidently and unabashedly rampaged into the arena ruins with no fear or regard for him. Stunning, majestic, and tormented, the one standing before Leona, looking equally outraged, held a pain, frustration, and loneliness that was so similar to Leona’s own. The way their pain matched one another’s wasn’t the only reason why the intruder felt so familiar. Memories from Leona’s other life before the blot pricked at his consciousness, scratching at him. The word “queen” flared up in his mind, loudly and brightly.
A queen! Yes, Leona needed a queen! A queen would solve everything! He would rule by Leona’s side. The two of them would create a dynasty together! A legacy that would far outlive anything anyone has ever created! They would last forever!
His queen would fix Leona’s pain or else the two of them would be miserable together. Either way, the other could never be permitted to leave.
***
Vil cackled as he stormed off to the Coliseum, towards where he’d find the one with the most outrageous temerity. How could anyone even try to be beautiful now, when Vil needed everything to turn ghoulish and ugly, so that his grotesque form could be the fairest one of all? And to try to declare themselves above him? That would certainly not do at all.
Of course it would all lead back to the SDC, back to where it had all blown up once before. Back then, Vil had failed to destroy the fairest one of all. Now that he had another chance, he’d take the opportunity to utterly annihilate them.
Vil had no doubt that someone had been trying to provoke him when he’d picked up that wretched apple. If that were the case, then it had worked beautifully. Once he was done here, he would find the little troublemakers and ensure that his ghastly majestic form was the last thing they ever saw.
He came upon the unsightly ruins of the old stage. The air was clouded with dust, and stones from the arena were littered about the sandy ground. It was a grey and desolate place, with no color or beauty to be found anywhere. Even the light of the sun barely penetrated through the thick cloud of dust and debris hanging overhead, and Vil’s poison cloud would make everything darker still, just like it had before.
It didn’t take long for Vil to find a beautiful person here. Oh, the creature was very fair, so much so it hurt. Was beauty the other’s only characteristic? Vil couldn’t say. More beautiful than Vil? Vil had become rather ugly, but then again, so had this other. Was he a threat? Vil wouldn’t have thought so before. Should he be destroyed? Most definitely.
The two of them advanced, talons out and ready to attack, but then the beauty stopped and looked at Vil. Vil stopped almost immediately after when he saw himself reflected in the other’s eyes. The way the beauty looked at him with adoration, desperation, and worship…Vil had come here seeking the fairest one of all; now it seemed he found it reflected in those green eyes. Even though Vil was so ugly, it was so difficult to deny those possessive and devoted eyes that seemed to want to devour Vil as much as Vil wanted to devour the one who they belonged to. Looking into those eyes was like looking into the Magic Mirror of legend itself!
Had this beauty looked at Vil like that before, like Vil was the most beautiful man in the world? A part of Vil told him yes, undoubtedly, but not with this level of obsessive devotion; those eyes had never before burned with the intense longing to possess and devour Vil.
The beauty was not allowed to turn away from Vil, ever. Vil would sooner pluck out those eyes than let them waver from him for a single moment.
***
The two resumed their attack, claws out, teeth bared, laughing without mirth. Lips smashed with one another. Their tongues pressed deeply into each other’s mouths as they simultaneously tried to push in and devour one another. Claws dug into skin and flesh, leaving trails of blood and blot dripping onto the ashen ground. The winds picked up around them in a torrent, dragging up sand that cut and abrased their skin while the poisonous fog thickened and clogged the air, burning their lungs and stinging their eyes. But nothing, nothing, would stop them from claiming, maiming, destroying, ruining, possessing until there would be nothing left of either of them.
There was no rhyme nor reason to the ways Vil ripped off Leona’s belts and jewelry and cast them away like worthless baubles, nor to the ways Leona tore at Vil’s already frayed skirt and veil until they were mere tatters hanging off his crown and corset. The black substance touching their skin—Vil’s peacock tights, top, and gorgeous tight boots and Leona’s corset and thick tights—were made of blot, not cloth. It had to be removed in handfuls of clumps. They pawed and scratched at the thick blot until Vil had Leona’s cock—thick, veined, and dripping hard—caged in his golden talons.
