The Chosen Pervert

Chapter 20: The Stronghold and Reunion

The man turned and started walking, his boots crunching against the rocky terrain.

I followed immediately, my heart hammering in my chest.

Aldric fell into step beside me, his expression grim. Behind us, the rest of my party followed—Kira, Lyra, Borin, Grok, and Sszareth. The mercenary's group moved with us, their weapons drawn, their eyes scanning the horizon.

"Name's Callum," the man said without looking back. "Been running this crew for about fifteen years now."

"Wyatt," I said. "Wyatt GreyFox."

Callum glanced over his shoulder, his sharp eyes assessing me. "GreyFox, eh? Lower nobility. Explains the fancy magic."

I didn't respond.

"How did you find her?" I asked instead. "Rue. How did you find her?"

Callum's jaw tightened. "Few months after the Calamity. We were doing a sweep near the eastern ridge—looking for survivors, supplies, anything useful. Found her caught in a trap. One of those nasty bastard contraptions the goblins set up. Steel jaws, barbed teeth. She was bleeding out."

My stomach twisted.

"She was feral when we found her," Callum continued. "Snarling, claws out, ready to rip our throats out. I tried to help her—nearly lost three fingers for my trouble." He held up his left hand, showing faint scars across his knuckles. "But I got her free. Mended her wounds. Gave her food and water."

"And she stayed with you?" I asked.

Callum nodded. "Not at first. She bolted the second she could walk. But she came back a few days later. Hungry. Desperate. We fed her again. This time, she didn't run."

He paused, his expression softening slightly.

"Took months before she trusted us," he said. "But once she did... hell, she was the best damn fighter we had. Saved more lives than I can count. Pulled survivors out of places we'd never have reached without her. She was... special."

She is special, I thought fiercely. And she's still alive.

"Why didn't you go after her?" I asked, my voice tight. "After she was captured. Why didn't you—"

"You think I didn't want to?" Callum snapped, his voice sharp. He stopped walking and turned to face me, his eyes blazing. "You think I didn't want to chase after her the second those bastards dragged her away?"

I met his gaze, my jaw tight.

"There were too many of them," Callum said, his voice dropping. "Demons. Goblins. Orcs. Dozens of them. And there were only six of us left after the ambush. We would have died trying to get her back."

He looked away, his expression dark.

"So we regrouped," he said quietly. "We came back here. We gathered supplies. We healed our wounded. And we were planning to go back for her."

He looked at me again.

"But you found us first," he said.

I nodded slowly, my chest aching.

She's been alone for days.

Captured. Hurt.

God, what have they done to her?

"How far?" I asked.

"Not far," Callum said. "Maybe two miles. But it's dangerous. The stronghold is heavily fortified. Hundreds of them. Maybe more."

"I don't care," I said.

Callum studied me for a long moment.

Then he nodded.

"Alright," he said. "Let's go get your girl."

We moved quickly through the rocky terrain, staying low and keeping to the shadows.

The landscape was harsh and unforgiving—jagged black rock formations, dead trees twisted into grotesque shapes, and the ever-present smell of sulfur and ash.

In the distance, I could see smoke rising from fires.

The stronghold.

My heart pounded harder with every step.

Hold on, Rue.

I'm coming.

After what felt like an eternity, Callum raised his hand, signaling us to stop.

We crouched behind a massive rockface, the stone rough and warm beneath my palms.

"There," Callum whispered, pointing.

I looked.

And my breath caught.

The stronghold was massive.

It sprawled across a wide valley, surrounded by natural rock formations that acted as walls. Dozens—no, hundreds—of tents and crude structures filled the space. Fires burned in metal braziers. Wooden posts held up banners marked with dark symbols.

And everywhere—everywhere—there were creatures.

Goblins scurried between tents, their high-pitched voices carrying on the wind. Orcs stood guard at key positions, their massive frames and brutal weapons making them look like living siege engines. Demons prowled the perimeter, their eyes glowing red in the dim light.

"f**k," Borin muttered. "That's a lot of them."

"Too many," Lyra said quietly.

"We need a plan," Aldric said, his voice calm but firm. "We can't just charge in there."

"I don't care about a plan," I said, my voice low and dangerous. "I'm getting her out."

"Wyatt—"

"I'm getting her out," I repeated, my eyes locked on the stronghold.

Callum placed a hand on my shoulder. "Easy, lad. We'll get her. But we need to be smart about it."

I took a deep breath, forcing myself to focus.

He's right.

Charging in will get us all killed.

"Where would they keep her?" I asked.

Callum scanned the stronghold, his eyes narrowing. "Prisoners are usually kept near the center. Close to the leader's tent. Makes it easier to—"

He stopped.

His expression darkened.

"Where?" I said.

"There," he said, pointing.

I followed his gaze.

And my blood turned to ice.

