The Valkyries’ Torture

“Tolke, prepare for your punishment!”

A chorus of twelve voices rose in unison, their tones identical, their timbres strikingly similar.

Unbeknownst to him, the grand hall had filled with a fine mist, and within its ethereal embrace, a thirteenth pair of emerald eyes gleamed from hidden depths.

Tolke’s body, now beyond his control, ascended, drifting directly towards the towering high seat within the Hall of Heroes.

He was unceremoniously dropped onto the throne, its armrests swiftly morphing into shackles that bound his hands.

The lofty backrest transformed into a plush, yielding sofa, gently cradling his head.

The sofa’s upholstery possessed a texture akin to human skin: warm, taut with muscle, and remarkably resilient.

Tolke found it surprisingly comfortable.

“Tolke, do you recognize this item?” the golden-haired lady asked, her fingers clenching and unclenching, conjuring a flawless white object into her palm from thin air.

“A steamed bun?” Tolke’s lips parted slightly, his expression a mask of astonishment.

Brunhilde let out two soft ‘hmphs’.

“Indeed! A steamed bun, and this shall be your instrument of torture today!”

‘An instrument of torture?’

‘Could a soft, fluffy steamed bun truly serve as an instrument of torture?’

‘Did they intend for him to gorge on hundreds, perhaps thousands, of these white buns until he burst?’

Tolke gazed at the golden-haired lady with a peculiar expression, a nascent suspicion forming that these Valkyries might not possess the sharpest minds.

“Hmph~” Brunhilde scoffed, offended by Tolke’s disrespectful stare.

With a gesture that seemed to conjure a universe between her fingers, a tiny nebula erupted between her index finger and thumb, its scattered dust collapsing into a minuscule, rosy-pink—cherry.

Brunhilde tore a narrow, elongated slit down the center of the bun, then tucked the cherry into one end of the opening.

With a soft flick of her nail against the void, space itself tore open, and a stream of pristine, thick cream cascaded to fill the bun’s waiting chasm.

“Truly a delicacy; savor it well, you gluttonous coward!”

Brunhilde flew before Tolke with a wicked grin, holding the cream-dripping bun and cackling wickedly at him.

“You—you—you, don’t come any closer!” Tolke had no inkling of the sinister plot afoot, nor could he fathom the nature of this damned punishment, yet he harbored a dreadful premonition that if that bun so much as grazed him, someone’s spirit would be utterly shattered.

However, bound by the dual restraints of iron shackles and the throne’s backrest, his most desperate struggles proved utterly futile, merely a futile expenditure of his strength!

“Damn it! Let me go—oof!”

The large white bun was shoved directly into his face, instantly robbing Tolke of his breath.

‘Evidently, their intention was to suffocate him!’

But Tolke quickly realized his error; the golden-haired lady was treating his face as naught but a wooden post, and the bun in her hand, a carpenter’s plane!

One stroke, two strokes, three strokes, four strokes—

Cream smeared Tolke’s entire face, and the hard cherry chafed his nose raw with agonizing pain.

His mouth and nostrils were clogged with cream, and the alternating sensations of suffocation and searing pain plunged Tolke into profound agony!

“Eat! Eat! Weren’t you so eager to stuff yourself? Why aren’t you eating now, hm?” Brunhilde taunted as she inflicted her torment, and Tolke distinctly felt the malice emanating from this Valkyrie.

“I… *gurgle*…” Tolke tried to retort, yet the moment he opened his mouth, a ceaseless torrent of cream poured into his oral cavity.

‘How could a single bun’s slit possibly hold such an inexhaustible quantity of cream?!’

Tolke was utterly perplexed, but he had no time for further thought; he could only grit his teeth, clamp his mouth shut, and endure in silence.

He lost all sense of time; had it been a minute? Ten minutes? An hour?

At any rate, by the time Brunhilde ceased her torment, Tolke’s face was flushed crimson from lack of oxygen.

“Next person, continue the punishment; I have other matters to attend to and must depart.”

A pure white Pegasus whinnied proudly as it charged into the grand hall.

A spear and a shield drifted from the wall and ceiling, respectively, settling into the golden-haired lady’s hands.

She soared onto the Pegasus’s back, adjusted her helmet, and pointed her spear forward.

“Giddy up! To receive the warriors!”

The Pegasus pawed at the ground, then a powerful beat of its wings unleashed a fierce gust of wind.

Tolke was forced to close his eyes by the gale, and when he reopened them, the golden-haired lady and her warhorse had vanished without a trace.

“Uhm, that…” A golden-haired Valkyrie timidly approached Tolke, holding a cherry-topped bun.

She said, “Are you ready? I’ll begin once you are~”

The second Valkyrie before him appeared quite shy, lacking Brunhilde’s grand demeanor, and without the mischievous wit of the Valkyrie who had initiated this torment.

“Yes! Come on!” Tolke urged.

‘Better a swift end than prolonged suffering; let them conclude this punishment as quickly as possible!’

“Here I come, then?” the Valkyrie smiled shyly.

‘She’s truly gentle; I could weep with relief!’

