With a final flap of his wings, the gryphon tumbled onto his doorstep. Scars scattered throughout his wings as he folded them up. His large body had seen better days. 


Muscles that deteriorated from lack of proper nutrition clung against his bones. His once sharp talon could barely tear into dragon’s scales with how blunt they were now. And his once vibrant face was now pale. 


He let out a sigh before noticing a letter underneath his paws. He raised his eyebrows. When was the last time someone had written to him? Months? Years? Decades? Time’s a blur when you’re a gryphon. 


Carefully, he ripped out the envelope, reading its contents. He tried not to get his hopes up; ever since he had been exiled, all contact with his village members were cut. Burnt bridges. It only made sense after he brought dishonour to his family from that one damned night. 


He shook his head before reading the note. Wasn’t from his parents nor any of his friends - all shunned him after what he did. No, it was from the council and they wanted him to be their sacrifice. 


The exile widened his eyes. Did they fail to catch their usual monsters to send as sacrifice? The Empire and Gryphons had a little deal; every year they would send one of their offerings to the human Empire as an act of goodwill in exchange for their commercial trade and protection from other clans. Offerings that would be used as magical items. 


Going back into his little den, he hunched his back and duck underneath the ceiling. There wasn’t anything much in there. Just some sacks of meat and herbs in one corner - chilled with ice - while in the other corner were a stack of leaves, acting as his bed. 


Reading the words, he glanced over at his fatigued and weakened body. The words blurred. He leaned against one of the walls - tears escaping his eyes. There, he couldn’t help but chuckle in resignation. 


‘Bring back honour to his family’ it said. As grim as it sounded, he knew this was the only way to bring it back. It wasn’t like he didn’t try but the result was still the same. The same old cold harsh rejection and reminder of his sins. 


The exile tossed the letter to the floor. 


What other option did he have? 


Haunted by nightmares of his past, shunned away all the Gryphons he had known and his weakening body… He let out another chuckle. Damn, that was all his life amounted to? To be sacrificed and become someone’s equipment? 


The exile let out a sigh of relief. At least his tortured existence was going to end for something good. With this note in mind, he went out to hunt for one final fight. 


It wasn’t some glorious fight to the death; rather he struck down one of the deers in the forest with lightning. The poor thing couldn’t react before dying. There, the exile tore through its skin and devoured its flesh. While eating, he couldn’t stand to look at the corpse; the mere sight of it pushed his primal urge to dread his near future. Soon, he was going to be like this. 


Lifeless and cold. 


After eating, he tucked into the pile of leaves. Nothing better to do, especially with the sun setting. He would rather get over all of this quickly instead of mulling over his fate.


Once he closed his eyes, he soon went into slumber. The same nightmares replayed in his mind. The panicked scene of all the children and the weak crying for help, the stench of blood overwhelming his nose in an instant and that giant monster eating one of his friends… And like always, he woke up in cold sweat, clenching his fists and banged against the cave. The cave shook and trembled. Fucking hell… 


Fortunately, the sun was already rising, marking his journey to begin. He fanned his wings out, and flapped them a couple times before heading towards the cliff and flew. Despite his lack of appetite, his stomach grumbled once he took off. He justified it as punishment for his sins in his own weird logic. 


Golden rays of sunlight shone against his wings with each flap barely keeping him afloat. Back in his younger days, he was one of the fastest gryphons within the cohort. Now? He was probably slower than the fastest birds in the region. 


Still for the trip, his pace wasn’t bad; from where he was to the Empire, it would only take him about a day to walk. To fly instead? He should reach there before night. Not that he wanted to be there for long. 


The architecture there always felt a little cramped like if he just stretched out a little, he would knock into their stalls and wares. Didn’t help that their eyes were always gawking at him. And then there’s the warning his Mother always had instilled in him. 


Taking a break by the lake, he caught his breath and sipped some water. Memories of how his Mother would nag at him returned. And it all started from his little question: 


“Mum, why is the Empire the strongest when the humans there are so weak?” 


His Mother kindly turned around and squatted to his eye level, “Well son, it's simple really. If a species is this weak yet their civilization is the strongest, they themselves must be better in some aspect.” 


He tilted his head to the left, puzzled, “Like?” 


“Intelligence,” She tapped against hers, “They trick stronger species into working with them in the guise of partnership. But,” She hushed down her voice, “If you give them any leeway, they can and will swallow you whole.” 


A sudden gawk snapped him out of his memories. Right, how was she doing now? He wondered, preparing to continue the flight. But this time, he won’t need her advice; he was a dying gryphon that had nothing to lose. 


His weary eyebags carried along the flight itself, grabbing food from the random wild life. Memories of his past accompanied him being reminded of all of the landmarks along the path. Like how he fought against his childhood friend in one of the exchange trips or that time he snuck into the Empire without any supervision. 


Bitter sweetness swirled in his heart. All of the rose tinted view on his life soured with overwhelming regret. Oh how he had fallen. Fallen from being the best to an exile. Banished from his tribe. 


From across the horizon, he could see the great wall of the Empire. Its bricks showed wear and tear, mold growing by their corner and a pungent stench segregation the region. Probably some sort of repellent to chase away any outside monsters. 


Orange hues shone against his feathers with the sun setting. He turned around, landing onto the grass patch. His eyes teared up a little. One last sun set to remember. Now walking on all fours, he spotted out a line of carriages and wagons, all lined up towards the gate that led to the Empire. 


The Exile took his place, right behind the long queue. Eyes turned to him; some of them with pity while others with curiosity. A rare sight to see a gryphon this feeble-looking in the Empire - most of them were strong proud adventurers in search of new richest.


He ruffled through his fur, double checking that his letter was in place. Thankfully, it was still there intact. Going along with the queue, he had hoped this would suffice as proof. Proof that he could enter within the Empire. 


Else… he might have to starve for the night. There were barely any free roaming monsters around the empires. Most were already reserved for guilds to either train their adventurers or for the Empire to mine their resources. He shook his head before deciding to place his faith on the Council’s stamp. 


“Next!” 


Before knowing it, it was his turn. He handed him the letter as he cleared his throat, “S…sorry, here’s my entry pr…proof…” The guard raised one of his eyebrows, dusting away the fur on the letter. A gryphon as a sacrifice for their nation? Seems like some fraudulent activity at play. 


“Wait here,” The guard left with his letter and searched for his sergeant. Sacrifices weren’t supposed to come on their own, they’re supposed to be with their Emissary and preferably hunted dead. 


Minutes passed by with the Exile fidgeting against his thumbs. Felt so awkward to now be surrounded with people after being banished for years. How was he supposed to act? Nervous? Casual? No, but he was the sacrifice, he should at least be formal, right?


The guard returned with his sergeant. Both of whom glared at the feeble gryphon, “Sir, I’m going to ask you to leave. Your letter is not va-” 


“But my Council told me to arrive today!” 


The taller sergeant shook his head, “We only accept sacrifices with said Emissary accompanying them. And I see no one like that with you. As such, you will hav-” 


Another gryphon suddenly ran from behind the gates. This one was taller and fitter than the Exile. His cheeks flushed red while he dashed behind the Exile, “Oh so sorry about this, Sergeant Petrov, I had forgotten to meet up with our dear sacrifice here,” He shot the Exile a glare before chuckling, “Yes, yes, this is our sacrifice for this year’s ceremony. A pure bred gryphon that was once the pride of our tribe.” 


“In this state?” 


The younger gryphon slapped against the older one's back, chuckling, “Well he had seen better days of course. But rest assured, he was one of the strongest gryphons there, capable of chaining lightning throughout his enemies. He even fended off a dragon before.” 


The younger gryphon’s chirpy voice was starting to irritate the Exile. It was looking at a mirror into the past, being reminded of how he used to behave while trying to enter the Empire. Embarrassing. 


“Give us a minute to discuss,” The two guards discussed in private while the Emissary jabbed against the Exile’s ribs, “Look who decided to show up,” He let out a sigh, “Do you really have a death wish or something, why did you even come here?” 


The Exile glanced away, “Well some things are better left unsaid.” 


“And some people are better left exiled.” 


“You don’t have to tell me twice.” 


The Emissary flashed a smile while the guards returned to them, “Alright then, you may enter into our Empire. I was informed that you’ve been in contact with one of our men, haven’t you?” 


The Emissary nodded, “Yes, yes, we’re going to have a feast tonight. I’m sure our sacrifice here would love to have some food. Just got to thicken this bad boy up,” The guards chuckled,  gesturing to them to enter. 


Once entered, the city shined with their lamps flicked on. The Exile now was crawling on fours while the Emissary led him forward on twos, “You better not ruin this for me like you did for the rest,” He said, still glancing straight ahead in the city, “You understand me, else I’ll kill you myself.”


“Rest assured, I’m not going to be running away.” 


“Yeah, yeah, you better not,” The Emissary pinched between his eyes, “This was supposed to be a get away vacation from the Council. Give them some bullshit excuse about this year’s deal and my vacation would’ve started. Yet…” He turned back, now staring daggers into the Exile’s eyes, “I’m stuck with my brother’s murderer who became this feeble beast.” 


The Exile gulped down. Great. Another thing to remember ruining. Felt like no matter what he did, someone’s gonna be pissed at him. There was no winning this game, was there? The Emissary soon was greeted by one of the humans. This one was wearing a white outfit with golden bits on the edges. Probably a bishop of the church to perform the ritual. It was a sacrilegious event. 


Once confirmation was achieved, the Emissary and Exile followed after the bishop. One shadowed just inches before them while the other was walking side by side with the bishop. 


“I’m surprised you’ll send us a gryphon this year. Ran out of wyrms and dragons, this year huh?”


The Emissary nodded, “It's unfortunate. Weather's been terrible to attack them. One missed spell and they’ll have your head,” He fanned against himself, “But hey, at least you get a gryphon this year. Better than nothing, right?” 


“It's interesting to say the least,” His eyes glanced behind. That gryphon barely had anything of value. Skin clung onto his bones while his muscles were barely there. Were they duped by the Council this year? Hoarding all of the goods within their little tribe? Oh, they should know better than to do that. 


“Right! Just imagine all of the tools and equipment you’ll be able to build. Like gryphon bones are surely rare to come by and with how strong he was in his prime, his blood is practically bursting with mana!” 


The Exile nodded along as they walked into a palace, situated within the centre of the city. As a young gryphon, he had always wondered how it would be like to live inside here. For such small humans, why did they even need to have such large houses? For fun? They couldn’t even use all of that space even if they wanted to. 


But he was mistaken. Walking through the front gates, the Exile spotted out rows and rows of golden lines before the door. Was this actual gold before him? His mother had kept mere nuggets of them within boxes, claiming that it was a family heirloom. 


Here? It was practically flaunting the wealth on how rich this person was. Or was it a family instead? The Exile hastened his steps and tightened the distance between him and the other two. Both of them were still talking about their current affairs - a topic that he was too far out of touch to comment on. Not like anyone wanted to hear him. 


Meanwhile, the younger gryphon rolled his eyes. Great. He was never expecting the Exile to come, let alone give himself out this easily. Irritation grew within his heart. All his plans shattered to bits once he arrived. He always had that habit of ruining everything, huh? No wonder he was exiled. 


“So how’s your stay so far?” The bishop suddenly asked after taking a left in the mansion, "It's been a week since you’ve arrived here, haven’t you?” 


The Emissary nodded, “It's been excellent so far. The food’s amazing, the water’s fresh, the people’s nice, what more could I ask for?” 