Vil ceased the violent attacks and rapid devouring of his partner. The tips of his claws grazed Leona’s penis softly and slowly. Leona gasped and scratched and bit desperately at Vil’s neck and shoulders and tried to buck his hips forward for more, but the cold sharp metal always kept the lightest feather-touch on his skin, leaving him wanting, always wanting. Leona growled and plead and swore, but the queen was merciless. Vil would give his beauty nothing except what VIl wanted to give.
“You love your queen, don’t you?” Vil asked, his voice reverberating coldly. One of his talons just barely pierced the skin on the underside of Leona’s shaft. Leona growled and panted and glared at his queen, his eyes still burning with awe and want and the need to possess.
“Yes,” Leona spat, his response laden with veneration and bile.
“And you’ll do anything for me?” Vil pinched at the tip with those talons, drawing tiny droplets of blood.
Leona hissed and gasped with pain, his eyelids fluttering as he went back and forth between moaning with pleasure and cursing Vil’s existence. He allowed his queen to toy with him for as long as he could bear before grabbing Vil’s wrist tightly, tight enough to hurt, to which the queen cried out in outrage before panting for more. Leona’s lips curled as he brought each of Vil’s fingers into his mouth, one at a time, lavishing each one with his tongue as he deepthroated those golden talons, worshiping each digit tenderly. Vil let out loud moans. Delicious. How delicious…
Without warning, Leona snapped his jaws shut and bit deeply into Vil’s palm. Vil gasped and slapped him. The strength of the blow had Leona staggering back, rubbing his jaw as he grinned wickedly at Vil. Leona pounced, bringing them both to the ground. They tore and clawed and grappled until Vil was left straddling Leona’s hips. Their Phantoms gazed down at them, dripping down their horrible black blot down on the two bodies who were in the process of claiming and destroying one another.
Vil caught a handful of blot from his leaking Phantom. He dipped the tip of his tongue in the blot, getting a rancid taste before slathering it all over Leona’s shaft. Vil groped and squeezed and teased at his own pleasure.
Leona growled. “Mount me,” he demanded. “Mount me, or I’ll rend you!”
Vil’s eyes flared at being ordered around, but, as he was impatient himself, he rode himself up Leona’s dick and pushed himself ungracefully down, filling himself up all in one go. There was no grace, no care to what they did, just a mindless, painful, obsessive drive to dominate and devour the other.
Vil let out a maddening scream each time he impaled himself on Leona’s dick. In that other life, Vil had worried endlessly about their activities leaving visible marks on his carefully-maintained body. Now, he was screaming at Leona to mar his hideous form. Leona obliged with every demand to scratch, bite, and squeeze until that perfect skin was overrun with bruises and rivulets of blood. Vil repaid him by digging his nails deeply in Leona’s shoulders, urging him to thrust harder into Vil’s poor despoiled hole.
Vil was completely uncaring of the pace Leona was trying to set. He rode Leona with reckless abandon, chasing his own pleasure. Leona, desperate to gain control, put one hand on Vil’s hip, squeezing and digging his claws into the hip and backside, while the other meticulously snaked up Vil’s chest and wrapped around that long elegant neck. Leona squeezed, his lips curling as he watched Vil’s ashen face grow red, those purple eyes bulge, and Vil’s tongue loll out as Vil gasped and sputtered. Leona angled his hips and fucked hard right into that spot that never failed to make Vil’s eyes roll up and his hips buck further onto Leona’s cock.
“Oi, Vil, follow my lead,” Leona breathed out.
Vil glared down at Leona defiantly. “Don’t tell me what to do,” he responded, somehow still sounding commanding through heady moans and choked breaths.
