>>58902248How long should a chapter describing cynthia's death take
“Your title ends inside my pet’s gut.”
The words, a hot whisper against her ear, cut through Cynthia’s panic more sharply than the blade that had just severed her bra. She couldn’t turn her head to see Aldith’s triumphant smirk. She couldn’t do anything. The world was a vice of purple and black scales, crushing the air from her lungs in a painful, rhythmic squeeze.
How did it come to this?
It had been a routine survey of the newly discovered glen near Route 210. The air was sweet with the scent of blooming Gracideas, a perfect spot for a potential archaeological dig. Her guard, ever so slightly, had been down. The ambush was a blur of motion—a flash of purple from the thick ferns, a pained cry from her Garchomp as a surprise Cross Poison found its mark, forcing its recall. Then, the lash of a powerful tail around her ankles, yanking her off her feet before she could even reach for another Poké Ball. She’d hit the mossy ground with a jarring thud, the breath knocked from her, and in that critical second, the heavy, muscular length of the Seviper had coiled around her legs, her waist, her chest, pinning her arms to her sides with terrifying, effortless strength.
Now, held upright in a cruel, vertical embrace, Cynthia could only stare ahead, her vision framed by the serpent’s shimmering scales. Her champion’s cape was a rumpled heap in the grass. Her white blouse, now torn and stained, offered no modesty. The cool mountain air kissed her newly bared breasts, a humiliating exposure that made her cheeks burn with a shame hotter than any battle loss. Below, her feet were bare, her elegant black boots and socks discarded carelessly by the smirking Team Plasma grunt who now circled her like a predator examining its trussed-up prey.
“Such pretty trophies for a fallen champion,”
