SSS-Class MILFs And Their Yandere Daughters, I Want Them All!

Chapter 646: Generational Fear

Mika drifted over to Fauna.

“I have a favor to ask.” He said, his voice sweet and innocent. “You’ll do it for me, won’t you? You love me, after all. You’ll do anything for me.”

Fauna’s eyes trembled with fear and grief, but her body nodded on its own.

“I knew it.” Mika said, beaming. “You’re such a good mother, Fauna!”

He leaned in and whispered something in her ear—something that made her eyes widen with horror.

“Please.” She whispered. “Mika, please don’t make me…”

But it was already too late. Her body was moving, her powers responding to his command whether she wanted them to or not.

One of her hands began to glow with the familiar black light of her plague aspect.

But the other hand began to emit a warm, golden light. The light of healing.

And suddenly, the piles of meat below began to shift and move.

At first, it was subtle—a twitch here, a shift there, as if the piles of gore were merely settling under their own weight.

But then the movement became more pronounced.

Chunks of flesh began to slide across the blood-slicked ground, drawn together by some invisible force.

Organs reassembled themselves with wet, sucking sounds.

Bones realigned, snapping back into place with audible cracks. Skin stretched and knit together, sealing wounds that should have been permanent.

The crowd watched in stunned horror as the dead were literally rebuilt before their eyes.

“What’s happening?!” Someone screamed. “What the hell is going on?!”

“Are they…are they being revived?!”

“Is Lady Fauna actually healing them back to life?!”

“This can’t be real! This has to be some kind of illusion!”

But it was real.

Fauna’s blessing was so powerful that it could restore life to the recently deceased—and Mika had already ensured that these victims were within her domain, making resurrection not just possible but inevitable.

One moment they had been dead—torn apart, sliced to pieces, exploded into nothing.

The next, they were alive again, gasping for breath, their minds reeling from the impossible transition.

And these weren’t just any victims.

These were the ones who had personally attended the Dream Realm.

The politicians and actors and singers who had tortured Mika. The most corrupt and disgusting individuals involved in the Paradise of Sin.

Mika didn’t want them to die once.

He wanted them to die over and over and over again.

—

The revived prisoners floated upward once more, their expressions shifting from confusion to terror as they realized what was happening.

“No!” Victor Lang screamed, whose face was known across the continent. “Please, no! Not again! You can’t do this to me again!”

“Please!” The female news reporter begged, her voice cracking. “Please, just let me die! Let me stay dead! Don’t bring me back!”

“You brought us back just to kill us again?!” The doctor shouted. “What kind of monster does that?!”

But their pleas fell on deaf ears.

The Battle Angels, still crying, still fighting against the control that bound them were forced to kill them again.

But this time, they took their time.

—

Victor who had begged for mercy was the first to experience the second death.

A sword approached him slowly. It didn’t strike immediately. Instead, it hovered before his face, so close that he could see his own terrified reflection in the polished steel.

“Please.” He whispered. “Please don’t…”

The sword moved.

It cut off his left hand first, slowly sawing through the wrist in a agonizing way. The actor screamed, his voice rising to a shriek that echoed across the square.

“MY HAND! OH GODS, MY HAND!”

The sword moved to his right hand, repeating the process. Then his feet. Then his legs, inch by inch, cutting away his body piece by piece while he remained conscious through all of it, his screams growing weaker as blood loss took its toll.

Only when he was reduced to a torso with a head did the sword finally plunge into his chest, ending his suffering.

But not for long.

—

The News reporter was next.

This time, it was Fauna’s power that killed her—bu, not mercifully. Instead, she was infected with a disease that caused her skin to itch unbearably, then to blister, then to slough off in sheets.

She scratched at herself desperately, her nails tearing through her own flesh as she tried to relieve the impossible itching.

“IT ITCHES!” She screamed. “IT ITCHES SO MUCH! MAKE IT STOP! PLEASE MAKE IT STOP!”

But it didn’t stop.

The itching only intensified, spreading deeper into her body, until she was literally tearing herself apart with her own hands, gouging chunks of flesh from her own body in a desperate attempt to reach the source of the torment.

When she finally died, it was from blood loss and shock—her body so mutilated by her own hands that it was barely recognizable as human.

And then she was revived again.

—

The guildmaster suffered gravity’s cruel embrace—crushed slowly, inch by inch, his bones splintering and his organs rupturing in sequence. He felt every moment of it, his body refusing to surrender to unconsciousness even as the pressure mounted.

“PLEASE!” He screamed, his voice cracking. “PLEASE, I’LL CONFESS TO EVERYTHING! I’LL DO ANYTHING! JUST LET ME DIE!”

But death was no escape.

He was revived. And killed again.

And revived. And killed again.

And again.

And again.

—

There were two operations running simultaneously now.

The first was simple slaughter—the families and lesser criminals who Mika didn’t care about, killed quickly and efficiently, their deaths serving only to add to the mountain of meat below.

