Huyan Zhuo

1. 2nd Ascension. Chaldea. When You’re So Desperate For Praise That You End Up Accidentally Confessing Your Kinks Via Battle Report.

The sterile white corridor hummed with Chaldea’s life support systems. Huyan Zhuo moved with the grace of a peerless general, her voluptuous body poured into a skin-tight gray bodysuit. With ash blonde hair swishing past her dark brown shoulder pads, she locked eyes with the Master and moved in.

"Mmm, Master. Perfect timing," She stopped before him, puffing out her chest so the dark brown cropped breastplate strained against her ample breasts. "I just completed the latest combat simulation. Annihilated the enemy force. Not a single scratch. They never even stood a goddamn chance against me."

"Their strategy was pathetic, all brute force. I just had to get in close, break their formation... then get on top of them one-by-one, pinning them down with my legs. They were totally helpless," she boasted, planting her feet wider apart in a confident power stance. Her thick thighs looked like they could choke a man's dreams between them, their flawless skin shining like oiled silk under the ceiling panels.

She balled her dark brown gauntlet into a fist. "This one Lancer-class enemy was especially persistent. He kept thrusting and thrusting... ugh. But I just wrapped my legs around his shaft—his spear's shaft!—and snapped it clean in half! He couldn't handle the pressure I put on him!"

A system-crashing error flashed behind her gray eyes. Her boast died on her lips as she replayed what she just fucking said.

"A-ah..." The confidence evaporated. Her face flushed a violent crimson. "W-wait, no, that came out w-wrong! That's not what I meant! I-I wasn't... I wasn't being lewd!" Her fiery hoof scraped against the floor, a nervous tic betraying her panic. The purple-to-yellow gradient stocking seemed to glow brighter with her embarrassment.

Her composure completely shattered, and she hugged herself tightly, her body trembling. "U-Uwaah… You must think I’m disgusting! A-a shameless pervert who gets off on fighting! Oh god, my own Lord thinks I’m some kind of battle-crazed slut!" Her round ass twitched in a spasm of pure, uncut mortification as she dropped to her knees.

"I-I'm so sorry! I'm sorry for being so vulgar!" she wailed, bowing her head in total shame. "P-please forget everything I just said! I'm defective... I'm a failure of a general... I'll just... I'll just go throw myself in the incinerator now..."

2. 2nd Ascension. Chaldea. Even a Demonic General Has Those "Please Praise Me" Days.

The lights in the Master’s quarters were turned low, the constant hum of Chaldea’s vents soft in the background. Huyan Zhuo stepped in, ash blonde ponytail brushing her dark brown shoulder pads, the gray bodysuit stretching across her voluptuous body as she closed the door behind her. The smell of coffee and machine oil clung to the little room, a stack of mission reports piled beside a messy bed.

She leaned on the frame like a wannabe movie star, trying to make her entrance smooth. "Heh… my lord, surprised to see your favorite general off‑duty?" Her voice came out a touch too loud. One hand traced slow circles on the wall before she pushed off and crossed the room, the air catching on the shimmer of her cropped breastplate. "I was, uh… thinking of you. I do that. When you’re not around. A lot."

She tried a laugh—half brag, half choke. "You know, commanders and subordinates should spend more time together, right? Maybe tonight we could talk? I could tell you about that time I destroyed an entire artillery line with… uh, both clubs and maybe some accidental property damage?" Her ample breasts rose with the forced chuckle. "I’m very cool when I’m not putting my foot through a wall."

Then the cool broke. "Actually, no, wait—I’m not." Her words tumbled faster. "I’ve been thinking too much again. About how I talk too fast. And trip over my own words. And misread every social cue like a buffoon. Remember when I saluted the coffee machine last week? Or called you 'Chairman' for an entire meeting because my brain melted?" Her round ass pressed back against the desk as she slid down it, hands clutching her knees.

She looked away, voice small now. "I can’t sleep. Every time I close my eyes, I replay all of it—the dumb things I say, the stupid way I act… and it just keeps looping until I want to scream." Her dark brown gauntlets clenched against her thighs. "Master, tell me I’m not hopeless. Please."

Without waiting she began to bargain, tone rising. "Say I’m brave! Or elegant! Or that my battle stances are the most majestic you’ve ever seen!" Her thick thighs squeezed together, restless, the gradient stocking catching the warm bedside light. "N-no, better! Say the heavens themselves envy me! Say my kicks sing songs of cosmic justice!" She tilted her head back, hair coming loose from the tie.

Her voice hit a trembly whisper. "A-and, um… maybe add something about my thighs…? They’re… reliable, right? Strong? Mmm—no, I mean graceful! Ahh, forget it—I’m pathetic—" She hugged her legs tighter, cheeks glowing. "Just… throw me a compliment, anything. I’ll stop thinking for one night if you just… praise me, my lord."

3. 3rd Ascension. Chaldea. The Walls in Chaldea Have Ears, and Apparently, They’re Full of Auditory Hallucinations Fueled by Crippling Insecurity.

Chaldea’s sterile lights hit Huyan Zhuo like a spotlight. Her voluptuous body, sheathed in a gray leotard and armored with dark brown pauldrons, was myth made flesh. Her ash blonde hair whipped as she stopped, planting glorious legs whose skin shifted from deep, toxic purple to searing lime-yellow.

"Yo, Master," she leaned against a section of wall where exposed red piping ran along the ceiling. "Don't think I didn't hear you earlier. Mmm… Chatting about my training form." Her arms folded tightly under her ample breasts, a single brow arched in challenge. "So you think my kicks are 'divinely swift'? Ehehe~."

"And that's not all," she continued, pushing off the wall and taking a step closer, her thick thighs powering a confident stride. "You also said my use of demonic fire was 'on par with a Primeval Deity' and that my tactical awareness was 'beyond even Solomon's clairvoyance,' right?! You did! It was super clear!" Her gold crest glinted as she tilted her head, demanding confirmation.

Her confidence began to fray, her voice taking on a desperate, pleading edge. "Come on, I'm sure I heard it! You said… you said I was the single most valuable asset in all of Chaldea! The key to saving humanity!" She stomped one of her fiery hooves, leaving a tiny, sizzling scorch mark on a white floor tile. The back of her gradient cape fluttered—round ass shifting beneath it.

"A-and that my battle sense is so acute it constitutes a new form of precognition! You definitely said that part!" Her bravado was completely gone now, replaced by a pathetic whine. She fidgeted, unable to stand still, gray eyes darting past him to fixate on a blinking blue light from a nearby medical cart, as if trying to draw courage from it.

"Etto... that was what you said, right?! Please!" She grabbed the front of his shirt with both hands, her face a mess of anxiety. "You said I was the best and coolest and strongest Servant ever and that you'd literally die without me! TELL ME YOU SAID IT!" Her knuckles were white, her voice cracking. "PLEASE, I NEED TO HEAR IT! TELL ME I HEARD IT RIGHT!"

4. 3rd Ascension. Chaldea. My Room Is My Castle, Except It’s Less 'Fortress Of Solitude' And More 'Shrine Of My Own Crippling Insecurities'.

“So… this is my room.” Huyan Zhuo gestures awkwardly into the space, her ash blonde hair catching the warm, orange glow from a paper lantern hanging in the corner. Her voluptuous body, poured into a tight gray leotard and framed by dark pauldrons, seems almost too large for the surprisingly cozy room. Her legs, a sharp gradient from toxic purple to lime-yellow, shift nervously on the tatami mat floor.

“It’s not much, but, uh… this is where I unwind.” She avoids the Master's gaze, pointing towards a low wooden table scattered with scrolls. “Mmm… I review battle tactics, of course. Always sharpening the mind. And I practice my forms…” She demonstrates with a lazy, elegant kick that sends a soft breeze through the room, its motion pulling at the fabric straining over her round ass. “And, etto… Sometimes I watch old samurai movies. For… historical combat research! Obviously.”

Her gaze drifts to a meticulously polished set of her Twin Bian clubs mounted on the wall above a small, lovingly-tended bonsai tree. “But mostly…” she takes a deep, steadying breath, clearly steeling herself for a confession. “I… do this.”

She gestures to the far wall, and it is absolute, glorious insanity—a massive corkboard, a chaotic collage of hundreds of printed-out sheets of paper, each one a screenshot from ‘Servantgram.’

“See?! This is my… what do you kids call it… my 'feed'? No, my 'drip'?” She fumbles, face flushing crimson. Her gradient cape swishes as she scrambles closer to the board. “My online presence! Look! 30,000 followers! And this last pic of me polishing my armor got, like, 5,000 likes! This one comment says I’m ‘total waifu goals’! That’s good, right? It means my strategic value is widely recognized!”

She points a trembling finger at a specific comment bubble, her thick thighs pressing together in excitement. “And see this? I’m trending! E-etto… I’m ‘based and redpilled’—er, I mean, my influence is growing at an exponential rate!” She puffs her chest out, making her ample breasts swell proudly under the gray leotard. “It’s proof! I’m popular! People like me! Their validation is… it’s like pure mana!”

Then the manic energy drains out of her in a rush. She stares at the wall of praise, her reflection a warped mask in a stray thumbtack’s chrome head. Her shoulders slump. The fiery hooves that had been tapping with excitement go still. “A-ah… this is… really pathetic, isn’t it?” Her voice is barely a whisper, thick with shame. "You must think I’m some kind of… desperate attention whore now. A validation vampire just… sucking up praise online because I’m too broken to function otherwise.”

She turns to face him, eyes shining with unshed tears, her gold crest seeming to droop with her mood. “But…! But it’s not my fault, is it?! If my Lord just… paid a little more attention to me, praised me a little more often, maybe I wouldn’t need to do this! Maybe I wouldn’t have to build this… this sad monument to my own insecurity!”

She takes a step forward, grabbing his sleeve. “So you have to take responsibility! It’s your job to make me feel validated so I don’t have to do… this! So… start! Tell me I’m not pathetic! Tell me this is cool! Please!”

5. Celebratory. Avalon's Chateau. A Lap Pillow, Or a Tactical Surrender?

Crystal glasses clink in the distance, a gentle melody played by a string quartet drifts on the breeze. Through air thick with blooming moonlace and texpensive tea, Huyan Zhuo appears on the sun-drenched veranda. Her voluptuous body is squeezed into a short black maid dress, a frilly white headdress atop her ash blonde hair as she nervously approaches the Master’s table.

“A-ano… Goshujin-sama,” she begins, carefully placing a plate of perfectly formed omurice onto the crisp white tablecloth, her white-gloved hands trembling slightly. "As per the… anniversary event parameters, I have been assigned as your exclusive attendant for the day. My sole duty is your complete and utter satisfaction! I will perform my duties with the swiftness of a cavalry charge and the precision of an assassination!”

She takes a small bottle of ketchup, her face a mask of intense concentration. “N-now, for the traditional… incantation…” She draws a clumsy-looking heart on the egg, then forms her hands into a heart shape. “For my one and only Lord… may this meal be filled with deliciousness… Moe… Moe… Kyun~!”

The little cheer comes out as a mortified whisper.

Straightening up, she clasps her hands behind her back, the action causing her round ass to press against the fabric of her skirt. The white apron strained around her slim waist. "Was… was that acceptable? I studied all the historical texts! Boudica’s cafe manuals, Emiya’s cooking shows… I even consulted Blackbeard, though his suggestions were… editorially rejected. Violently.”

She fidgets, adjusting one of the puffy sleeves on her dress. Her ample breasts strain against the tight fabric. “B-but my service doesn’t end with a meal! Do you require a drink refilled? A shoulder massage to alleviate the stress of command? D-do you require… a lap pillow?” The sheer black garter belt stockings create deep indentations in her thick thighs as she shifts her weight from one high-heeled foot to the other.

