StarChaser: Another (18+)

 

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Ingrid stopped her fist just before it impacted the floor. It was only then that she noticed a few things; first she was in some stone-brick room or cellar. Second, she had been lying on the floor and had flipped over on one knee and punched downwards. Third, some kind of collar was placed around her neck, it certainly helped her keep her strength down, although now the manacles on her wrists and ankles lay embarrassingly on the floor, broken in too many pieces to put back together.

Well that’s great, Ingrid thought, watching the knights run out of the room screaming. First thing I was punching out an Eldritch Conqueror and now the first people I could ask questions to started running away. She was in a cell surrounded on three sides with brick walls, except for one barred window, while the other was all bars. 

Quickly, she noticed that there was a lack of any electronics, no fans with too-wide grills futilely pushing the air around or a TV with a football game going on, the room was lit with chandeliers with glowing crystal shards. She wondered what she was doing in some kind jail without the Tar Heels game playing in the background. 

“Don’t judge me” Ingrid turns to the readers “when you’re a monster-of-the-week, the best time to attack is during game night.”

Belatedly, she realized she was only wearing a collar. Yet somehow her Mana flow was far stronger than usual, as if she still had her Raiment on. Well, that’s dangerous,Ingrid thought, she had to conserve her Mana. How long had she been out? And had her Mana flow been like this all the time? 

Ingrid didn’t know how she’s still alive or why she’s in a cell but she does know that unless there’s a clear and certain threat there was no need to waste any further energy.

Release! She thought. She had no Raiment for reference but she still felt her Mana flow swirling about her. This can’t be right.

Release!

Nothing, nothing worked. 

“C’mon Ingrid, can’t die here like this.” She told herself.  

Release!

Nope, still not working.

“Release!” She said out loud this time. But her Mana continued to shroud her like she was still Star Lily. She looked down to examine her feet and sure enough, the bottoms of her feet were hovering an inch from the ground. She went over to the bars and pulled on the metal.It bent easily like it was made of lead. 

Maybe it was the collar, Ingrid thought to herself. The leather metal tore off easily and she felt her Mana rushing around her even more strongly now. 

“Release!” Ingrid even tried striking different poses but it was futile. Slowing her breathing, she tried to take stock. She had no Raiment on, yet her Mana around her flowed like she was in her Star Lily form. She willed a small bit of Mana into her eyes, which widened in surprise.

Her Mana was perfectly still, a perfect thin outline around her body where it should have been like a slowly burning flame, with wisps breaking away and joining the Ether around her. She wasn’t losing any energy at all. This calmed her a bit, for now she seemed to be in a stable condition. 

Now about this Shard of crystal above between her breasts, which she swore was a little bigger than the last time she saw them… she poked at the crystal gingerly, hoping that she wouldn’t feel a stabbing pain at her heart, but no, nothing. It was like someone had just glued it. She also realized that during the time her heart was pumping wildly both from waking up and worrying about her Mana she felt no pain at all.

Her thoughts were interrupted by the sound of multiple footsteps. A bunch of knights and guys in robes had gathered in front of her cell.

“Do you have another of those collar things?” Ingrid asked, she was past worrying about being indecently exposed. Obviously she was already in this state when they brought her here.

 

"Lady Eliria of House Corven, you're here to answer for your crimes and face justice." Knight Captain Kevron Syth said sternly. He never thought of the day he would look at a beautiful naked lady and feel afraid but the sight of her casually standing there, with one hand on her hip and her manacles and collar lying torn on the floor unsettled him.

"Remine... remind me again what those are, I think I hit my head." Eliria said, she paused and frowned, touching her throat, as if surprised by the sound of her own voice. "Also I know it's a stretch since you tied me up back there but can someone get me a blanket at least?"

"Silence, wench!" Kevron barked "Your crimes are kidnapping, murder, conspiracy to assassinate, and being part of that evil Cult of The Red moon! Do you deny it?"

Eliria seemed to think for a while, scratching the back of her head, completely unashamed despite the fact that some were openly ogling at her. "No, I didn't do those things and I'm Ingrid Blair. I think you got the wrong girl."

"Don't lie to us!" Caram yelled "You were offering yourself on the altar for a summoning ritual!" he pointed at the crystal embedded on her chest "obviously that meant you had someone who would guide a such an otherworlder and make them do your evil bidding, who was it!?"

"Otherworlder? Summoning Ritual?" Ingrid's eyebrows furrowed, briefly in amusement over the absurdity of it all. Was that it? Did she get Isekai'd? Did she get reincarnated into another world? Is she seriously living in such a cliche fairy tale? "Well now that you mention it, that seems to make sense now..."

"Answer the question!" Caram shouted.

Rather than answer, Ingrid walked  over to the wall with the barred window. She kicked it, sending massive bricks tumbling into the moat below and revealing a panoramic view of an early evening. There was still enough light to see the city before her, as well as the dark enough to reveal not a single modern skyscraper.