A massive orc had emerged from one of the larger tents near the center of the stronghold.

He was enormous—easily eight feet tall, with bulging muscles and green-grey skin covered in scars. He wore crude armor made of leather and metal, and a massive cleaver hung from his belt.

In his hand, he held a rope.

And at the other end of the rope—

Rue.

She was being dragged behind him, the rope tied around her neck like a leash.

My vision tunneled.

No.

She was battered. Bruised. Her clothes were torn and filthy, her black hair matted with dirt and blood. Her golden eyes were dull with exhaustion, but even from this distance, I could see the defiance in them.

She stumbled as the orc yanked the rope, pulling her forward.

But she didn't fall.

She dug her feet into the ground, resisting, snarling.

She's still fighting.

Even now, she's still fighting.

The orc laughed—a deep, guttural sound—and yanked the rope harder.

Rue stumbled again, her knees hitting the dirt.

The orc dragged her toward a smaller tent at the edge of the camp, away from the main cluster of structures.

Other creatures began to gather.

Goblins. Smaller demons. A few more orcs.

They followed the massive orc, their expressions eager, their voices rising in excitement.

My hands clenched into fists.

What are they—

And then I understood.

No.

No, no, no—

"Wyatt," Aldric said quietly. "We need to move. Now."

I didn't respond.

I couldn't.

All I could see was Rue.

The orc reached the tent and threw open the flap. He dragged Rue inside, the rope still tight around her neck.

The other creatures crowded around the entrance, their voices rising in a cacophony of jeers and laughter.

And then I heard it.

A scream.

Rue's scream.

It was raw. Desperate. Filled with rage and pain.

Something inside me snapped.

"Wyatt—"

I didn't hear the rest.

I was already moving.

I moved like a shadow.

Silent. Invisible.

My magic wrapped around me, bending light and sound, making me nothing more than a whisper in the air.

I slipped past the guards at the perimeter, their eyes scanning the horizon but never seeing me.

I moved between tents, my boots barely touching the ground.

Goblins passed within feet of me, their weapons drawn, their eyes alert.

They didn't see me.

I'm coming, Rue.

Hold on.

The tent was ahead.

The massive orc stood outside, his arms crossed, a sick grin on his face.

Inside, I could hear sounds.

Struggling.

Snarling.

Rue's voice, muffled and desperate.

And laughter.

The goblins and demons inside were laughing.

My vision went red.

I reached the tent and slipped inside, my magic still cloaking me.

And I saw her.

Rue was surrounded by five goblins, their filthy hands grabbing at her clothes, trying to tear them away.

But she was fighting.

Her claws flashed in the dim light, slashing across a goblin's throat. Blood sprayed. The creature gurgled and collapsed, clutching its ruined neck.

"Hold her!" one of the goblins shrieked.

Rue snarled—a sound of pure, feral rage—and her teeth sank into another goblin's arm. She ripped away flesh, and the creature screamed.

Her claws found another target, tearing across a goblin's face, gouging out an eye.

She's killing them.

Even outnumbered, she's killing them.

But there were too many.

One of the goblins raised a wooden club.

"Rue—" I started to move, but I was too far—

The club came down hard against the side of her head.

CRACK.

Rue's body went limp, her eyes rolling back.

"No!" I wanted to scream, but I forced myself to stay silent, to stay hidden.

Not yet. Not yet.

The goblins grabbed her, their hands rough and cruel, and rolled her onto her stomach. They pinned her down—one holding her wrists, two more pressing her legs apart, another gripping her hair.

Rue groaned, her consciousness flickering. Her body twitched weakly, trying to fight, but the blow had stunned her.

And then the massive orc entered the tent.

His footsteps were heavy, deliberate.

He looked down at Rue with that sick, twisted grin.

"Good," he rumbled. "Hold her just like that."

He knelt behind her, his massive hands reaching out.

And then he touched her.

His filthy hands gripped her hips, his fingers digging into her skin. He ran one hand up her back, possessive and violating, his intention clear in every movement.

Rue's eyes snapped open.

She tried to thrash, tried to fight, but the goblins held her down.

"No—" she gasped, her voice hoarse and desperate. "No—"

The orc laughed, a deep, guttural sound.

His hands moved lower.

No.

No, no, NO—

And that was when I let go.

The magic I'd been holding back—the power I'd been restraining—exploded.

I dropped my invisibility and raised my hand.

The air around me ignited.

White-hot flames erupted from my palm, coalescing into a sphere of pure, devastating energy.

The orc's head snapped up, his eyes widening.

"What—"

I didn't let him finish.

I released the spell.

The explosion was instantaneous.

The orc disintegrated—his body vaporized in a flash of light and heat.

The goblins holding Rue down were obliterated, their bodies reduced to ash before they could scream.

The shockwave tore through the tent, ripping the canvas apart and sending debris flying.