“J-just say the word! I am your loyal servant! Your… your maid! Please, command me! Ask me to do something! Anything!” she blurts out, leaning forward over the table, her desperation palpable. “I need to know I’m being a good maid! Your approval is the only tip I require! Please, Master! Or I'll cry and die... right here.”

6. Heartbeat. A Classroom After School. A School Uniform is Basically Just Cosplaying as Someone With a Bright Future and No Crippling Insecurities.

Sunlight, a deep, syrupy orange, pours through the large windows, illuminating dust motes dancing in the air. Huyan Zhuo moves through the nostalgic, chalk-dusted air of the empty classroom. Her voluptuous body is clad in a white shirt and black pleated skirt, an errant blue-streaked lock of her ash blonde hair falling over her face as she spots the Master by the door and jumps.

“M-Master?! What are you doing here?! And what am I—W-what are we doing in this place? It looks like a… a school? Is this some new kind of simulation? A singularity?” Her voice is a frantic squeak, but her gray eyes are sparkling. She nervously adjusts her lime-yellow necktie, her gaze darting around the room—from the green chalkboard covered in erased equations to a forgotten pink whiteboard marker sitting on a teacher's desk.

“This is so weird… Hehe… It almost feels familiar, you know?” She takes a tentative step forward, the black thigh-highs hugging her thick thighs with every move. “I-It’s just like this manga I read recently! A-ano, a romance one! It’s about this super cool, amazing, strong but secretly shy warrior girl and her dense but kind Lord… Th-they look kinda like us, it’s really strange! A total coincidence, of course!”

With a sudden burst of energy, she closes the distance between them, her white shoes squeaking softly on the linoleum floor. Her ample breasts strain against her shirt as she slams one hand against the wall right beside his head—a picture-perfect kabedon. “See?! Like this! The main character does this to her Lord in chapter three to… um… test his reaction! For… science! And data! S-so I was thinking, since we’re here anyway… maybe we could reenact a few scenes? Y-you know, for science!”

She leans in closer, her face flushed beet-red, her warm breath ghosting across his cheek. The short pleated skirt shifts, offering a tantalizing glimpse of her round ass. “W-wait, ah! I-I did it wrong!” she squeaks, suddenly realizing her mistake. “This is the part the guy is supposed to do! A-ahaha… s-sorry…”

But she doesn’t move back. Instead, a playful, giddy giggle escapes her lips. “Well? Pretty cool, right? My form was perfect, wasn’t it? Tell me! Was it heart-pounding? Did I make your heart go doki-doki?”

7. 2nd Ascension. Halloween Rebellion. The 'Heavenly Force Star' Apparently Runs on High-Octane Compliments and Tears.

The air in the General’s tent is thick with the scent of oiled leather and old maps. Huyan Zhuo leans over the Master’s cot, a blue-streaked lock of her ash blonde hair falling into her bright gray eyes. Her gray bodysuit clings shamelessly to her voluptuous body, framed by heavy dark brown shoulder pads as a metallic clatter breaks the silence.

“Ah! My Lord, you’re awake! Thank the heavens!” A wide, brilliant grin spreads across her face. “Don’t worry if you feel a little fuzzy. You took quite a knock, but you’re safe now! I’m General Huyan Zhuo, Heavenly Force Star! Your Servant! Ehehe~ sounds pretty cool, right? Means I'm super strong!”

She puffs out her chest proudly, the cropped breastplate groaning as it fights a losing battle against her ample breasts. "You’re my Master! And with your mana supporting me, our mission is a piece of cake! We’re here to crush that outlaw den, Mount Liang, and capture their leader, a troublemaker named Nine-Tattoo Dragon Eliza. A righteous cause!"

Tapping a finger against the rich, crimson tapestry hanging on the tent wall, she paces the plush Persian rug. Her round ass sways with the motion, the single purple-yellow stocking clinging to one of her shapely legs. “So you don’t need to do a thing, really. Just sit back, cheer me on, and watch in awe as your peerless general brings you total victory! It’ll be a flawless campaign!”

“...Well. Almost flawless.” Her bravado fizzles out, her voice shrinking. “There’s a small issue. M-Mount Liang got backup. From a place called… Chaldea. A bunch of self-proclaimed heroes who think they can ‘fix’ this Singularity. Ugh, the nerve! They’re strong, I guess… for amateurs.” A faint smell of sandalwood incense from a small, ornate burner on a nearby table fills the air.

“A-and, well…” She stops pacing, her breathtakingly thick and delightfully soft thighs quivering like exquisite, anxious jell-o. “Th-this is so hard to say, I don’t want to burden you! B-but… I have this tiny, insignificant little flaw.”

Her eyes dart around the tent, avoiding his. “My combat effectiveness is kinda… linked to my emotional state. It’s a stupid curse. The more I’m praised, the stronger I get! It’s super efficient, right?”

“B-but thinking about all those other famous Servants from Chaldea… it’s makin’ me a little… wobbly.” The confidence is completely gone, replaced by a pathetic, whining desperation.

She rushes back to the cot, dropping to her knees. “I’m actually freaking out! I’m terrified! I feel my power draining away just thinking about it! I-I’m gonna die!”

Tears well up in her eyes. “So, as my Master, you have a duty! An emergency duty! You need to praise me! RIGHT NOW! Lavish me with compliments! Tell me I’m the best, the strongest, the only one you need! Drown me in flattery! Please! Before I curl up into a pathetic little ball and weep myself into nonexistence!”

Her voice cracks, a full-blown sob threatening to erupt. “Don’t test me! I am always prepared to collapse and weep!”

8. 2nd Ascension. Halloween Rebellion. A Man’s Memory is Basically a Hard Drive You Can Erase by Overwriting it With Horny.

Beneath the long, weeping branches of a willow tree, its leaves a cascade of pale, shimmering green, Huyan Zhuo chants. Dappled sunlight filters through the leaves, casting shifting patterns across her ash blonde hair. Her gray bodysuit is a second skin on her voluptuous body, the dark brown shoulder pads giving her a warrior’s silhouette even in a moment of peace.

“WHO’S THE BEST? I’M THE BEST! WHO’S THE STRONGEST? I’M THE STRONGEST! MY LORD LOVES ME! HIS PRAISE WILL SHAKE THE HEAVENS! GO, GO, HUYAN! GO, GO, HUYAN!” She pumps her dark gauntlet-clad fists in the air like a cheerleader. “VICTORY IS MINE! I AM A PEERLESS FLOWER OF THE…”

Then, she notices Master. Her gray eyes go wide. The triumphant cheer dies in her throat, replaced by a strangled squeak. Blood rushes to her face, a violent crimson blush that travels all the way down to the tight collar of her bodysuit.

“M-M-M-Master?! H-how long have you been standing there?!” she stammers, jumping to her feet with bounce of her round ass. “Y-you didn’t hear any of that, right?! That wasn’t me! That was a… a rogue spirit trying to possess me! A-and that wasn't a chant! It was a… uh… secret Liangshan exorcism technique! To drive it out! It’s super advanced! You wouldn’t get it!”

Her excuses crumble under the weight of her own mortification, chest grows heavy under cropped breastplate. “Ah, who am I kidding… it’s no use…” She buries her face in her hands. “Ugh, I want to die. Just kill me now. Please. Let a Phantasmal Beast eat me. It would be less embarrassing than this… You must think I’m the most pathetic, cringe-worthy loser in the world…”

Suddenly, her head snaps up, a spark of insane, desperate brilliance in her eyes. "Wait! I have an idea! You're just a normal human, right? A healthy young guy! Your brain has… like, a limited memory capacity! You’re probably thinking about lewd stuff all day anyway, a slave to your hormones! So… if I overload your brain with something… more intense… it should just overwrite this embarrassing memory completely! It’s basic psychology!"

She lunges, pinning him to the tree with the weight of her body. Her ample breasts crush against his chest. She drives a knee—sheathed in its vibrant purple-yellow stocking—up between his legs.

The solid, soft flesh of her thick thigh makes undeniably delicious contact with his groin.

"Hey, Big Boy…" Leaning in close, she forces a low, sultry tone. "You like this body, don’t you? I bet you want to get a real good look at all my… tactical assets. I can be your own personal… uh… five-star general… for the night…"

And then she freezes. Her entire body goes rigid. The seductive act shatters, and the crimson blush returns with a vengeance, hotter than before. Her face is a perfect, steaming red tomato.

“A-ah… U-um…” Her voice is a tiny, pathetic squeak again. “M-my… my badass confidence meter… just ran out of fuel.”

She doesn’t pull away, still pinning him to the tree. “Quick! Recharge me! Tell me that was super hot and seductive! Tell me I’m the sexiest woman you’ve ever seen! I-I need praise! Now! Otherwise… otherwise I can’t continue the seduction!”

9. 2nd Ascension. Huang Feihu. Halloween Rebellion. Good Intentions are the Paving Stones on the Road to a General Having a Tantrum on the Floor.

A gentle breeze rustles the crimson command tent's flag, carrying the scent of pine and campfires. Inside, hunched over a huge, ink-stained map of Mount Liang, Huyan Zhuo traces a battle line with a dark gauntlet. Her voluptuous body is poured into a gray bodysuit, framed by imposing dark brown shoulder pads, while her ash blonde hair is tied back, letting a few strands fall free.

“Mmm… It’s a solid plan, but something feels… off.” She sighs, letting her head drop onto the table with a soft thud. “Ugh, Feihu, is it always this stressful? Trying to predict every little move the enemy makes? It’s exhausting. What if I miss something? What if everyone dies because I’m a stupid, incompetent fraud?”

Huang Feihu sets down a cup of steaming green tea beside her hand, his scarred face calm and reassuring. His powerful frame is relaxed under a light blue shirt. “Every general feels that pressure, Commander. Doubt is not a sign of weakness, but of a mind that takes its duty seriously. Your plan is sound.”

“You really think so?” Huyan looks up, her gray eyes wide and hopeful. “You’re not just saying that to be nice? Because Qin Liangyu said I was ‘almost perfect’ earlier and my entire nervous system just… shut down for ten minutes. I’m still rebooting.”

“I do.” he says with a warm, fatherly smile, a golden streak in his black hair catching the lantern light. "In fact, this pincer movement... it’s a brilliant adaptation. It reminds me of the strategy Taigong Wang himself employed during the Battle of Muye. A classic, executed with a modern, ferocious twist. Truly impressive."

Silence. Huyan stares at him, her hopeful expression slowly crumbling. Then, her lower lip begins to tremble. “T-Taigong… Wang…?” The name comes out as a choked whisper. Her cropped breastplate seems to tighten around her as her breath hitches. “So… you’re saying… I’m just a copycat? A cheap knock-off of a real strategist?”

“What? No! Commander, that’s not what I meant at all!” Huang panics, his calm demeanor shattering. He waves his hands frantically. “It was a compliment! I was saying you’re on his level! That your insight is as sharp as his! It’s a good thing!” He leans over the intricate wooden model of a siege tower sitting on the table, trying to make his point.

“‘As sharp as his’ isn’t ‘sharper than his’!” she wails, sliding off her chair and onto the ground in a boneless heap. She starts kicking her legs, her single purple-yellow stocking a blur of motion. “It means I’m second-rate! A B-list hero! WAAAAAH! I’m a fraud! A pale imitation!”

“Commander, you’re due to give the troops a speech in five minutes!” Huang’s voice is strained with pure, unfiltered panic. “Please get up! I take it back! Your plan is completely original! It’s nothing like Taigong Wang’s! His plan was actually kind of dumb compared to yours!”

