CH : 340 Medusa Clan And Thena

She was no longer merely a scion of the ancient Medusa bloodline—no, she had transcended such titles. What stood before me was not a woman, not even a monster, but a goddess twisted by mutation, given form through blasphemy and beauty alike.

She towered above the rest, her upper body alone rising ten meters, like a temple statue carved by the hands of mad prophets. Her long, lustrous purple hair cascaded down her back in waves, rich as royal velvet, yet bound to silk. The strands danced behind her as if moved by invisible currents, swaying rhythmically, impossibly untouched by dust or filth, hovering one inch from the ground—as if even the earth itself wasn't worthy of defiling her sacred locks.

But her hair was not just hair. Entwined within those flowing strands were animate serpents, massive red-black beasts with glistening scales and hypnotic eyes, hissing and coiling like living extensions of her will. They didn't simply move; they watched. They lived.

Her golden reptilian scales glistened across her forearms, thighs, and calves—not crude armor, but like divine adornments, seemingly forged by ancient beings to clothe their most dangerous daughter. Her fingers and toes ended in razor-sharp claws, lacquered with a shimmer of black and amethyst, each movement exuding a lethal grace. Her exposed skin was pale as untouched snow, smooth as polished moonstone—the kind of skin you'd imagine only higher beings might possess, glowing faintly with an inner, forbidden light.

And yet, despite her monstrous proportions and divine danger, she was clad modestly… too modestly—which only made it greater.

A tight, black-and-gold bustier hugged her enormous chest, lifting and pressing the twin mounds into a jaw-dropping curve that defied anatomy. They were the largest I had ever seen, massive even for her body size—sculpted by something not interested in restraint or logic, yet symmetrical and perfect, denying gravity. They bounced slightly with every breath, a hypnotic motion that tugged at the most primal instincts I tried to suppress. Her waist curved inward with the grace of a dancer, and from there flowed a black and crimson skirt, thin as shadows, whispering as it trailed behind her, parting with every movement to flash golden scales and a long, thick serpentine tail, the colors of midnight and molten gold. That tail alone spanned over a hundred meters—powerful, smooth, and dripping with menace.

Around her hips, the skirt clung like a jealous lover, but it hid everything. It merely teased. Her hips swayed with every subtle motion, the hypnotic rhythm impossible to ignore, more a statement of divine seduction than battle readiness.

A mask-like blindfold covered her eyes—the Mystic Eyes of Petrification hidden behind it, lest they lay waste to everything around her. And even that blindfold, sculpted with dark velvet and gold embroidery, fit her like a sinful crown, completing the ensemble of a fallen goddess, one who had once been worshiped in temples but now walked only in nightmares.

From her back erupted two golden feathered wings, massive and regal, their wingspan wide enough to brush both ends of the place. They weren't draconic or demonic, but angelic, a paradox against her dark beauty—yet somehow, they suited her. It was as if the divine had once claimed her... and then abandoned her, leaving only the husk of power and wrath behind.

And crowning her head… was a vision I had only ever fantasized about.

A writhing halo of living snakes, resplendent and noble, shimmered with threads of radiant gold—a feature that marked her as royalty. These were not ordinary serpents. They glittered like strands of moving jewelry, eyes intelligent, their every motion precise. Unlike the traditional Medusa line, which exuded malice and curse, her snakes shimmered with sacred majesty, draped in regality and veiled threat. Even her monstrous traits had grace, elegance—lethal beauty honed by godlike design.

And in that moment… my thoughts broke.

It was her.

Not her exactly, but an exact mirror, a perfect replica, of Gorgon from Fate/Grand Order: Babylonia. Down to the last ribbon, scale, and shade of violet in her hair. I blinked in disbelief, then again—my mind spiraled. I'd... I'd seen this woman countless times before. In fanart. In doujins. In videos that left no question about my interests.

I have flapped to her too many times in my previous life yes another figure from Fate franchise.

This was the seventh time I'd encountered a figure eerily similar to from the Fate franchise in this world—after Sendy, after others... and now this? My thoughts began to spiral.

'Is this world connected to the Type-Moon Omniverse? Is someone up there playing a game with me?'

I wonder if this world is one of the multiverses of the Type/Moon Omniverse. Something else.

I felt heat rise to my face as I forcefully shook my head, trying to banish the mental images—images of her bending over, riding sometimes, pinned to a wall, moaning my name—No. Focus. Focus, damn it!

And yet, I couldn't deny it: she was a walking wet dream, wrapped in power and monstrous elegance, and somewhere deep inside, my former life's degenerate soul was crying with joy.

Turning my gaze away from the Queen before I embraced myself, I looked toward the rest of the group. It wasn't just her that radiated this royal aura.