And then there was silence.

I stood in the center of the destruction, my hand still raised, my chest heaving.

And then I saw her.

Rue.

She was on the ground, her body trembling, her eyes wide with shock.

Blood streaked her thighs. Bruises covered her arms and legs. Her hair was matted with dirt and sweat.

But she was alive.

Our eyes met.

For a moment, neither of us moved.

And then recognition flashed in her golden eyes.

"Wyatt?" she whispered, her voice broken and disbelieving.

I dropped to my knees beside her, my hands shaking as I reached for her.

"Rue," I choked out. "Rue, I'm here. I'm here."

She stared at me, tears streaming down her face.

And then she lunged forward, throwing her arms around me.

She sobbed into my chest, her body shaking violently.

I held her.

I held her as tightly as I could without hurting her, my own tears falling freely.

"I'm sorry," I whispered, my voice breaking. "I'm so sorry. I should have been here sooner. I should have—"

"You came," she said, her voice muffled against my chest. "You came for me."

"Always," I said fiercely. "Always, Rue. I will always come for you."

She pulled back slightly, her golden eyes meeting mine.

And despite everything—despite the blood, the bruises, the violation—there was still fire in those eyes.

Still strength.

Still her.

"I knew you would," she whispered.

I gently brushed the matted hair from her face, checking her injuries.

"Are you hurt?" I asked, my voice tight with concern. "Did they—"

"I'm fine," she said, her jaw clenching. "They didn't get the chance."

Her eyes flicked to the ash where the orc had been, and I saw the defiance burning there.

She's still fighting. Even now.

"Can you walk?" I asked.

She nodded, though I could see her legs trembling. "I can do whatever I need to do."

"That's my Rue," I said softly, my chest aching with relief and pride.

She met my eyes, and for a moment, something passed between us—something deeper than words.

Trust. Loyalty. An unbreakable bond forged through years of survival.

"Thank you," she whispered. "For not giving up on me."

"Never," I said firmly. "I will never give up on you."

And then I heard it.

Horns.

Alarms.

Shouts.

The creatures in the stronghold had noticed the explosion.

They were coming.

I looked at Rue. "Can you stand?"

She nodded, her jaw tight.

I helped her to her feet, my arm around her waist to steady her.

She was shaking, her legs weak, but she stood.

She's still fighting.

"We need to move," I said. "Now."

She nodded.

And then I heard Callum's voice outside.

"Wyatt! We're coming in!"

The mercenaries burst through the remains of the tent, weapons drawn.

Callum's eyes widened when he saw Rue.

"Bloody hell," he muttered. "You're alive."

Rue's lips twitched into a faint, exhausted smile. "Takes more than a few bastards to kill me."

Callum grinned. "That's my girl."

Aldric appeared next, followed by Kira, Lyra, Borin, Grok, and Sszareth.

"We need to go," Aldric said urgently. "The entire camp is mobilizing."

"Then let's give them hell," I said, my voice cold.

Rue looked at me, her golden eyes blazing.

We fought our way toward the edge of the camp.

The creatures came at us in waves—goblins, orcs, demons, all of them screaming for blood.

Rue moved beside me, her claws flashing as she tore through goblins. Despite her injuries, despite everything she'd endured, she fought with desperate ferocity.

But she was struggling.

Her movements were slower. Her breathing labored. Blood seeped through her clothes.

She's hurt. She can't keep this up.

I stayed close to her, my magic tearing through the enemy ranks.

Fire. Lightning. Ice. Barriers.

Every spell I cast was devastating, obliterating anything that came near us.

Aldric fought beside me, his staff glowing with power as he cast spell after spell.

Kira moved through the chaos like a ghost, her daggers finding throats and hearts with deadly precision.

Lyra's arrows flew through the air, each one finding its mark. Her bear roared and charged, scattering goblins like leaves.

Borin's warhammer crushed skulls and shattered bones.

Grok's greataxe cleaved through orcs like they were made of paper.

Sszareth's divine magic healed our wounds and smote our enemies with holy fire.

Callum and his mercenaries fought with brutal efficiency, their weapons flashing in the firelight.

But it wasn't enough.

For every creature we killed, three more took its place.

They poured out of tents. They emerged from the shadows. They came from every direction.

Hundreds of them.

Too many.

"There's too many!" Borin shouted, his warhammer swinging wildly. "We can't break through!"

"Keep moving!" Aldric yelled. "Don't stop!"

But we were being pushed back.

Surrounded.

The creatures closed in from all sides, their numbers overwhelming.

Rue stumbled beside me, her legs giving out.

I caught her, holding her upright.

"I'm fine," she gasped, but I could see the pain in her eyes.

She's not fine. None of us are.

A massive orc charged at us, its axe raised.

I blasted it with fire, but two more took its place.