"I'm that otherworlder, I guess." Ingrid shrugged, turning to the knights and mages who had obviously taken several steps back.

A couple of mages stepped forward uttering in unison a spell, the sensation of hearing it felt strange to Ingrid, it felt like they were saying something very long but at the same time it felt like only a few seconds had passed. The ends of their staves glowed, a thin line  like a laser pointed aimed at Ingrid's body. She felt a tug as if an invisible force was trying to knock her off her feet but she held her ground, resisting it as easily as a heavyweight bodybuilder resisting a geriatric's attempt to push him over.

"This is more embarrassing than my boobs being stared at." Ingrid deadpanned. "What are you trying to do?"

"C-captain! She's resisting it like it's nothing!" One of the mages croaked, more joined the fray trying to hit her with the spell to manipulate her movements and put her in a prone position but Ingrid was barely moving.

"Do you want me to get on the ground or something?" Ingrid asked "What for?"

"Silence, you demon! To collar you of course!"

"Well you should've said so." Ingrid knelt down in Japanese seiza pose "Come on in." She tried her best to not laugh as someone fumbled at the keys trying to open her cell door, and when they crowded around her while a nervous mage finally put another Sealing Collar around her neck. She visibly relaxed, feeling her Mana flowing much calmer now.

"You fool, you've rendered yourself powerless." The mage said.

"Skip to the part where you're throwing a frisbee." Ingrid said as they pulled her to a standing position. They found that they couldn't move her, and it was like trying to pickup something very heavy without preparation, one knight collapsed to the floor, his hands on his back as he groaned in pain. Ingrid's face was scrunched up, trying not to laugh.

"Give it a bit, maybe the Collar's updating." Ingrid said, trying to keep her voice even.

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Elsewhere in the gardens of Concirrica Palace:

“You’ve grown ruthless, sister.” The Crown Prince Vaan paused as drank from his teacup “This is especially cruel since she was once a good friend of yours.”

“Eliria’s crimes are exceedingly grave, dear brother” Princess Philia replied “She tried to summon an otherworlder, or do you need more lessons with Maestar Rowlan on what happened the last time they were brought here?”

Vaan shook his head, his golden hair bobbing in the light breeze “I know the damage they’ve wrought to our world, Eliria should be executed and yet you wish to shame her in order for her to be motivated into ending her own life? It’s such a roundabout way.”

The Phlia looked at Vaan with a cold stare “If she is executed she becomes a martyr for the Red moon cultists. But if she is shamed then later a sympathetic servant slips her poison then it makes her less of a respected figure.”

“Or she could end up repenting and revealing to us who her conspirators are, but you know she will never do that.” Vaan rose, before turning to leave he says to her “I know that our Lord Father has given your free rein to do with your former friend as you wish, but I will be excusing myself from such events. It’s not seemly for the next king to deal with these…matters.” 

As soon as Vaan left, Eliria waved her hand, the liquid in her teacup glowing with light.

“Sorry about that, of course Vaan would try to talk me out of it.” Philia said to the distorted figure on the other side.

“Just a little more” the figure began, his voice also warbled with distortion “she needs to realize it in order to set me free. Still…when the two of you meet, it will happen anyway.”

Philia sighed “...I’ve literally waited my whole life for this, so take it from me, this will just be a short wait for you.”

“I hope so…” the warbly-voiced figure said “It’s too bad you came here in such a poor state yourself. We could be meeting with Eliria right now and this would all be over.”

“I have other things to compensate with, such as being the King’s favorite daughter. I’ve been investing it over the years should I need to run away.”

“And how has that been going?” the figure asked, its voice tinged with genuine curiosity.

“Enough…hopefully enough. What we do next once you’re truly revived will require lots of money, money to buy influence from people. Eliria’s deeds, while necessary, have made things extremely difficult when the time comes.”

“I’ll leave that planning to you then.” The teacup’s glow vanished and she was back to staring at her own reflection.

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Fort Ontala

“Stretch her out more, I want these tattoos to look right.”  The tattoo artist said, the guards complied, cranking the winches further.

Ingrid was suspended from the ceiling, her arms high above her head and her wrists tied together, her ankles were similarly bound together, secured to a D-ring below her. Another rope was tied to opposite ends of the wall, pressed tight against Ingrid’s lower back. This caused her to arch her body, presenting her nudity for all to see. The watching guards chuckled and made lewd comments as an artist worked on applying a tattoo slightly above Ingrid’s pubis, lightly tapping the comb-like tool and dabbing a towel to clear the excess Mandragora Ink. As he did so, the demeaning symbol steadily took shape.

 

Captain Kevron Syth watched the proceedings with a perplexed expression. An hour ago, Eliria, who now called herself Ingrid, was being very uncooperative and in a sense, untouchable. He was sure that any moment now, she would get bored of this farce and escape, causing massive casualties in the process. However, after receiving a letter from Princess Philia and receiving instructions to read certain lines backwards, Ingrid suddenly became docile and submissive.