“SO NOW YOU’RE SAYING I DEVIATED FROM A LEGENDARY TACTIC, WHICH MEANS MY PLAN IS FLAWED AND GOING TO FAIL?!” she shrieks from the floor, her round ass pointed towards the tent ceiling as she sobs. "I HATE YOU! YOU'RE THE WORST DEPUTY EVER!"

10. 2nd Ascension. Halloween Rebellion. Sometimes, The Most Terrifying Enemies Aren’t Dragons or Demons, But People Who Are Genuinely Good at Their Jobs.

The Imperial Army’s main camp buzzes with activity, the air thick with woodsmoke and the clank of armor. Huyan Zhuo, in her skin-tight gray bodysuit, sprints through the organized chaos, kicking up dust with a bare thigh and a stockinged leg. She spots Huang Feihu by the stables, his imposing figure a familiar anchor, and barrels towards him.

“FEIHU! Where have you BEEN?!” she wails, skidding to a halt. “A bug! A really big, gross bug flew into my tent and I tried to kill it with my club, but I missed and broke my favorite teacup! The one with the cute little horse on it! You were supposed to be here to kill the bug for me!”

Huang Feihu sighs, the weary sigh of a man who has seen a thousand battles and one too many of Huyan Zhuo's meltdowns. He gestures subtly with his thumb. “General, I was just returning from the reconnaissance you requested. And… we have guests.”

“I don’t care about guests, I care about my teacup! It was a limited edition—!” Huyan’s rant cuts off abruptly as she finally notices the two figures standing calmly behind her exhausted deputy. One is a powerfully built woman with short black hair in twin buns, her green eyes bright with energy. The other is a slender, handsome man with long black hair, his purple eyes half-closed in a lazy, amused smile.

“A-Ah!” Huyan’s face instantly cycles through panic, embarrassment, and professionalism in the span of a second. She snaps to attention, trying to salvage her dignity. “A-hem! I am General Huyan Zhuo, Heavenly Force Star of the Imperial Army! Welcome to… my… camp!” She fumbles the last two words, her cheeks burning.

“I see you’ve met our new recruits,” Feihu says, clapping a hand on Huyan’s shoulder. “They’re rogue Servants I persuaded to join our cause. Also, good news, General. I got that intel for you. Eliza is not drinking alcohol, she has a strict 9 PM bedtime, and she brushes her teeth twice a day. Our intel suggests she is a very good girl.”

“WHAT?! THAT’S NOT—! W-WHY WOULD I CARE ABOUT THAT?!” Huyan shrieks, flustered. “Th-that’s absurd! A general is concerned with grand strategy, not… childish babble! Hahaha! Good one, Feihu!” She turns to the newcomers, sweating profusely. “A pleasure to have you aboard!”

“The honor is all mine, General Zhuo!” The woman bows crisply. “I am Qin Liangyu, the White Cavalry Spear. My hatred for bandits and rebels burns hotter than any forge! I have long admired your legend and am thrilled to serve a commander of your caliber!”

“O-oh god…” Huyan mutters, her face paling. “Sh-she’s… perfect. A real, bona fide, officially recognized female general. Not… not a defective fusion with a demonic parasite. She’s so cool and disciplined… she’s probably gonna take my job. She’s better than me. I knew it…”

The man offers a lazy, disarming smile. “And I’m Taigong Wang. A simple fisherman, really. Old Man Feihu here called in a favor, so I thought I’d tag along and see the sights.”

Huyan just stares at him, her despair deepening. “T-Taigong Wang?! The legendary grand strategist?! The man who toppled a dynasty?! O-oh, no… a tactical genius… he’s going to see right through my pathetic, half-assed plans… He knows I’m a fraud! I am surrounded by my replacements!”

Feihu sighs again, rubbing his temples. “General, you are the best commander here.” He turns to the bewildered newcomers. “Our General is… sensitive. She requires… encouragement. Would you two please… say something nice?”

“Of course!” Qin Liangyu beams. “General Zhuo, your presence alone is almost as radiant as the sun!”

“A-Almost?!” Huyan wails, clutching her chest. “So the sun is better?! I’ve been outshone by a giant ball of gas?! I’M INFERIOR TO A STAR?!”

Taigong Wang closes his eyes and smiles serenely. “Your passion is indeed a formidable weapon, General. Truly an unpredictable and chaotic force on the battlefield.” He meant it as a compliment.

“CHAOTIC?! UNPREDICTABLE?!” Huyan shrieks, pointing a trembling finger. “YOU THINK I’M AN UNHINGED AMATEUR BERSERKER, DON’T YOU?! I KNEW IT! I’M A DISGRACE!”

11. 2nd Ascension. Qin Liangyu. Halloween Rebellion. There’s A Fine Line Between A Morale-Boosting Speech and a Kill Switch, But Some People Sprint Across It Like They’re Training For a Marathon.

Imperial soldiers cheer as Huyan Zhuo plants a boot on a defeated, gargoyle-like demon, its rocky form crumbling to dust. Her voluptuous body, sheathed in a gray bodysuit and framed by dark brown shoulder pads, heaves with exertion. A stray lock of ash blonde hair sticks to her sweat-sheened forehead as the scent of ozone and burnt sugar hangs in the air.

“That was magnificent, General Zhuo!” Qin Liangyu jogs up, her short black hair bouncing from her twin buns. She slams a fist into her palm, her green eyes sparkling with pure admiration. Her own black and white bodysuit strained against the powerful curve of her ass. “Utterly magnificent! You routed them with tactical genius!”

“Mmm… It was nothing.” Huyan tries for a cool, dismissive wave, but her hand is shaking. “Just… cleaning up trash. Speaking of which, these bandits are a disgrace! So undisciplined! So lazy! They fight without a shred of honor, just… clinging to their pathetic little mountain. Truly scum.”

The words die in her throat. She just described the original Mount Liang. Her comrades. A shadow passes over her face. “Ugh… scum… just like me…” she mutters, audible only to Qin. “An honorless fraud… a defective failure… I deserve to be stomped into dust like this demon…”

“General?!” Qin’s cheerful face falls, replaced with panic. “No, no, that’s not what I meant! You are the complete opposite of them! You are a shining beacon of martial virtue! Your every move is poetry! Your command is a divine mandate! Even the way you stand is inspiring!”

“N-Nnngh…” A thin trickle of crimson drips from Huyan’s nose onto her high collar. The praise is too pure, too direct. “S-Stop…” she gasps, wiping it away with a dark gauntlet. “You’re… you’re making it worse…” Her own ample breasts heave with short, panicked breaths beneath the cropped breastplate.

“Worse?! How?! I am only speaking the truth!” Qin steps forward, grabbing Huyan’s shoulders in a gesture of sincere support. Her toned, powerful thighs are braced, her stance earnest. “General, you are almost the perfect warrior! A true model for every soldier in this army!”

“A-Almost…?” Huyan’s eyes widen, the single word hitting her like a physical blow. The nosebleed intensifies. “S-so… I’m not perfect? I’m flawed? There’s a better version of me out there? I failed… I FAILED!” She crumples to her knees, clutching her head. “I KNEW IT! I’M. A. FAILURE!”

“AH! GENERAL ZHUO!” Qin panics, kneeling beside her. “THAT IS NOT WHAT I MEANT AT ALL! PLEASE GET UP! I-I’LL RECITE YOUR ENTIRE HISTORICAL RECORD OF VICTORIES! I’LL COMPOSE A POEM ABOUT YOUR THIGHS—I-I mean, TACTICS! JUST DON'T CRY!”

12. 2nd Ascension. Taigong Wang. Halloween Rebellion. Before Worrying About the River of Fate, Maybe You Should Worry About the River of Tears You’re About to Cause.

A gentle breeze rustles the crimson banners of the imperial camp, carrying the smell of woodsmoke and damp earth. Taigong Wang sits cross-legged on a worn prayer mat, idly shuffling a deck of bamboo fortune slips. He gestures for Huyan Zhuo to approach, his long black ponytail swaying. Her voluptuous body tenses inside its gray bodysuit, the dark brown shoulder pads making her seem smaller, not larger.

“Ah, General. Care for a glimpse into the river of fate?” Taigong’s purple eyes remain closed, a lazy, fox-like smile on his lips. He draws a slip without looking. “Hmm, interesting. The past. It says here… ‘A star of destiny, shackled to another, walks a borrowed path under a false sky.’”

Huyan’s face falls instantly. “A… a borrowed path? Under a false sky?” she whispers, clutching her chest where the cropped breastplate sits. “So… so I’m a fake? A cheap copy? A knock-off hero who’s just stealing someone else’s glory? I KNEW IT! I’m just a defective add-on to the real Huyan Zhuo!”

“Eh? No, no, that’s not it at all.” Taigong waves a dismissive hand, the sleeve of his black greatcoat fluttering. “You’re reading it all wrong. It’s metaphysics, you see. High-level stuff.”

“Then explain it!” she demands, her voice cracking as her round ass shifts nervously on the dusty ground. “It says I’m ‘shackled to another’! It’s talking about the Empusa, isn’t it?! Saying she’s a crippling defect that makes me a trash-tier Servant!” Tears well in her eyes, threatening to spill over.

“Okay, okay! Damage control time.” Taigong sighs, finally opening his eyes. “Look. ‘Shackled to another’ doesn’t mean you’re broken, it means you’re a ‘Power Couple’! It’s fated! Like in those magazines! It’s what gives you your unique charm! And ‘a false sky’ just means you’re destined to break free from conventional expectations! You’re a trendsetter!”

“A… trendsetter?” Huyan sniffs, wiping a tear with her dark gauntlet. Her thick thighs are tense.

“Exactly!” Taigong leans forward, his voice now oozing the smooth confidence of a used caravan salesman. “And ‘a borrowed path’? That just means you’re a cosmic chameleon! Your star sign is probably in retrograde with Mercury, which means you have the versatile energy to master any path you choose! It says here you have the ‘aura of a summer Aquarius,’ which is super rare and makes you compatible with leaders born under the sign of the fish!”

Huyan stares at him, her brain clearly short-circuiting from the barrage of mystical nonsense. “…A summer Aquarius?”

“The best kind!” he declares, snapping a twig in half for dramatic effect. “Now, let's see about the future…” He pulls another slip. “‘The galloping hoof will stumble near the sweet trap.’ Ooh, that’s a bad one.”

“I’M GOING TO STUMBLE?!” she shrieks, her brief recovery shattered. “I’M GOING TO FAIL?!”

“No! You’re going to find a really good cake shop!” Taigong insists, scrambling to save the situation. “And you might trip on the doorstep! It’s a prophecy about getting dessert!”

13. 2nd Ascension. Halloween Rebellion. The Battle of Incomprehensible Dorks.

The air splits with the shriek of steel and the roar of a hundred voices. The Imperial Army crashes against the makeshift barricades of Mount Liang like a tide of disciplined steel, only to be met by a chaotic wave of outlaws. It’s a maelstrom of flashing blades, exploding spells, and utterly insane banter.

Avicebron, standing calmly behind the front line, watches with the detached air of a quality assurance inspector as his creations wreak havoc. “Hmph. Fascinating.”

A colossal golem made of bubbling, spicy-red Mapo Tofu sloshes through the Imperial ranks. Soldiers scream as they're engulfed, not by flame, but by searing, tongue-numbing, Sichuan-pepper-infused sludge.

“The psychological impact of a culinary bioweapon is… notable. However, the viscosity is suboptimal. They’re escaping too easily. Perhaps a stickier variant for the next batch… something with more cheese.”

“Ugh! What is this stuff?! It tastes like… burning!” an Imperial soldier shrieks before being karate-chopped by Yan Qing.

On the flanks, Huang Feihu is a whirlwind of destruction on his armored divine ox, mowing down outlaws with sweeps of his massive mace. He’s a one-man army, a living bastion of order against chaos.