Only five of the 305 gathered Medusas possessed this rarest of bloodlines. Five born of the golden lineage—marked by gold-scaled limbs and pristine white wings. They were the backbone of Dusk Island's Medusa Clan. Each one a beast in the making but unlike her they didn't have a muted bloodline.

Skye stepped beside me and bowed. His voice was steady, professional, but I could hear the undertone of pride. "These 305 Medusas are all of high bloodline, my Lord. All have awakened their snake hair and reached at least the Master level. The five royal-blooded ones are born of golden scales and white wings. The rest of the ordinary Medusas—those who have not awakened—remain within the tribal grounds until further notice. Their Queen, however... is of a mutant bloodline. Unique. Supreme."

He said all this even though he knew I could tell just from a glance. But he said it anyway—because it was his duty as my servant.

I exhaled slowly, my heart still pounding from the Queen's gaze—even though her eyes were hidden. That made it worse, somehow. That made her... unknowable. Untouchable.

And gods help me... that made her even hotter.

I nodded subtly and extended a massive dragon claw toward them. A dreadful suction force erupted, yanking Queen Medusa, still bound by the legendary lock, into the air.

I dispelled the lock with a single thought.

Queen Medusa stared at me in bewilderment.

"Use your Eyes of Petrification on me," I commanded.

"This..." she hesitated, glancing nervously at her kin behind her.

I understood her hesitation and said coldly, "Attack. Or I will be forced to do something you won't like."

This time, she did not falter. As with a thought the mask-like blindfold folded around her head like a technological armor, revealing those vibrant violet Iris with slit pupils, resembling those of a serpent which were mesmerizing even for me with her gorgeous figure. Which again confirms her uncanny resemblance to Gorgon.

Her eyes burn with a deep violet glow. As I was mesmerized by them.

As a tremor stirred in my soul. A terrifying force surged forth, as if trying to rewrite and warp my very essence. Yet, my soul, fortified by incomprehensible might, crushed the power outright.

In the real world, Queen Medusa shrieked in pain. Blood gushed from her deep violet snake eyes as two lines of crimson tears trailed down her cheeks. Horror froze her expression.

"How... how is this possible?" she whispered, shaken to her core. Even the agony from her ruined eyes couldn't distract her from the sheer shock.

She was no ordinary Medusa. As one who had reached the peak of the third Legendary level, blessed with the finest bloodline ability in generations, with very high mutation in blood.

Queen Medusa's petrification could paralyze even some fourth-level Legendary beings.

If not for the spiritual might of Death Patroller Ogula, who was gifted in soul manipulation, she might never have been defeated. Against most fourth-tier Legends, her odds of victory would have been quite high.

While Queen Medusa reeled from disbelief, I narrowed my eyes, my heart tinged with mild surprise.

'What an unusual and potent spiritual force,' I mused.

I turned to a Medusa noble and ordered her to use her own petrification talent. Amid the flash of snake eyes and a chorus of pained wails, I sank into contemplation.

Medusa's petrification varies greatly depending on bloodline.

The nobles — those with awakened snake hair but without the gold scales or white wings — possessed limited petrification. Their talent could only affect beings of similar power.

But the royals — the apex of the Medusa lineage — possessed awakened snake hair, golden scales, and elegant white wings. Their petrification abilities were terrifying, often allowing them to petrify foes far above their own level.

I even speculated that if Queen Medusa with her extreme mutated bloodline launched a surprise attack, she might bring down some less spiritually-defended fifth-level Legends.

"I desire this talent," I whispered to myself.

However, now was not the time to forcibly seize it.

Only after thoroughly immersing these Medusas in the power of the void — transforming them into loyal Void Familiars — would I harvest their talents. Once stripped of their original abilities, I would reimplant their petrification skills through alienated void-based talents that I always do with my other Void Familiars; it's just they would have one less ability, ensuring loyalty while preserving their power without losing a single dime.

To kill and rob now? Pathetic. That's the work of desperate fools with no sense of value. No—those bodies, that beauty... you don't destroy something that exquisite. You claim it. You own it. Killing them would be a waste so obscene it would make even my blood boil. No, I want them breathing, trembling, begging—mine in every way that matters.

"From this moment forth, you will serve as maids in the Castle Black and obey all orders given by the head maid, Sophia," I declared without emotion, deciding their fate in a single breath.

"I obey your command, Master," Queen Medusa replied, her voice heavy with bitterness and quiet despair.

She had originally considered resisting. But after realizing that even her full-strength petrification could not scratch the black dragon, she understood that to protect her people, submission was her only path.

With Queen Medusa's surrender, and with the cooperation of the Medusa clan, the Black Wing Lair swiftly took over critical resource nodes across Dusk Island.

—

Queen Medusa POV..

The skies above Dusk Island had always carried a strange and serene shade of violet—a mesmerizing hue so eerily similar to my own serpentine irises that I once believed the heavens themselves favored our kind. That soft, eternal twilight used to bring me solace, a quiet reminder that not all things in our world were cruel. It made me feel watched over, protected.

