Chapter 61

“AAAAARGHH!” Number Sixty-three, the hairy hobo, screamed in desperation as he fired arrow after arrow at Number Forty.

The hobo barely aimed. The harrowing, ear-piercing screeches that came from the running, rolling three-foot ball of fire fueled Number Sixty-three’s terror of suffering a similar fate and kept him from thinking of anything else but keeping the murdering, naked, blood-covered demon away.

He held his crossbow minigun at the hip as the weight of the weapon proved too much for the ill-prepared man to handle and relied on the sheer volume and the speed of his arrows rather than skill and aim. He hoped, begged that at least one arrow would strike true and put the human demon down. But, instead of coming closer to hitting his naked zig-zagging target, the hobo’s arrows seemed to be further and further off-mark with each passing second.

The only thing Number Sixty-three’s barrage accomplished was keeping the naked girl at bay. By this point, it became obvious that the hobo would only be able to hit his mark if she came so close that even a child could score a hit.

Instead, Number Forty closed the distance between her and the gazellekin who threw her boomerang at the quickly approaching naked. Even as she unleashed her boomerang, the gazellekin came to terms with the fact that she would not score a hit.

If a river of flames failed ... If even a barrage of arrows could not stop her, how could I? The gazellekin kept asking herself, crushing her own spirit, ensuring that her disheartened attacks could not possibly be successful. After so many failures? There’s no way!

And with that attitude the bladed boomerang missed a target that was closer than ever before: less than thirty feet and closing in fast

Useless! Why didn’t I pick the other one!? The gazellekin despaired. Fuck!

“BRING IT ON!!” the gazellekin screamed with tears in her eyes and raised her fists, resorting to close combat to fight for her survival. She lunged at the girl bringing the resolve she so clearly missed before.

Whether from surprise or some other distraction, Number Forty was too late to properly deflect a simple punch that grazed her chin.

This is my chance! The hobo cheered when he saw his target finally slow down, entangled in hand-to-hand combat.

Click

“NOT AGAIN!!” the hobo cursed when the pull of a trigger did not yield even a single arrow. I have to reload, I have to—

The unkept hairy man’s head flew clean off his shoulders, severed by a flying flaming katana, that came from the direction of the diminishing ball of fire that was the dead old catgirl as her charred remains burned away and turned to ash.

I ... I can do this! The gazellekin suddenly found herself hopeful. The naked girl was a piss-poor fighter as it turned out. And even if the gazellekin was no expert herself, her average abilities, an advantage in physical buil, d and a decisive leg sweep were more than enough to land Number Forty right on her black thong-wearing butt.

Number Forty looked up at the triumphant gazellekin who had regained her lost confidence and stood over her knocked-down opponent. At that very moment, a familiar flaming katana flew through the air with diminished flames that were partially put out by the high flying speed and the blood of the decapitated Number Thirty-seven.

However, the gazellekin did not lose her head. She ducked and easily countered Number Forty’s feeble leg kick, retaliating with a simple, straightforward punch in the gut while the katana zapped over them.

“You’re not the only one that knows how to dodge!” the gazellekin declared triumphantly, smiling ear to ear as she pinned her naked opponent to the ground and punched her in the face.

“Hahaha! Not so tough without your little ka—KHRAAHK!?” the gazellekin’s triumph ended abruptly when she suddenly choked on something that flew into her wide-open mouth along with Number Forty’s spit.

The gazellekin’s eyes widened in horror as she recalled the fate of the goatkin. She shooked her head, trying to plead with tears in her bulging eyes as she gagged on something lodged in her windpipe, clawing at her own throat, desperate to get the foreign object out.

But there was no mercy in the Number Forty’s crimson eyes. Even as the side of her face reddened and swelled from the punch, Lilith looked at the choking young gazellekin that clawed the skin off her own throat, and calmly said just two words: “Bubble pop.”

The gazellekin’s throat burst apart, unleashing a fresh coat of blood and meat across Number Forty’s face.

With all the attention on Number Forty, the white-masked miss Ruby stood behind the shirtless staff of the arena and couldn’t help but not-so-subtly touch herself as she watched with envy the amounts of blood that her wannabe future opponent showered in.

The headless corpse of the gazellekin slumped over its decapitator. More blood pumped out of the burst neck, covering Number Forty’s upper body in a warm coat.

The spectators all around the round arena platform cheered louder and louder with each consecutive kill, the complete opposite of the announcer who maskpalmed with both hands, appalled by the utter incompetence of the volunteer group she had such high hopes for.

“Finally, some good action!”

“She might just pull this off!”

“If that little grandpa’s daughter or whatever gets through this, she’ll probably win the whole thing!”

“What are those explosions she’s creating?”

“Who knows!? Keep ‘em coming!”

Lilith pushed the dead body of the gazellekin off herself and rose to her feet but before she could take another step, a leather rope wrapped around her arms and blood-covered naked chest. It made several loops around, pressing the girl’s arms to her sides until the engorged tip of the rope slapped the girl hard through the previous layer of rope where precisely where her right nipple was.

“Ah!” Number Forty winced from the sharp—but not unbearable—pain. She turned her head back and saw that the rope that bound her breasts was in fact a whip, tense along all its length of over fifty feet, the handle of which was held by the furry, tiger-like beastkin that burned her dress, Number Fifty-eight.