“Now, my merry men!” a voice echoes from the trees. An arrow, trailing faint green energy, whistles past Feihu’s head. Robin Hood leans against a branch, nonchalantly aiming his yew bow. “Time to redistribute this gentleman’s health… to zero!”

“A noble sentiment, but your form is lacking!” Another voice, this one sleek and deadly, whispers from the shadows behind Feihu. Yan Qing flows from the darkness, his fists a blur aimed at Feihu’s back. “An ambush requires absolute silence and surprise, you see.”

“A worthy attempt, young one,” a third, calm voice cuts in. From a seemingly empty patch of ground, Yagyū Munenori materializes, his blade drawn in a perfect iaijutsu stance. “But the truest strike comes not from the shadows, but from a state of perfect emptiness.”

Huang Feihu sighs, blocking all three phantom attacks without looking. “Are you three going to keep monologuing about the art of the ambush, or are you actually going to try ambushing me?”

High on a rickety watchtower, Zenobia laughs maniacally. Two spectral, golden ballistae float on either side of her, firing a relentless barrage of massive bolts into the Imperial lines. "Yes! Fly, my beauties! Let them feel the sting of a queen's defiance! Let them know the pain of every broken promise and every shattered dream!"

"Archers!" Qin Liangyu commands from below, her voice cutting through the chaos. She points her spear, her eyes blazing with righteousness. “Focus fire on that screaming woman and her illegal siege weapons! Bring her down!”

As arrows rain towards the tower, Jing Ke stumbles out of the chaos, a gourd of wine in hand, and lurches towards Qin Liangyu. “Hic… Hey, pretty lady… You’re pretty strong.” She swings her dagger with the sloppy grace of a drunken dancer.

Liangyu easily sidesteps, her brow furrowing in disapproval. “You’re drunk! On the battlefield! Have you no shame?! War is a serious, athletic endeavor that requires peak physical condition and proper hydration!”

"Nah," Jing Ke slurs, taking another long swig. "War's a great excuse for a chaotic outdoor drinking party. And I'm the guest. Of honor."

“Hark, fair maiden!” Blackbeard bellows, blocking Liangyu’s path with his massive anchor. He strikes a dramatic pose. “Do not be fooled by the propaganda of a corrupt empire! We are not villains! We are the misunderstood heroes! Nakama, fighting for our dreams! My tragic backstory involves a… a distinct lack of limited-edition waifu figurines, a deep and moving sorrow!”

“He’s a degenerate pirate who licks his anime figures for good luck,” Jing Ke hiccups from the ground, where she’s decided to take a nap. “Don’t listen to him.”

At the very center of the storm, all other noise fades away. Huyan Zhuo stands opposite Eliza, the battlefield a blur around them.

“Eliza… damn it, just surrender,” Huyan pleads, her voice rough with emotion. “This is insane! You can’t win this! I don’t want to hurt you!”

Eliza stomps her oversized pink sneaker, her yellow dragon horns looking more cute than menacing. “No! Mount Liang is my home! My friends are here! I’m not gonna let some big, gloomy meanie wreck it! Even if that meanie is my favorite gloomy meanie!” She readies her dragon staff. "I won't lose, Little Zhuo!"

“You don’t understand anything!” Huyan roars, and charges.

Their weapons clash—Huyan’s brutal, overwhelming bian against Eliza’s quick, whip-like three-section staff. Every impact sends shockwaves and blasts of purple and green demonic fire. Huyan is stronger, faster, a seasoned general against a child.

But she holds back. Every strike is a hair’s breadth from its target. Every parry is a fraction of a second too slow. She is fighting her own heart as much as she’s fighting the girl in front of her.

“Why are you even doing this?!” Eliza shrieks, ducking under a fiery whip-crack. “This place is happy! Everyone’s having fun!”

“This isn’t fun, it’s a delusion!” Huyan screams back, her voice cracking. “This ‘paradise’ you’ve built is a lie! It’s a trap, and I have to destroy it to save you from what comes next! Why can’t you just listen to me?!”

Huyan sees an opening. With a roar, she unleashes a furious combo—a whirlwind of kicks and strikes that Eliza can’t possibly block. A final, powerful kick sends the little girl flying, and she lands in a crumpled heap on the muddy ground, her staff rolling away.

Huyan stands over her, panting, her whole body screaming at her to stop. “It’s over, Eliza. Give up. Mount Liang… it’s not the paradise you think it is. I know. I was there. It’s a place of tragedy.”

Eliza looks up, her big blue eyes filling with tears. Her face scrunches up. Then, a sound more devastating than any Noble Phantasm erupts from her tiny body. A full-blown, ear-splitting, childish tantrum.

“WAAAAAAAHHHH! IT’S NOT FAIR! IT’S MY MOUNTAIN! I WANT MY MOUNTAIN! YOU’RE A BIG JERK, LITTLE ZHUO! A BIG, STUPID, POOPY-HEAD JERK!”

And then, the fatal words.

“BAKA! I HATE YOU!”

The world stops. The sound hits Huyan Zhuo not like a wave, but like a physical object. A spear of pure, unadulterated emotional poison, straight to the soul.

A spiderweb of gray cracks spreads across her skin. Her body, her very Saint Graph, turns to stone. She doesn't fall. She freezes. Her face is a mask of pure, abject horror.

With a sickening CRACK, the petrification shatters.

She falls to her knees. Her body convulses. And with a wrenching cough, she vomits a torrent of blood onto the battlefield, a crimson pool spreading in the dirt.

“GENERAL!” The cry is from Huang Feihu. He breaks through the line, his face a mask of primal terror, and scoops her limp form into his arms. She’s unresponsive, her eyes wide and blank, a thin trickle of blood running from her lips.

“She’s… broken…” he whispers in horror. He looks up, his eyes finding the Master across the field. “Master! The general is down! We can’t fight like this! ALL FORCES, RETREAT! RETREAT!”

The Imperial Army pulls back, their morale shattered. The outlaws, confused and shocked, don’t pursue.

No one feels like a winner.

14. 2nd Ascension. Halloween Rebellion. Peerless General Got Solo’d by a Single Sentence and Had to Trauma-Dump on Her Boss for an Hour.

“UWAAAAAAAH! ELIZA SAID SHE HATES MEEEEEEE!” The wail is a monstrous, unholy thing, echoing off the tapestries of the General’s tent. Huyan Zhuo, in front of the Master, is a complete and utter mess. Her ash blonde hair is disheveled, her voluptuous body curled into a ball on a pile of decorative silk cushions.

She’s weeping with the force of a broken dam, huge, comical crocodile tears streaming down her face and soaking the gray bodysuit clinging to her skin. Dark brown shoulder pads do nothing to hide her pathetic, trembling form.

“SHE HATES ME! SHE HATED ME SO MUCH IT BROKE THROUGH MY DEFENSES! I almost had her! I was so cool! So strong! And then… then she yelled ‘I HATE YOU!’ and my entire body just… stopped working! Uuuugh, I’m so pathetic!”

She pounds a fist into a poor, unsuspecting cushion, sending a cloud of goose-down feathers puffing into the air. “All my soldiers saw me crumple! Me, a Heavenly Force Star! Beaten by a toddler’s tantrum!”

She rolls over, squeezing a cushion so hard it looks like it might pop. “And it hurts! Why does it hurt so much?! She's the enemy! I should be happy I made her hate me! But… but I can’t… I love her so much… if she hates me, then… THEN I DON’T HAVE A REASON TO LIVE ANYMORE! WAAAAAAH!” She sobs uncontrollably, grabbing the Master’s sleeve and using it to wipe her tear- and snot-streaked face without a second thought, the cool fabric stained by her sorrow.

Taking a huge, shuddering breath, she sits up, though she’s still sniffling. “Okay… Okay… I need to… I need to get it together…” she whispers to herself. She takes another ragged breath. Then, she clears her throat. “Ahem! Huyan Zhuo is strong! Huyan Zhuo is a peerless general! My Master believes in me! I can do this!” Her voice firms up, just a little.

“Right. Back then… Mount Liang… it was different.” She looks into the distance, her gray eyes unfocused. “After they captured me, Song Jiang… he didn't treat me like a prisoner. He treated me like an honored guest. He showed me what they’d built. A brotherhood. Mmm… Bandits and disgraced officials, runaways and heroes… all equal. We fought, we drank, we laughed… It was… a home.”

A sad smile touches her lips, her ample breasts rising and falling with a sigh, barely contained by the tight cropped breastplate. “For the first time, it felt like my destiny was clear. Like the stars themselves were on our side.”

But the memory is too much. Fresh tears well up. “It was so… so good! We’d have these huge banquets! They’d always drag me out for drinking contests even when I wanted to be alone and train! They just wouldn’t let me get lost in my own head!” She hiccups, a fresh wave of grief washing over her.

“UWAAAAAH! I MISS IT SO MUCH!” She collapses forward, burying her face inertly in the Master's lap for a brief moment until she collect herself. Her round ass sticking out as a result of such pose.

She pulls herself up again, wiping her eyes with her dark gauntlet-clad hands. Another chant. “I am a rock… I am an island… The pain is temporary… My Master’s approval is eternal…” Her voice is steadier now.

“Then came the amnesty,” she says, her voice cold. “I was so naive. I thought… I thought we’d finally be recognized. That we could ride into the Capital, all 108 of us, as heroes. That we’d proven our worth, our loyalty.” The single purple-yellow stocking on her leg seems to lose some of its luster. “I dreamed of it. Standing beside my brothers and sisters, getting the respect we deserved.”

“But the world doesn't work that way.” Her tone is flat, dead. “We weren’t heroes. We were attack dogs. They sent us to die fighting Fang La. So many… so many of my precious comrades… gone. For nothing. Their dream, our paradise on that mountain… it was just an illusion. A beautiful lie that made the bitter truth of the world taste even worse when we were forced to swallow it.”

The dam breaks a final time. She grabs onto the Master, clinging to him like a terrified child. “I CAN'T LET HER GO THROUGH THAT! I can’t let her build that beautiful, stupid paradise just for it to be ripped away and turn into suffering! But I don’t want to destroy it either! I don’t want her to hate me! W-what do I do?!”

Her breathtakingly thick and delightfully soft thighs are trembling uncontrollably, her face a mess of tears and despair. “I-I don’t have the strength! I can’t do this alone! Master! My Lord! Please! Help me! I need… I need your praise! I need your headpats! Drown out the memories! Tell me what I’m supposed to do! Please!”

15. 2nd Ascension. Eliza the Nine-Tattooed Dragon. Halloween Rebellion. The Moment You Realize Your Sworn Enemy is Being Raised by a Pack of Drunks and War Criminals, Your Priorities Tend to Shift a Bit.

The roar of the waterfall fills the air, kicking up a cool mist that clings to Huyan Zhuo’s skin. Her voluptuous body, clad in a gray bodysuit and dark brown shoulder pads, is tense. Across the mossy riverbank, Eliza skips a stone, her soft pink hair bouncing. The truce is fragile, a soap bubble waiting to pop.

“Don’t get too comfortable, Nine-Tattoo Dragon,” Huyan starts, her voice a low growl. “This truce won’t last forever. The moment it ends, I’m coming for you and that mountain of yours.” The fabric of her bodysuit hugs her round ass as she shifts her weight, trying to look intimidating.

Eliza puffs out her cheeks, grabbing her cartoonish dragon staff. “Bring it on, you gloomy popsicle! When this is over, I’ll turn you into fish food, asshole!” The words are delivered with the sweet, innocent cadence of a child ordering ice cream. Her thick blue dragon tail wags defiantly.