But now, that same sky loomed heavy and oppressive, as though the stars themselves had averted their gaze in shame. The violet had dimmed into a smothering shadow, choked by clouds too thick for light to pierce. It was no longer the sky of my youth—it had become a graveyard canopy for a fallen people. It bowed now, I believed, in silent acknowledgment of the overwhelming, suffocating might of the Black Dragon King.

Never in my darkest visions had I foreseen our end arriving with such brutality. So swift. So merciless.

The air still carried the scent of smoldering ash and scorched stone, the pungent bite of blood-soaked earth. It clung to my tongue like poison. The battlefield that had once been our sacred grounds was now nothing more than a scorched wasteland, littered with shattered relics and the bones of our guardians. Echoes of the final battle screamed in my ears with every gust of wind. My sisters—five of them, each a jewel of our bloodline—had stood at my side, wings of white flame and snake-hair hissing with wrath, golden scales gleaming beneath spells and sunlight. Their eyes had burned with the pride of our ancestors as they unleashed the ancient powers of our cursed and blessed lineage.

But pride is brittle when pressed against overwhelming might.

Even with our power—our collective strength forged by blood, pain, and endless training—we were no match for what came. The enemy was unnatural. Their troops bore powers that defied comprehension: a goblin that used flame abilities, a harpy that wielded frost element mastery, orcs with bodies made of obsidian steel, and weird humanoids using weird energy. They should not have existed. They were wrong. And yet, they were, and they overwhelmed us.

We had three hundred and five remaining Medusas left in the entire world—each one a precious relic of a dying race. I was their Queen. Thena Ophionaris, last daughter of the Royal Line, bearer of a mutated bloodline so pure, so potent, it was said my gaze could turn even legends to stone. I had been our people's final shield, our ultimate weapon, a symbol of hope and defiance.

And now... that symbol was shattered.

We were once royalty. Now, we were captives. Survivors only in name.

It all began with the death of our parents. They fell in the dead of night, ambushed by a confederation of rogue necromancers drenched in red robes and pirate lords with skin tattooed in demonic runes. The blood moon bore witness to their fall, and the skies wept fire as they were torn from us. I was young then—not even five centuries old—but fate cares little for age when it demands sacrifice. I buried my tears. I killed my innocence. I became Queen.

My sisters were younger still—barely beyond their two centuries—yet they followed me without question. They clung to my every word, trusted my every command. And so I hardened myself, molded myself into something more than mortal. I became their sword and shield, their mother and monarch. I turned our despair into discipline. Our sorrow into steel.

But even that had not been enough.

We were hunted not only for our strength—but for our allure. Our bloodline was coveted by madmen, alchemists, and kings alike. To be a Medusa was to be a prize. A danger. A temptation. And so we were always pursued.

When the sky turned black and the monstrous shadow of the dragon cloaked the sun, I thought it was just another warlord. Another would-be god, foolish enough to challenge the Ophionaris.

How wrong I was.

His arrival heralded not war—but conquest. His army was not a legion—it was a storm. A living, breathing cataclysm. They moved with terrifying unity, their steps like a divine rhythm played on the bones of the earth. They did not march—they descended. Creatures of smoke and stone, spirits encased in crystal, beasts stitched from nightmarish fabrics. Each was a horror unto itself.

We fought. We screamed. We broke the land with our fury. We summoned serpents from beneath the soil, tore open the sky with our fury. My sisters stood like legends, each more radiant than the last, wielding powers that once felled armies.

And yet we fell. One by one. Some were sealed in cursed bindings. Others caught in containment spells and dragged away screaming. Those that resisted were beaten into the dirt. Captured alive. For a purpose.

The combined strength of our lineage had been nothing against the dragon's army. Their energies were strange, with weird and different abilities that shouldn't be possessed by their races, and immense strength and tough bodies.

In the end, I stood alone.

My body shook. My wings drooped. My heart burned.

I was the last to stand.

My limbs trembled with exhaustion. My spirit screamed with fury. I unleashed my eyes.

But they didn't work against the horrific multiple skulled monster. The abomination that stood in front of me.

And when we were presented in front of the black king in legendary grade black cuffs. When I looked at him I truly knew we were lost just from his immense size. I knew our freedom was lost.

And after ogling at me for a long time, what came out of his mouth shocked me.

"Use your Eyes of Petrification on me," I commanded.

"This..." I hesitated, glancing nervously at my kin behind me as I was sure we would surely die if there was even a chance of my eyes turning him into stone.

I stared at him in disbelief. Was this mockery? A trap? I glanced behind me—my sisters were barely conscious, held in chains that shimmered with cursed runes. If I hesitated, we would all die.

*****

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