Chapter 242: Chapter 241: Faith in Iris

Iris was reading a textbook when a series of knocks interrupted her. She glanced at a large window of her bedroom. On the other side of the window, the garden quietly rustled, with cool gusts whirling in silence. Leaves and night flowers glittered when the soothing moonlight landed on them.

Few people would disturb her now, but she wouldn’t mind if they did.

Iris forced down her expectant smile and shook her head, getting rid of her indecent thoughts. She got up from her seat, ambled to the door, and looked through an eye-shaped slit.

Her gaze met an eye whose intense black colour revealed its devotion to its beholder. It flickered as it observed Iris as if it were melting from ecstasy.

“My goddess, please answer my prayer.”

Pallorn drew her face from the slit and leaned her head on her shoulder. Her wings gently flapped. The winds they generated rustled her thin nightly dress.

Iris sighed. She had an inkling of who would sneak up her bedroom, and she was right. Pallorn had been doing a lot lately.

This Fallen Angel loved her Fallen Goddess too much.

Iris opened the door and, with a slight smile, drew her right hand forward. Pallorn grasped it and kissed its back. Her lips caressed it as if imprinting its scent onto the hand.

“Praise be with you, my goddess. May your Corruption taint the sky,” Pallorn said and let go of Iris’s hand. Her wings trembled. “It’s already tainted my body, my heart, and my soul.”

“Lower your voice, Pallorn. Why have you never followed your goddess’s command?” Iris drew Pallorn into her bedroom and shut the door. “Don’t call me Goddess carelessly. Do you want to expose our secret?”

Pallorn’s eyes twitched. This unholy relationship between them was a secret known only to them. It wouldn’t be as special if others knew!

“Please forgive your devoted angel. Her excitement blinded her. She beseeches your heavenly punishment.”

“Scheming against your goddess is heresy, Pallorn.” Iris walked to a sofa and sat down. She gestured for Pallorn to sit opposite of her. “You could’ve prayed with all your heart, and I would’ve heard your words. Yet you still come.”

Pallorn clasped her hands and held them near her chest, forming a prayer gesture. Her wings enveloped her torso. “Would you descend upon my bed if I wished for your body?”

Iris snapped her fingers. Green dots of light flickered into existence before morphing into vines and leaves. They surrounded Pallorn, constricted her figure, and drew her up from her seat. She, shivering, let out a soft moan.

“If your goal is to distract me, then I’ll—”

Iris froze, eyes contracted. Her magical vines and leaves and flowers violently trembled. Their structure fractured and dispersed as radiances that briefly illuminated the dim bedroom and their quivering creator.

Pallorn fell on her sofa, confused. She rose from her seat and reached for her goddess, but her body too slowed its motion. Overwhelming yet invisible weight pressed against her. Her chest clenched as her heart rapidly and violently quavered.

The dormant silver of Faith in her soul rose from its slumber and ruptured with endless brilliance. Her physical vessel cracked, unable to contain the amount of Holy Power coursing through her veins.

She went down on her knees and closed her eyes. Her black and white wings unfolded, their sizes expanding to span the bedroom. Her fluttering feathers detached from her body and swirled around her holy silhouette.

As she muttered unholy prayers, her Faith permeated her body. Her fair skin shone in dark light, its all-corrupting nature fusing with her holy appearance. Chill and heat alternately bloomed inside her chest, inside her heart. Countless unseen hands grazed her sensitive flesh, touching her where she carved the most.

Her power as a Transformation Phase Monster Girl surged. Her flowing black hair darkened as its shade absorbed light and dimmed her surroundings. A hint of violet hue covered her. It left trails of enchanting glows whenever she moved.

She opened her eyes, which, for a moment, distorted the world as if they were the endless abysses emerged from the deepest decadence.

Her golden Faith turned pitch black before regaining its holy colour, and she retracted her corrupted aura.

After getting up from her knees, Pallorn floated to her absentminded Iris and carried her to the bed. She hugged her goddess, kissed her cheeks, and lay her goddess and herself on the neatly arranged bed.