“Right, right,” The bishop unlocked two rooms, both that had "Guest Rooms’ carved on their exterior, “The sacrifice’s room is on the right while yours is on the left. Do let any of our attendants know if you would like anything more.” 


“Wai…wait… what is this for?” The Exile asked, asking softly, “Sorry I haven’t been listening…” 


Even in this place, he still had no idea what was going on? The Emissary grunted out an answer, “This is where we’re staying for the night before your ritual, alright?” His tone was sharp like ice, “Now dear Johan here is allowing us to rest before the feast.” 


“The…feast…?” The Exile asked, now shifting to be bipedal. The door’s width wouldn’t allow his larger quadrupedal body to enter. 


“Yes. The feast to celebrate you as our sacrifice,” He said exasperatedly. Seriously, what was he doing while trailing behind them? Dazing off? “Just be ready by seven and dress accordingly.” 


Johan bowed a little with his back facing them,  “Please take all the time to rest, my fellow guests. I have some work to discuss with my archbishop but please do call me if you have any requests.” 


The Emissary soon left as well, leaving the Exile with his thoughts. Entering the place, his eyes widened. A nice comfortable thick bed, golden rays of sunlight still entering through the windows and a bunch of cosmetics laid out. He rubbed his talons against them. 


Gold necklaces hung within different large jewels… was he supposed to wear this? He laid against the bed. His feathers and fur now got onto the white sheets as he rolled inside it. This was practically living in royalty, wasn’t it? The last he recalled, the Chancellor couldn’t even stay in this, living in a humble nest like everyone else. 


The Exile turned to face the fading sun. Who would’ve known that he would live one last day of luxury. 


Meanwhile in the other room, the Emissary clicked against his tongue. The bed itself was up to standard while the jewelry was just tacky to look at. Reminded him of his parents. But most importantly, his thoughts were in disarray.


He slammed against the wall. Which idiot would just voluntarily give themself up to be sacrificed? Sure, the honour it brought to their family was immeasurable but they are literally going to die. What was the point of honour if one couldn’t relish in it? 


Originally after the note was sent, he would just enjoy within the Empire, claim that their sacrifice was coming any minute now and just take it as a break from his work. A good month or so. Instead, the Exile just had to come now. 


The worst part? 


After his ritual, the Empire was probably going to write a report (more like a complaint letter) to the Council, demanding to know why this year’s offering was this pathetic. Even he knew that the Exile’s body wasn’t worth a dime to them. 


And he would be tasked to relay their long written complaints as urgently as possible. He slumped back into the bed. Great. Now his sabbath had just been cut into a week of fooling around. Ah, how he wished he could drink more of their alcohol… 


Rolling to the side, he grunted a little. Just seeing the feeble Exile was enough to tick him off. He used to be the strongest in the clan, a rising griffin to take the Council's place, succeeding one of the ministers there. 


Tears brimmed through his eyes. That Exile probably didn’t recognise who he was. He probably didn’t care enough or maybe he had already forgotten him. Being exiled for the past decade or so would probably destroy those incessant thoughts. 


Yet, a bitter taste whirled within his beak. If he had just defended the tribe, defended his people and fought off against the monsters…the Exile would’ve been one of the proudest ministers of the Council, ruling from above. And he would gladly work under him alongside with his brother. Everyone would still be happy. Living their prosperous life without any major problems. 


Standing up, he lurched towards the toilet. Just looking at his reflection was enough to recall that horrifying scene. Fire burning through their nests with screams of children. As all of the monsters continued to strike down on their village, blood painted the whole town red. 


He was one of the lucky ones, being able to flee from the monsters. Yet, some nights, he wished he didn’t. He wished he was stronger to fend them off instead of running away. Yes, he was powerless as a child but guilt had its way of clinging onto his shoulders. 


Like a ghost, it would appear in the middle of nights, haunting his nightmares. And now his once admirable close friend was a feeble old gryphon. Ready to be sacrificed for the Empire. Maybe, he was still young but this made him sick to the gut. 


Whatever. He washed his face, splashing water onto his face. He had a death wish and so why should he care? These sour memories would eventually be behind him before he knew it… just after his death of course. 


Meanwhile, Johan’s steps were softer as he approached the archbishop’s room. How was he going to explain this to her? That their offering was a dying gryphon that barely had anything substance to give. Not to even mention their Emissary kept blabbering on like a fool. 


With a soft knock, a deep lady’s voice answered, “Come in.” 


Johan stepped in, bowing his head and stayed there - he dared not look at her eyes, “Bishop Johan reporting.” 


“How’s the situation with the gryphons?” 


Silence was his reply. The archbishop leaned against her arm, sighing, “What is it this time? They didn’t have their offering this year? Or were they complaining about our partnership terms?” 


“Not quite. There is an offering, just in the form of a…” He stumbled on his words, “Feeble gryphon.” 


She raised her eyebrow, “Feeble gryphon?” 


“I apologise for being so blunt but there are no other words to describe him. You’ll see his form later in the feast but he barely has any muscle on him. His mind isn’t the sharpest nor was he pr-” She slammed against her desk, causing Johan to instinctually look up at her fury. 


Like a knife’s edge, she hissed out, “Are they making a mockery out of us? We clearly stated that we wanted at least a Unicorn’s heart for this deal and here they wanted us to accept their scraps?” 


Johan trembled. What in good God’s name was he supposed to say here? For the church, this was an important ritual to show their devotion. To Him. Hence, the offerings must be of optimal quality. Even having nothing was better than having a low quality offering. 


Yet, their Emissary was already here. It would be a sign of disrespect to reject them, claiming that their offering was ‘not up to standard’ was the equivalent of starting a fight with them. And the last thing they wanted was to go to war with them. 


“Archbishop, what would you like us to do then…?” He asked, after clearing his throat, now hanging his head lowly. 


She tapped against her desk. Her fingers softly make a rhythm. The Government wasn’t going to be happy with this. To hear that their agreement was being violated could ignite flames between their already strained relationship. And their King was going to be there, watching the ritual live. She couldn’t just cancel it now, could she? 


So many problems from just dealing with these birds. If she had it her way, she would’ve already planned to conquer their little tribe. After all, they aren’t the only ones with magical items, the Empire also had other allies with them. 


Curiously, she continued that line of thought. They were the ones who started this, unable to live up to the deal’s conditions. So why should she have to suffer for their failures? A small grin emerged with the gears grinding within her mind. Johan suddenly asked, “Archbishop?” 


“How’s the Emissary, Johan?” 


“Pardon?” 


“The Emissary. How’s his physical condition?” 


Johan scratched his head. What was she thinking now? “He seems to be one the fittest gryphons I’ve seen. Feels like he could take down one of our platoons easily. But his personality is left…much to be desired.” 


“Elaborate.” 


“He’s young and rather superficial. For the past week, he has been splurging on our luxurious amenities, drinking at our hotels and partying within the night life.” 


“So he’s vulnerable to drugs, isn’t he?” She jotted down some words on a piece of paper. No. She couldn’t be suggesting that, could she? That would burn the bridges between the Empire and their clan, potentially starting a war between them, “Oh Johan, they’re the ones who violated our deal. We’re just taking back what's ours.” 


“Bu-” 


“It would take years before they realize their Emissary is missing. Just like all of our suggestions, they always drag it out before implementing them. Like the dumb birds that they are.” 


Johan glanced at the door, “What about the other one?” 


“We’ll take both of them,” Her grin was now from ear to ear, passing him a note, “Could you pass this to the general? Just to hear his thoughts on this,” She winked at him.  


The bishop nodded his head before gulping down his spit. Walking out of there, cold sweat ran through his back, appearing as wet spots on his thick coat. Odds are the general and king were going to back her up… 


Sick to the gut, he could only follow orders. May He bless them all. 


Didn’t take long for the general’s roaring laughter to echo through the halls. The general slapped his knee after reading the letter. His mustache twitched up, staring down at the smaller bishop. War with those damn birds? It was about time already! 


“I’ll take that as approval for the plan, General,” He said, turning his head to the back, “Do I let the king know?” 


The older man puffed out a cloud of smoke, yet his eyes shot through the grey clouds, staring down at him. Goosebumps appeared on Johan’s arms. Were they not going to tell the king at all about their plan? 


“Johan, chill the fuck out, will ya? You be acting like a rat that’s just been caught,” He coughed, “We’ll tell the king after that shitty meal. I mean, he would understand after seeing how pathetic that old birdie is.”


The bishop nodded, pushing against the door, “I suppose you’re right, general.”


“Damn right I am!”
The bishop returned to the archbishop’s room. His thoughts all circled around one prospect: War. Actual war with them? It was unfathomable how petty his bosses were but what was he to do about it? At the very least, he wasn’t going to be in the frontlines… 


Meanwhile, the Exile laid on his bed, thinking back on how the past hour went. His fellow gryphon reminded him of someone. What did he mention? Him being his brother’s murderer? To be fair, with how many casualties that night had caused, it barely narrowed down. 


Hundreds of gryphons died, fighting the beasts. If it was one of them, the village would’ve devoured them as their dinner; it was instead a hoard of them that required many other Elite warriors to fend them off. Not to mention how they teamed up with Goblins that set fire within their nests.  


The Exile stood up, sighing. Everything just fell apart from that one day. One night. And it was entirely all his fault. He couldn’t even pinpoint how or where it went wrong. One sip of some drink and he was entirely knocked out for the night. 


Needed the screams and wails of people to wake him up where he found himself inside a cave. And the rest was history. Nothing more needed to be said. At least this would be the end. 


He grabbed one of the white robes within the wardrobe before tying it up around his waist. Jewels shimmered around the collar and wrist, causing his wings to stretch out a little. Right, he needed to wear the accessories. 


Clipping onto the ear rings and wearing the necklace, he heard a knock on the door, “Sir, are you ready?” 


“Um…” He stretched forward, opening to see Johan’s tired expression, “Yes… I think I am,” The bishop nodded with the Emissary tapping the floor, “Is there a need for me to be dressed?” 


“Why yes. This is your first time so you wouldn’t know but all gryphons need to be dressed formally. And for the sacrifice,” He pointed at the Exile, “He would be required to wear accessories to mark his place.” 


“Fair enough, thank you for the help thus far,” The Emissary stepped behind Johan. 


Johan started walking towards the dining hall, still a little shocked at how earnest he spoke. Were his eyes redder than he remembered them as, “No, thank you for this partnership. Truth to be told, we wouldn’t know what to offer for this year’s ritual without you gryphons.” 


The Exile chuckled awkwardly, “Right… So how has your day been…?” He stumbled on his words. 


“Oh, just the usual. It’s been a busy day with work. At least there’s a feast to be had.” 


“Well, that’s good to hear…” 


“What about yours?” Johan winked at the Exile, “How’s your day been like?” 


“Tiring I guess. I mean I had to fly here by myself…” He rubbed against his arm, “A little hard especially with this body.” 


The Emissary spotted a scar on his arm when he rubbed against it. The same one he had watched the blood seeped from the wound as one of the Drakes biting down on his flesh. Ugh, why did he have to remember that here, “Ma…maybe you should’ve trained then.” 


“Sorry?” 


“Nothing…” The Emissary averted away, before putting on a chirpy tone, “So Johan, what’s the itinerary for the night?” 


He scratched his chin, “Right. So before the meal, we’ll have the king’s speech. A simple speech on how grateful we are to receive offerings. There, a simple eight course meal will be delivered, tailored to your tastes and after that…” His eye twitched as he rubbed against it, “Sorry, there’s a bit of dust there. Finally, we’ll provide a massage for both of you.” 


“A massage?” 


