Meanwhile, in the Nurture gang’s base...

The room was dark except for the strip of light coming from the outside. Joan was sprawled across the bed, with only a thin bedsheet barely covering her figure. As always, her blade was on the nightstand within arm’s reach.

She was lost in deep sleep when suddenly her fingers began to twitch. Then her brow pulled together, the small muscles around her eyes tightening like something behind them was pressing outward.

A moment later, her breath changed. It wasn’t calm like before, becoming shallower and faster. Faint and intelligible sounds escaped her parted lips, and she began thrashing around.

Images and sounds she had never been able to forget looped in her nightmares.

It was the scene of a temple. It had been serene and quiet. The trainees were lighting incense and washing the temple. Like in thousands of nightmares before, Joan was asked to bring a bucket of water by Sister Maren while High Priestess Dova blessed everyone.

Joan remembered grumbling about doing such menial tasks when she was already blessed by the gods with a sword. She left as her senior sisters teased her.

Everything was fine... until she returned.

The massive doors of the temple, which were never opened for any reason, were torn off their hinges. Her feet slowed on their own as she got closer... only to wish she hadn’t.

Hundreds of monsters had flooded the temple. The women were all naked, engaged in acts that little Joan had no knowledge of, yet she knew the sisters wouldn’t willingly engage in such actions.

She wanted to help them, but before she could, she heard Sister Maren. She was tapped between four demons, they were doing something to her... and Sister Maren was... crying and smiling at the same time?

She wasn’t alone either. High Priestess Dova and all the senior sisters were there. The voices that had read to her and scolded her and hummed to her when she was sick, all of them making sounds that had no place coming from people like them.

Joan wanted to leave, but it was less of a nightmare and more like a memory. She hadn’t moved then, and she couldn’t move now. She could only close her eyes as she stood in the corridor, hearing voices no child should.

Just then, one of the doors swung open wider. It was Joan’s first time seeing a demon up so close.

The creature was large, larger than those paladins that seemed like the strongest people to Joan. The monster’s head nearly brushed to the top of the doorframe. It turned, looking directly at her, and smiled.

Joan screamed and ran for her life, looking over her shoulder every other second. The demon didn’t follow her, it stayed there, smiling at her.

"Get away from me!" Joan yelled, sitting upright.

Her blade was already in her hand, pointing at the empty air in front. She sat there, the blade held upright, recalling every painful detail, before her arm slowly dropped down.

"This damned vision again..." she cursed through gritted teeth.

She pressed her free hand against the side of her head, fingers digging into her damp hair. She might have been the strongest swordswoman of the Otherworld, but she could never forget the one darn moment of weakness she wanted to forget.

The bedsheet that covered her had fallen completely to the floor, but she didn’t notice all that. It was the damned heat of her body that made her furious.

Her skin felt strangely hot, and she could feel herself getting aroused as her breathing got uncharacteristically heavier.

The nightmare often had such an effect on her, but it was never that intense. Not to mention, she was having nightmares way too often. It had gone to a point where she was worried about even blinking.

Those memories should have filled her with rage and disgust. Instead, her body was reacting in a way that made her hate herself.

"Damn it... not again," she whispered angrily.

Her nipples were hard and sensitive. Every small movement of air against her bare skin made her shiver. The heat between her thighs was getting worse. She tried to ignore it, but her body refused to listen.

Joan looked down at the sword in her hand. The handle was long, smooth, and slightly curved at the end. She stared at it for a long moment. Her face burned with shame, but the aching need inside her was stronger.

She slowly lowered the blade. Turning it around carefully, she brought the smooth handle between her legs. She rubbed the rounded end against her wet folds, coating it with her juices. A soft gasp escaped her lips.

"Ahn~ This stupid nightmare..." she moaned. "How can I... ahn~ live like this...?"

She pressed the handle against her entrance and pushed it in slowly. The thick grip stretched her. A low moan left her mouth as she felt it slide deeper inside.

She closed her eyes and started moving the handle in and out. At first, she moved it gently, but soon her hips began rocking against it.

Her free hand moved up to squeeze her left breast. She pinched her nipple hard, mixing pain with the pleasure, just like her sisters had once felt.

The nightmare images flashed in her mind again. Instead of making her stop, the feeling of helplessness somehow made her even wetter. She pushed the handle deeper, twisting it slightly.

"Ahn~!"

Joan bit her lip to muffle the moan while her legs spread wider on their own. She leaned back against the wall, thrusting the sword handle harder and faster into her pussy.

The more she moved, the more pleasure she felt. She hated how good it felt. She hated that her body reacted like this to such dark memories. But she could not stop.

A few more rough thrusts put her over the edge. Her walls clenched tightly around the sword handle as she came hard. Her juices flowed out, dripping down onto the bed.

Joan remained leaning against the wall while her sword remained inside her. After a moment, she pulled it out, looking at the wet handle with a mix of disgust and exhaustion.

"I’m pathetic... aren’t I?" she whispered, tossing the blade aside and hugging her knees.

The heat she felt was gone, replaced by disgust towards herself. She was too busy sorting her emotions that she didn’t notice a certain fox walking away from her door.