Iris, gasping for air, gripped her chest. Her slime stirred beneath her membrane, wiggling its tentacles as if pleasuring stroking her affectionately. Her quiet moans echoed in her throat and escaped from her pursed lips. She sluggishly opened her eyes, turned to her Pallorn, and blushed.

The Fallen Angel understood, by heart and by faith, what her Fallen Goddess desired. She spread her wings and enveloped herself and her most admired. Her feathers trembled and fell from her body as the shivering intensified. The bed creaked, the bodies ached, and the emotions intertwined.

A flow of black feathers crashed with a flow of white feathers. They mixed and separated, grazing each other as their ticklish hair stroked one another. They fluttered, revolving between their affection, spoiling each other with their colour.

The wings tightened their embrace. And they delicately waved every time a wave of pleasure rushed through them. Their gales blew the sea of black and white up, and these feathers rained inside the room, flickering under the pink glimmer and cold winds.

As the entangled voices reached their climaxes, and the wings faltered, and the world grew silent, Pallorn, soaked in sweats and honey-like liquids, folded back her dirty, lovely, warming wings.

While hugging her goddess, she quietly panted. Her minty breaths perfumed her face, mixing with the strawberry scent of her Iris.

She drew her right hand to her face and licked her fingers, tasting that sweet, sweet nectar. Her eyes still focused on her goddess, who was gazing at the roof of her messy bed.

Iris’s slime, blue with hints of embarrassing pink and milky white and wicked purple, churned within her figure. As she contemplated her change, currents of emotions within her subsided.

She turned to look at her Fallen Angel, whose pupils reflected delight from their intimacy.

Iris should’ve blushed; she instead found it cute, found it natural. She expected her angel to serve her.

“Thank you, Goddess,” Pallorn said. “Your reward is the most blissful.”

Iris took a deep breath. Pallorn’s scent filled her heart. “You helped me, and I helped you.”

“I merely follow your teaching, my goddess.” Pallorn pressed her hands on her chest. “I am myself, only because of you. My Holy Power survived only because of you.”

“Your faith persists, not because of me, but because of your sister.”

“Tardi, she’s lovely, always has been.” Pallorn’s voice melted. “That’s why you made me, my goddess. You saved her, saved me, saved us.”

“I saved myself. You’re all collateral.” Iris drew her hands skywards, grasping for stars unseen, home unreached. “Without me, you all wouldn’t need to leave your home.”

“And I wouldn’t have met my sister, wouldn’t have felt this liberation. Please don’t blame yourself, Dearest Iris. You’re our most beloved, our most important, our most—”

“Limit your flattering, Pallorn. You’re acting unlike your appearance.”

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“I’m your Fallen Angel, a reflection of your morale.” Pallorn smiled. Her wings waved. “Please punish your naughty angel, oh Goddess of Corruption.”

Iris sighed. She could never stop her Pallorn from praising her. She didn’t enjoy it at first, but those sweet words, that lovely tone, that unwavering confidence, they changed her. Their intimacy . . . it tainted her.

She corrupted herself.

Silence then reigned. The two stayed by each other’s side, leaning on their lover. Their soaked bodies felt no discomfort, only dissipating the warmth of their passions.

“Before this accident interrupts us,” Iris said, “for what did you come here?”

Pallorn opened her mouth but decided against joking. She’d teased her goddess too much, and she might get punished if she played too close to the fire.

It was too intense, too impressed; she wasn’t ready for another round.

“I wish for your guidance, my goddess.”

“You could’ve gone to Lenmia if you wish for such.”

“Not for the matter of Holy Power, but for the matter of . . . our future.” Pallorn’s voice faltered. “I love this place. We’re all safe here. Everything is prepared for us, and we merely need to ask for more.”

Such a utopia, how long could it last? How much hidden price must one pay?

The Broken Empire revered Iris for her identity, but because of this identity, Iris must rise up to the impossible challenge, to the stage of the truly powerful.

Pallorn doubted not the ability of her goddess, but she wished to help. She could not. Her family could not.

Iris looked at her angel and stroked her face. “Staying by my side, you’ve already helped a lot.”

“Then, train us, Iris. If you don’t want danger to befall us, arm us with power, with inextricable might that belonged solely to us.”