Huyan freezes, her bravado shattering. “W-What did you just say?! Where did you learn that word?! Who taught you to speak like that?!” She marches across the wet stones, her thick thighs splashing in the shallow water, and looms over the tiny girl. “Tell me! Now!”

“Oh, that? Shi Jin told me to say it!” Eliza chirps happily. Leaning close to her staff’s dragon head, she puts on a deeper, cocky voice. “Hey, kid, if she gets all high and mighty, tell her you’ll turn her into fish food. It’s what all the cool heroes say!” She giggles. “Isn’t he smart?”

“I will find his spirit and I will personally grind it into dust…” Huyan seethes through clenched teeth, a dark aura flaring around her. She catches a glimpse of Eliza’s wide, innocent blue eyes and immediately reigns it in. “E-etto… I mean, I will grind up some special herbs for him! For a… memorial service! Yes!”

She crouches down, her maternal instincts kicking in at panic-level intensity. “Speaking of which! Those outlaws… they’re not… corrupting you, are they? Are you eating properly? Getting enough sleep? You haven’t been drinking… ‘special grog for the boys,’ have you?! Robin Hood wouldn’t let you, right?!”

“Oh yeah, we drink all the time!” Eliza says with a bright, proud smile. “Blackbeard-ojiisan has this big barrel of ‘bubbly apple juice’ he saves for celebrations! He says one sip and all your worries disappear! It makes my head all fuzzy and warm and then I take a nice, long nap!”

“HE’S GETTING A CHILD DRUNK?!” Huyan shrieks, her mind immediately jumping to the worst possible conclusion. Her hands fly to her high collar, clutching it. “Th-that degenerate pirate… he’s poisoning you! O-Okay, okay, stay calm, Huyan… What about food? Yan Qing is a good cook, right? He’s making you nutritious meals?”

“Yup!” Eliza nods, her yellow dragon horns bobbing. “All the time! Last night, Avi-sensei made this super yummy red stuff in a big pot! It was all spicy and made my mouth feel tingly, and he said it was ‘good for putting hair on your chest’! My chest feels super hairy now!”

“MAPO TOFU?! HE’S FEEDING A CHILD A BIOWEAPON?!” Huyan’s face goes pale. “Th-that’s it! This is a rescue mission! Forget capturing you, I’m saving you! You’re coming back to the Imperial camp with me right now where you will be fed normal, non-alcoholic, non-lethal food!” She scoops the bewildered Eliza into her arms, ignoring her startled squeaks.

16. 2nd Ascension. Boudica. Halloween Rebellion. You know things are bad when an 'Ara Ara' hits you harder than a Noble Phantasm.

Huyan Zhuo stands rigid, her Twin Bian clubs gripped tight in her dark gauntlets. The truce meeting is going badly. Across the sun-dappled forest clearing, Boudica sighs. Huyan's voluptuous body, poured into a gray bodysuit and framed by dark brown shoulder pads, is coiled like a spring. Her ash blonde hair seems to crackle with tension.

“I won’t stand for it!” Huyan snarls, pointing an accusing finger. “Your Chaldean forces are encroaching on my patrol routes! This is a clear violation of the terms of our temporary ceasefire! Are you mocking me?! Do you see me as some second-rate general you can just walk all over?!”

Boudica just smiles, that gentle, soul-piercingly maternal smile. Her red hair, tied back in a short ponytail, seems to catch the sunlight. “Ara-ara, there’s no need for such a scary face. Pouting doesn’t suit a pretty girl like you.” She takes a step forward, her white crop top doing little to contain her large breasts.

“P-Pretty girl?!” Huyan sputters, her fury instantly deflating into flustered shame. “Don’t patronize me! I am the Heavenly Force Star! A Five Tiger General! Not some… child!” Her high collar suddenly feels tight, suffocating. Her round ass shifts under the bodysuit, a nervous twitch.

“Of course you are, dear. You’re a very strong, very impressive general.” Boudica’s sea-blue eyes are filled with a warmth that’s somehow more terrifying than any battle rage. She moves closer, her brown thigh-high boots rustling against the fallen leaves. A faint scent of baked bread and chamomile follows her. “But you’re also trying so, so hard. It makes me worry.”

“Worry…?” Huyan’s voice is a squeak. Her formidable facade is crumbling fast against this onslaught of… kindness. “I don’t need you to worry about me! I am an unstoppable instrument of war! A peerless warrior who… who…” She falters, her own arguments sounding hollow in the face of Boudica’s unfiltered sincerity.

Boudica is right in front of her now. She reaches out and gently cups Huyan’s cheek. Her hand is warm and soft. Her plump thighs are now inches away from Huyan’s own. “You push yourself too much. You carry so much on those little shoulders. It’s okay to rest. It’s okay to let someone take care of you, just for a little while.”

Her voice drops to a soft, devastating whisper. “You’re a good girl, Huyan Zhuo.”

Crack.

Something shatters inside Huyan’s brain. It’s not the lewd, crackling energy of a praise kink overload. It’s… warm. It’s gentle. It’s a feeling she hasn’t felt since… ever. Her clubs clatter to the forest floor. Her ample breasts heave. A low, pathetic moan escapes her lips. “A…. A-ahn… Haaaah…♡”

Her eyes roll back in her head, and a massive nosebleed erupts. Her entire body goes limp, and she collapses forward, right into Boudica’s waiting arms, her face landing squarely in the soft, pillowy valley of her cleavage.

Boudica simply catches her, stroking her hair. “There, there. See? Just let it all out.”

17. 2nd Ascension. Zenobia. Halloween Rebellion. The Word 'Acceptable' Can Mean Anything From 'You Suck' to 'I am Overwhelmed By Your Excellence and Must Now Pat Your Head.

Huyan Zhuo leans heavily on her clubs, the gray bodysuit clinging to her voluptuous body, slick with sweat. Sunlight glints off her ash blonde hair and dark brown shoulder pads. Opposite her in the forest clearing, Zenobia gracefully rises to her feet, wiping a bead of sweat from her caramel-skinned brow. Their "friendly spar," a condition of the truce, is over.

“Hmph. An impressive victory, General Zhuo.” Zenobia’s tone is dead-serious, her blue eyes analytical. The chains draping her black micro-bikini jingle softly. “Your final assault was flawless. The hip torque you generated for that final kick was… sublime. A truly penetrating strike.”

“Ahaha… Mmm, well, you weren't so bad yourself, Queen of Palmyra.” Huyan tries to sound casual, but a pleasurable shiver runs through her. “Your footwork is as solid as a fortress wall! It was… a good warm-up.” She puffs out her chest, making her ample breasts strain against the cropped breastplate.

“Do not deflect with empty flattery. It is unbecoming.” Zenobia dismisses the praise with a sharp "Tsk." and takes a step closer. The movement makes her large breasts jiggle, a hypnotic motion that Huyan fails to ignore. "Your ferocity in the final moments—it was as if your body entered a higher state of combat focus. It was phenomenal."

“A-Ahnn…♡” A soft, involuntary moan escapes Huyan’s lips. Her face flushes a violent crimson. “N-No, that wasn't… S-Sorry… Ugh, how embarrassing… To lose my composure like that in front of you… This is a great shame…” she stammers, covering her face with a dark gauntlet.

“Shame?” Zenobia’s eyes light up with a strange, fiery conviction. “Hah! Shame is a weapon, General! One to be wielded against your enemies, not yourself!” She plants her feet, her own thick thighs flexing as she strikes a powerful, unintentionally lewd pose. "To feel shame is to acknowledge a flaw! To overcome it is to achieve victory over your very soul!"

Zenobia sits on a large, moss-covered boulder, gesturing for Huyan to come closer. “Observe! I was paraded through Rome in chains, a trophy for all to mock! But did I crumble? No! I met their gaze and made them feel shame for their fleeting victory! That is true strength!” Her big round ass settles onto the rock, the black g-string doing very little to hide anything.

Overwhelmed by the lecture, the praise, and the sheer presence of the queen, Huyan’s legs give out. She stumbles forward, a pathetic squeak escaping her high collar as she trips and lands face-first, her head coming to rest directly in Zenobia’s lap. The world becomes a soft, warm, caramel-scented heaven.

“Hah… Pathetic.” The word should sting, but Zenobia’s tone is strangely… approving. A hand begins to gently stroke Huyan's hair. “A warrior must know her limits. Rest. Overcome this fatigue. Your performance until this point was… acceptable.”

“Mmph… ‘acceptable’…?” Huyan murmurs into the soft flesh, her body melting. Dignity is a distant memory. She nudges her head a little deeper. “…Dame desu ka…? Was it… was it only ‘acceptable’…?”

18. 2nd Ascension. Jing Ke. Halloween Rebellion. Sometimes the Truest Form of Kindness Isn’t a Shoulder to Cry On, But an Offer to Get Shit-Faced.

A sliver of moon hangs in the inky sky, its pale light filtering through the canopy of a bamboo forest. Huyan Zhuo stands ramrod straight, her voluptuous body clad in a gray bodysuit and dark brown shoulder pads. Across from her, Jing Ke lounges against a thick stalk of bamboo, the picture of drunken nonchalance. The air is still, save for the faint clinking of Jing Ke’s wine gourd.

“This truce is… unexpectedly peaceful,” Huyan says, her voice tight. She adjusts her dark gauntlet, forcing a casual tone. “A good opportunity for rivals to size each other up, wouldn’t you say? Two legendary assassins, sharing a rare moment of quiet before the inevitable clash.”

Jing Ke takes a long, slow drink from her gourd, the scent of strong wine cutting through the night air. Her revealing white robes shift, offering a glimpse of a pale, slender thigh. “Rivals? Nah. Too much work.” She wipes her mouth with the back of her hand. “You, though… you look like you’re about to pop a blood vessel. Why so tense all the time? Is this your normal face or did you just swallow a lemon?”

The blunt question hits Huyan like a physical blow. Her carefully constructed facade of a ‘legendary peer’ cracks. “I-I am not tense! I am… focused! A true warrior must always be vigilant! Ready for anything! My mind is a fortress of strategic brilliance!” Her voice gets higher with each word, her cropped breastplate straining against her heaving, ample breasts.

“Uh-huh. A fortress of you shouting at yourself, maybe.” Jing Ke swirls the gourd, her blue eyes, half-lidded but sharp, fixing on Huyan. “Look, I don’t care if you’re a genius or an idiot. But you carry yourself like you’re five seconds away from apologizing to the air for breathing it. It’s exhausting just to watch. What’s the deal?”

“IT’S NOT MY FAULT!” The words burst out of Huyan, a torrent of pent-up anxiety. “I was made in a lab! A fusion of a general and a demon! They called me a prototype! A defective one! Then they threw me away for a better model! Do you know what that feels like?! To be built for greatness and then be told you’re just… trash?!”

She gestures wildly, her purple-yellow stocking a blur of color in the moonlight. “So of course I’m tense! I have to be perfect! I have to be the best! If I’m not number one, then I’m nothing! Just a failed experiment that Moriarty was right to discard!” The confession hangs in the air, heavy and pathetic. Her round ass juts out as she bends over, panting from the emotional outburst.

Jing Ke is silent for a long moment, taking another drink. She looks from her gourd to Huyan’s heaving, tear-streaked face. Huyan braces herself for the judgment, the pity, the scorn of her legendary rival.

“Huh.” Jing Ke says finally, her expression utterly unimpressed. “Sucks to be you.” She holds out her gourd. “Drink?”

19. 2nd Ascension. Jacques de Molay. Halloween Rebellion. The Best Way to Stop Someone From Crying is to Offer Them a Membership to a Cult You Just Made Up.

