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Chapter 55: Defilement [Sidestory]
🕑 Added 2025-04-17 12:46:54 +0000 UTC~~~
18 years ago…
Defilement was a dance in several steps.
The body was first to go. Pinned down against the snow by those far stronger than her, Outer Disciple Shao could only grit her teeth and sob as teeth and nails tore upon her clothes and flesh. The Sect attire she had been so proud to receive was ripped asunder. The body she had cultivated so hard to impress her Sisters was now plundered of its meat and beauty.
Defiled by none other than those same Sisters of the Split-Headed Carnivores Sect.
She tried not to blame her Seniors. Yin Hunger affected them more acutely than it did her, and the winter that year was particularly harsh. They were not themselves. When the Sun was present and the meat rations plenty, her Seniors were some of the kindest and most inspiring people she knew.
They were not themselves.
Shao repeated the mantra, even as she lay naked amidst tattered robes against the snow. She was surrounded by the ravenous presence of Yin-maddened practitioners, Inner Disciples all. Her flesh was devoured under open skies, her purity violently assailed by tongues, teeth, and fingers against her will. By the time her three Senior Sisters were done, Shao was a bleeding, violated mess left in the freezing streets to rot.
All around her, she heard shrieks and laughter. The sounds of pleas and pleasure roiled across the mountain, echoing far beyond the locked confines of their monastery. The Elders and Clans sealed themselves with the ivory ice palaces of the Sect, safe behind walls of ice as they satiated themselves with stores of Yang meat even as their disciples starved and hunted their juniors.
They were not themselves, Shao sobbed to herself. The girl repeated it again and again, until her sense of self-preservation finally triumphed over the trauma, and she crawled herself somewhere safe before the cold or another band of deranged predators could finish her off.
That was her first Night of Famine. It would not be her last.
~~~
Next to go was her Pride.
Shao had nearly died during those first few winter nights. Though she yet lived, her wounds were severe, and her cultivation had been greatly deviated by stress and starvation.
They called her lucky. Of the nine new Outer Disciples that joined that year, she was the only one to survive.
It was, in part, thanks to her talents as a cultivator. Despite having awakened a mere nine months ago, Shao was already in the Fifth Step of the Foundation Realm. She had a natural affinity with Yin qi, and that had endeared her to the Path of the Split-headed Carnivores. In time, she might even join the ranks of Core Disciples, perhaps even the Elders if she were lucky enough.
But Shao did not have time. She barely survived her first winter, and now that her Seniors had marked her flesh as one of vibrant potency — at least among the ranks of lesser prey — her odds of survival were even slimmer. Once the Nights of Famine arrive once more, the roaming predators would know her scent to be that of succulent prey and descend upon her first.
Shao knows she will not survive those nights.
She needed time: time to lick her wounds, time to replenish her stores of spiritual flesh and strength, time to grow strong enough to hunt those that would hurt her, rather than be the hunted.
And so, in desperation, she sought out the vile monsters of the Sect: Core Disciples or Clan Heiresses, whose inclination for depravity strained even the generous limits of the monastery’s allowable perversions. Shao may be young, and her cultivation lacking compared to their advanced might, but even at such nascent development, her beauty and worth were clear for others to see.
To the perverse, there was nothing sweeter than taking away the many first experiences of an innocent maiden: their first taste of the whip, their first night under flaying knives and steel chains, their first disgrace in all manner of violent degeneracy.
Shao eventually found one willing to take her in.
It mattered not that this ‘Chirurgeon’ was an outcast even within the complex hierarchy of the Sect. She held a position of power as one of the monastery’s best physicians, and the doctor’s place within the Apothecary Hall ensured Shao a level of safety during the Nights of Famine.
“It is not in my nature to refuse a person in need, though charity is a bridge too far for even my generosity to thread,” the doctor had said. “If you have neither the coin nor bread to pay for my protection… Then perhaps an alternative arrangement would suffice — one that you may well benefit greatly from.”
Their agreement was simple: Shao would allow her pride to be defiled, her body subjected to all manner of procedures to sate the Chirurgeon’s twisted curiosities about the cultivated body. In exchange, the doctor would offer Shao the protection of her shelter during the Nights of Famine. Not even the most ravenous disciples would dare forcefully break into the Apothecary Hall of the Sect, for the protection came from the Matriarch’s word herself.