“Yes, a massage,” His conscience was pinched a little as he said the following lie, “Usually this is for sacrifices to plan the ritual for tomorrow. But for tonight, we’ll also let the Emissary enjoy the process. Just as a show of good will.” 


Passing through another door, Johan guided them towards a flight of stairs. While the Exile was beaming, the Emissary nodded along. Who knew that humans had such kindness, extended towards him? His parents had warned him of the possible dangers but a simple massage couldn’t hurt anyone. Plus even if they tried, he would’ve killed them all within the room. 


“I’m honoured to receive this service, Johan,” He replied. 


“Right…” Johan pushed the wooden doors with ease where warm light flooded both gryphon’s eyes. Chandeliers scattered through the ceiling with a large dining table that stretched through the centre of the room. All eyes were now on them with people seated in all but three at the ends. 


The Exile audibly gasped. How could a room be this large and be packed with this many people? Like previously, the room had decorations of gold and silver, placing it as mere decorations through the marble walls. 


The Emissary, after realizing the scenario, grabbed his hand. He pushed against the Exile’s back, giving a small bow down towards the king before rushing to their seats by the far end of the table. The Exile - a bit dazed - merely copied his fellow gryphon’s behavior. So many eyes were on him, all squinting down at his weaker body. 


In the past, he might have relished in the attention. Here? His ears drooped as he scrambled to his seat. Whispers and gossips now spread the table like wildfire. Were they talking about him? The Exile wondered, glancing at the Emissary’s stiff expression. Sounds about right. He had a reputation to uphold for the gryphon’s tribe. 


Right in the centre of the table sat the King whose expression soured in an instant. He whispered to his neighbouring General, complaining about the Exile’s condition. Johan subtly took his seat, gulping as he watched the King’s expression brighten up. 


There was no stopping them now. 


The King suddenly stood up. His hands had a golden goblet, filled to the brim with wine that splashed against the cup, “My fellow nobles, today we celebrate our partnership with the gryphons! For the past decade, we have been trading our goods and trade for their offerings and sacrifices. Yes, there were times of tension and fears of war but we pushed through and reached our hands out. A leap of faith, if you will!”


His loud voice echoed through the dining hall. Everyone’s eyes were on him like a moth to a flame - entranced by his charisma and speech. Even if his wrinkles were showing, his voice still had the strength of a commander, a reminder to the gryphons that the Empire was strong and not to be trifled with. 


He pointed at the Exile, “And we all see before us that the gryphons have responded in kind. Every year, they’ve given us rare antics and we are always grateful for such notions. This time, they are even sacrificing one of their own for this partnership! Truly, this deserves itself a feast to celebrate, am I correct to say that?” 


Nobles nodded along. Only Johan was left a little stunned, taken aback at the whiplash of what he had seen before. How could someone lie this easily? It was the King even, the one who was chosen under Him, was spewing like it was the air he was breathing. Without batting an eye, he took a pause. A brief pause to scan the people. 


“Now, let us celebrate under our Lord and appreciate the meals to come!” 


On cue, butlers and attendants started to line up, delivering a dish to the table. All of which the same - a small appetizer of garlic bread to start their meal. The Exile’s eyes widened. Just looking at the food was enough to make his stomach growl. 


The Emissary, on the other hand, pinched against his arm and glared at him. He will not make a mockery of himself. Not here. The Exile took the message to heart, sitting upright and resisting the urge to devour the food whole. Faint memories of learning about human dining etiquette were guiding him. 


Seeing as his expression became more subtle, the gryphon glanced back at his own food. His shoulders relaxed. The hard part should be done now, now it was just obeying the basic table manners and enjoying their meal. Hopefully, the Exile could behave civilly and not like a feral beast. 


And from there on, dishes upon dishes were served. From wine stewed beef to a unicorn’s ribs, nobles chattered amongst themselves, taking small bites among their food. One of them nudged against Johan’s arm, “What’s with the pale face, Johan? Didn’t sleep enough?” 


He glanced at his table partner. Emily, one of his few childhood friends when growing up, fiddled against her fingers. Johan sighed. What was he supposed to say here? 


She was naive to say the least. Pampered under an overprotective father, she was essentially a duck within the world of nobles. And she definitely didn’t need to know the truth. 


“Yeah… Work’s been killing me,” lamented Johan, “Well at least when everything’s over, I could get a break off.” 


“Not for me,” She twirled around her hair, “Father wants me to introduce myself to all of the noble men, now seeking out for an heir. Ughhh, why can’t you be a noble, Johan?” 


He chuckled, sensing some eyes were looking between the two of them. He was a bishop - one of the lowest tiers in the aristocratic society. One wrong answer and both of them would be punished for ignoring the social norms, “Emily, this is the Lord’s plan for me so let’s not argue about it, alright?” 


“Ugh, you’re such a bore,” She glanced at the two gryphons, “You know, I feel bad for the weak-looking one, getting sacrificed for his community. What’s wrong with them this year?” 


“From what I heard, he wanted it.” 


“Oh heavens, did they brainwash him into saying yes?” Her voice cracked a little, “Why can’t we spare this poor gryphon or skip this ceremony..?” 


All it took was Johan to blink at her for her to retract her statement, “Ah… shouldn’t have said that.” 


“You know why we need to do this. And if he is willing, what else could we do but follow the Lord’s plan?” He answered, feeling his stomach churn. At least, she didn’t need to know the other sacrifice to satisfy their needs. A realization struck him. 


This would be the last feast in their union. 


Likewise, the Exile slowed down his chewing. His last meal in this world. Wow. In a way, he saw it as his farewell meal. They were all so kind and nice to an Exiled like him… he couldn’t help but be grateful for it. Better than rotting alone in the woods. 


The food was better than whatever he had after hunting. The lack of seasoning on his food only reminded him of his status. And so he savoured each bite down - of both meat and herbs down. 


A pinch of embarrassment surfaced as a blush once he finished his plate of pork chops. He wanted more. Just a little more meat to satiate his hunger. But with the Emissary’s stern eye, the Exile hesitated a little. Just a little before looking at the corner where the attendants stood. 


“Yes sir, what would you like to have?” The attendant walked up. 


The Exile leaned close to his ear with his tail wagging up to down, “Could I have a few more plates of these?” His words trailed, “Oh…you don’t have to do it if it's too…much trouble.” 


“Get me an extra plate of beef, lad,” The Emissary chimed in, now giving the Exile a weird look. Wasn’t he their proudest member? Why was he speaking in such a meek manner like he was a spineless man? “They are the servants here, don’t speak nicely to them. This is their job.” 


“Oh right,” The Exile sat down, “I mean… it’s ju-” 


“This is your last meal so just enjoy it,” The younger gryphon gulped down cups of wine, “You want some?” 


The Exile shook his head. 


“Suit yourself,” He let out a soft ‘Ah’ sound after finishing his cup wine. The one thing these humans can make is exquisite wine. Wine that’s been fermented for centuries… Gryphons could never compare to them. 


Raising his cup, attendants refilled it instantly. As he took sips from it, he observed the table. All of them were drunk in a festive mood. Mixed feelings stirred within him. It was as if everyone was celebrating the death of the Exile. One that he had so idolised and admired for years on end. 


His gaze shifted to the Exile. He was so meek now. So tragically feeble. A careless thought infiltrated his mind. What if both him and Exile just escaped here? Just flee from the Empire and live their own lives. He would take care of the Exile while the Exile could shower him with praise, similar to how they did in the past. Maybe just leave behind all semblance of responsibility. 


No. It was too late for that now. He shook his head. The memories now, coated with bitterness, could never be erased. Yet, he still couldn’t shake off the dread that his idol was dying tomorrow. 
Call it a young child’s folly as he gulped down another glass of wine. 


With his puffy cheeks and dazed eyes, he watched Exile continue to eat his food. Still so civilised like how he did. Back so many years ago. He giggled a little, drunk both literally and figuratively with how he was behaving. Just… turn back these damn clocks please… 

The feast continued on with more of the dishes being served. Within the festivities, Johan relaxed, leaning into his chair now. He still kept his upright posture. Meanwhile, the king started his plan. Chains of whispers down the row relayed his message to all of the nobles around the table. Their reaction varied widely, some were more optimistic on this new opportunity to take over and control of the gryphons. Others, a little more hesitant, yet powerless to defy his orders.


From there, the meal came to a graceful end. Nobles were escorted out of the palace with some staying behind to indulge in their drinks. Those closest with the King gathered around him and discussed their future plans. One of them pointed out how this might escalate to an even larger war with the other tribes working together. 


“Then we must prepare for their assault,” He said, “With our leverage against others, we can persuade and convince them to join us.” 


The Emissary’s ears perked up, wondering what sort of attack was coming. His face now flushed red and his tongue sticking out from his beak. Was there any feeling better than gulping down exquisite wine? 


His companion was still munching on the bones, making sure every piece of meat was devoured. Definitely didn’t want to waste any more food on his last meal. He too heard the King’s voice but decided that was beyond him. A war didn’t matter for the dead. 


Pinching his cheeks, Johan stood up from his seat. He groaned a little, looking at the drunk Emissary’s expression. Damn, was he going to carry him to the massage room? He walked over towards them, “So how was the feast?” 


“The best meal I ever had. Do you do this every year?” The Exile’s voice sped up, unable to hide his excitement, “So so thankful for this.” 


The Emissary groaned a little, “...Jo-Johan, where are we going now?” 


“A little massage just downstairs. Just to make sure we know the proportions for tomorrow’s ritual.” 


The drunk gryphon stood up, his balance shaking, “So what are we waiting for? Let…” He hicupped, “Let’s go now…” 


Surprisingly, the Exile carried the Emissary on his shoulders just as he was about to trip, “Damn, you really drank a lot, didn’t you?”


“Are you alright, sir? Would you rather I ca-” 


“It's fine. Us gryphons are heavier than we look,” He shifted the drunk to the side, showing the dense muscle that laid beneath his robes, “Even I’m struggling to carry him?” 


“If you say so sir,” He nodded, walking in front of the duo, “Just follow along and we’ll be there soon.” 


Just as the Exile followed behind him, the Emissary started to mumble words, “...Li-like you’re one to tal-talk…” 


“Yeah, yeah. Just rest, alright?” 


“No!” He suddenly raised his voice, echoing within the palace, “...I… ha…hate you…” 


Yeah, like he didn’t hear all those lines before. All throughout the village, everyone made their resentment towards him clear as day. Everything was his fault. 


“Y…you frog…forgot about me,” His voice sighed, “...why…” 


The Exile turned to the Emissary, a little confused. Taking a step down, his thoughts were a little scrambled. For the former rising star, it was common for people to recognise him but for him to remember them… who was he actually? 


Johan, who was ahead, knocked on the door. He was searching for someone. Specifically a maned wolf within the room, “Hunter, the sacrifices are here.” 


“Sacrifices?” The anthropomorphic maned wolf raised his eyebrow as he cleaned his knives. He stood up and opened. The wolf was a tad shorter than the gryphons but still overtower Johan by a few inches or so. A special servant for the church, Hunter was an enigma - not quite a fox or a wolf. Just a mix in between them. 

Despite his intimidating appearance, Johan loosened up his tone, “Yes. She wants both of them sacrificed.” 


“Wouldn’t that mea-” 


“Yes, you don’t have to say it twice, just check on both of them, will ya?” 


Hunter nodded, controlling the pace of his tail wagging. Not one but two bodies to examine for his Lord. That was his equivalent of a jackpot. Johan chuckled, peeking between his legs to see his slow wag. He was trying to hide it badly, huh? 


Pushing the door gently, Johan raised his voice, “Yes, this is the massage room. Please do enjoy yourselves, gentlemen!” 


