This Ascent to Divinity is Lewder Than Expected

6.28 – A Disoriented Fox IV

6.28 – A Disoriented Fox IV

Slowly coming out of her post-orgasmic daze, Delta rubbed her forehead. Her thoughts clearing, she guiltily looked down at her naked lower half, her clone watching impassively from between her legs.

Delta blushed in embarrassment. It took a lot to make that happen.

She coughed.

Okay. Time to get serious.

She rolled off the bed and dispelled the shadow with a flick of her mind. It faded away into curling black wisps.

That had just been ... a brief mental reset before tackling the larger crisis.

She did feel more clear-headed.

So there. Just being a practical girl.

She scooped her discarded armor from the ground and re-equipped it. Soon enough, she was geared up and ready once again. Her flushed skin cooled, breathing settling into an even rhythm. Purple eyes flicked to the towering double doors leading out of the palatial bedroom.

Delta had been operating under the assumption that she was, to some extent, trapped inside this opulent bedroom. She supposed that might not be true. She hadn't even tried to leave through the front door yet. Seeing how Lucinda had scooped them up in a magical artifact and dropped them into separate rooms, Delta didn't think escape would be as easy as strolling out whenever she pleased—that instead, she'd been left here to be picked up later. A prisoner. But it was worth a shot. If nothing else but to see what security was like.

Approaching the giant, ornate double doors, Delta appraised the thick slabs of wood. Primarily because she was wondering how good they were at keeping out noise. Considering their heft, and the construction of the room in general, she assumed pretty good. Which was relevant because while Delta hadn't made that much noise during her ... indiscreet activities ... she hadn't been dead silent, either.

Gripping the handle, she tugged.

The door didn't budge. She pulled a little harder to make sure. The door groaned under the force, and Delta was reminded that she had once again gone up a level in advancement. Though she was a dexterity-based class, she was still a physical fighter: each progression came with a decent boost in strength. She rattled the door, marveling at how it whined and creaked under the firm tugs she gave the handle.

Then, abruptly, some mechanism clicked, and the door unlocked—swinging open on Delta's next pull. It was unexpected enough she nearly smacked herself in the face.

There, on the other side of the doorway, stood a guard.

It was a man in his early thirties with a serious, blunt face. He was dressed in full silver plate armor, lacking a helmet. A long halberd rested at his side, gripped in a gauntleted hand. His brown eyes met Delta's, and Delta was briefly flustered, realizing there'd been someone standing outside her door while she'd been thoroughly tongue-fucking herself.

Except she didn't catch any hint of embarrassment in his expression, so the doors had indeed been thick enough to hide her moans. She had gotten away with it. Probably.

Still, his presence confirmed that she was a prisoner—even if a temporary, unthreatened one placed into a gilded cell.

"Honored guest," the guard said. "You'll be sent for shortly, but until then, you must remain in your room."

Well.

The d'Celestins.

But still.

"And this is how you treat 'honored guests'?" Delta demanded, flicking her eyes down their bodies, where the man was firmly all but lying atop her. Not that there was a polite way to tackle an escaped prisoner.

"Not normally," the guardsman said. "But most don't try to run." After a second, he added, "Ma'am."

Delta glared at him, but a part of her thought: Fair enough.

The guard helped her up, though kept a firm grip around her wrist. She tried to shake him off, but it didn't work. He was strong. And fast, too. Surely he wasn't sixth advancement?

Damn. Maybe just sprinting down the hallway hadn't been the best of plans. Because now going out through the window or some other way would be even less successful; they'd be waiting for her. Expecting another escape.

"Let me go," Delta growled, shaking her arm again. "You can obviously catch up."

He did so.

Delta rubbed her wrist.

She briefly considered running again.

This time, with some evasive maneuvering, rather than relying on pure speed. It could work. He looked more like a strength class than a dexterity one; she would just have to be smarter about things.

"Please don't," the man said warily, Delta's thoughts apparently easy to read.

Delta eyed him, then huffed and allowed herself to be escorted back into her room. She pestered him with more questions but received only the same sentence as before: "I've been instructed not to engage with you, honored guest." She couldn't even get his name, much less where Rosalie and Zoey were, and why she was in the d'Celestin palace.

And thus, the giant ornate double doors closed in her face, locking her back in her room.

Delta's tail swished once in obvious agitation.

Hmph.

There was no harm in trying the windows, she supposed.