Victory and Defeat – Ch.13 [Epilogue]

Her glass now remained empty, left over the table. There was nothing else for her to do here in the little inn, and so she stood up and departed. But, as she was about to reach the door, an irritatingly familiar smug smile intercepted her path.

“Ah, Derrota.” Greeted a baphomet. At the sudden appearance, Derrota frowned in scorn and irritation, stepping back as the baphomet advanced. A few steps later, Derrota sat back at her table by the window, to which the baphomet followed suit opposite to her. “You’ve been ignoring our invitations for a while now.”

“Have I?” Asked Derrota, still with visible annoyance.

“Yes, over a year now. I’m sure they weren’t too subtle to be missed.”

“Pity. I’m guessing you haven’t even let my mother know of these recruitment attempts either.”

“Oh, the Sabbath wants to give you as much freedom as it can. What fairness would there be in your mother saying no?”

Her eyes narrowed further, reading between the lines. Despite aware of Victoria most likely saying no, as if her own unwillingness to bother with the Sabbath wasn’t enough, they kept on goading at her on and on to join. They’d not take a no for an answer. Why would they, if they could recruit a lilim as early as possible?

“Maybe you need to be impressed with what we can do.”

“Impress, how?” Asked Derrota. Her suspicions heightened, though she’d not be caught unprepared. Feigning ignorance, she subtly began moving her hand towards her waist. There, hidden, rested a particular potion the Sabbath would consider anathema.

Megamorphosis.

“Just because you’re a lilim doesn’t mean you’re the most powerful entity out there. The Sabbath can show you the extent of our power, and we can help you hone yours, but maybe we need to get it across in a more direct way.”

“You’re going to attack me?”

“What are you talking about?” She snickered. “You say it like it’d be assault or something. Just a little spar.”

“What if I win?”

“Then I’ll let you be. For good.”

“I see…” She said, reaching her potion and taking it out of her pouch. However, chances were the baphomet was correct; despite being a lilim, she was still just a kid. She needed an opening, a distraction, something to catch her by surprise. “…What if I lose?”

“Then you’ll join–“

The table flew aside. Derrota lunged forward, taking the baphomet and slamming her to the ground. Without a second to react, Derrota pulled the cork off the vial with her thumb and forcefed her the contents. Unwilling to risk reprisal, Derrota then let go and took several steps back.

A violent coughing fit escaped the baphomet, holding her throat with one hand while with the other she pushed herself up till sitting.

“What did you do?!” She shouted, only for her voice to fall silent.

Her shocked expression was enough to give away internal changes, soon turning external as her body grew in size. Hips, breast, legs, all of her anatomy rapidly aging. She had been turned in physique into a voluptuous, curvaceous woman, the antithesis of the Sabbath. Shock soon fell as denial surged, shaking her her in horror at what had happened to her before letting out a terrified scream. Standing up, the baphomet broke into a run, her screams dying down with distance as she escaped the inn.

The inn had then fallen silent. A glance around revealed the all too obvious cause: All had turned their eyes to what had transpired. Still, too much interest seemed lacking, as many returned to their business with the chatter resuming anew.

Hopefully, that was the last time she’d see them. Realistically, they’d want her head for committing such blasphemy. It mattered not, the Sabbath were rats compared to Nyarlathotep. With a sigh half in relief and half in resignation, she walked over to the table and brought it back to where it once was. Yet, a set of footsteps approached.

“Derrota?” Asked a hooded man, a lengthy white beard his most visible trait.

“Who asks?” She said, sitting back down.

“Maverick.” He sat down opposite to her, pulling back his hood to reveal so advanced an age.

“Maverick…” She pondered. “Yes, one of the paladins who fought with my father and mother back in the day. Sent to Wonderland, too. Do you need something?”

“No. I imagined it’d be nice to meet you again, after so long.”

A slight frown in confusion popped in her expression. “I don’t recall meeting you in person before.” She asked, for Maverick to then smile.

“Not in this timeline.”

Her frown remained, though a silence took over as thought after thought crossed her mind. Timelines? Bogus. Was this a joke?

…Or was it not?

Leaning forward, she left her elbows to rest on the table as she looked at Maverick.

“Tell me more.”

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