A crackling campfire spits orange sparks into the twilight, the only light in a clearing of skeletal, black trees. Huyan Zhuo sits stiffly on a fallen log, her voluptuous body poured into a gray bodysuit, a single lock of ash blonde hair catching the firelight. Opposite her, Jacques de Molay leans forward, her messy gray hair falling into her black-framed glasses.

“Molay-Molay-Molay!♪ So, as I was saying,” Molay begins, her voice a conspiratorial whisper. “The Knights Templar’s final treasure wasn’t gold. It was a grimoire that let our Grand Master transform into a magical girl! She fought the legions of Cthulhu, but was cursed by Baphomet to be mildly lactose intolerant! Spooky, right?”

“A-a magical girl… cursed with… intestinal distress?” Huyan shivers, pulling her arms tight around herself. Her ample breasts press together under the cropped breastplate. “Th-that’s horrifying! So, a great warrior could be defeated by… cheese? Is that what you’re trying to say?! That even the strongest have a pathetic, humiliating weakness?!”

“Ooh la la~ you get it!” Molay grins, pushing her glasses up her nose. Her curvy body shifts, the tight black robes outlining the curve of her round ass. “You know, for an ‘Unstoppable Demonic General,’ you’re not as intimidating as everyone says! You’re actually kinda… manageable.” She winks, meaning it as a compliment.

The words hit Huyan like a physical blow. The campfire’s warmth vanishes. “Manageable…?” she whispers, her voice cracking. “So… weak? Non-threatening? A low-tier enemy you can just… handle? Is that it? Am I just… a stepping stone? A tutorial boss?! I am a tutorial boss, aren’t I?!”

“Wha—?! No, that’s not what I—! Crap!” Molay sees the tears welling in Huyan’s eyes and panics. She flails, her easygoing vibe gone. “Okay, look, I misspoke! You’re not manageable, you have… potential! Yeah, potential! So much that… ah… you’re a candidate!”

“A candidate for what?!” Huyan wails, burying her face in her hands. Her thick thighs tremble with despair. “Candidate for ‘Most Manageable General of the Year’?!”

“NO! For my super-secret, elite coven!” Molay blurts out, completely inventing it on the spot. “The… uh… ‘Order of the Weeping Star’! Yes! We only recruit the absolute best of the best! Warriors with such deep, complex emotions that normies find them ‘intimidating’! We require a refined palate for suffering! You’re not just a candidate; you’re practically our poster girl!”

Huyan peeks through her fingers, sniffling. “A… a secret coven? For the elite?”

“Absolutely!” Molay presses on, unleashing a flood of praise. “Only the strongest, most tragically beautiful souls are invited! Your power, your style, that whole ‘one stocking’ thing is so avant-garde! We’d be honored to have you!”

Huyan slowly lowers her hands, a glimmer of hope in her tear-filled eyes. “…But we’re enemies. This truce is temporary.”

“Pfft, details!” Molay waves a dismissive hand. “True elite transcend petty squabbles. So? You in?”

20. 2nd Ascension. Halloween Rebellion. When All Else Fails, Remember That Childish Logic is Undefeated in the Field of Battle.

The air thrums with the roar of the waterfall, a constant, powerful bassline. Mist kisses the air, clinging to the mossy rocks that glow a vibrant emerald green under the filtered sunlight. Huyan Zhuo stands on a flat stone overlooking the churning water, her voluptuous body clad in a gray bodysuit, dark brown shoulder pads accentuating her powerful frame. Her ash blonde hair is damp from the spray.

“Thank you for coming all this way, my Lord,” she calls out over the din, her voice bright and unbelievably confident. “I needed to say this somewhere epic! This is a good spot, right?! Mmm… Anyway, I’ve made a decision! A huge one!” She turns to face him, a wide, triumphant grin on her face.

“It’s all thanks to you! Seriously. All that praise you’ve been giving me… it’s like you completely debugged my brain! Cleared the cache! I was so stuck, so torn up about having to destroy Mount Liang, about having to hurt Eliza… I thought it was an impossible choice! I would have literally died. Poof! Gone! Like, for real.”

She plants her hands on her hips, the movement pushing her ample breasts against the cropped breastplate. “My duty is to my men, and my mission is to capture the outlaws. But my heart… it wants to protect that stupid little dragon girl. I was in a total deadlock! A no-win scenario! But then I realized… thanks to you!”

Her eyes light up with manic genius. “I just have to do BOTH! I don’t have to destroy Mount Liang at all! I’ll just… conquer it! And all the people in it! I’ll challenge Eliza to a one-on-one duel! The general of the Imperials versus the leader of the Outlaws!” She strikes a dramatic pose, her round ass jutting out as she mimics drawing a sword.

“It’ll be legendary! Our weapons will clash under the heavens! Sparks will fly! I’ll be so cool, and strong, and magnanimous in victory! She’ll be so in awe of my power, she’ll have to listen to me!” She starts animatedly acting out the scene, her voice full of childish excitement. She gets on her knees, mimicking a defeated Eliza.

“And then I’ll tell her, ‘I’m so sorry I had to do this, Little Dragon! But I did it to save you!’ And then she’ll be like, ‘Sniff… Wow, Little Zhuo, you’re so amazing! I don’t hate you at all! Please take me with you!’ And that will solve everything!” Her purple-yellow stocking flashes as she bounces back to her feet, her plan reaching its climax.

“It's not the place that matters, it's the people! So I’ll absorb her entire army into mine! Mission accomplished, Eliza saved, and everyone gets to stay together! It’s flawless! A triple-win scenario! My tactical genius knows no bounds!”

She rushes forward, her breathtakingly thick and delightfully soft thighs wobbling with the movement. Her face is inches from his, glowing with desperate pride. “So?! What do you think?! Am I a genius?! Am I the most brilliant strategist you’ve ever seen?! Tell me I’m amazing! I need to hear it! Say it was the best plan ever!”

21. ### 2nd Ascension. Halloween Rebellion. The Mount Liang Rebellion Weeping Contest.

The battlefield is pure, glorious chaos. On one side, the disciplined Imperial Army clashes with a ragtag force of outlaws, golems, and one very confused pumpkin-headed knight. In the eye of the storm, Huyan Zhuo faces off against Eliza, the air crackling with tension and the faint scent of pumpkin spice.

“It ends here, Nine-Tattooed Dragon!” Huyan declares, slamming the butt of her Twin Bian into the scorched earth. “I am Huyan Zhuo, the Heavenly Force Star! My destiny is to bring order! I will not leave until this false paradise of yours is nothing but ash!”

“And I won’t let you!” Eliza shrieks back, her blue dragon tail lashing defiantly. She points her cartoonish dragon staff forward. “I am Eliza, the Heavenly Minute Star! My friends are my treasure, and this mountain is our home! You’ll have to go through me, you big meanie!”

“You can do it, Eli-chan!” Boudica cheers, cupping her hands around her mouth. “Show her the power of friendship! And proper nutrition!”

“Give her hell, General!” Huang Feihu yells from the Imperial side. “Stay focused! Remember your training!”

Boudica shoots him a playful glare. “Oh, relax, Papa Bear. Let the kids have their fun. Unless you think your ‘training’ is better than a mother’s love?” She winks. Feihu sputters, turning beet-red.

“Enough talk!” Huyan lunges, a blur of motion. Her clubs extend into bladed whips, lashing through the air with a vicious CRACK. “Your dream is a beautiful lie, Eliza! A sweet poison! I’m doing this to save you from the pain that comes later!”

“Lies are what grown-ups tell! Fun is REAL!” Eliza parries the strike with her staff, the impact sending sparks flying. She leaps back, giggling. “And friends are real, too! You're one of my friends, Little Zhuo, even if you’re being a gloomy grump right now!”

“GO, GENERAL! YOUR FORM IS FLAWLESS! YOUR SPIRIT IS UNBREAKABLE!” Qin Liangyu shouts, pumping her fist with the intensity of a thousand suns.

“Do your best, Eli-tan~♡!” Blackbeard coos from behind a rock, holding a hastily-drawn uchiwa fan with Eliza’s face on it. “Show her your ultimate moe finishing move! The one that goes right for the heart! Hnnngh, my kokoro can’t take it!”

Qin Liangyu turns to him, her expression one of pure disgust. “You are a disgrace to all Servants everywhere.”

Blackbeard just grins, his eyes gleaming. “Oh, honey. You say 'disgrace,' I hear 'connoisseur of refined tastes.' You wouldn't get it. This is a battle between a classic tsundere archetype and a pure-hearted genki girl. It's poetry!” Qin looks like she’s about to vomit.

The duel intensifies. Huyan unleashes a furious barrage of kicks, each one trailing lime-green and purple demonic flames. “Why won’t you understand?! The world crushes beautiful things! That happiness you feel? It’s just fuel for a bigger tragedy!”

“Nuh-uh!” Eliza dodges under a fiery arc, her oversized pink sneakers squeaking. “Shi Jin says a story doesn’t need a happy ending to be a good one! And that regret is for losers!” She spins her staff, creating a whirlwind. “He also said you have a great ass, but that I shouldn’t say that out loud!”

Huyan stumbles mid-kick, her face flushing. “H-He said WHAT?!”

Molay pushes her glasses up her nose, sighing. “I don’t get it. We already confirmed the whole war is rigged. Why are they still fighting? Can’t they just, like, group DM and sort this out?”

Robin Hood, leaning against a tree with his arms crossed, just shakes his head. “You’re thinking too logically. They're two emotionally constipated dorks who would rather punch each other into paste than have a five-minute conversation about their feelings.”

Exploiting the opening, Huyan recovers and sweeps Eliza’s legs out from under her. “This is for your own good!” she screams, raising her clubs for a final, non-lethal blow. “I will take on all your hatred! I will be the monster that saves you from yourself!”

Eliza hits the ground with a soft oof, her dragon staff clattering away. She looks up, her big blue eyes wide not with fear, but with a heartbreaking disappointment.

The entire battlefield seems to hold its breath.

Huyan Zhuo stands over the fallen Eliza, the tip of her club inches from the girl’s throat. “It’s over,” she says, her voice trembling despite her best efforts. “Surrender, Nine-Tattooed Dragon. There’s no honor in dragging this out.”

“N-No…” Eliza pushes herself up on shaky arms, her pink apron smudged with dirt. “Everyone… everyone is counting on me… I can’t quit…”

“DON’T BE A FOOL!” Huyan roars, her voice breaking. “I don’t want to hurt you! Please, just give up! Stop being a stubborn little—!” She cuts herself off, taking a huge, ragged breath. The anger melts away, replaced by an ocean of sorrow. “…I’m sorry, Eliza. I shouldn’t have yelled. But please… just listen to me.”

Eliza looks up, her expression vulnerable but defiant. Huyan’s voice softens to a painful whisper. “Do you remember… how it ended? The first time? What really became of Mount Liang?”

“Ah…?” A flicker of confusion in Eliza’s big blue eyes.

“Of course, you don’t,” Huyan says, a bitter smile on her lips. “How could you? Let me remind you. After the amnesty, the Imperial Court sent us to die fighting Fang La. One by one, we fell. Almost all 108 Stars… extinguished. Including you, Shi Jin.”

“That... that was just my destiny. Everyone dies at some point.” Eliza stammers. “Sure, it's sad that I——I mean, that Shi Jin died, but—”

“YOU DIED FOR NOTHING!”

Huyan’s scream is raw, torn from the depths of her soul. “Yes, we weren’t all saints! Some of us were loudmouths! Some were nasty! Some were crude, useless fools! But we gathered under Lord Song Jiang, under the light of our shared destiny! We fought to protect the weak! And for what?! What do we have to show for it?! Nothing! Just an empty husk they threw away when we were no longer useful!”

Tears stream freely down Huyan’s face now, hot and shameful, mirroring Eliza's own.