“...w…will do....!” The Emissary raised his hand up, giving a thumb’s up while the Exile carried both of their bodies in. Attendants quickly assisted the Exile, lifting the drunk to the chair and letting him rest. Exile laid beside Emissary’s seat out of exhaustion - panting. 


Wiping off the sweat from his forehead, Exile glanced around in the room. Incense scents flooded the room. Just one sniff relaxed his muscles. The dimly lit room and the softness of his seat gently made him sink inwards - if he closed his eyes, he might actually fall asleep here. His robes gently dropped to the ground with one of his arms stretched out.


Right beside him, the Emissary was still fidgeting around. Where was he now? Wasn’t he at the dining hall or something? His memories now blurred against one another. What was the last thing he did again? Attendants now took his clothes off, leaving him with a cloth around his nether regions. 


“Hello esteemed guests,” A voice soon snapped him to reality as he shifted his posture up, not realizing he was mostly naked. He squinted at the source of a voice. Who or what was that person? Lanky arms within the black robes, the man appeared to be a beastman of sorts but he appeared barely stronger than the current Exile now, "I'm Hunter and I’m here to serve you for this evening.” 


Oh, he was the massage guy… Emissary nodded. Who knew what would happen if he was out in the wild? Emissary giggled a little at the thought of him surviving out in the woods. Even Exile could take him out with his magic currently. 


Hunter’s eyes scanned them before him. His eyes arched as a smile surfaced onto his face. On the left, it was a pretty clear cut case. Most of his flesh would easily be shredded with a knife, allowing him to easily access where their mana core is. 


The other one was much more interesting. Muscles popped from his chest and limbs, giving that much room to explore. Plus, he was practically surging with vitality. Just by being close to him, Hunter felt that bit stronger. 


With a clap, he walked towards Exile first, smiling, “Alright, I’ll start with you, Mister.” 


“Just call me Exile.” 


“Sure then,” Hunter nodded, “Just flip to your back first. Have you had any previous experience with massages?” 


As Exile followed his instructions, he answered, “No. I think this is my first and last one.” 


“Oh?” The maned wolf widened his eyes, now noticing all sorts of scars from Exile’s fur. His feathers had noticeable burns. He rubbed against his rough fur, “And why do you say that?” 


Exile chuckled, “Cause I’m going to be sacrificed tomorrow. So hopefully this will be a good one,” His words pinched Hunter’s conscience. Just a little for asking such an inconsiderate question.


“Then I’ll try my best to live up to your expectations, sir.” 


Slathering his paws with lotion, he wondered what sort of life the beast before him had lived. So many scars and injuries yet his feeble appearance contradicted his theories. It wasn’t everyday where he could talk with sacrifices after all. 


The lanky arms now pressed against the edge of his fur, sending shocks down Exile’s spine. It felt foreign and vulnerable but equal parts comforting. When was the last time he felt another person’s touch? (disregarding carrying Emissary here) The tense muscles loosened up without much fight, giving Hunter the cue to use more force. 


He shifted towards the back and followed his spine, pushing it down. Exile let a nice groan out in response, “Yes, yes, that’s the spot.” 


“Didn’t think your back would be this tense. If you don’t mind me asking,” Hunter’s tail wagged to the side, fearing it might be a mistake, “What do you do nowadays?” 


“Sorry?” 


“I mean your back is so stiff that I have to wonder why,” Hunter stroked against his back once again, “Usually people wouldn’t have as stiff of a back as yours.”  


Exile raised his hand, “Errr let me think about it for a while but just keep at that spot, alright?”


The massager agreed. Interesting indeed. His mind wandered to images of muscles being dissected here, imagining the different parts to be extracted. Ah right, Johan had told him off to not think about dissection while at work. It was an ‘unorthodox hobby’ that went against His words was his argument. 


Rubbing his paws caused an abrupt moan from Exile. Blood rushed to his cock, creating a bulge against the pants that he wore. The gryphon blushed red, glancing away from the masseur. Gryphon’s rarely touched their paws with this much force - it was a cultural thing but Exile understood why now. 


 “Oh my, was that spot sensitive?” Hunter asked, raising his eyebrow. This was the first time he had seen a gryphon react like this. Interesting indeed. 


He twitched on the seat, pressure building up within his shaft, “Ye…yeah…” Softening his voice, he asked, “Please continue it… Feels really ni-Ah~” 


Hunter’s paws pressed against his paw pads, spreading the pressure out evenly. The gryphon let out a couple more groans in sheer ecstasy as much as he tried to conceal it. The maned wolf nodded along. He made a mentally noted this fact down.  


The Emissary meanwhile was tossing and turning against the chair. Attendants had to try and pin him down in fear that he might fall off. His words slurred a little, sticking his tongue out in his drunkard trance. 


Memories of his past blurred the lines between reality and history. He remembered the good sweet days in the gryphon village, just kids growing up to become soldiers. The ones where his brother and the Exile were the pride of the gryphon community. His eyes still glued onto them, hoping to become like them.


There, small embers burned the corners of the scenes when that day happened. In seconds, it burned through the scenes like paper, leaving behind all the injured gryphons and blood stains onto the ground. Gruesome for the young gryphon at that time. 


Funerals were planned. One after another with their loved ones, gone. And his brother’s best friend was exiled for neglecting his duties. Could still hear the cries of when he was dragged away - out of the city. 


By the next moment, it was all back to normal; he was raised as the heir to his family while everyone recovered from the incident. Just by living from day to day, slanderous claims about Exile spread throughout the community. He ignored them, not like he could change the facts. 


And with a simple burp, he snapped back to reality, seeing the attendants crowding all over him, “Ughh,” He caught a glance of Exile letting out groans with that strange person massaging his back. 


“Damn, you’ve been through some rough dirt, haven’t you sir?” Hunter said, nodding along to Exile’s story, “I would never have guessed you were one of the royal guards candidates.” 


He scratched against his beak, “Yeah, I get that. Such a shame honestly. I wondered if I just kept it up, maybe we’ll see each other in different circumstances.” 


“Right…” His voice trailed off. His lanky paws turned the gryphon upside up, now understanding more about his anatomy. Still couldn’t justify how feeble he was to be sacrificed to Him tomorrow. It was seen as disrespectful to do things half heartedly and was one of the great seven sins - sloth, “How is it so far, sir?” 


The Exile replied with a thumbs up, slowly closing his eyes, “You’re doing well, Hunter. My body feels much fresher and relaxed now.” 


After another fifteen minutes or so, Hunter finished up Exile’s massage, noting down the more sensitive parts while also acknowledging his circumstances. Exile was soon sent off to his cabin while Emissary laid there in a mess, “You loooook funny yoooo know?” He raised one of his eyebrows, “Whereeee did you gett those lankyyyy arms?” 


While Hunter wore a pair of sympathetic eyes when observing Exile’s body, his eyes lit up looking at Emissary’s stronger and burly body. All of his muscles were prime spots for incision. His veins were practically popping up just from how little fat he had, making it perfect for blood letting or for magic potions. 


“Reppplyyy meee,” The Emissary complained, “Donnnnt ignoreeee meee like that jackass.” 


“Sorry?” 


“Whatever,” He waved his hand up, “Nobody careeee what hapeeeen to the seconded sonnnn, justttt a repla-replacementt to the firsttt one.” 


Hunter applied some more lotion on his paws, still a little uncomfortable with how he’s talking. Supposed he had too much to drink for the night. With a tight brush against his fur, the Emissary let out a nice groan, “Thattt’s the spottt. Hit it harderrrr.” 


“Right, right,” The longer Hunter looked at his body, the more excited he became. His mana was well circulated through his body despite his drunkard state, implying that he was circulating mana unconsciously throughout this time. The rich quality of mana within his blood could fetch the church a pretty penny - about three gold coins per ounce. 


Not to mention, he was one sensitive gryphon. Squirming and twitching from the slightest of touch, it was as though the gryphon was on edge, prepared to flee from any battle. Guess tomorrow, they had to restrain his limbs first before going through with it. 


His vibrant feathers could easily be plucked and used as decorations while gryphon meat was considered a rare illegal delicacy within the black market. This was definitely a sacrifice worth offering to Him. 


Another push down his back was enough to loosen his muscle. While big, they were also rather tense (probably from the rigorous training that he endured) and tense muscles weren’t the easiest to cut into. But at least the drunk had stopped talking. 


Testing his hypothesis, Hunter shifted down before rubbing against his hind paws. Immediately, he arched his back, “What’s wrong sir?” 


“Ha…Harder…” the Emissary demanded. A surge of energy rushed through his nether regions. Much like Exile, a tent soon formed as his tail flapped, “More…”


“With pleasure sir,” Applying more force, the Emissary’s little bulge sprang outwards, now poking against the towels. Deep breaths exchanged in his mouth. His claws scratched against the pillow while his wings flapped erratically. 


Hunter soon stopped, in fear of making a mess around the area. He massaged certain pressure points around his body, making him calm down and relieving him the pressure within his shaft. Continuing his usual massage routine, Hunter’s smile rose up. Seemed like their paws were their erotic spots. 


It didn’t take long for the massage to finish with the Emissary feeling a surge of energy within his torso. He stood up, still lightheaded from the booze, “Th…Thank you… weird guy…” 


“You’re welcome sir, do you want us to escort you back to your room?” 


He raised his hand, “No… I can go there by my-” He lost his balance, almost landing straight down to the floor, only for the attendants to quickly support his weight, “Nevermind then.” 


As they supported him towards his room, Hunter took down notes and wrote in detail on tomorrow’s procedure, theorizing how to dissect both of their bodies up. Meanwhile, Emissary’s body was getting pulled down by gravity. His vision blurred as his legs became weak like jelly. This was embarrassing…


Finally, once they arrived at his place, they shoved him onto the bed. With a quick bow, they retreated back to their dorms -  too nervous to even say anything there. The Emissary laughed a little, closing his eyes soon after. His world spun around him before sleep eventually caught up to the gryphon. 


At the break of dawn, both gryphons woke up, seeing sunlight seeping into their windows. Exile sat on his bed, perfectly content with his fate. Emissary’s head throbbed in pain as the hangover kicked in. Right, today’s the day of the ritual. 


He stretched his body, feeling the muscles loosening up. Oh, that massage was good. Last night’s memories were kind of flickering in and out. He remembered gulping down goblets of wine before somehow making his way to some guy’s massage counter and ending up in bed.


Glancing back, he noticed drool stains scattered on his bed. Fuck, he knew he was drunk but this damn drunk was embarassing even for him. The Emissary grabbed another set of robes within the wardrobe. He had wondered why he needed to wear them but dismissed those questions as part of culture. Who didn’t like jewels on their robes? 


But the main question was his neighbour beside him. He was going to die. Both of them knew that fact. Yet, he didn’t want to accept it. He didn’t even think about the possibility that the Exile would willingly give himself up as a sacrifice - only suggesting it as a joke to the council. 


Meanwhile, Exile’s laid by his bed. Dressed in the robes, he glanced by the door. Any minute now, attendants would arrive and escort him to the altar. He wondered what his final moments would be like?


Excruciating pain? Painless? Euphoric? 


He chuckled. Not like anyone wanted him to live anyways. Not even himself. At least this way, his family could be proud of him. Or not. That stain on his track record was hard to scrub off. 


“You awake?” A hoarse voice echoed from his neighbour, “Kai?” 


It’s been a while since he heard that name. For the past decade, the only mention of his name was the term “Exile” or ‘Banished’. He tried. He tried to go back but there’s nothing left for him there. 


