"W... What are you... Doing?" the pigman whimpered, watching more chains slowly slither across the floor. "I told you everything! I gave you the key!"
"Yeah," I said, rolling my shoulders as the chains rose behind me like fanged shadows. "And you still exist, porkchop. See the problem?"
"You know, my old mentor had a saying," I said, "'The only good pig is a cooked pig.' It's a classic for a reason."
I stepped closer, crouching down so I was eye-level with his trembling snout. The smell of his fear—and his rancid body odor—was almost enough to make me gag, but I kept my face a mask of cold amusement.
"Y-You can't!" he stammered, scrambling back until his fat back hit the wall. His legs flailed helplessly. "Please! Mercy! Mercy!"
I blinked at him. Then laughed.
"Mercy? You run a mind-slave auction using cursed crystals, and you think I'm the one you should beg for mercy from? Buddy, even Hell doesn't have standards that low."
Behind me, Rina flinched at the word auction, clutching the edge of the table like it was the only thing keeping her from falling back into the nightmare.
"Rina?" I asked without looking back. "You okay?"
"I… I think so," she whispered, her voice fragile but steadying. "Just… dizzy. Tired. But… Azariel… are… are you really going to…?"
"Make bacon?" I finished for her, finally turning my head to give her a small, sharp-toothed smile. "He's a pig, Rina. This is just… pest control."
I turned back to the pigman, who was now sobbing uncontrollably, snot bubbling from his snout.
"P-Please!" he squealed, his tiny eyes darting between me, Rina, and the chains. "I don't know anything else! I swear! I'm just a middleman, a nobody! They don't tell me the real plans!"
"Tsk tsk," I said, shaking my head. "Wrong answer again. You're racking up quite the tab of bad decisions tonight. Keep going, and I might just let Umbra have a bite. He's been dying for a real snack."
Umbra let out a guttural snarl, baring jagged teeth as he stalked closer to the pigman. A wet patch spread across the front of the pigman's tattered trousers, and I couldn't help but chuckle.
"Pathetic," I muttered, standing up and turning to Rina. Her eyes were still wide, her small frame trembling as she hugged her knees to her chest on the table. But there was something else there now—something hard beneath the fear. Anger, maybe. Or a thirst for payback.
Good. She'd need it in a place like this.
The pigman tried to shuffle sideways, but the chains reacted instantly—snapping out like striking vipers and pinning his arms and legs to the floor with bone-jarring force.
"NOOO! PLEASE! I'LL—" he screamed, but I didn't even let him finish. With another flick of my wrist, a smaller chain slithered into his open mouth, muffling his pathetic pleas.
"Shut up," I said. "Your whining is giving me a headache."
"Rina," I said, my tone softer but still carrying an edge, "this piece of filth had a hand in what happened to you. Locked you up, turned your mind into a prison. Sold your body like it was a cheap trinket. So I'm asking—how do you wanna play this? You wanna watch me carve him up, or do you wanna take a swing yourself?"
Rina stared at me, her lips parted, her breath hitching.
"M… Me?" she squeaked. "B… But I… I can't… I'm not strong like you, Azariel… I…"
She trailed off, her gaze shifting down to her hands, which were clenched so tightly her knuckles were white.
"Hey." I walked over to her, crouching down so I could look her in the eyes. "Strength isn't about how hard you can punch. It's about how much you're willing to take before you punch back."
I pointed a thumb over my shoulder at the whimpering pigman.
"He broke you. Now you get to break him. That's not a choice, that's justice."
Rina's twin tails twitched, her gaze still locked on her hands. The silence stretched, broken only by the pigman's muffled sobs.
Then, slowly, she lifted her head.
Her eyes, still rimmed with the redness of recent terror, now held a different glimmer. Something sharp and fragile, like a shard of obsidian catching the light.
"Okay," she whispered. "I… I want to."
"Attagirl." I grinned.
I helped her off the table, her legs trembling slightly. I guided her toward the pigman, my arm around her waist, a steady presence at her side. Then I pulled my lovely brutal flail from my inventory and gave it to her.
The heavy, black iron ball felt alien in her small hands, the chain cold against her skin. She stared at it, then at the pigman, a flicker of uncertainty crossing her face.
"He's... he's going to be messy," she said, her voice trembling slightly.
"Mess is good," I replied, a predatory smile on my face. "Mess is memorable."
I took a step back, giving her space. Umbra sat beside me, his head tilted, sending his silent, feral encouragement through our bond and asking for a meal.
"Hmm?" I took a moment gazing at the other two demons, the werewolf and the satyr, who were now struggling against their chains, their faces a mask of panic and fear.
"Well... a growing panther needs to eat, right?" I chuckled before giving him permission to eat the werewolf. As for the satyr, I had other plans for him.
Rina stood over the pigman, the flail held loosely in her grip. He looked up at her, his piggy eyes wide with terror, muffled pleas bubbling past the chain in his mouth.
Rina hesitated—just for a heartbeat.
