CHAPTER 732: CHAPTER 113 - TRIS (7)

I seized Prisk’s bloated head in my palm.

The flesh beneath my grip squished like warm dough as I hoisted him effortlessly into the air, despite the fact he had the bloated mass of nearly two hundred kilograms.

His grotesque body wobbled and shook, fat folding over itself like layers of lard.

"H-Huh?! W-Why?! I can’t move!" he cried out in a shrill, pitiful tone.

His limbs twitched, spasmed, desperate to resist.

But no matter how much he flailed or squirmed, nothing worked.

Ayuru had already done her part.

She had flooded his body with a surge of mana so potent, so violently unstable, that it completely tore apart his natural mana circulation.

It left his body paralyzed, void of balance and helpless.

"W-What the fuck is this?! P-Poison?! Is it poison?!"

"Oh no, my beloved Lord Husband," I said coldly, narrowing my eyes. "If it were poison, that’d be mercy."

Because what I’d done to him wasn’t something so kind.

Poison could be treated, purged, and healed.

But this?

This would leave him crippled and irreversibly broken.

His legs would never support him again. No magic or miracle would change that.

I began dragging his limp, heavy body along the polished floor, his mass sliding with a grotesque squelch.

From the bed, the woman stirred.

Her voice was small, dazed. "Eh...?"

"You don’t need to be afraid anymore," I told her gently, my voice low but certain. "Find Tris. Get out of this place. And if you want to see justice delivered... then come outside."

Her eyes searched mine, cloudy with confusion—but beneath it, I saw recognition.

Not of me, but of the moment.

As if this was something she had clung to in countless sleepless nights. A hope she never let die.

Even when everything screamed despair... she still dreamed of this.

And now—her dream had taken form.

"Now then," I muttered with a dark smile. "Shall we?"

I turned and continued dragging the bastard, the back of his robes soaking up every bit of filth and blood left in our wake.

"Eeeeeekkk!!!"

His scream split the air like a guttural screech from a slaughterhouse.

"Help! Guards! Where the fuck are my guards!? I’m being dragged! Killed! Stop her right no—! W-Wait!! Don’t kill her! Don’t kill her! Bind her arms instead! I want to fuck her first!!"

Even now—this sack of shit still couldn’t control his disgusting lust.

Truly, this man was ruled by his cock.

I wouldn’t be surprised if he fucked anything that breathed—or didn’t.

If it twitched, he’d mount it.

And it was precisely that hunger that made it easy to bait him.

"Fufufu..." I laughed softly and mockingly. "You really are a pervert," I told him. "But don’t worry. You won’t be thinking those filthy thoughts ever again."

As I continued dragging him down the corridor, he suddenly gasped.

His eyes widened, and his face turned pale.

The hallway ahead had transformed.

What was once a lavish passage of gold-trimmed marble now lay soaked in blood with it dark, gleaming red that painted the floor like spilled wine.

The walls had streaks of crimson. The scent of iron choked the air.

"Eeeeeekkk!"

He squealed like a pig being taken to slaughter.

Because now... he was surrounded by death.

Blood pooled in every corner, seeping through the cracks in the tiles.

Scattered all around were twisted corpses with limbs bent unnaturally, eyes open, throats slashed clean.

His guards.

I’d butchered them all before reaching him.

And I didn’t feel even a flicker of guilt.

These weren’t just guards.

They were his enforcers.

The ones who obeyed his every wicked order.

Normally, I might’ve felt a shred of remorse. After all, they were just doing their jobs, right?

But no.

They were complicit.

They extorted the poor, imprisoned the innocent, and violated women without hesitation.

They were greedy, cruel men. Rotting from the inside.

They deserved everything they got.

Prisk’s body bumped against something on the floor, and he dared to glance down.

What greeted him was the blank stare of a severed head—its lifeless eyes wide open in eternal horror.

"AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!"

His scream echoed through the blood-drenched hall.

"Shh... hush now, Lord Husband," I said, leaning down. "You might wake the rest of your guards. Oh wait—" I grinned, "you don’t have any left."

"Ah! No, please! I-I can give you anything! You want money?! I have money! Or women! I’ll give you as many as you want! Just say the word!!"

Typical.

Still throwing bribes like his filthy wealth could solve everything.

He really thought I wanted women? Or coin?

He really didn’t get it. He couldn’t

get it.

Maybe he forgot I was a woman now—or maybe he thought I swung that way.

"You’re mistaken, Lord Husband," I told him calmly. "I’m just giving you what you’ve earned."

He whimpered.

I resumed dragging his quivering body, his squeals now quieter, desperate, and pleading.

But there was no escape for him.

It was already over.

At last, we reached the front yard of his estate.

The night wind was still and cold. It was heavy with tension.

I threw him down like garbage and began tying him to the wooden stake in the center of the courtyard.

"What the fuck are you doing?! Let me go!! This—this isn’t right! This shouldn’t be happening to someone like me! D-Do you even know who I am?!"

"Oh, I know exactly who you are, Lord Husband," I said with a wicked smile. "You’re the great Lord Husband, remember? Revered by many. And so... I’ll treat you just like that."

I bound his thick arms high above his head with vines, letting the tension pull his fat body upward. Then I tied his feet down, anchoring him like a sacrifice.

"What the hell are you planning?! Let me down now! This is treason! You’ll be executed for this!!"

I stood back, admiring my work. And then...

The doors behind us opened.

One by one, women stepped out from the manor—each of them once victims of this bastard.

"Oh, would you look at that," I said, looking up at him. "It’s all of your beloved wives, Lord Husband."

"Fuhahahaha!" He burst into a delusional laugh. "Yes! My wives! Finally! Come on—get me down from here!!"

He genuinely thought they were here to save him.

But none of them moved.

They just stood there. Silent. Cold.

Their eyes full of something darker than hate—something older.

"What the fuck are you doing?! Get me down!! Now!!"

Still, not a single one of them stepped forward.

"I swear, I will fucking punish each and every one of you for this!! Do you hear me?! I will!!"

His voice cracked. Saliva flew from his lips. His eyes darted between them, searching for even one sign of obedience.

But all he saw...

Was the glare of women who were done being afraid.