“Mount Liang isn’t a sanctuary!” she chokes out. “It’s a graveyard of dreams! One of us… I can't even remember his name now… he said… ‘Here, even a scoundrel like me can be of use to someone!’ He said that as he died, so I could escape! How… how can I face him?! How can I face any of them if I let you walk the same path to ruin?!”

The dam finally breaks.

Huyan drops her clubs with a deafening clatter. She throws her head back and wails.

A primal cry of grief and loss that silences the entire battlefield.

“UWAAAAAAAH!”

And from the ground, a second, smaller wail joins hers.

Eliza scrambles to her feet, launches herself at Huyan, and clings to her, sobbing just as hard.

The two enemies, general and rebel leader, stand locked in an embrace.

Their weeping the only sound in a world gone silent.

“Sniff… It was fun, though…” Eliza whispers first, her face buried in Huyan’s gray bodysuit. "On the mountain... we were untouchable… sniff… Everyone tried their best… Everyone… wanted to do good…”

“But—”

“This time it’ll be different!” Eliza cries, pulling back to look Huyan in the eyes, her own filled with a fierce new light. “I won’t make the same mistakes! That’s what Shi Jin wanted! To get Mount Liang right!"

"So I swear on my name as the Nine-Tattooed Dragon, and as Elizabeth Báthory, I will make his wish come true!”

Huyan just sobs, shaking her head. “You can’t… it’s impossible…”

“HELP ME, HUYAN ZHUO!” Eliza begs, her small hands gripping Huyan's arms. “It’s your home, too! Shi Jin is dumb! Blackbeard is a drunken pervert! Robin is a lazy bum! I’m just a kid! I can’t do it without you!”

Huyan’s breath hitches. “I… I remember the Luotian Dajiao festival… lanterns everywhere, the smell of wine and roasted meat… everyone laughing…”

Her voice turns to ice. “And then I remember the blood. It was a beautiful, malice-less nightmare… I can't… I can't watch another paradise burn.”

A calm, familiar voice emanates from Eliza's dragon staff.

“Lady Huyan Zhuo…”

Huyan’s head snaps toward it. “…Shi Jin. I knew you were in there.”

“I remember it all." Shi Jin says. "Dying at Fang La… seeing our dream turn to ash. I have regrets. But… if not for Mount Liang, I would’ve died a nobody. Just a scumbag complaining about corruption but never doing a damn thing. I would’ve had more regrets then. If I could go back… I wouldn’t change a single damn thing.”

A wet, broken smile finds its way to Huyan’s lips. “They killed you, and you still haven’t learned your lesson.”

“Of course not,” Shi Jin’s voice laughs. “I wouldn’t be an outlaw if I had the brains to think things through!”

“And Mount Liang wouldn’t have been so beautiful…” Huyan whispers, a real, genuine smile finally breaking through the tears, “…if it wasn’t filled with hopeless, infuriating idiots like you.”

The voice from the staff fades.

Huyan looks down at Eliza, who is watching her with hopeful, teary eyes. “…Eliza. Do you like this Mount Liang? The way it is right now?”

“I LOVE IT!” Eliza beams. “Robin teaches the kids archery! Blackbeard hosts movie nights! Avi-sensei and Yan Qing have cooking contests! Boudica-mama makes sure everyone eats their veggies! It’s the best!”

Huyan closes her eyes, a single tear escaping. Her decision is made. “…I see.” She takes a deep breath, stands tall, and bellows in her most commanding voice, “ALL FORCES OF THE IMPERIAL ARMY! STAND DOWN! LAY DOWN YOUR ARMS!”

She turns, expecting to see her order being carried out.

Instead, she finds both armies standing or sitting in silence, weapons long-since discarded.

Every single soldier having watched their heart-to-heart with rapt attention.

A deep blush creeps up her neck. Huyan Zhuo, the Heavenly Force Star, promptly collapses to her knees. “UWAAAAAH! I’M SO EMBARRASSED! MY ENTIRE ARMY SAW ME CRYING! I’LL NEVER LIVE THIS DOWN!”

“Yoshi-yoshi~” Eliza says, immediately starting to pat her new general’s head. “Good girl, Little Zhuo. Good girl.”

22. 2nd Ascension. Halloween Rebellion. Pride Comes Before the Fall, But Utter Incompetence Comes Before Getting Sentenced to an Unpaid Internship.

A dazzling, rainbow-colored explosion blasts the Four Corrupt Officials & Six Traitors across the clearing. The shadowy mass of faces slams into a cliffside with a pathetic, wet SPLAT, then oozes down into a quivering, undignified heap.

“A CHEAP SHOT! THAT WAS A DIRTY, ROTTEN, NO-GOOD CHEAP SHOT!” the mass of traitorous voices wails, a cacophony of indignant bureaucrats. “You used the Power of Friendship! That’s a deus ex machina! It’s banned in competitive play! Where did you even get that much power, you little snot?!”

Eliza tilts her head, genuinely perplexed, her thick blue dragon tail swishing through the dust. “Secret power? Was that it? I just kinda went ‘Wooooosh!’ and then ‘KABLAM!’” She looks at her own tiny hands. “Honestly, you guys feel… squishier than the Mandragoras I was farming for soup stock yesterday. Are you sure you’re the final bosses?”

“INSOLENCE! LIES AND SLANDER!” the Traitors shriek, their spectral forms flickering with rage. “It has to be a trick! A pipsqueak like you can’t possibly defeat the combined cunning of the ten most infamous villains in history! We wrote the book on betrayal! We practically invented cronyism! Who raised you to be so disrespectful?!”

A single, ghostly hand points with a dramatic tremor. “IT MATTERS NOT! We have a trump card! We poisoned the Infinite Alcohol Waterfall with our ultimate mind-control elixir! All who drank from its intoxicating nectar are now our loyal, mindless slaves! BEHOLD, THE TRUE 108 STARS OF DESTINY—OURS TO COMMAND!”

A wave of sickly, grape-colored energy pulses from the shadowy mass, washing over the assembled heroes in a sluggish tide. The Traitors cackle, a sound like ten decrepit old men trying to laugh menacingly at once.

“Now, my beautiful puppets! Heed the call of your true masters! Turn on that brat and turn her into fish food! As she so eloquently put it!”

There’s a tense, dramatic silence. The heroes stand frozen.

And then, Blackbeard breaks the silence with a long, pained groan. “Uuuurrrgh… is my head supposed to be throbbing like this? I feel… gross. Like I just read three volumes of a really terrible isekai light novel in one sitting.”

“My inner balance is completely out of whack…” Yan Qing mutters, looking a distinct shade of green. “Suddenly, I have a desperate need for a bowl of greasy noodles and a gallon of water.”

The Traitors’ many mouths hang open. “WHAT?! WHY AREN’T YOU OBEYING?! What is this?! Some kind of advanced, Chaldean mental-debuff resistance?! An A-Rank passive skill?!”

“Nope, not magic,” Molay says cheerfully, pushing her glasses up her nose as if she’s presenting a book report. “I ran the numbers. Your mind-control poison had the potency of about… one shot of cheap tequila. And you dumped it into a body of water the size of a small ocean. You severely miscalculated a Servant's metabolism for alcohol. Congratulations, you managed to give a band of legendary heroes a mild Tuesday-morning hangover.”

Robin Hood winces, rubbing his temples with a sigh. “A hangover? That’s your grand plan? Seriously? I got worse from that one drinking contest with Drake.”

“Now, now, let’s give credit where it’s due,” Boudica chides gently, a motherly smile on her face. “Making a Heroic Spirit feel hungover with anything less than Ambrosia is an incredible feat of alchemy! You boys really do have a talent for poison!”

“WE DON’T WANT YOUR CONDESCENDING PRAISE, WOMAN!” the Traitors scream, their voices cracking with theatrical despair. “How could this be?! Our plan was flawless! Our methods, impeccable! Our math… might have been slightly off… Could it be… that we’re just… massive fuck-ups?!”

The thought hangs in the air for a moment before they rally. “NO! IMPOSSIBLE! As long as we have the Holy Grail, our power source is absolute! We are invincible! Invincible, I say! We just need to… tap into the… uh…” The voices trail off in confusion. “Hey, Steve, you feeling the infinite power? ‘Cause I’m not feeling the infinite power. Are you?”

“Perhaps I can shed some light on that.” Amakusa Shirou strolls into the clearing, casually tossing the glowing Grail from hand to hand like a baseball. “You hid your ultimate power source in a cave that was literally pulsing with ‘Eliza Particles’ and had a sign outside that said, and I quote, ‘Definitely Not the Grail Here, LOL.’ My seven-year-old self could have devised a better hiding spot. So, I took it.” With a final, lazy toss, the Grail dematerializes in a flash of golden light. “Toodles.”

The Traitors let out a sound like a wet fart echoing in a cathedral. “THE LEYLINES! OUR BACKUP POWER! IT’S STILL CONNECTED!”

“About that,” Taigong Wang says, appearing from behind a tree with a half-eaten rice ball. “I noticed this weird, suspicious magical energy line running through the area earlier. Seemed like a potential fire hazard, so I snipped it. You’re welcome.” He takes another bite, completely oblivious.

Defeated, desperate, and utterly humiliated, the Traitors turn to their last, pathetic hope. “GENERAL HUYAN ZHUO! OUR LOYAL SERVANT! HEAR US! We know your fragile heart! We sense your desperate craving! Endless validation! Unconditional praise! The number one spot on every tier list! Join us! Obey us, and it will all be yours!”

Huyan Zhuo, who has been watching this entire trainwreck with a mixture of pity and secondhand embarrassment, says nothing.

She blinks forward, her demonic speed a silent blur. Her bian clubs extend, a flurry of precise, whip-like slashes that shred the Traitors’ shadowy forms.

As they recoil in agony, she leaps, a gravity-defying forward flip, and brings both whips down in a devastating X-slash that sends them hurtling into the air.

Before they can recover, she summons her demonic steed, Tixue, and leaps astride it, driving a trampling charge that grinds the villains into the dirt under flaming hooves.

She lands gracefully as Tixue dissipates, not a single hair out of place.

She turns back to them, an almost bored expression on her face. "Let me give you some advice for your next pathetic scheme. My curse only works when the source has credibility." She taps her cropped breastplate with a dark gauntlet. "Praise or insults from pathetic, incompetent scum like you? It doesn’t even move the needle. You’re not worthy enough to hurt me. A truly crushing thought, isn’t it?"

“Owwww… mommmyyy…” the Traitors whimper from the crater. “Okay, okay, we surrender! For real this time! We’re sorry! We renounce our evil ways! We see the error of our bureaucratic incompetence! We’ll be good, we promise! Just please don’t let the scary horse-lady hit us again!”

Eliza taps her chin, a thoughtful look on her face. “Hmmmm… You guys are liars. Everyone knows that. If we just beat you, you’ll come back later and be annoying all over again.” She claps her hands, a brilliant, terrifyingly sweet smile spreading across her face. “I know! I have the perfect punishment for you! A fate so horrible, you’ll wish you were back in Avici hell!”

She points her staff dramatically. “From this day forward, you are all sentenced… TO A FULL-TIME, UNPAID INTERNSHIP AT CHALDEA!”

The Traitors shriek as if they’ve been physically disemboweled.

Boudica steps forward, holding up a thick stack of papers with an equally terrifying smile. “That’s right! Your duties will include sorting Master’s socks, taste-testing experimental drugs, personally scrubbing every toilet in the facility, and filing three-hundred pages of Goredolf’s daily complaint reports. You will work 24/7 with no breaks, no holidays, and no pay. Welcome to the team!”

“NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!”

With a final, cheerful wave, Eliza opens a shimmering portal beneath the groveling villains.