“Endless knowledge is at your fingertip. The Broken Empire allows you all infinite access to its national library. What I have is mere drops compared to the ocean gathered through time.”

Iris’s tone faded. Her logical words echoed in the bedroom, obscuring the implication behind Pallorn’s request. She didn’t want to share her secrets. These taboos must stay and end with her.

Her family objected, but she alone held this knowledge. The selfish Iris would never divulge it.

A series of knocks rang, interrupting the conversation. Pallorn frowned. She rose from the bed and waved her hands. Her Holy Power cleansed her body, clothes, bedsheets, and also purified the air, getting rid of all randy scents.

Iris too dressed up. She seated herself on her bed, her golden eyes glimmering with mysterious foresight.

“I bid you farewell, my goddess.” Pallorn spread her wings. Her Corruption Power drew around her symbols that would sneak her out of the room.

Her nightly visit must stay a secret, or she would get teased by her family.

“There’s no need to leave, Pallorn.” Iris shook her head as she stood up. “Her Highness’s already sensed your presence. Open the door and invite her in.”

“Her Highness?” Pallorn blinked. “Has Her Highness been visiting—”

“Caution is one of the great virtues of the angels, fallen or not.”

Pallorn lowered her head. She assented to her goddess’s advice before walking to the door. She held her breath, gripped the door’s handle, and pulled it open.

The maiden most beautiful stood before Pallorn. Her hair, coloured by blueness deeper than the night sky, flowed on her shoulders and swayed behind her. She slightly tilted her head, her azure eyes looking into Pallorn’s angelic pupils.

No matter how many times she’d seen the Second Princess, Pallorn still couldn’t look into her eyes. She lowered her head, her neck reddening. That grace, that awe-inspiring presence, it enveloped her. It urged her to kneel before the ruler of The Broken Empire, the saviour of the Corrupted Races.

This disposition, the same as her goddess’s. No, her goddess was better!

“Your Highness, please pardon our lack of hospitality. We’re pleased to—”

“It is I who interrupted your sweet nightly activity. There’s no need to compensate me; I should instead compensate you.” Vivalin stepped forwards to stand close to the blushing Pallorn. “Is there . . . anything you desire?”

Pallorn held her breaths. When the Second Princess promised something, she would accomplish it. No matter the request, no matter the intention. Everything was possible.

“I . . . have no grand ambition, Your Highness. I merely wish for my Iris to live well, to live freely. If I were to be bold, would you grand her the title of a Marchioness?”

Vivalin beamed as she turned to Iris. “Do you feel comfortable, Iris? Although I command the high society, I cannot change the minds of the nobles.”

Iris chuckled. “Not everyone can tolerate an unknown Slime Girl taking the favours of their most precious’s princess.”

“Their jealousy blinds them.” Vivalin walked past Pallorn. “I’ve already prepared to give up the throne. A mere Marchioness title isn’t enough for you.”

Iris shook her hands. “Vivalin, The Broken Empire prospers under your guidance. For me to take everything, I can’t do it. I shall accept the Marchioness title and nothing more.”

“Then, the bestowal ceremony will commence as soon as possible.” Vivalin covered her mouth. “Imperial Mother’s returning from the battlefield. She looks forward to meeting you. I shall arrange the ceremony to coincide with her expected return.”

“Please convey my regard to her. I’ll make sure to dress my best, look my best, and love my best.” Iris turned to Pallorn, coyly tilted her head, and blinked. Her golden eyes flickered as if enchanting her victim. “Pallorn, it’s getting late. You should return to your room, or Tardi might take up without you by her side.”

Pallorn took a deep breath. Her eyes alternated between the bed, Iris, and the Second Princess. She didn’t want to leave, but she must. She could only hope that her goddess would compensate her later.

“Please take care of yourself, Iris. And please excuse me, Your Highness.”

Once Pallorn left the room, Iris sighed. Her careless, drowsy countenance regained its clarity. Her golden, melty eyes sharpened. The air surrounding her became crystal clear.

Vivalin remained aloof, though her abyss-like azure eyes glimmered along with Iris’s transformation.

“Congratulations on your Condensation, Iris,” she said. “Is now the right time?”

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