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Garreg Fuck Monastery	By : Somburliss Category: +A through F > Fire Emblem (all) > Fire Emblem (all) Views: 6195 -:- Recommendations : 2 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own the fandom or any of the characters from the Fire Emblem franchise. I make no profit from this story.

Chapter List
- 15
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- 17
Only two minutes into your march through the woods, and Rhea’s hands are already roaming your body. She’s practically glued to you as she feels up your troublesomely large tits, your full ass, and every bit of bare skin in between. You’re no longer in the monastery, so you’re under no obligation to put up with this kind of sexual harassment. You could tell her to stop, knock her hands away, or even draw your blade if you wanted. Yet, you don’t do any of those things. It’s easy to tell yourself that you’re yielding to her because she’s the Archbishop, but it’s a lie. You’re not sure of the real reason, but it’s something…
“I didn’t *huff* know you were more of a pervert *phew* than the students…” you state with heated breath.
Rhea whispers in your ear, “Come now, Professor. Didn’t you wonder why I invited you? I have to keep up appearances in front of the students, but a dark, secluded forest is the perfect location for me to enjoy this ripe body of yours. It is your biggest qualification for teaching at the Officers Academy, after all.”
Ngh… You resent her taunting, but it doesn’t bring you any closer to resenting her touch…
As the two of you walk deeper into the forest, Rhea’s groping session is interrupted by a figure appearing in your path. An intimidating, armored soldier sits atop a pitch-black steed, the suit of armor reflecting the moonlight with its onyx polish. Startlingly, the rider seems to have no head, instead holding one of those carved pumpkins in one hand, and a long lance in the other. Fear grips you for a moment, but Rhea wastes no time releasing your body and drawing her sword. That’s right, you’re armed. You don’t know what manner of monster this is, but you’re not some helpless damsel like Saint Hallowine.
A booming voice, somewhat muffled, emanates from the haunting figure. “Archbishop Rhea! With every breath you take, you commit the crime of twisting and contorting the teachings of the Goddess until they are indistinguishable from wanton hedonism! For corrupting this land, you will pay with your ass!”
Rhea’s extends her sword at the shadowy knight and looks down her nose at him. “Come then, and discover the fate awaiting all those who would dare point their blades towards the heavens.”
The headless horseman charges forward, swinging his lance at Rhea with no delay. While Rhea is able to catch the attack using her sword, she seems to take ten times as much damage as she normally would, simply for the fact that she’s using a sword to defend against her opponent’s lance. Her toga is shredded on the spot, leaving a worthless remainder of fabric that fails to conceal either of her breasts, or her nethers. Her halo is snapped in half, and her wings deprived of most of its feathers. The shockwave launches the Archbishop backwards and lands her on her ass, defeated in a single blow.
The horseman bellows, “And you! Facilitator of the Archbishop’s foul schemes! If you think you shall be spared judgment, you are sorely mistaken!”
Thinking tactically, you make to retreat into the trees where you’ll have the advantage, but the horseman is quick to catch you with a blow to the back before you can reposition. The attack massacres your demonic wings and makes quick work of one pair of panties. Kuh… it feels like you took ten times as much damage as you should have, just because you’re holding a sword.
As your remaining options race through your mind, you hear a voice. “Use the Combat Arts I taught you.” That’s right, Combat Arts exist.
With your remaining strength, you reel your arm back and roar, “Allow me to demonstrate!” You strike at the knight with all your might, and yet… why does it feel like you only did three-tenths of the damage you normally would have!? The figure easily counterattacks, tearing your remaining panties to nothingness and turning your bat-shaped bra into a few useless threads. One of your horns gets chipped as you fly backwards and collide with a tree, sapping your muscles of any remaining strength.
As your consciousness fades out, you groan, “Forgive me… My battle ends here…”
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Garreg Fuck Monastery