Chapter 87: Drama At The Gate!
Inside the Ruma District…
The slow, solemn procession of masked mages slithered deeper into the belly of the swampy stronghold. It was like watching a parade of misery, every step echoing like a funeral march across the damp, spongey terrain.
Josh had already entered—his golden presence cloaked in dull rags, blended perfectly into the hive of secrecy and horror.
But none of his generals had entered yet.
The line continued, every mage gripping an unconscious child like a grim badge of loyalty. Each robe flapped with wet mildew, each mask looked like it had been sewn by a blind butcher.
Then came Lola.
Crude robe? Check.
Ugly stitched mask? Check.
Unbothered queen energy barely concealed beneath the musty cloth? Oh—absolutely.
She walked with the poise of someone who knew she was fine and the arrogance of someone who didn't care who else knew it. Even under the rags, Lola's hips didn't walk—they wrote poetry.
If she was walking seductively,— intentionally or doing it,— instinctively was unknown, but it was bound to drive someone crazy.
Her presence was so disturbingly magnetic that even a full cult of brainwashed, swamp-dwelling, toad-worshipping mages couldn't help but notice.
Specifically, the mage behind her.
He had been minding his business until he noticed the walking stance, the hip swaying, the arched back and the unbothered movement of the mage ahead of him.
He tilted his head. He squinted.
His mask shifted as he leaned in closer.
His thoughts were no longer meditative—they were melting.
> "Wait a second… since when did we have females in the Order of the Golden Toad god?"
"Could this be a guy with an unusually captivating back arch?"
"No. No. That's too dangerous and a bit off-putting. But also… what if it's a test?"
"Curse the Toad… why am I like this?!"
His internal conflict raged like a storm in a teacup. Logic told him to ignore it. Curiosity begged for confirmation. The Toad god demanded discipline—but his brain was doing cartwheels.
Eventually, madness won.
He reached out.
He just needed a touch to confirm.
Just a slight touch.
A graze.
A gentle tap on the forbidden arched back/poetry that was Lola's backside.
Then he initiated it: A gentle tap—foolish, daring, and entirely suicidal—landed on the forbidden masterpiece that was Lola's arched backside. A backside that did not walk, but commanded sonnets from the wind, a forbidden poem etched into the language of curves.
Unknown to him, Lola had noticed everything. The twitch of his greedy fingers. The lean-in. The overthinking.
And so she did what Lola always did best—she prepared for stupidity.
Her whip had already slid down her side, coiled low like a sleeping serpent, its tip resting precisely where disaster would strike. The moment the pervert's hand made contact, the trap sprang.
ZAAAAAP!
Electricity tore through the air like a divine scream.
A bolt of pure vengeance danced from the coiled leather and launched itself through the man's arm, spine, teeth, soul—ancestral memories included. His body stiffened mid-motion, legs jittering like a broken marionette.
He screamed like a boiled goat.
His mask melted slightly. His mouth foamed. His brain briefly considered reincarnation.
And then—he dropped.
Still. Smoking. Dead.
Just like that.
He dropped Dead.
Heart? Stopped.
Brain? Fried.
Regrets? Probably.
Lola didn't even flinch.
She casually adjusted her grip on the unconscious child she held, shifted her robe a bit like she was fixing her hair at a gala, and continued walking as if she hadn't just roasted a pervert to charcoal.
The gatekeeper noticed this anomaly and left his post to check what in the toad god's name was going...
This mage stormed over, robes flaring dramatically, face twisted in fury. He looked from the twitching corpse to the very unbothered Lola. His scowl could have peeled bark off a tree.
"What happened here?!" he barked.
Lola turned slowly. She let out a grunt, then spoke in the deepest, roughest, most testosterone-loaded baritone you could imagine. Her voice rumbled like a furnace swallowing gravel.
"The dude was grabbin' my butt. Must've thought I was into that sort of thing. I'm not."
Silence.
The gatekeeper's frown began to twitch.
He slowly turned his gaze back to the dead body, processing.
> "Oh no. It's must be that guy," he thought.
"The mage who kept flirting with that bald, one-eyed guy last week."
"He's always been... experimental."
He exhaled through his nose, rubbed his temples, and sighed deeply.
"Understood."
He waved someone over.
Moments later, two other mages emerged, casually dragging the corpse away as though they were cleaning up after someone spilled soup. No drama. No alarms. Just another Tuesday in Toadville.
Meanwhile, the line behind Lola had expanded. A healthy five-metre distance now separated her from the next mage, who was visibly trembling and muttering prayers under his breath.
"Dear Toad god, let this one not be insane like the last guy. Whatever that is under that robe, is not to be trifled with."
That mage kept his hands glued to his sides like a disciplined statue. He was tempted—sure—but he also liked having a working heart.
Eventually, it was Lola's turn at the gate.
The gatekeeper squinted as she approached.
Her walk? Confident.
Her energy? Terrifying.
Her robe? Slightly more fitted than the others—why did that look… elegant?
He licked his lips nervously.
> "Is this… a man?"
"Or a woman disguised as a man?"
"Or a man disguised as a woman disguised as a man?"
"I need to stop thinking before I die."
He straightened.
"Your identifier number?"
Lola paused. She didn't just speak—she performed.
She stood tall, broadening her shoulders like a thespian playing a war general, and boomed:
"A-R... THIR-TEE-FIVE-SEH-VUN!"
(AR1357)
The voice was godlike. Somewhere between an opera singer and a truck engine.
The gatekeeper blinked.
"Right... yes. Of course. Proceed."
Josh, anticipating drama from Lola or Ralia, had given them each a system-forged voice modulator—activated by a tap to the neck—that overrode their soft, feminine voices with thunderous man-bass.
It worked.
Too well.
As Lola passed, the gatekeeper lowered his head respectfully, unsure whether he had just approved a loyal mage... or a walking nightmare in disguise.
Behind him, one of the guards leaned over and whispered,
"Was that a woman?"
The gatekeeper hissed,
"Say that again and you'll be waking up as a tree stump."