I could almost hear the gears grinding inside her head: fear, doubt, revulsion… and beneath it all, a quiet ember of rage that had been smothered under layers of shyness and self-loathing for gods know how long.
Then something clicked.
Her grip tightened.
Not much—just a flex of her fingers—but enough for me to see it.
The pigman saw it too. He started thrashing, desperate, frantic, his muffled screams going shriller as he realized the shy little succubus he thought was an easy profit was about to introduce his face to several pounds of enchanted iron.
"Rina," I said softly, "look at him."
She did.
"He's scared," I continued, stepping closer, my voice steady as stone. "Good. Let him be. Let him feel the same helpless panic he stuffed into your skull."
Rina swallowed hard. Her tails curled tight behind her like coiled whips.
"I… I don't want to… kill someone," she whispered.
"Hehehe," I chuckled.
"Oh, sweetheart. You're in Hell. Someone tried to kill you. This isn't murder. This is... recycling."
Umbra snorted in agreement, his jaws already cracking bone as he tore into the werewolf's arm. Blood sprayed. Bones crunched. The satyr screamed into his gag.
Rina flinched at the sound.
"Eyes on him, Rina," I said, nodding toward the pigman. "Don't look away. Don't run. Let yourself feel it."
The pigman tried to beg again, the chain stretching from his mouth as he choked on his own snot and tears.
Rina raised the flail.
Her arms shook. Badly. But she didn't lower it.
"You're doing great," I whispered. "Just swing. Don't overthink it. Don't aim. Don't hesitate. Just… swing."
She closed her eyes.
I stepped forward, gently resting my hand over hers.
"No," I murmured. "Look at him."
Her eyes opened again—wide, shimmering, trembling—but open.
She breathed in.
And swung.
The flail came down with a meaty THWACK, flattening the pigman's snout into an unrecognizable smear. His squeal turned into a gurgled wheeze, his body convulsing against the chains.
Rina gasped, stumbling back. I caught her by the waist before she could fall.
"Good," I murmured into her ear. "Again."
"I—I can't—" She shook her head.
"Yes," I said firmly. "You can. And you will. One hit won't purge what he did. Hit him again."
She stared at the flail, her breath ragged.
Then at the pigman.
Then back at me.
"A-Azariel… stay with me. Please."
"I'm not going anywhere." I tightened my grip on her waist. "Just like I told you—we're family now. And the family cleans up its own messes."
Her eyes welled with tears, but this time they weren't tears of fear. They were tears of… something else. Release.
She raised the flail again, her grip stronger this time, more certain.
THWACK!
The pigman's left tusk snapped clean off, skittering across the floor like a loose domino.
Rina's breath hitched—but her grip didn't weaken.
Something inside her was cutting loose, piece by fragile piece.
Good.
She needed this.
"Rina," I said gently, "say something to him. Tell him how it felt. Tell him why you're doing this. Your words will be the final nail in the coffin. Not the flail."
She hesitated for a moment, then looked the pigman dead in the eye.
"You… you took my thoughts," she whispered, then swung.
CRUNCH!
"My body."
THWACK!
"My freedom."
SPLAT!
"Y-You—" Her voice cracked, her body shaking violently. "You sold me!"
By the fourth or fifth swing, her arms weren't shaking anymore.
By the seventh, she was grinning.
By the ninth…
CRUNCH.
The pigman's head split like an overripe melon, blood and fatty tissue splattering across the floor, the wall, her legs.
The chains loosened. The pigman slumped.
Dead.
Rina stood over the ruin that used to be a demon's skull, her small chest rising and falling like she'd just run for miles. Her hands trembled so hard the flail almost slipped from her fingers.
But she didn't drop it.
She stared at the corpse for a long, quiet moment.
Then she turned to me, tears streaming down her face, her voice a trembling whisper:
"A-Azariel… I… I did it…"
I stepped forward, cupping her cheek with a blood-dampened hand.
"You did," I said softly. "And you did it damn well."
"I… I'm scared…"
"Good," I replied. "Only idiots aren't."
She let out a shaky breath, her body collapsing against my chest. I wrapped an arm around her, steadying her.
Umbra finished ripping the werewolf in half with a satisfied huff and padded over, blood dripping from his jaws as he nuzzled Rina's leg.
The satyr thrashed weakly in his chains, watching all of this unfold with a terror so pure it was almost musical.
I glanced at him.
"Oh, don't worry, buddy," I said with a grin. "You're next. But yours is going to be… special."
I sat on the chair with Rina in my lap, her head resting against my shoulder. She trembled, but it wasn't fear anymore—it was an aftershock. The slow, deep tremor of a volcano that had finally erupted.
Spreading my legs wide, I stored my micro thong into my inventory, leaving my bare pussy open to the world before I pointed toward the terrified satyr, then to the corpse of the pigman.
"Like this."
That's all I said before dark tendrils burst out of my pussy, latching onto the pigman's corpse and dragging it to me.