There’s something delicious about watching Sakura’s so-called heroes scramble when their precious system cracks. Tonight, I traced the scent of burnt magic to an alley behind Club Mirage—some rookie Magia Guardian thought she could purge corruption with righteous fury. Poor thing didn’t realize her mascot had been whispering in my ear for weeks, feeding me every secret tremor of her pussy when she transformed. The look on her face when I pinned her against the wet bricks, her own glowing weapon pressed to her throat… Fuck, I almost came right there from the sheer power of it. But why rush? Tomorrow I’ll let her ‘escape,’ just to see how many more syllables she moans when I finally wreck that tight little ass she’s so desperate to protect. Pro tip, ‘heroes’: your virtue tastes better when it’s soaked in despair.