He wasn’t sure what happened but this could have been one of the Ancient Words of Power that the Royal Family supposedly had. That would explain why he needed to flare his aura out as per the instruction and then consign the letter to the flames.

Ingrid bore the tattooing with dignified resignation, and while she claimed she was no longer Eliria but Ingrid, an otherworlder; the humiliating significance of that mark would not escape her, as the snippets dropped by the guards made it clear that she now bore a symbol of utmost shame.

Then, as if to rub salt into the wound, the tattoo artist now held up a mirror so Ingrid could see it. She furrowed her eyebrows, not seeing the significance; their words of it being a shameful symbol a mystery to her. Normally if any other prisoner saw this they would be crying in despair and asking to be put out of their misery but Ingrid was almost fascinated with it. An expression that made a few of the heckling guards feel the pangs of disappointment when they didn’t see the disfiguring mark as anything distressing.

For Ingrid however, more than the tattoo, she saw  her own face looking at her. Did she reincarnate into a look-alike? Her face was exactly the same and so was her hairdo, shiny raven-black hair with rebellious streaks of purple… who wears a hairstyle like that in a fantasy world such as this? Her best guess was the mutterings of some guards earlier; something about Eliria dabbling in the Dark Arts.

“The artwork looks nice, great gold edges too, and for free.” She deadpanned. She didn’t sound sarcastic nor did her voice have any tinge of bravado with it, it really sounded like genuine appreciation.

“Hmph!” The tattoo artist was clearly offended that his work of art was not met with dismay. Ingrid successfully hid her amusement. Aside from her not reacting the way he wanted the entire procedure was far from uncomfortable to her. She had been bashed and sent flying by big monsters and tanked a city-annihilating beam, a bunch of tattoo needles was pretty much a mosquito bite to a Starchaser, and not that she didn’t have one back when she was Ingrid Blair.

Another man came forward, this time with a hammer and chisel and got to work on the crystal embedded on her chest.

“You might want to round off those sharp corners” Ingrid monotoned. “I’m a girl, I shouldn’t be able to passively poke someone’s eye out.”

“Shut up.” The gem cutter said, deftly he channeled his mana into his chisel and got to work with professional detachment while the other guards cheered the way her breasts jiggled as he lightly and patiently shaped the gem until it was rounded off and multi-faceted. Strangely enough to Ingrid, it seemed that the crystal wasn’t truly embedded into her physical body for at times he cut away at the edges  and it revealed healthy skin underneath.  When he was done, the crystal was much smaller now, a literal diamond-shape

“Done” the gem cutter said ”she won’t be trouble to you anymore with that Channeling Gem reduced. Can’t take off anymore than that, no guarantee it’ll cause damage to her if I do.”

Kevron nodded and called in the next artisan.One was a grizzled old man and the other his young assistant. The latter carried a cushion bearing three rings, a tiny chain had a jewel dangling on it.

Ingrid’s eyes widened when she saw the three little rings, she knew exactly where’d they go. 

Ingrid involuntarily squirmed a bit as the assistant held up the rings to her nipples, which were already hardened from the cool air and the situation she was in, with a touch of magic the rings widened until they easily slid into the hardened peaks. The old man uttered a spell and the rings shrunk, allowing them to fit snugly.

 

Ingrid was still panting a bit, admittedly from a little excitement as she was still getting used to the stimulation the three rings were giving her. Fortunately, the Tattoo Artist was back, this time applying a small pair of tattoos over each of her buttocks, probably to make the jiggles more noticeable she thought.

She was bent over and tied down to some kind of leather padded vaulting horse to keep her steady although Ingrid didn’t resist at all and let them work. She thought that she’d get some nice big tattoo on her back or something but figured that even with their alien sense of aesthetics it would still look too cool for someone like her, or rather on Eliria who was a criminal for some reason. 

When it was finally over, Ingrid was back in her cell.

“Just play along, from your number one fan.” Kevron had said unwittingly in English, which was not the language that was native to this world. It goes without saying that when she reincarnated into this world or had somehow swapped places with the real Eliria she somehow was speaking the native language.

She wondered who it could be. Someone in this world also came from Earth, which she was sure was not in, based on everything she’s heard from the guards here. Her first suspect was Melrondia, but it sounded too much of a roundabout way to kill her a second time. Still, if it was her then it made even more sense to conserve her strength and go to sleep. Although she had only been awake for a few hours, it was night time and her natural reaction to jet lag was starting to kick in. Some quilts and cushions were now laid in her still-broken cell, mostly likely under orders of her secret fan. 

Making herself comfortable she drifted back to sleep, dreaming of pounding Melrondia’s face again and again to a satisfying rhythm.

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