The Senior also generously guaranteed that with her medical skills, no permanent harm from her ‘experiments’ would ever be carried onto Shao’s person the moment she stepped out of her clinic.
“An opportunity to work on a canvas like yours comes rarely,” the Chirurgeon had said, the glee in her voice sending tremors down Shao’s spine. “Your flesh holds a peculiar quality: a uniqueness beyond that of your Sisters, or even the influence of your Path. I think I can make something special out of you with the remaining genetic material I have, despite your age and cultivated standing.”
All the Junior had to do was endure the Senior’s proclivity for as long as she stayed under her roof. The Senior even went so far as to claim the procedures may even end up improving Shao’s cultivation.
She was not stupid enough to believe her, of course. The Senior was free to make any number of excuses to justify her deviance. So long as she maintained her end of the bargain, Shao agreed to endure.
In any case, the deal likely saved her life, for she managed another three years without incident. Her cultivation steadily proliferated, ascending to that of the Shaping Realm in near record time for a disciple sourced from outside the Clans.
During those years, she suffered all manner of profane degradation under the touch of that lecherous Sister. All traces of her former innocence were now lost, washed away under blood and tears, brought forth by injecting collars and chained whips and operating knives. By the second year, her tears finally ran dry. By the third, her pride was unsalvageable.
But she was still alive, and as Shao’s cultivation soared, her standing in the Sect rose from that of an Outer to an Inner Disciple. Her pride could rot in a ditch if it meant she could ascend.
The girl repeated it again and again, until she no longer clawed at herself in the quiet moments after she suffered her new Mistress’s depraved touch.
Trying to claw out the crawling things that the doctor filled within her.
~~~
Following Body and Pride, her Mind was next to be lost.
Her status as Inner Disciple now granted her some measure of independent protection, though she dared not leave the sadistic shadow of the Mistress who had guarded her during the long Nights of Famine suffered in her cultivation infancy. Core Disciples still prowled the stone streets during those moonlit winter nights, hunting in pairs and packs. Shao was not capable of facing them alone and surviving.
At least, not yet.
But neither could she simply hole up in her Mistress’s mansion and bear her torment through the winter. As a Carnivore within the middle Steps of the Shaping Realm, she was beginning to feel the effects of Yin Hunger that drove her Seniors to such acts of wanton cannibalism against their Juniors.
It was an all-consuming, ravenous thing. It was not something mere mortal hunger could ever approach. It was to be at the brink of starvation for every second of the day, the body assaulted by hunger spasms endlessly. One could not act, could not think, without the hunger screaming at them to alleviate their hollowness.
Seek Yang flesh. Seek Yang flesh.
There was no sunlight in that snowfall, no men foolish enough to approach the Sect when the monastery was filled with inhuman screams and moans. There was no Yang qi to be found, no relief in sight — save for a single, immaculate source.
The virginity of a cultivator, especially that of a female practitioner, was a valuable thing. Maidens symbolised purity and chastity, embodying the root nature of Yin qi. It was the feminine aspect unsullied by seed or debauchery, and thus allowed sublime refinement amidst an unstained form.
The act of forcefully stealing that purity, however, was the prerogative of males. It was the dark side of Yang’s desire for balance made manifest, and there was great spiritual energy to be yielded from the vile emotions that were born from such an act.
And so, when winter comes, the Yin-maddened Seniors of the Split-headed Carnivores engaged in rapine, taking every ounce of innocence they could plunder from their new Juniors.
It was why there was such a high fatality rate among the newly inducted disciples, and why all of them were young female cultivators who had yet to have their purity stained and bloodied. Even should they survive their first encounter, their youth and inexperience still made them prime sources for extracting Yang qi through repeated and fresh forms of debasement, and so the Seniors hunted them to death, still, rather than each other.
Yet even then, the ‘relief’ their rapine brought was only temporary. The Nights of Famine may last months, depending on the cruel whims of nature’s dying season. When those wells of virtue ran dry, that was when true madness took hold.