In his right hand, the tigerkin tightly gripped the handle of whip, in his left—a massive metal shield with a protruding metal head of a menacing bull with large horns and a nose ring decorating the shield’s surface. The beastkin grinned and bent his elbow, pulling the girl just a little bit closer to him, showing off his power over her.

“The Whip of Sodom!” the announcer called out the name of the weapon, with some life restored in her voice. “Finally, Number Fifty-Eight picked some good equipment! It looked like the swap with Number Forty proved most favorable to the beastkin!”

“Yeah, after you just gifted him two whole freebies so that he’d stop whining!” Olivia grumbled.

Beatrice was certain that ‘Thelicia’ would have given the tigerkin the opportunity to take more weapons regardless of how he acted. It wasn’t as if the bias in this ‘special round’ needed any more proof.

But even if Number Forty’s tits and arms were bound, she was able to move her hands and fingers. Whether the tigerkin guessed the girl’s intent from the movement of her fingers or he simply heard a blade zipping through the air along the ground of the arena just above the surface, he reacted decisively and put his shield between himself and the katana that turned sharply to impale the tigerkin from a low angle.

Instead of cutting through the metal head of the bull or breaking on impact, the katana disappeared in a strange ripple that formed half an inch from the bull’s nose ring and reappeared intact through a second ripple that formed on the opposite side of the tigerkin, behind his left shoulder blade, and zapped forward with the same velocity, as if the tigerkin did not even exist.

The blade flew into the crowds and pierced an elephantkin’s ear straight through before crushing into the straight rock surface behind him, sending small rocks and broken blade pieces flying into the backs of the spectators that stood in the back row.

“Ah, The Bullshield!” the announcer moaned with joy. “Number Fifty-Eight would have been hard-pressed to find a better counter to Number Forty’s annoying tricks even if he tried. It might have taken five deaths, but our naked little cocksucker is in a real pickle this time!”

The tigerkin pulled hard on the whip, undoing the loop around the girl and causing her to spin forward and fall. She managed to prevent the fall by using her arm to spring off the rocks and create some distance, but before she got away the whip cracked and its engorged tip hit her through her thong right across the pussy.

“ARGH!” Number Forty screamed and lost all balance.

Crack!

The whip hit the girl on her left ear as she fell to the ground.

“Ha! About time someone put her in her place!” Some spectators cheered at the turn of fortune for the struggling girl.

“Fuck! Seriously!? After all that!?” others were disappointed.

“Come on! Don’t fail me now!” a beastkin girl screamed with a crumpled piece of paper in her hand.

But a good portion of the spectators looked at each other in confusion at the particular choice of targets and the pinpoint precision of the Number Fifty-eight’s whip.

“Maybe he was just lucky?”

“Maybe she’s the lucky one? Hehehe!”

“Shouldn’t her ear be torn in half by such a strong hit of a whip?”

“Maybe it was? Can’t tell with all the blood the painted herself in!”

Even the tigerkin himself looked at the handle of the whip in his furry fist with bewilderment.

“The Whip of Sodom is no ordinary whip you see!” the announcer explained with the growing excitement of a spoiled child during Christmas. “It is designed to hit only the erogenous zones of its target! With enough force to stimulate but never to destroy!”

“Haaah ... Haah...” Number Forty breathed heavily as she laid on the ground recovering from the third strike of the whip across her ear. She reached for her ear and touched it to make sure it was still intact. But the second she touched it she snapped her hand back with a whimper. Her ear was intact but the damage was done.

Number Forty rolled over and leaped from the ground, sprinting toward the bewildered tigerkin. Along the way she picked up the gazellekin’s boomerang and threw it at the tigerkin. The boomerang spread its long, razor-sharp metal wings and spun toward the large target.

But the tigerkin was not asleep. He cracked his whip which snapped through the air faster than a regular eye could follow, striking Number Forty’s naked inner thigh.

“Ahn~!” red in the face, the girl lost her footing, fell, and tumbled. Her boomerang flew toward the beastkin, but a raised Bullshield sealed the fate of the attack.

The boomerang with its blades spread was thrice as wide as the tigerkin, but even that did not prevent it from disappearing in the magic ripple of The Bullshield. It reappeared behind the tigerkin’s back and kept spinning straight off the arena.

Safe from the boomerang the tigerkin cracked his whip with all his might, striking Number Forty’s nipples yet again, making her back arch as she let out a loud, dubious moan.

“The Whip of Sodom will never cause a serious injury!” the announcer giggled. “Because—YOU FUCKING MORON, BEHIND YOU!!!”

The tigerkin turned around at the last second with his shield in front of him to prevent a lethal blow from a boomerang that had inevitably turned around for a return flight. It disappeared in the ripple of the Bullshield, reemerged through the ripple behind the tigerkin, and continued the flight back to Number Forty. However, the girl was in no condition to catch the weapon, and eventually, the boomerang touched the surface of the arena, skidding forward until it stopped far on the other side of the arena.

The announcer clenched the railing bars with such strength that veins popped even on her delicate feminine hands. She breathed in deep, exhaled, breathed again, calming down, regaining her composure.

Number Forty—with great effort—used this opportunity to try and get up off the ground. She scratched her nails against the rocks as she rose up, even as her limbs trembled, but several more ferocious strikes across her nape and lower back robbed her of her strength as she moaned again.