“Yeah.” 


The Emissary’s voice croaked a little, “So you really had forgotten about me, huh?” 


Silence was his reply. Who was this guy talking about? He had been banished for over a decade, how would he remember anyone there? Hell, he barely remembered how his family looked. 


“Say, do you still remember Eric?” The Emissary asked once again, “You know you two were close.” 


Eric? His ears twitched up. How did this gryphon know about Eric? They were best friends that grew up together with Eric being second to his formal glory. And painfully, the image of his blood decapitated head seared into his mind as the final memory of him, “Who are you to ask about him?” 


“Right, at least you remembered him,” Emissary sighed. 


Exile flashed his claws out, “Answer the question,” His voice now colder. 


“I’m just his brother, alright? The one that always followed you two ar-” 


“Edward?” 


“Oh now you remember me…” 


Exile ruffled his head in confusion. Edward was so small in his memory, a tiny kit that just mimicked their moves. He was a bundle of joy, always admiring and viewing them as his idol, claiming that he would one day be like them. A royal guard, “So… how’s everyone back in town?” 


“The same as always,” Emissary shrugged, his expression soured, “I mean everyone had to move on from that crisis, right? Ma and Pa are both well, Pa wanted me to take over his place as one of the councils so here I am as the Emissary.” 


Exile paused, leaving silence hanging in the air. Although both gryphons couldn’t see each other, they could imagine both of their solemn expressions pasted on their faces. Like what was Exile supposed to say here? A fake sorry for everything he had done? 


The Emissary meanwhile twirled around his fingers, thinking of how to say that line. That suggestion for them to just leave. Leave both of their communities and be exiled together. There, the softness of his voice broke his thoughts. 


“Do they still hate me?” The shakiness of his voice made the Emissary blink. Maybe his parents still hated but it had been so long, he supposed his own feelings faded out. 


Edward sighed, “Probably.” 




“Ah.” 


“But it will be fine, I got the perfect solution for us…” He quickly increased the pace of his voice, trying to hide his nerves, “We can just fly out of this empire and the council. Sure, the next few months would be nervewrecking with how they would search their sacrifice but once that’s done, we could just li-” 


“That sounds great, Edward. But I don’t think I’ll be going through with it.” 


“Why?” He raised his voice, tears brimmed by the edge of his eyes, “Please, let me save you this time. It wasn’t your fault that they came, alright?” 


“Edward, please. I’m just… so very tired, alright.” 


“But it's my fault that you’re here. Kai, please just listen to me.” 


Exile stood up. A smile surfacing on his face, “Then you’ll have my thanks for releasing my misery.” 


“But I still want to talk to you and maybe just live together. Just like back in the old days. Don’t you want that too?” 


“Edward. Times have changed. From the young gryphon that followed us around, you have grown to become a mighty gryphon. And from how it looks, you’ve done an excellent job.” 


The Emissary wiped away his tears, “It’s not fair at all. You don’t deserve to be sacrificed. Please, we could still-” 


“Maybe in another world, we could. But not after what had happened thus far. I… I’ve hurt too many gryphons already.” 


“If you say so…” The Emissary’s voice trembled with how reluctant he said it. He cleared his throat, “Then let me send you off with a smile.”


“Thank you, Edward,” The feeble gryphon stood up, now admiring the final view of the sun. Even his instincts were screaming at him to run but not this time. This was his atonement for all the pain he had caused. 


It didn't take long after the conversation ended for Johan to knock on their doors, “Morning! Today’s the big day, huh?” 


Both gryphons opened the door. One of them had a relieved smile while the other had a stoic one. Exile soon stepped in, “Yeah, it is. What’s the plan going in?” 


“Just going to ask the others to dress you two up and hopefully we can perform the ritual smoothly.” 


“Me? Why do I need to be dressed up as well?” The Emissary pointed at himself, a little irritated at the suggestion, “Isn’t that only for sacrifices?” 


Walking up the stairs, Johan paused, thinking of what to say next. Guilt was poking against his conscience but if that’s what He wants, who was he to defy? “It's specifically made for gryphons for the ceremony, specifically tailored to your bodies.” 


“If you insist.” 


Johan glanced between the two of them. One of them wore a resigned smile like he had done everything and had no other regrets but the other was grouchier on his two feet. Still mumbling something under his breath. Did they fight or something? 


He had assumed the Emissary would be more delighted. To serve the Empire. Don’t think he had noticed about their schemes either… The man looked away to the front. It didn’t matter. Not like these dead gryphons could alter their fate now. 


Reaching the altar, attendants flocked around them. Passing them their baggier and interestingly, more revealing attire, they pushed both gryphons into changing closets. 


Exile quickly changed. Golden hues on his attire contrasted well with his paler fur. He twirled around, taking note of his appearance within his own reflection. It looked good on him. 


Then, he stopped. Looking straight into his reflection, his face revealed a more resigned expression. His eyes calm while he swallowed regrets down. This really was the end, huh?   


Beside him, Emissary’s face went red, seeing as his genitals were shown. What sort of ritual was this? Why did he have to wear so scandalously? He glanced to the side. The attire didn’t fit him, overshadowed by his brighter furs nor was it comfortable with all of this jewelry. 


If he had it his way, he would’ve just stuck with the normal attire. 


Both gryphons soon left the changing booth. Attendants all ducked their heads down around the gryphons. There, Johan led them all towards a golden light ahead, “Esteemed guests, welcome to our pride and joy, the ritual room.” 


Larger than both of their rooms combined, the lights were shining against the two altars. Multiple apparatus laid there, in preparation for the ritual with Hunter waving at Johan. As the attendants surrounded the altar, Exile was quickly chained to the left one with the others looking over, leaning against the right altar. 


A simple click sealed his fate. His paws now locked against the altar, leaving little space to move. There was no struggle nor hesitation. Just Exile letting them cuff him to the altar. Still wearing the same weary look while Emissary’s eyes darted away. 


Taking in a deep breath, his emotions stirred within him. Bishops and priests now entered the room. Within their black robes, they awaited Johan’s orders, peering up while their robes covered most of their faces. 


Exile relaxed his muscles. He didn’t really understand the ‘ritual’ to begin with; only knowing that humans worship their Creator with grand offerings and gestures. Still, it was a little chilling to hear all their mechanical chants, memorised and ready at any moment. 


Before the room, other attendants scrambled to gather what they needed. Scalpels for Hunter to cut into their flesh, potions for their sacrifices to go into ecstasy, magic tools for spells later on. Some of them were notably more nervous than others. This was a real live gryphon as a sacrifice after all. Usually, they were given some mystical beast corpse to dissect and peel off. But this was the first time they were doing it live. 


Once placed within a tray, one of them pushed into the altar room. Hunter and Johan gave a quick inspection, before nodding at each other. Johan grabbed a notebook from his pocket, tapping against the Emissary’s shoulders. 


“I understand that this might be a bit… intense for you but I would need you to assist me in marking out the spots.” 


“What?” 


Blanketed under the chants, Johan whispered, “Yeah, I need you to tell me which parts to dissect. Wouldn’t want him t-” 


“But isn’t he going to be dead by the end of it? Why does the order matter?” His voice trembled. 


The man scratched his head. What’s wrong with the Emissary today? Wasn’t he fully supportive of this sacrifice? Why was he asking so many questions now? “This is to maximise the offerings to Him, alright? So later during the ritual, just help us identify which spots are better to cut, alright?” 


The gryphon sighed, “If you insist.” 


“I would like to say, on behalf of everyone here, we are greatly appreciative of your kind gesture,” Johan gave a little bow. With a simple clap, he silenced the entire room. All of the attendants turned their hand, their gaze now on him, still cloaked. 


“Fellow members of the church, I welcome you to the ritual! As we all know, today is the day he created the world around us from the luscious trees to the vast oceans! So I will thank you for your prayers as we show our devotions towards Him through our meager offerings!” 


His voice echoed through the room. Even Exile was impressed by his speech. For someone who appeared meek and well mannered, he certainly had a gift to pull eyes. Once again, attendants gathered around the cuffed gryphon while Hunter walked up with a scalper in his paws. 


Putting on a white apron, Hunter slowed down his breathing. Calm down. This was for the ritual. Let’s not get too excited here. Though his tail said otherwise, wagging in full view. 


One of the attendants soon tapped beside Exile’s shoulder, his other hand carrying bottles of potions, “Sacrifice, please open your beak. We need you to drink these,” He swirled the blue solution within its flask, “Its to boost your mana.” 
 
He followed his instructions, gulping down the smooth bright blue substance. Tasted similar to water but thicket. More gooey. With each swallow, his vision blurred while his head was getting lightheaded and giddier. 


A stupid grin rose up on his face. All the stresses of the world melted away, his muscles relaxed and loosened upon the table, leaving his body to be completely at rest. This felt nice. Nice enough for the gryphon strapped there. 


The Emissary stepped back and leaned against the other altar. At least he looked happy? What were these feelings riling up within his feathers? The sight of Exile strapped on the altar felt wrong. Like this shouldn’t have happened at all. 


Johan stepped forward and clapped. Immediately, attendants shifted towards Exile’s limbs. There, they rubbed against his paws, causing a surge of energy to circulate through his body. Pleasure rushed through, intensifying for each time they made contact with him. 


Moans soon escaped as blood rushed to his shaft. From within the knot, his balls swelled up slightly, pitching a tent against his pants. One of the attendants stripped him off his pants while the other carried a glass vial up to his dick. 


Precum dripped into the vial. Shocked, the Emissary nudged Johan, “The hell are you doing to him now?” 


“Nothing much,” Taking out a notebook and a pen, Johan’s gaze affixed at the Exile’s feeble body. Hopefully, he would produce just enough for an offering, “Just extraction of his mana as our offering.” 


“Did it have to be this… erotic?” Exile moaned once again, louder with his paws getting rubbed. The attendants were hitting all the right spots and within his delirious state, it was pure ecstasy. 


Johan nodded, “Mana extracted when aroused is oftentimes more potent. Or would you rather him be screaming in pain?” 


“Fair enough.” 


“Hunter, you may begin.” 


The maned wolf nodded. Exile recognised him with his longer legs. He muttered out between baited breaths, “Wh…what are yo…you doing here?” 


“Just going to,” He plucked a grey feather from his back. Exile didn’t even notice the pain, only realizing once it was within his paws. Right, he was a sacrifice for them, “Extract your body.” 


“A…ah… I see…” Exile now could feel the slightest pinch behind his back as Hunter ripped out his feathers. One at a time. The pleasure still overwhelmed his senses, making the pressure almost unbearable to withhold. Another groan escaped his beak. At least it was a familiar face doing the deed. 


Hunter’s keen eyes focused on Exile's body. His mind flashed back to the previous day. The scene where he was massaging his paws and the conversation they had. It's a little surreal to be standing here with a knife, preparing to make the first cut. 


Still, a job is a job. And he wasn’t running away from his responsibilities. He glanced towards the attendants before asking them to defeather him. One by one, his feathers were plucked out like a chicken’s wings. 


There, the maned wolf gently sliced against his chest. Peeling off the flesh, he tossed them into a container. Gryphon meat was a delicacy within the black market - one that’s rare enough to be provided. 


Blood veins gushed out of the wound, soaking his fur and chest red. He twitched a little despite the pleasure, he could still feel the sting. Actually it felt nice to be reminded of his mortality. What little muscle he had was dissected with the knife. 


Exile’s breathing softened. Seeing so many people around him and the erotic sensations within his groins was making it hard to think. From a sudden sting, the pain had now devolved into a numbing pain around his chest. His wings were now clipped, with most of it being the bone’s frame. No feathers to call his own. 