There were no more jade beauties to be found on those nights, only giant Things that crawled, skittered, and laughed through a hundred mouths as they prowled and hunted their lesser Sisters.
Shao had sworn she would not become one of them. She was better than that; better than a bestial monster. The girl repeated it again and again, even as the hunger made her devour her own fingers and eyes. She repeated it to herself, even her body shifted and moved against her will.
She repeated it, even as she stalked out of the Chirurgeon’s hall, and her Juniors screamed and begged for their fathers, or brothers, or any male to save them.
Shao’s shadow loomed over theirs. Their screams… Why were their screams so sweet?
By the time she woke from her Nightmare later, after the snow had passed and the Sun had returned, Shao could not remember how many she had killed or defiled.
She only remembered waking in her Mistress’s Mansion, her belly full, and the sadistic woman’s smile as she looked down at her.
“Congratulations. You performed splendidly. I must say, I have really outdone myself this time. Thank you for the data.”
“You are now a greater horror than any of your Sisters could ever hope to be.”
Shao had thought she had no more tears left to shed. She found herself wrong. Her sobs intermingled with that of her crazed laughter, the last of her innocence defiled.
----------------------
EXPERIMENTAL LOG- Subject: X-AB-01 "Dai"
Specialist Lucy Hayes (Lu Yihui), Lead Chirurgeon of the 78th UEC Expeditionary Force
Date: ??? (Who knows? Time here runs slower. The UEC Chronometer got way fucked once we passed into the Ridge. But I’ve been in this place for about… 20 years maybe? Could mean anywhere between two and twenty minutes in the outside world by now…)
Location: Some cave in the middle of nowhere. Approximately 4 km from the village where I procured the subject.
Objective:
To create a functioning UEC-Mk4 enhanced human, a ‘Daemon-Genotype Evangelist’, using one of the local denizens from the Reverse Side of the World. The current theory supports that by combining the Astral Radiations of the Qiangyu continent — locally referred to as ‘qi’ — with the Demi-human enhancement technologies of the UEC, a new breed of superhuman may be borne from the union: one whose combat efficacy may surpass the previous models.
Subject:
Subject X-AB-01, named ‘Dai’, will serve as the first prototype. The subject willingly volunteered for the experiment after I offered him the procedure, believing it would grant him a chance to ascend to the ranks of those Astral manipulators — the ‘Cultivators’.
He is not wrong, but he may come to regret his decision. Though ethics have compelled me to inform him about the potential risks, I do not believe he fully understood my explanation. I suppose the Shard of Babel I have could only translate so much, after all. The language of this place lacks many scientific terms to match the advanced linguistics of the UEC, though perhaps greater sophistication can be found once I venture deeper into the Flesh-Grafted Empire. I doubt the people of the Reverse World are all this uneducated.
In any case, his relative youth, uncultivated (and thus baseline human) body, and lethal disposition make him an ideal test subject for the first trial of the experiment.
My colleagues would likely not approve of my actions. Viable extracts of daemon material are extremely rare, doubly so in my current environment since I am unlikely to procure any more beyond my current stockpile while stuck on this side of the world (or at least I sincerely hope that is the case. The thought of facing an infestation of those Organ-fuckers here as well is upsetting, to say the least.)
In addition, the subject chosen was not the culmination end candidate to a series of rigorous selection procedures, but rather one that I have picked from a random village in the middle of bum-fuck nowhere — A candidate chosen based on ‘gut feelings’ rather than rationality.
The Chirurgeon in me hates that, but the Painter approves.
The estimated projection for the survival rate of a random candidate chosen without prior testing for gene compatibility was reported to be 12.8%, last I checked. Failure would, at best, lead to a significant waste of time, while at worst, it would result in the loss of precious daemon genetic material.
Still, I proceed. Sometimes, the greatest potentiality is discovered through chance, and is it not said that an aptitude for ‘luck’ is crucial for any Evangelist?
Call it karma, fate, or the foul hand of serendipity, but I believe he will survive.
— Excerpt of The Chirurgeon's Research Notes. This particular experiment was conducted before she joined the Split-headed Carnivore Sect.