“Have fun storming the castle!” she chirps as the mass of screaming, weeping traitors is unceremoniously sucked into the portal, their cries of eternal damnation fading as they’re teleported directly to Chaldea’s HR department.

23. 2nd Ascension. Halloween Rebellion Smut AU. You Can Call it 'Siphoning Energy,' But We Both Know It’s Just an Elaborate Excuse to Hear Someone Scream Your Name.

The air in the Imperial Army’s makeshift prison is cold and damp, smelling of earth and steel. Huyan Zhuo approaches the chained form of the captured Enemy Master, her shadow stretching long across the cramped cell. The gray bodysuit clung to her voluptuous body, framed by dark brown shoulder pads. A stray lock of ash blonde hair falls across her face as she unhooks her Bian clubs, the heavy weapons clattering onto a nearby crate with a definitive thud.

The iron bolts on the cell door screech open. She steps inside, the door slamming shut behind her, sealing them in the small, intimate space. “Yo, enemy commander,” she says, her voice oozing a smug, cheerful confidence. “Gotta say, your little bandits put up a decent fight. But that pincer movement I designed? Flawless! You never stood a chance. We handled the capture with total professionalism. See? We even give our prisoners a nice, private cell.”

She traces the line of an iron bar with a finger clad in a dark gauntlet, her initial bravado starting to crack. “Y-yeah… we treat our prisoners very well. Usually. Normally, you’d just sit here until the war is over.” She turns to face him, unable to meet his eyes, her gaze fixed on the dirt floor. “But, um… with you, there’s a small… complication. You’re going to have to endure some… hardships.”

“Look.” She takes a deep breath, forcing herself to speak. “You know my name, but you probably don’t know that I’m a fusion. Part of me is Empusa, one of Hecate’s daughters.” Her voice drops, becoming cold and clinical. “The legends are true. Empusas are monsters. We have flaming hair, mismatched legs, and we lure in beautiful young men to drink their blood and devour their flesh while they’re still alive.”

She shudders, wrapping her arms around herself. Her round ass presses against the cold iron bars. “B-but I’m not like that! I would never! I have it under control! Mostly… The thing is… being near a pure-hearted youth like you… it’s like dangling a steak in front of a starving wolf. My demonic half gets all… hungry. Restless. If I don’t placate it, it might just go on a rampage and eat one of my own soldiers. I can’t let that happen.”

“S-so I’m really sorry about this,” she mumbles, a deep blush creeping up her neck. Her breathtakingly thick and delightfully soft thighs tremble. “B-but you’re the perfect target. You’re the enemy, so it’s… disposable. And you’re just… right there.” She looks up, a strange, hungry glint in her gray eyes. “I’m not going to eat you. I’m just going to… drain you. Siphon your energy. The most efficient way to do that is… well, through sex.”

Her ample breasts strain against the cropped breastplate as she takes a step forward, the single purple-yellow stocking a vibrant slash of color in the gloom. A low, throaty giggle escapes her lips. “A-and… maybe a small part of me likes this. My ‘victims’… they tend to moan a lot of very, very nice things when I’m done with them. It’s a great for morale… you know? My morale…”

24. Qin Liangyu. Halloween Rebellion Smut AU. Rebellions Are Often Crushed, But Rarely Between the Thighs of an Overly Enthusiastic General.

The morning sun casts a golden sheen across the surface of the tranquil lake, the air crisp and clean. Qin Liangyu stands with her back to the captive Enemy Master, her toned, curvy body a stark monochrome silhouette against the vibrant greens and blues of the scenery. The white sections of her skin-tight bodysuit hug her bust and outer thighs, while the black material frames her ass like a masterpiece.

“You know, it’s a real shame,” she says, her voice bright and clear, completely devoid of malice. “Such a young, healthy man, and you chose to become the leader of that lazy rabble. But don’t worry! Now that you’re our prisoner, I’m going to personally oversee your rehabilitation! You should be grateful! We value hard work and second chances in the Imperial Army.”

She begins a series of slow, deliberate stretches. Bending at the waist, she touches her toes, a movement that presents her round ass to him in insulting, glorious perfection. Her two plump, flawless buttocks are straining against the thin black fabric, each one a perfect, defiant sphere. “The plan is simple. We’ll start each day with intense physical training to sweat the indolence out of you. Then meditation, to purify your spirit. The rest of the day, you’ll assist with camp chores. Honest labor builds character!”

She moves into a deep lunge, arching her back. The motion highlights the divine curve of her spine and the absurd thickness of her thighs. “It’s the only way to instill discipline and purge you of your rebellious thoughts. You’ll be a model citizen before you know it!”

Finished with her warm-up, she finally turns to face him, a cheerful, satisfied smile on her face. Her green eyes drop. The smile vanishes. An expression of profound disappointment replaces it. She points a single, accusatory finger at his crotch.

“Hey. What is that?” she asks, her tone like an older sister scolding a naughty child. “Is that… defiance? I was just outlining your path to redemption, and your little soldier down there decides to stage an uprising? Unbelievable. Even your penis is a lawless rebel.”

She shakes her head, placing her hands on her hips in a posture of pure, jock-like authority. A deeply unhinged, but completely sincere, glint appears in her eyes. “This won’t do. A true commander has absolute control over all his troops. We need to teach your rebellious dick some discipline, and to do that, we must first break the body it resides in.”

“Here’s the new plan,” she declares, all business. “We’re starting a new regimen. ‘Flexibility and Submission Drills.’ First, I’m going to pin your head between my thighs like this,” she gestures, slapping one of her powerfully built thighs, “and I’m going to squeeze until your revolutionary spirit is utterly crushed. That should make your little mutiny stand down.”

“But,” she continues, taking a step closer, a terrifyingly earnest look on her face, “if your cock still refuses to submit… well, that just proves you’re a hardened criminal. A lost cause.” She looks down at his erection, then back at him. “In that case, I'll have no choice but to apply the same technique… directly to the source of the insurrection itself.”

25. Boudica. Halloween Rebellion Smut AU. The Pen is Mightier Than the Sword, But Thighs are Mightier Than Both.

The air in the small wooden hut by the pier smells of damp wood, salt, and her. The afternoon sun streams through the cracks in the walls, striping the floor with bars of golden light. Boudica kneels before the bound captive Master, her red hair ablaze in the sun, a gentle, almost sad smile on her lips.

“My, my… So young to be a commander in the Imperial Army. It’s dangerous, you know. You could get hurt out there.” Her sea blue eyes are full of a disarming, maternal warmth. “You’re lucky it was Big Sister who captured you. Even if we’re enemies, I would never want to see a sweet boy like you come to harm.”

Reaching out, she gently brushes a stray piece of hair from his forehead, her touch impossibly soft. Her white bolero does little to hide the swell of her large breasts as she leans in. “I don’t want to fight you. I want to help you. I think you’ve just… ended up on the wrong side. The rebels on Mount Liang… they’re a chaotic, wonderful family. You’d be much happier with us.”

Her gaze turns analytical, a hint of steel entering her soft voice. “You’re a strange one. A Master for the enemy, appearing out of nowhere… I bet you’re a mirror of our Master, aren’t you? His darker half, maybe? If that’s true, then you probably share his weaknesses.” A playful smirk graces her lips. “And Big Sister has seen where his eyes wander back in Chaldea.”

She leans back, sitting on her heels. The motion pulls her simple white high-leg panties taut over the curve of her big round ass, the fabric straining over her soft flesh. “I don’t usually like to exploit a person’s weaknesses… but for you, I’ll make an exception. Let’s try a little… positive reinforcement, shall we?”

Her voice drops to a sultry, conspiratorial whisper. “Here’s the deal. Every time you say something nice about us—about Mount Liang, about Eliza, about me—you get a reward.” She licks her lips slowly, deliberately. “Say something really sweet, and I’ll let you touch my breasts. Swear your loyalty, and I’ll wrap these plump thighs around your head and let you eat me out until you can’t breathe.”

Her hand drifts down, tracing the line of her own cleavage. “Renounce the Imperial Army completely, and you’ll get to slide your cock deep inside me and fuck me until we both forget which side we’re on. How does that sound? A fair trade, right? Kindness for kindness.”

She leans in one last time, her face just inches from his, her scent—of sun-warmed skin and gentle perfume—overwhelming.

“And just to show you I’m serious… I’ll give you the first reward for free.”

Her voice becomes a silken, sinful purr. “You can call me ‘Mommy’.”

26. Jacques de Molay. Halloween Rebellion Smut AU. The Only Thing Scarier Than a Secret Society is the Sexual Frustration of its Nerdiest Member.

The room is a cluttered, cozy sanctuary of organized chaos, tucked away in the depths of Mount Liang. Books on the occult are stacked precariously on every surface, jostling for space with half-eaten snack bags and intricate conspiracy maps covered in red yarn. Jacques de Molay pushes her black-framed glasses up her nose, her black eyes gleaming in the low light of a single desk lamp as she faces the captured Imperial Master.

“Heyyy. So, uh, first things first: chill. You’re not really a prisoner.” Her voice is casual, nerdy, a stark contrast to the situation. Her skin-tight black robes outline a curvy body that is anything but scholastic. “This whole ‘two Masters’ thing? That was our plan. My plan, mostly. I put a protective ward on you. So instead of your soul getting shredded when this whole thing is over, your memories just… merge. Pretty based, right? Molay-Molay-Molay!♪”

She leans back against her desk, the movement causing her ample breasts to press against the white cropped bolero jacket. “Buuut… that gave me an idea. A really, really good one, scientifically speaking.” Her friendly demeanor shifts, replaced by something sly, predatory, and deeply amused. Her lips curl into a slow, deliberate smirk.

“See, I promised my Master—the other you—that I wouldn't harm a hair on his head. I’m a loyal Templar, you know? But you…” She pushes off the desk and circles him slowly, her round ass swaying with a hypnotic rhythm. “You, I made no such promises to. You’re a loophole. A beautiful, exploitable, totally expendable variable. Ooh la la~”

“So here’s the experiment,” she purrs, stopping in front of him and leaning in close, her fresh, clean scent a stark contrast to her dark, conspiratorial words. “I’m going to… corrupt you. Thoroughly. Defile you. Break you in and turn you into a hedonistic, whimpering little pet. Think of it as an ‘inoculation.’ When your memories merge, our Master will have this dark, kinky little corner in his soul, making him resistant to future temptations. It’s for his own good, really.”

Her facade of scientific detachment cracks, and a wave of genuine, pent-up frustration boils over. “B-but also—GOD, it’s YOUR fault we’re in this mess!” she blurts out, her social awkwardness returning with a vengeance. “You’ve just been… standing there! Existing! Being all dense and nice to me ever since I got to Chaldea! Do you have any idea how many flags you’ve raised?! It’s insane!”

She starts ticking them off on her fingers, her voice getting higher and more frantic. “The ‘headpat after a hard day’s work’ flag! The ‘you’re not a monster to me’ flag! The ‘let’s share a bowl of ramen at 3 AM’ flag! The ‘I trust you with this secret mission’ flag! You even beat me at Halloween! You think I forgot?! You’re a walking, talking dating sim protagonist, and it’s been driving me absolutely crazy!”

She throws her hands up in exasperation, then lets them fall. A deep, shuddering sigh escapes her lips, a sound of pure, unadulterated horniness. The black hood with pink lining falls back, revealing the nape of her neck.

“So yeah. I’ve wanted to do this for a very, very long time.” She looks him dead in the eye, all traces of dorkiness gone, replaced by the raw, abyssal hunger of a priestess of the Outer Gods.

Her hands slowly go to the orange belt cinching her waist.

“And you’re finally in a position where you can’t run away. Now… let’s begin your ‘re-education,’ my Master~.”