He glanced back at the Emissary, revealing a grin. Ah, don’t look at him like that. This was his atonement, alright? Everything was all of his fault and to die in such euphoria was a mercy to his soul. 


But the other gryphon covered his beak. His stomach churned, shivers accompanying them; did their God really need this? Need this ritual to be completed? Exile was out here being treated like cattle, getting torn apart bit by bit. 


Johan tapped against him, “Right, could you just point out his weak spots? We need to extract more of his mana.” 


“Ri…right.” 


With another rub against his paws, Exile couldn’t hold it in. Cum squirted out of his swollen cock. Attendants quickly gathered it into vials, some of them collecting it even as it spilt onto the floor. 


Another moan was released - mixed with anguish as Hunter dissected against his arms. His worn out biceps were extracted out and placed to the side. Decently sized for a big guy like him. Still, Hunter couldn’t find his origin of mana. 


Johan, after recognising the look in Hunter’s eyes, glanced back at the Emissary, “You may begin now.” 


“Oh erm,” He stuttered out, watching the blood of his kin flowing out onto the altar. Fuck. What should he do here? He shook his head. He had a job. And the job was to assist these people. He had to stop mixing his personal feelings within his business. 


Steeling his resolve, he cleared his throat. He can cry about it later on. Not now. Not right here when the ritual was ongoing, “You can try extracting around his neck, there should be a node of mana around there.” 


Johan immediately took down notes. Hunter followed along while the chained gryphon arched his back, cumming once again. Thoughts simplified into instincts once more and more of his mana flowed into those vials. Hard to think. Only cum exists within ecstasy. 


Pushing against his throat, Hunter carefully carved around the bones. And Emissary was correct, revealing a concentration of mana right beside his throat. His paws pulled them out and tossed it to the side along his grey feathers. Exile gagged a little, now feeling more pain than ever. 

“Attendants!” 


On cue, servants poured more of their potions into his beak, forcing him to swallow every drip up. His eyes dazed out once again but his voice now weak. Paws were continued to be rub against to a similar effect as another shot of cum squirted out. 


“Right in the middle of his stomach, there should be another node centered there,” Emissary followed up, his voice now colder. 


And this process continued. Emissary would point out spots to extract, Hunter would do so while Exile continued to enjoy the process - squirting out lesser and lesser cum into vials. Finally, once most of his body was extracted, Emissary sighed. 


There’s only one spot left not mentioned. 


“Right inside his legs.”


Johan and Hunter’s eyes widened. This was it. This was the organ that circulated their mana. A gryphon’s mana heart. It was their greatest strength and weakness, once extracted out, they would pass away. But within their body, their spells all originated here. 


By this point, Exile had closed his eyes. His breath was barely a whisper. Now defeathered and dissected on the altar table, the only signs of life was how blood continued to seep out of there. Maybe it was the clarity after ejaculation that resulted in his thoughts returning. 


Like a soul barely tethered to his body, he could only hope that his body was enough, praying that this alone would atone his sins. No longer with the ecstasy and euphoria, he felt nothing. Nothing at all. 


There, he felt a cut. A thin gentle cut against his thighs. A crystal dropped out of there where Hunter held it under the light. It shone so brightly even with its smaller size. Another cut was done against his other thigh, dropping a similar sized crystal. 


With his final blood spilt onto the altar, Exile took his final breath. His soul was now free. Rising higher to the sky, he could see the rest of them. 


Emissary hung his head low, refusing to let anyone see his tears. While the other attendants and priest chanted their thanks, some of them left in a hurry. Hurry? Wasn’t the ritual over? Other attendants carried the corpse out of the room, leaving behind a bloody scene on the altar.  


Hunter stretched his body, his tail couldn’t stop wagging. It was so much more fun to dissect a real living gryphon instead of the usual corpses that didn’t move. And fortunately, he wasn’t feisty either, accepting fate for what it was. 


His next target however was going to be more squirmish.


Johan closed his book and glanced at Emissary, “I’m so sorry that you had to watch that.” 


“No… it's fine… It’s just business.” 


“You know, the higher ups actually wanted to express their gratitude to the gryphons for this year's offering.”


Emissary raised his eyes, “Really?” 


“Yes. They were so grateful that the gryphons offered so much for us that they wanted to throw in a little extra gift,” Johan’s conscience was being pinched by his own words. But it was the truth. If they had given something better this year, the church would never have resorted to such violence… “That you can join your kind together as well.”


“Sorr-” Multiple attendants now gathered around the larger gryphon and pulled him onto the other altar. Even as the Emissary struggled and got out of their grips, more of them came and shoved him down. No… No… This can’t be happening!


He tried to use his magic but nothing came out of it. As chains tied around his talons and paws, Johan chuckled, “In this place of worship, only the Lord is allowed to use magic.” 


“What’s the meaning of this?” 


“Doesn’t take a genius to find that one out,” Johan stepped back, “You dare mock our agreement, claiming that the feeble gryphon is sufficient to hold our end of the bargain?” 


“You killed him already! What more do you want?” 


Other attendants came rushing back. Their hands carried more equipment this time, buckets, ink, pens and other potions. Johan sighed, “I suppose the Lord wanted us to start a war. And you’ll be the first casualty in this.” 


“Please! We don’t have to do this,” The Emissary trashed around the altar, flapping his wings. What the fuck were these chains made of? Pure platinum? “Look, I’ll just go back to the gryphons and ask for more offerings for this. You can make any demands. Do you want a dragon’s heart? Or a unicorn’s horn? Or a real wyvern to extract?”

Johan shrugged, “It's too late. You should’ve known better than to offend the Empire,” He turned around, “Attendants, you may begin.” 


The Emissary kept resisting. His eyes glared against any attendants that got too close to him as he tried to lean forward with his face, “Touch me at any spot and I’ll kill you,” Threats like these weren’t supposed to work but when these attendants came face to face with an actual gryphon warrior… they had a little cold feet. 


Until Johan stepped in. 


His coarse hands, while not the strongest, easily shut the Emissary’s beak, “Silence. You dare mock us? Mock us with your pathetic offering and you have the gall to make threats? I don’t think you understand what situation you’re in.” 


A snap echoed through the room. There, attendants lined up with strange ink within their hands. Another clap followed up, causing them to start drawing onto his fur, tickling the gryphon. He tried his hardest to force out a laugh yet Johan’s hands were still firmly stuck there. 


All this time, his mind was running in circles. Think. How should he get out of here? These people were all so much weaker than him. He could’ve easily killed them all in one simple spell yet they were overpowering him in all areas. No… The Exile wouldn’t want him to die like this… He had to get out. 


More ink continued to stick onto his fur. A warm burning sensation rose up on the ink, engraving into his flesh. His eyes darted down, watching as more runic symbols were written on his body, turning his sensitivity up a notch. 


The Emissary recognised these runes. It was pseudomagic - a magic that humans created trying to replicate how regular magic worked. While magic mostly came from within creatures’ bodies, pseudomagic was combining the mana within their liquids and using them as spells. But that shouldn’t have any effect here, right? Especially since he couldn’t cast any spells, it's impossible for their weak replica to cast them as well. 


Johan stepped back, releasing his grip on his beak. Prickly pain within his conscience morphed into righteous conviction. Yes, the gryphons had wronged them on His day. His sacrifice for the entire world and thus they must pay with their blood. Whatever came after wouldn’t be his problem. 


Their lord would’ve wanted it. 


The Emissary immediately gagged. He coughed a couple times, leaning forward with his beak. Stupid damn ink. It felt like his body was burning up. While the crowd around him hung their heads low, the Emissary shouted at Johan, “Final chance, Johan. If you don’t free me now, there will be war between us. And I know for a fa-” 


“Watch your tone, beast,” The bishop stared down at him, “You’re the one trapped here with us. At our mercy,” On cue, he clapped his hands, causing the various attendants to start chanting and in turn made the ink glow darker against his fur, “And if there’s war between us so be it. We’ll be ready by then.” 


The ink tightened his body. As the still air brushed against his fur, the Emissary had the slightest of twitches. Sensitive. This entire body felt like its sensitivity had just been doubled. The gryphon reverted back to his previous thoughts. Maybe his empty threats could still work. 


But even when attendants walked too close to him, he couldn’t mutter a single threat. No… how could this happen? 


Spotting the widening eyes of the gryphon, Hunter stepped in, “Ah, what’s wrong, esteemed guest?” 


“You! You killed-” 


“Hey, a job’s a job,” He shrugged, placing his paws against his thighs. A groan escaped his beak before the red blush came up, “Don’t worry, we won’t kill you yet. You’re going to enjoy the best massage session ever.” 


Shit. They somehow had hijacked his mind. He couldn’t even tell this bastard to fuck right off… “So just sit tight in the altar and let us… massage you,” His paws shifted down from his thighs to his paws. Hands already surrounded that region, ready to apply pressure on those spots, “Have fun there.” 


And that’s when it started.


Hands all rubbed against his various muscles and paws. From his firm chest muscles to the bulges of his limbs, hands covered him completely. His breaths soon became pants with how sensitive this all was. No, he wasn’t going to help them… he had seen how Exile was dissected, cut from meat to meat all in the process of being their ‘offering’. 


Yet, his body refused to listen. Pleasure was overflowing his veins, escaping as twitches and fidgets around in his tight position. With each tap, his body grew more squirmish, unable to refuse their pleasure. Even his tail was against him, twitching up and down while his wings fanned out slightly. 


He closed his eyes. Trying to replay the scenes of Exile’s suffering. The state in which he was in. His dazed eyes glanced at him as his flesh was cut bit by bit. Dots connected with one another, allowing him to realize that this was not for show - this was to improve the mana quality of his semen. Like a cattle, they wanted to coax him into giving better stronger mana via his pleasure. 


After not hearing a single moan from him, attendants glanced at Johan, almost as if asking him what to do next. Their methods weren’t working after all. 


“Give it a while more. A beast like him needs release sooner or later,” The man circled the altar, “Try as you might but we’re milking you regardless of how long it takes,” He leaned closer to his ears, “Even if it meant hours on end.” 


“Hours? Your man would be exhausted by then,” The Emissary chuckled back,, “So cut me up, you’re not getting a single drop of mana from me.” 


Johan stopped. That last word was a challenge and he was going to take it up. Such insolence from their sacrifice. His coarse hands rubbed against his paws, causing his knot to swell up and become erect. There, he grabbed a pen and began crafting out his runes again onto his nether regions. 


The Emissary twitched. Getting harder to think with how sensitive his rod was. Johan soon stepped away with a grin on his face, “Attendants, you may continue now.” 


As those words hung in the air, the attendants continued their assault. One rub, two rubs and a third against his paws was enough to make him groan once again. He tried to calm himself down but something was different. 


Overwhelmed with these sensations, he tried to recall back and block out all of the ecstasy. This was all to milk him. Remember back how Exile was dissected and killed by their hands. They were all murderers. His body loosened and relaxed however hard he tried to focus on the ramification. 


Another rub against his chest made him moan. Higher pitched. And thus began his desire for more. More of their massages all over his body. By this point, his erect knot was rearing to pump shots of cum out. Ejaculating all of the pressure within his shaft. 


Yet… he couldn’t do so. Like something was stopping him from doing it, he twitched and shifted locations all while they continued touching him. 


Hunter shifted downwards however. Sure, his paws were sensitive but nothing could match a genitalia’s sensitivity. Hell, he still had a grudge against him yesterday, being called a freak for serving this bastard. 


With a slightest touch against the tip of his rod, the Emissary moaned louder than ever, “Do-Don’t touch there!” 