Goblins swarmed around Grok, climbing his massive frame, stabbing at him with crude blades.

Lyra's bear roared in pain as demons clawed at its flanks.

Sszareth's healing magic couldn't keep up with the injuries and he was also running out of mana.

We were being overwhelmed.

We're not going to make it.

The realization hit me like a punch to the gut.

There are too many. We can't fight our way out.

A goblin lunged at Rue.

I incinerated it, but three more appeared behind it.

No.

No, I'm not losing her again.

I'm not losing any of them.

I looked around at my party—at Aldric, Kira, Lyra, Borin, Grok, Sszareth, Callum and his mercenaries.

At Rue, bleeding and exhausted in my arms.

I have to end this.

Now.

I felt the power inside me—the raw, overwhelming power I'd been holding back.

The power that terrified even Aldric.

The power that marked me as God-Rank.

No more restraint.

No more holding back.

I let go.

The magic erupted from me like a tidal wave.

White-hot energy poured out of my body, coalescing into a massive sphere of pure, devastating power above my head.

The air itself screamed.

The ground trembled.

"Everyone get down!" I roared.

Aldric's eyes widened. "Wyatt, what are you—"

"GET DOWN!"

My party dropped to the ground.

Callum and his mercenaries threw themselves flat.

And I released the spell.

The explosion was cataclysmic.

A blinding wave of white light erupted outward, expanding in all directions.

It consumed everything.

Creatures were vaporized instantly—goblins, orcs, demons, all of them reduced to ash before they could scream.

Tents disintegrated. Structures collapsed. The ground itself cracked and splintered.

The shockwave tore through the stronghold like the wrath of a god.

Fire and light and raw magical energy obliterated everything in its path.

The roar was deafening.

The heat was unbearable.

And then, slowly, the light faded.

Silence.

I stood in the center of a crater, my chest heaving, my body trembling with exhaustion.

Around me, the stronghold was gone.

Completely gone.

Where hundreds of creatures had stood moments before, there was nothing but ash and scorched earth.

The tents were gone. The structures were leveled. The ground was blackened and cracked.

In the distance, I saw movement—creatures fleeing into the darkness, their screams fading into the night.

The ones that survived were running.

Good.

Run.

I looked down at my hands.

They were shaking.

I did that.

I destroyed an entire stronghold.

Behind me, I heard movement.

Aldric was the first to stand, his face pale, his eyes wide with shock.

"Wyatt..." he whispered. "What... what did you..."

He trailed off, staring at the devastation around us.

Kira stood next, her expression unreadable.

Lyra, Borin, Grok, Sszareth—all of them stared at me with a mixture of awe and fear.

Callum pulled himself to his feet, his face ashen.

"Bloody hell," he muttered. "You're a f*****g monster."

I didn't respond.

I turned to Rue.

She was still on the ground, staring up at me with wide golden eyes.

Is she afraid of me?

Does she think I'm a monster too?

I knelt beside her, my hands trembling.

"Rue," I said softly. "Are you—"

She threw her arms around me.

"You saved us," she whispered, her voice breaking. "You saved all of us."

I held her tightly, my chest aching.

I did.

But at what cost?

I looked around at the destruction I'd caused.

At the crater. The ash. The scorched earth.

This is what I'm capable of.

This is the power I've been hiding.

Aldric approached slowly, his expression grave.

"We need to leave," he said quietly. "Now. Before anything else comes."

I nodded.

I helped Rue to her feet, my arm around her waist to steady her.

She leaned against me, her body trembling with exhaustion.

"Can you walk?" I asked.

She nodded. "I can try."

That's my Rue.

We started moving, the party falling into formation around us.

No one spoke.

The silence was heavy, oppressive.

They were all looking at me differently now.

They're afraid.

They saw what I can do.

And they're afraid.

We walked through the night, leaving the ruins of the stronghold behind us.

And for the first time since I'd been resurrected, I found myself questioning everything.

Why?

Why was I brought back?

I'd destroyed an entire stronghold with a single spell. I'd obliterated hundreds of creatures without hesitation. The power flowed through me like it was second nature, like I was born to do this.

But I didn't understand why.

Was it to save Rue? To find my mother? To defeat the Dragon God?

Or was there something else—something deeper that I couldn't yet comprehend?

I didn't have answers. Not yet.

All I knew was that I was alive. Rue was alive. And we had to keep moving.

We walked for hours, putting distance between ourselves and the stronghold. The party moved in exhausted silence, each of us lost in our own thoughts.

When we finally stopped to make camp, Rue collapsed onto a bedroll without a word. Her breathing was already evening out, her body surrendering to the weight of her injuries and exhaustion.

I watched her sleep, my chest tight with relief.

She's safe.

For now, that's enough.

I sat by the fire, staring into the flames, still searching for answers that wouldn't come.