But the second operation was different.

These were the ones whose crimes were so heinous that they deserved more than death.

They were killed over and over again, each death more creative and agonizing than the last.

Amanda herself was among them—revived again and again, forced to face Yelena’s blade over and over. Each time she begged for mercy. Each time she was denied.

“PLEASE! PLEASE, I’M SORRY! I’M SO SORRY!”

“JUST LET ME DIE! LET ME STAY DEAD!”

But Mika wouldn’t allow it.

He watched her suffer with a smile on his face, his purple eyes glowing with satisfaction.

This woman had betrayed his family. She had helped Marcus kidnap his sister. She had stood by while he was tortured.

She deserved this.

They all deserved this.

—

The world watched in horrified silence.

This was beyond anything they had ever imagined.

The Battle Angels hadn’t just become executioners—they had become something far worse.

They had become gods of death, dispensing suffering and resurrection with equal ease, turning the square into a never-ending cycle of agony.

Mothers covered their children’s eyes. Grown men wept openly. The elderly prayed for salvation that would never come.

And through it all, the voice whispered into Mika’s ear, encouraging him, praising him, feeding his growing bloodlust.

“Yes, my child! Yes! Kill them all! Make them suffer! This world deserves to die—for what it’s done to us! It deserves to feel out wrath!”

For a single moment, Mika flinched.

What did the voice mean by…what had the world done to them?

It was one thing for the Eternal Queen to have her own history, her own grievances.

But what did that have to do with him?

The moment of rationality lasted only a second before it faded, swallowed by the satisfaction of watching his tormentors suffer.

—

The cycle continued.

The Battle Angels became a blender of meat, processing victim after victim with mechanical efficiency.

The lucky ones died instantly, their suffering brief and merciful.

The unlucky ones suffered endlessly, killed and revived and killed again in an eternal cycle of agony.

The square fell silent except for the sounds of death—the wet thud of falling meat, the screams of the dying, the quiet sobs of the Battle Angels who were forced to kill against their will.

And the world watched.

No one could look away.

This was history unfolding before their eyes.

The kind of moment that would be studied for generations, analyzed and debated and feared.

—

In a military command center, generals and admirals gathered around a conference table, their faces grim.

“We could send in the army.” one of them suggested. “Mount a counterattack—”

“And accomplish what?!” Another snapped. “The Battle Angels could slaughter our entire military without breaking a sweat. We’d be throwing away lives for nothing!”

“So we just let them do this? We just watch while they murder thousands of people in the streets?”

“What alternative do you propose? A letter of abolishment?”

The sarcasm fell flat. No one laughed.

—

In a royal palace, a king paced back and forth, his crown forgotten on the table beside him.

“Summon the other monarchs.” He ordered. “We need to coordinate a response. If the Battle Angels have turned against us, we need to be prepared.”

“Prepared for what, Your Majesty?” His advisor asked quietly. “If they decide to attack us, there’s nothing we can do. We’re ants beneath their feet.”

The king stopped pacing. For a long moment, he was silent.

“Then we pray.” He finally said. “We pray that whatever has driven them to this…that it doesn’t last.”

—

In a temple dedicated to the Battle Angels, the priests and priestesses huddled together in fear.

The statues of their divine protectors suddenly seemed menacing, their stone eyes watching with cold indifference.

“Have we been worshipping monsters all along?” one young acolyte whispered.

No one answered.

—

In a small village on the edge of civilization, a farmer watched the broadcast with tears streaming down his weathered cheeks.

He had named his daughter after the Maiden of Fate, believing that the name would bring her luck and protection.

Now he wondered if he had cursed her instead.

—

The criminals who had escaped Mika’s radar were the ones terrified the most.

They sat in their homes, watching the broadcast with shaking hands, their hearts pounding in their chests.

Some of them had committed crimes that should have been included in this purge.

Some of them had darker desires that they had never acted upon, impulses that they had always managed to suppress.

Now, watching the horror unfold on their screens, they felt those impulses die.

They would never act on them. Never! The risk was too great, the consequences too terrible. Not just for themselves, but for their families as well.

If the Battle Angels were willing to slaughter entire families for the crimes of their relatives, what chance did any of them have?

No one would dare to commit a crime now.

No one would even dare to think about it.

—

Mika watched the world’s reaction with satisfaction.

This was exactly what he had wanted.

By instilling fear into everyone’s hearts and showing them what happened to those who crossed the Battle Angels, he was creating a future where crime and corruption could never flourish again.

The methods were brutal. The methods were atrocious. But the message was clear:

The Battle Angels are watching. They were Angels are always watching.

And if you dare to harm others, they will find you.

They will kill you…and they will kill everyone you love.

The fear would linger for generations. Children who caught glimpses of tonight’s broadcast before their parents could shield them would grow up knowing, deep in their bones, that the Battle Angels were not to be crossed.

And that was exactly what Mika wanted.

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