‘It seems this Valkyrie’s punishment will be quite gentle…’

****

‘Damn it all! She’s not gentle in the slightest!’

The Valkyrie clamped one hand around Tolke’s face, compressing his lips into a small pout, while with her other hand, she rubbed the bun against his face with such frantic speed that sparks seemed poised to fly!

“Scum, scum, scum! Norse mortal! You idiotic white pig! Eat! Why aren’t you eating?!” The Valkyrie’s face was twisted in a sickly, deranged grin; Tolke, having no idea what animosity she harbored towards the Norse, felt the profound, pathological fury radiating from her.

“Sis, sister, you’ll break him…” The mischievous little Valkyrie tugged at the hem of the deranged Valkyrie’s skirt, pleading pitiably.

“If you break him, the other sisters won’t have anyone left to play with later.”

The deranged Valkyrie’s emerald eyes flashed with a cold light.

She turned to gaze at the little Valkyrie, then looked up at her other sisters.

Nine golden-haired Valkyries watched, arms crossed, with cold, impassive gazes.

Though they uttered no words, their chilling demeanor spoke volumes.

“Tch~ what a buzzkill!” The deranged Valkyrie pouted, putting away the large, red-rubbed bun.

With a flick of her hand, a sword flew to her palm.

With a stomp of her foot, a swirling vortex appeared before her, revealing countless warriors clashing on the other side.

“I’m off to find some entertainment; you all can continue playing.” The deranged Valkyrie had barely stepped onto the battlefield when her head popped back out of the still-contracting vortex.

She said, “Don’t play him to death; I’ll be back later to continue the fun!”

The vortex vanished, and the second Valkyrie was gone.

By this point, Tolke was utterly drained and powerless from the torment.

His entire nose had been rubbed raw, its delicate skin peeled away, leaving twin streams of blood trickling from beneath his crimson tip.

“It’s the third sister’s turn now,” the mischievous little Valkyrie clapped her hands, then surveyed the others.

“Who’s next?”

“I’ll go.”

The third Valkyrie stepped forward, her expression icy, a true Ice Beauty.

Not a flicker of emotion stirred in Tolke’s eyes as he stared blankly at the Ice Beauty.

It mattered not if she proved even more savage than her predecessor; he now regarded this entire cohort of perverse Valkyries as his sworn enemies.

The Ice Beauty’s eyes were like pure blue ice, beautiful and pristine, and she averted Tolke’s gaze, unwilling to meet his eyes.

Her evasive, skittish manner left Tolke utterly bewildered.

The Ice Beauty spoke softly, “You… go gently… don’t use your teeth to bite.”

Upon hearing the Ice Beauty’s words, Tolke’s spirits soared instantly!

‘Right! I can just eat the bun, and then they’ll have no more instruments of torture!’

“I… I’m coming,” the Ice Beauty said, holding a reddish-brown sugar bun.

The cherry perched atop it was larger than those of the previous two, and the bun itself lacked a cream filling.

She reiterated, “Remember, don’t, don’t bite.”

‘Don’t bite? Hmph! I’ll chew it to shreds in one go!’

Tolke tensed his back muscles, his teeth grinding audibly, glaring menacingly at the bun slowly extending towards him.

“Awoo!” Tolke bit into the brown sugar bun with every ounce of his strength.

Yet, contrary to his fierce effort, he couldn’t even gnaw off a single morsel of the dough.

Tolke was stunned; he couldn’t understand why it wouldn’t break.

‘Could it be that mere mortals are incapable of even chewing divine food?’

Facing this setback, Tolke was not one to easily compromise.

He adopted a different approach; if he couldn’t chew it, he would simply swallow it whole!

Tolke’s lips suctioned onto the bun’s skin, his cheeks hollowing with the effort as half of the bun disappeared into his mouth.

However, the Ice Beauty’s grip was too firm, the other half remaining stubbornly clutched in her hand.

With half the bun in his mouth, Tolke finally discerned its peculiar nature.

The bun was pleasantly warm, as if fresh from the oven, its skin smooth and incredibly resilient, its texture springy yet utterly unyielding to his teeth.

“I—I told you not to bite!” The Ice Beauty’s reaction was slow; she only noticed after Tolke had been biting for a while and had already swallowed half of it.

The Ice Beauty pulled back with all her might, yanking out the remaining half of the brown sugar bun, nearly tearing out Tolke’s jawbone.

She blew repeatedly on the teeth marks etched into the brown sugar bun, then tenderly stroked it, as if cradling a precious infant.

“I! Told! You! Not! To! Bite!” The Ice Beauty’s eyes welled with tears, her delicate brows furrowed in fury, and her tear-streaked, exasperated expression possessed an unexpectedly captivating charm.

She angrily raised her fist, and innumerable currents of air converged upon it, leaving no time for her sister Valkyries to intervene.

With a single punch!

Tolke’s head exploded like a watermelon, its ‘seeds’ pelting off the armor and shields throughout the grand hall with sharp, percussive sounds.

The mischievous little Valkyrie picked up a half-eaten piece of watermelon, still attached to its rind, from the floor, then pried out a black seed from the red flesh.

She tasted it, then declared with genuine appreciation, “A fine melon!”