“Aww, what’s the matter?” His paws shifted towards his nutsack, fondling between his fingers. Fuck… why was it so sensitive now? He had to try to resist this. Resist this pleasure and yet… he wanted release so so badly. He wanted to cum his brains out and end the immense pressure that had already built inside “Can’t cum?” 


“Wh-what did you d-do to m-me?” His voice trembled while still feeling the ecstasy from within, “P-please le-let me…” 


“Me? Oh nothing,” He walked up to the Emissary’s face, “It was Johan actually. Since you didn’t want to produce any mana… we’ll just not let you.” 


“Bu-” 


“Once an hour, that’s all you’re allowed to cum,” His tail swished against his beak, “Besides, making your edge would just make your mana so much more pure.” 


His tongue escaped his beak, “But please… I need this. C…Cum… Let me…” 


“Oh what nonsense,” Hunter’s smirk rose up, “Ah look at that time, you can have your first ejaculation now!” 


On cue, the Emissary let out a bellow as cum erupted from within his knot. Attendants quickly gave him a bucket as his seed filled it up within seconds. White thick and sticky, they couldn’t ask for any better seed.


An orgasm went through his body, sending shivers down his spine from how much euphoria that crashed his mind, momentarily sending his mind into shock. Nothing in this world was better than that feeling. The feeling of ejaculating all of his cum within his knot. But regret quickly came along, causing his expression to sour. 


Fuck… They had him by the balls both literally and figuratively, forcing him to play within their hand and to be cursed. Flashes of his ejaculation replayed within his mind. Fuck… There was nothing better than to re-experience that event. 


More. He wanted more. More of their fondles against his muscles. More times to cum everything out. More of his fingers playing with his nut sack. Those thoughts swarmed his mind, loudly shouting what his instincts wanted.


While his knot continued to drip out cum, attendants continued their massage, stroking now against his nether regions and paws with more force. More technique and with more attention. The helpless gryphon tried to cover his beak but with the scenes flashing against his mind, moans soon escaped. One after another. 


Watching from the distance, Johan chuckled. This great brave gryphon warrior was so pathetic now. All that talk about refusing to submit to us and here he was, moaning at the slightest touch. He flipped over the notebook and checked on the notes.


Notes that he had given for free. 


Thinking back on it, this was an amazing opportunity for the Empire. This buffoon on the altar had just given away his species’ weakness on a silver platter. Platter that didn’t have any cost at all. His laughs grew louder. Oh, how were they going to win them now? One shot through their thighs and they’re dead. 


He walked out of the altar room. Couldn’t help himself but think about his mistakes in that light. Yes, the Lord had told all of his descendants to be humble. But who wouldn’t laugh at such a blunder? 


Right, he needed to copy this and send this to the higherups. They would be equally if not more thrilled than even him. The General would definitely be roaring with laughter once he receives this. 


Meanwhile, the Emissary’s thoughts blurred out like his vision. They switched their tactics; instead of constantly bombarding him with pleasure against his paws or muscles, they would take breaks. Breaks that would be broken whenever the Emissary begged for them to continue. 


Humiliation was one thing but at this point, the gryphon was addicted to their touches. His cock was constantly erect. But no relief seemed to come, always inching closer to the climax but never hitting there. The pleasure sunk deeper into his mind more so than any form of dignity. 


“M…mo…more…” He pleaded to the attendants, “Str…stroke me…” 


Even if he couldn’t see their faces directly, he could tell that they were smiling from ear to ear. A great mighty warrior now pleading with them was certainly enough to delight the men. By this point, three gallons of his seed had been collected, more than five buckets filled with his boner still intact. 


Time practically lost meaning to him. He only could wish for the next session, the next moment to ejaculate his seed and the next sensation that rushed up against his spine. Did Exile enjoy this as well? No… this was more humiliating than Exile’s ritual; especially with how they toyed with him. 


Wiping away his sweat, Hunter glanced down at the depraved gryphon. These beasts were on a different level, being able to produce this much seed for this long was insane. But he wasn’t complaining about this. 


Alas, there’s a limit to his body. 


His thick white cum that gushed out of his body was slowing down; he was still releasing no doubt just at a lower speed, more like a gentle stream of cum leaking out of his knot. Guess it was his time to shine now. 


Johan soon returned. His eyes widened, seeing the numerous buckets of cum laid beneath the altar. The bishop assumed it would be over in an hour, two maybe, especially after the various meetings the general roped him into. One thing led to another and by the time he returned, it was already in the afternoons. 


He stepped forward, now towering over the gryphon, “Didn’t think you had this much seed… Well, it makes our life much easier so thank you for that,” 


The Emissary’s beak opened, “M…” 


“Sorry? Speak louder, will you?” 


“Mor…More…” He wigged his tail with a blush surfacing up on his face, “...Cu…Cum…” 


Johan reached his hand out, only for the once mighty gryphon to shrivel back against the altar. Trembles went down his body on instinct. There he took his hand back. Resisting to laugh, Johan checked in with Hunter, “You had your lunch yet?” 


“Yeah. Mandy took my shift previously but at this rate,” His eyes peered over Johan’s shoulders, “I think we can start the dissection.” 


“Alright, you may proceed once you see fit,” Leaning into his ears, he asked, “Let it be slow. Don’t aim for the vitals just yet.” 


“Of course, like before?” 


“Slower. If possible,” Johan swiftly looked at his groins, “Extract his privates. Heard that they have healing properties."  


The maned wolf nodded, “Any news from the general?” 


“Ugh, don’t get me started,” Johan began walking away, “Think he wants another meeting to discuss the weapons. Feel free to join us once you’re done.” 


Weapons? Emissary’s eyes sharpened before a deep churning feeling spiraled in his gut. Oh… fuck… what had he done? He had told the enemy all of their greatest weaknesses and now… now they wanted to strike back against his tribe? 


He struggled against the straps. Tears were now dropping from his eyes. No… No… this was all wrong… An attendant immediately pressed against his paws, causing another flood of dopamine to spike in his mind. No… he can’t get distracted like this. He must warn th-


“Woah, getting a little feisty there little gryphon," Hunter circled around him now his paws reaching out to pluck one of his feathers out, “Don’t think you could do anything there with these chains against you.” 


“Y…You…fuc…” His breaths became shallower, feeling lightheaded with all of his blood rushing down to his groins, “I… I’ll k…” One stroke against his knot made his mind blank out. He gasped for air, trying to think of what to say. What to fight back with and what escape could h- 

Another fondle against his nutsack pushed him into the ocean of pleasure. The same one that he had been immersed in, stuck within their palms that could pull whenever he wants. He stumbled on his words, now feeling the slight guilt attached to his pleasure. 


Hard to think. He tried shaking his head, trying to break out of the sensations. But more came in. Especially behind his back. More and more feathers were plucked. Sharp stings melded neatly with pleasure. 


He twitched to the side before shifting back. Oh his cock was so hard now. So much pressure within his shaft… yet, he couldn’t stop feeling the pricks behind his back. His mind barely could keep up with his sensations, unable to think of anything but the current present. Exactly what they had intended for. 


“What’s wrong, gryphon? Cat got your tongue?” Hunter mocked with a scalpel in hand, dangling right into his eyes. 


“S…sto…stop…” 


“Stop?” He raised his eyebrows, “No thanks. We are just getting started.” 


Ropes of cum escaped through his swollen knot once again; the gryphon groaned and moaned, pain now quickly catching up to him as his body tensed up. Hunter snapped his paws. On cue, attendants shoved down potions down his beak, making him drink up every single droplet of potions. 


Like with Exile, his body relaxed and loosened. His vision now dazed as his mind felt a tingling sensation around his body. Unconsciously, he let out a giggle; his wings by this point were just a bone frame with little feathers still attached on them. Another press of his paws was enough to drown his other thoughts. 


What was he so worried about in the first place? 


Hunter moved down to his muscles and with a little incision, blood oozed out of the cut as the Emissary arched his back. Grabbing a slice of his muscles and tossing it to the side, Hunter licked against his muzzle. Oh, this was definitely premium food. And here he was dissecting him into pieces. 


Another cut against his arms before the knife dug deeper into his fur, revealing the rich blood within his limbs. Wait a minute, he should shave his fur right? The other nobles would love to have this on their carpet - gryphon fur right under their feet. 


He sent some of them out to grab a sheer while the Emissary twitched to the sides. Overwhelmed with his feelings and sensations, he kept making sounds as a last ditch attempt. Feral sounds that weren’t words - those that only gryphons could recognise in their lower frequencies. 


But nobody was there to help. 


Holding the sheer, attendants shaved his fur off his body. Unlike the Exile, his fur was much more vibrant and colorful with a thick musk added on as well. Nobles would pay hundreds if not thousands of gold coins just to afford such a carpet. A carpet that denoted how wealthy they were. 


All this time, the Emissary’s groans shifted to being higher in pitch as he felt the blade scraping his fur. He occasionally screamed but was still sedated by their constant touch. Their constant warmth against his paws. Fuck… if this kept up, he would rather die.


Death seemed more preferable than being humiliated and toyed with, but that was a farfetched dream. More and more of his fur was stripped away, making his chest entirely naked. He couldn’t even recognise himself glancing downwards. What did he even do to deserve this? 


“Now, now,” Another stroke against his knot made him hard again, “We aren’t done milking you.” 


“B-” Getting edged by the side, the gryphon was whimpering now. At least the pleasure distracted him from the pain…


“Hush,” Hunter leaned forward now putting the blade against his neck, “You know what, let me help you with that.” 


Cutting against his neck, the gryphon croaked out sounds. Sounds of anguish and sorrow while shaking against the seat. Unimaginable pain spiked around there; his veins now squirted out blood, spilling blood onto his paws. As he cried more sounds and more air brushed against the wound, the pain doubled its intensity. Wasn’t a mild sting but rather a spike that returned with each breath he took. 


With other attendants collecting his blood, he could only avert his eyes away from the maned wolf. Fear had now clung against his neck. Agony now a reminder of his fear of death. He didn’t want to die… Not like this especially. 


Hunter meanwhile rubbed his paws against his neck, trying to navigate the concentration of mana within his neck. Was it slightly up there? He raised his eyebrow before making another cut against his neck. This wouldn’t kill him just yet but at the very least, he won’t be talking now.


At times, the Emissary wanted to scream. Scream from the pain of his wound being poked around but he couldn’t. Each time he opened his beak, gasps of air brushed against the spot akin to applying salt towards the open wound. Blood seeped out now as he could only shed tears. 


Finally, Hunter found it. Right above the wound, he dug his claws deep into his skin, pulling out a blue crystal. Much bigger than the Exile’s one. In doing so, the Emissary’s eyes dimmed down a notch as sensations dulled out. The experience was still vivid, just that he was less connected. Less in touch with his body. 


He let out another shot of cum, now merely squirts into the bucket. Ah, it was almost over. His eyes gently closed as his body rested against the blood altar. This… was this how Exile felt as well? This tired? 


While one of the attendants placed away buckets of his cum, Hunter himself continued the assault. Now cutting against his chest into thin slices, his firm muscles softened once outside the body. Not like the Emissary cared, his eyes couldn’t even focus on him, only looking into the distance and making the occasional groan. 

From there, attendants divided the dissected pieces into their intended uses - his fur and feathers for decorations, his muscles for food and his nails for religious offerings later on. Hunter took a step further, stabbing deeper into his flesh. 


A bloodcurling scream echoed through the altar room, quickly prompting attendants to drown the Emissary with more potions, sedating his body. Pleasure was no longer being served to him, merely a faint memory against the anguish he was going through. 