The familiar quipping brought upon a moment of clarity. Vil and Leona blinked as realization of what was going on dawned on them. It was short-lived, as they came almost immediately after. Vil’s eyes rolled up again and he cried out as he spilled onto Leona. Leona leaned forward and held Vil tightly in his arms as he also moaned and came inside of Vil. Leona held him close and guided the two of them backwards on the ground, where they both passed out on the sand.
***
They came to either the next day or later that afternoon. It was hard to tell. Regardless, when they both stirred awake, the Phantoms were gone, Leona and Vil were no longer overblotted, the sandstorm and poison cloud had disappeared, and the sun shone on them harshly from above. The two of them lay naked, injured, and exhausted amidst the ruins of the place that had been so instrumental in both their first overblots.
Vil was the first to stir. Leona looked over at him, concerned. All those bites and scratches were just scabbing over, and the bruises on Vil’s skin had dulled into unsightly dark blues and greens. Despite the sun blaring from overhead—something he always hated to endure without skin protection—Vil remained calm as he tried to work his way through the pain to push himself up.
“Vil…”
“I’m fine,” Vil groaned as he pushed himself to a sitting position. “What…what happened?”
“I think…” Leona responded, shaking off the haze. “I think we overblotted again.”
“How?” Vil demanded. “I don’t recall using a whole lot of magic. I was in the Botanical Gardens gathering ingredients for a potion when suddenly, everything just looked so ugly to me. No matter where I looked, not a trace of beauty could be found, least of all in myself. Conversely, I was enraged that all the flowers with their bright colors and entrancing scents dared to be more beautiful than me. I was overcome with the urge to tear everything down, and before I know it, I was dripping with blot…”
“Same thing happened here,” Leona replied. “I was practicing with the Spelldive Club. I just couldn’t stop fixating on all the mistakes people were making, especially mine, and no matter how hard we practiced, nothing we did was good enough. I started to lash out, yelling at the other members. That’s when I started dripping blot. Ruggie yelled at the others to evacuate the Coliseum as I started using my Unique Magic on everything.”
“You don’t suppose that we are at a risk of it happening again?” Vil wondered. “I don’t want to be a constant active danger to those around me.”
“What a pain,” Leona groused.
“Especially since we’ll most definitely need to take this to that negligent headmage of ours…”
“Hey now,” Leona teased. “Crowley would never leave something that could be an active danger to Night Raven College’s property or reputation. I’m sure he’ll get on this real quick.”
Vil scoffed.
The fuzzy memories of what he and Vil had done refused to stop bothering Leona.
“Hey, um, I think we might’ve…” Leona began.
“Yes,” Vil answered.
“Are you…okay?” Leona asked.
“I’m fine,” said Vil. “Are you?”
“Yeah.” Leona winced as he tried to sit up. “Looks like I did a number on you.”
“No more than I did on you, I assure you,” Vil shot back.
“You’re sure you’re okay?”
“I’m fine,” Vil insisted. “It’s just…”
“Just what?” Leona asked.
Vil sighed. “I’ve accepted that I had all these ugly feelings and desires, that these struggles are a part of me. I just didn’t want to confront that some part of me is insanely possessive of you and that I sometimes obsess over whether you still think I’m the most beautiful person in your life.”
“Well, some part of me wants to dump all my issues onto you and our relationship because you’re one of the only people who ever chose me, and I sometimes obsess over whether or not I’ll ever be good enough for you, so I guess we’re even,” Leona replied.
They paused, mulling over what they had just experienced, what it all meant, and that they would have to carry it into the future.
Finally, Vil stood up. His lower regions ached, but then again, he ached all over. He looked down at Leona, who wasn’t doing any better at all. At least Vil wouldn’t have to perform an intense dance number this time around, and at least Leona wouldn’t have to compete in a brutal Spelldive tournament.
“Come on,” said Vil, offering his hand. “The upper structures have been destroyed, but hopefully we can find some towels or spare clothes in the changing rooms below ground, maybe even a first aid kit. Afterwards, we’ll have to go see what the damage is and bring this up with our intermittently-useful headmage.”
Leona groaned as he let Vil help him up. The two of them held hands as they walked down to the changing rooms.