With each cut, the Emissary had to resist screaming. Every part of his body hurt with more and more of himself was extracted and taken away. First, it was his veins that spanned across his body, still rich in blood while next it was his other non-vital organs. 


The maned wolf pulled out his liver, beaming with pride. Imagine the healing properties of this organ. It wasn’t everyday one could witness a gryphon’s liver out in the flesh. He plopped it to the side. 

At this point, the gryphon had stopped cumming. His breaths were weak and faint, only watching Hunter continuing his extraction process. Bones, kidneys, intestines, nothing was sacred in his body with much of his mana leaking out onto the altar. 

Pain numbed down into a constant drill. Sounds and sights were all blurred, leaving the gryphon in a state of delirium. What was even happening now? He couldn’t tell. 

The metal door creaked open. Who was that? He glanced to the side, seeing a silhouette of a man. His voice was still deep as ever, and approached the furry figure to his right, “-how are yo-?” 


He shook his head and closed his eyes. Couldn’t even talk even if he wanted to.

“-eal, if you beg for u-,we migh- fr- you.” 

Free? Did he just say free? The gryphon opened his eyes with hope, reigniting them. Was this going to be over? Could he actually get out of here? 


“...you like that, don’t you?” 

“Free,” He mustered the strength to whisper out that word and nodded his head, “P…” 

Laughter roared out around him. What… was this a trap? He didn’t care anymore, closing his eyes as he hung his head low. But immediately, he felt a hand pushing his head up and forced him to gulp down a potion, this time yellow. 

Clarity returned to the Emissary alongside all of the pain. Another scream echoed through the room, watching the bloody mess that he once called his body. Guts were spilled, his mighty arms were mere shadows of their former self and all this time, he was still being toyed around by these people. 

Another press to his paws was all it took to make him erect again. Glaring daggers at them, Hunter paced around him. Most of his organs and flesh had already been extracted. Well, except for his head and his nether regions. He gave it another stroke with a little wink back, “Alright, this is the last one. Once we’re done, you’ll be dead.” 

Even with the short burst of pleasure, it was accompanied by a numbing dreadful pain. Pain that reminded the Emissary that he was about to die. Strokes around his knot incited small bits of pressure to build up. Still more than enough for the gryphon lying down. 

He glanced at the light source above. The sun was now fading with its afternoon hues. As another tear was shed, Hunter kept stroking it. Another burst of cum squirted out but this time, it was too much for the Emissary. 

That was when Hunter sliced against his nutsack, castrating the gryphon fully. The final ounce of blood spilt out of his body. With his castrated body as his final scene, he closed his eyes, letting out one final breath. 

The maned wolf chanted a prayer before continuing the dissection. Against his face, against his mana concentration and against the rest of his flesh. Glancing at the room around him, he could only marvel at how much the gryphon had produced. 

He wiped off his sweat, but still held a grin. Tiring sure, but when will the next time he would dissect a gryphon like this? The rest of the procedure was rather solemn. Not to say that their ritual had to be humiliating but it was part of the fun. 

Yet for a corpse, respect must be treated. At least that’s what The Lord had intended. Swiftly, he extracted his mana heart and other concentration of mana - the biggest of which was the shape of his fist. The other flesh and bones of the Emissary were quickly dealt with, splitting into other uses. 

And by the time he was done, the sun was already setting. Johan returned for one final time, debriefing all of the attendants and Hunter there, explaining the significance of what they had done and why they must do so. To uphold their devotion for Him. 

Meanwhile, the Emissary's soul floated towards the sky. The shame and embarrassment clung against his being. To be castrated and killed by these measly humans was a stain against his family’s name. 


Ascending above the land, another soul lingered ahead. Exile. Still feeble as ever. 

“What are you doing here?” asked the Emissary, cocking his head to the side. Why hadn’t he ascended to see their gods? Why was he waiting for him? 

He softly chuckled, “Just had a feeling they would get you too…” 

“So what now?” 

Exile shrugged, “Meet with the twin gods. Rest.” 

“Bu…” 

“Not like we can do much,” He glanced down, “We’re dead.” 

The Emissary sighed. As the two spirits continued their ascension, they soon came face to face with their Gods: Father Eagle and Mother Lioness where they would find peace. 

Back in the palace, the empire was roaring with excitement. A new way to kill those damn gryphons? Why wouldn’t they start making weapons over this? Emissary’s fur and feathers were quickly distributed within the noble factions as fashion accessories while most of his seed was used in supply mana; the rest were used as offerings. 

His meat was marinated for the days that approached as they readied up for a feast. A feast at this magnitude for discovering their weakness. Research and experimentations were on the rise as well, experimenting more ways to use his organs and blood for magical purposes. 

All in all, Johan was busy managing everyone’s tasks. Meetings were abundant. Within the massive halls of the upper factions, schemes conspired in their respective houses. Most of which were preying on the gryphon’s tribe downfall. The church was no exception


The bishop was proclaimed as a ‘legendary asset’ to the church, earning himself a promotion to becoming archbishop. Unexpected but certainly a welcoming surprise. Responsibilities continued to escalate for him while he planned out on the next few meetings and tasks to meet up. 


After a month from the ritual, another grand feast took place. This time with much higher spirits. The main dish? The Emissary’s flesh, marinated for weeks and cooked to perfection. Just thinking of the dish made nobles salivate; it was an actual gryphon warrior being served to their tables. 


The crowd loudly talked about the attack amongst the table. About how if the gryphon tribe discovered, they would demolish them in a war. Some even joked about how stupid they were to not realize one of their kind was missing. 


Still not caught up with the news, Emily glanced at her old childhood friend who looked surprisingly fresh. With a soft whisper, she asked, “Johan… What are they talking about? We surely aren’t attacking the gryphons now, are we?” 

He let out a smile, stabbing his fork into the Emissary’s muscles before looking back at Emily, “No. We aren’t attacking them,” She sighed in relief, “Yet that is.” 

“Sorry?” 

The new archbishop bit into the gryphon’s meat. Juicy and thick, the flavour melted within his tongue. Oh, once they come running into them, he would kill to eat another meal of griffin meat, “I said not yet, Emily. What do you not understand, dear?” 

“Bu…But they’re our partners I thought? They’re our friends.” 

Johan let out a chuckle before stifling it down under his breath, “Friends? Darling, you’re too naive to believe they’re our friends. We’re merely partners for now but once they discover the truth, they quickly turn on us.” 

“The truth?” 

“Why yes dear, the truth,” He raised his goblet of wine, now drunk both metaphorically and physically, “Gentlemen! Today we celebrate our discovery against the gryphons! It has been a month since they had wronged us in our agreement,” He stood up, waiting for the crowd to join in. Was this what power felt like? To sway everyone to his beck and call? 

Reluctantly, his friend stood up, glancing around the crowd. What happened to him? Why was he so much more… confident now? Felt like he changed as a person entirely; from the exhausted bishop rushing around work to a formidable leader representing the church. But a weird feeling plastered over his words. 

Icky was how she could come up. Her friend reminded her of her father’s friends, discussing politics as they kept up their facade. 

Everyone cheered around the centre upon Johan’s orders. Raising it up high, they took a gulp off of their wine before sitting down. Most of their faces flushed red now, drunk within the merry mood. 

“Explain this, Johan. What do you mean they wronged us? They gave the offering, didn’t they?” Emily demanded, sitting down, “And what’s this about the discovery?” 

The man jeered at her words. How naive and sheltered could she get? That sad sack of a gryphon that they call an ‘offering’ was borderline offensive. But still, she needed a wake up call sooner or later, “Alright then, Emily. Since you wanted to know the truth, then let me tell you, alright?” 

She gulped with his face leaning into her. Mere inches away from her ears, he whispered, “Our partnership fell through and we killed them both,” Her eyes widened. Killed? Even she knew that wouldn’t have been go- 

“Don’t worry though, we found their weakness. And if they ever start a war,” He pulled back, eating another bite of the gryphon’s flesh, “We’ll be ready.” 

“How could you? Wasn’t there a more diplomatic way to resolve it?” 

“Oh hush now, Emily,” His eyes darted towards her almost empty plate, “Didn’t you enjoy the food?” 

She squinted at him, “Food? Don’t change the subject, alright Johan? How did we allow this t-” 

“It's gryphon meat,” He licked against his lips before grabbing another bite of flesh, “Delicious, isn’t it?” 

The young maiden dashed away from the grand hall. Covering her mouth, she seeked refuge in the toilet, feeling a wave of nausea pushing up against her guts. They all knew… they all wanted war… War against the gryphons… That wasn’t right and yet what was she going to do about it? 

Puking within the cubicle, her body just shook uncontrollably. Surely, she was the normal one to freak out like this. Why would they ever want to go to war with them? What meaning was there to this madness? 

On the other side of the continent however, gryphons were getting rather irritated at the Emissary’s absence. Sure, a week or two of vacation was fine but it had been a month of no contact. It irritated the council to no end - a gryphon abandoning his duty and slacking off in the human Empire was… outrageous to say the least. 

Hence, they sent one of their promising recruits to bring him back with or without force. Of course, there will be consequences to his lazy behaviour like suspension of his role or possible jail time. The thought of him being dead never once crossed their mind; how could mere humans slay a gryphon with magic by their side. 

Approaching the Empire, the said recruit rolled his eyes. Ugh, he had to clean up his senior’s mess? What was wrong with him? Fine, the council guessed that he might take a week or two off to fool around but it's been months since he contacted them. 

Balancing on his two talons, he was approached by a guard, “Entry pass?” 

“Here,” He passed it to them and tapped against the ground. Ughhh, maybe he could take a week off? But there was that event ongoing this weekend and his grades needed some work. Overall just a frustrating situation to be in. 

The guard returned to the other guards. A smile rising up as his back faced the gryphon, “Boss, I got a gryphon, waiting outside. What should I do?” 

“Oh just let him in,” The head guard nodded, “After I make some calls.” 

After fifteen minutes or so, the gryphon yawned. When were they going to come and get him? Or did they forget about him? But in the distance, he spotted a man, smiling within red robes as he walked in his direction, “Hello there. My name is Johan and I’m the archbishop of the church here.” 

“I see?” 

Johan reached his hand out, “What about you?” 

“Name is Rob but I don’t think I’ll be staying here for long,” He uncrumpled a picture of the Emissary, “Do you know where he is? The council is looking for him now and I’m here to fetch him.” 

Johan scratched against his chin, “Oh that gryphon. I certainly can guide you there.” 

“Nice, thanks a lot Johan.” 

“Now that you’re here, why don’t you follow me to meet him?” He chuckled, “A man like myself would be powerless to deal with gryphons like you.” 

“Oh of course I’ll follow,” The two men started their journey, “Believe it or not, I was the only person who could overpower him in the school.” 

“Oh really?” 

“Yes, yes, you should’ve seen his face when I crushed him in the tournament… there was th-” 

As the gryphon continued rambling on his stories, Johan slowly guided him into the altar room. He gestured towards the attendants, asking them to make preparations. A fresh young gryphon had just stepped into their lair, he surely couldn’t refuse that. 

Finally, they arrived in the altar room. Attendants now gathered behind Johan. Strange. Why was the Emissary here? He wasn’t a religious fella even in the tribe. 

“So where is he?” He glanced around the altar room, before being strapped into one of the altars by the back, “Hey!”

Johan chuckled, “Why you want to meet him, right? I suppose I’ll let you meet him in the afterlife,” They swarmed around him once again, some stripping his clothes while others pressed against his wings, “Attendants. You may begin!”