*CRUNCH*

The snapping of large bones and organs beneath the barding-clad Wyvern’s talons, clutching the Faceless as it lands forcefully atop its foe. Its terrible glowing eyes leers and scans around it to assess the surroundings and to cause space with its serpentine neck.

*CRACK*

The sound of Thunder ebbs from the riders fingertips, unleashing a erratic storm of electric beams from her fingertips, clearing out another Faceless to her right.

“Nine left? Shouldn’t be too much to handle.”

The voluptuous rider states to herself as she maintains distance against the remaining mindless masses of malignant malevolent marked. An arrow whizzes past her, the shaft barely glancing her arm from behind. Ill deterred by the too-close-for-comfort artillery, the rider mulls over why the Faceless has taken stride in the countryside as of late, our hero unleashes more energy from her fingers-

*snap*

-until the sound of her strap on her embalmed in the crevice of her burgeoning bosom brings her to focus. Staring down her energy enveloped self, the cascading mauve and cetacean aura pulsate around her being. A roar draws her attention away from her unaccustomed attire accident to meet the face of a Stoneborn appearing from the dark wood with an unnerving stealth that our magical Malig has only seen years ago in the Norh-Hoshido war. With few options, our rider prepares another Thunder spell from her tome, the darkened energies starting to focus near her fingertips. The Stoneborn starts an uncanny charge, knocking away soldier and faceless alike when noting the magical energy pulsating around the rider.

“Come here ya big lug, I have more than enough for you~”

She taunts in her sultry voice, almost letting loose a cackle as the Stornborn charges right where she wants it to. Just as she is about to fire her beam at the creature, her mount recoils and topples to their left. Jerking her head to the right in response, the rider notes quickly that another Stoneborn tossed a boulder, five feet in diameter, at the face of the poor magic-powered reptile.

“How… How did it out-“

*Thud*

The poor creature lands on its side, confused and unsure of the recent events. More-so, the rider found herself beneath it, the momentum of the fall causing her stirrups to tear and having her get caught underneath the creature. With her metal corset all that is keeping the wyvern from crushing half of her, she tries squeezing away from the collapsed creature. The Wyvern panicking is less than helpful, but an unusual sight for the nearby platoon, used to it and the rider being a pinnacle of combat courage that sees them through countless battles before.

“Sorry sweety, but-“

With the apology, the rider digs her fingers into the ground beneath them and fires off the blast she was preparing before. A cloud of dirt and magic explodes from underneath the mock-dragon, magic-propelled stone and dirt scatter the battlefield, leaving a dust cloud for those in the immediate area. The Stoneface, Faceless, and soldiers are all left in a whirlwind of confusion and obfuscation. The Stoneface charging fumbles and falls in the befuddlement of its lack of senses, relying on its magic-powered sight to find and destroy those it is summoned to destroy. The other Stoneface that blindsided proceeds forth to find its prey. But as it exits out of the cover of foliage and bark, a plump human drops down on its back from a tree, unleashing a magic-propelled axe-blow to the back of its head, causing the creature to crumble and fall forward. With a lurid gait, the attacker brushes back her long, thick lavender-purple hair from her face back to its more natural positioning as she moves to the solid ground off the headless casualty, towards the settling dust cloud.

A massive store fist, larger than the rider juts out from the cloud, using the cover to try and attack the rider. It catches not her torso, but stopped by a glowing axe, burning red Hot with magical energy still dissipating from the last spell, holding back the giant with only one hand on her axe.

“Nice try but…”

The crackling magic envelops her once more, the golden side emblems adorn her hips pop off from a building pressure boiling inside of the rider, the lower edging of her battle corset pushing up, no longer hanging loosely but her hips pushing them up. The energy finally releases from her hand as she grasps her great axe, causing it to split from the Stoneface’s hand, through its wrist and arm, and rupturing past its elbow. A more natural reaction to losing a limb would be to reel back, but the Stoneface was anything but natural. Rather, it swings with its other hand as the axe cascades through its right arm, hoping to still meet its objective.

Noting the other arm, the Rider allows the momentum of the blasting axe to move forward into a forward roll.

With both its missing hand and missed attack, the Stoneface looses balance and falls forward, almost collapsing atop the rider. Another blast fires through its chest, falling forward, with its torso making a circular bit around the rider, leaving her unscathed by the fall.

“…it will take more than that to fell a Norhian Prin-“

The black and violet clad rider collapses, purple bolts of magic pulsating around her and she convulses on the ground.

“So that’s when you moved in and brought her back?”

A nervous soldier, still catching her breath as she tried to finish her report to the white-haired commander of their unit. Finally finding breath, she exclaims,

“Yes, my princess, and we rushed her back here as fast as we could!”

The long-haired royalty nods her head in understanding. It seems the soldier speaks truth, but the state in which Camilla was brought back is more of her concern.

“And she was found like… This?”

Nodding to the out cold Norhian princess, she seems not too lost for wear. In health she came out of the skirmish much better than many of the unit did: some scraps, a scuff here and there, a few shallow cuts, and dented armor. But what has Corrin concerned are more of the details that do add up… and that do not. The purple scars adorn Camillas face and limbs pulsate with magic seem to be magical backlash, which makes sense to Corrin. After all, they have been on an extended border guard service for well over a month, and a march that long following monster attacks one after the other can take its toll on magic users. What has Corrin concerned are more… unusual side effects, kinds she hasn’t seen before.

Indeed, Camilla seems to be a bloated facsimile of the Norhian princess that Corrin grew up with. A once strong-yet-approachable princess now is adorning in a thick layer of cellulite and fat, adding an average of 5 inches all around in favorable circumstances. Though a cloth was placed over her to preserve a semblance of modesty, a concept the Corrin knew Camilla would not be master of, is to preserve anymore of her flesh being exposed to the soldiers and camp. No, the addition of weight has caused her undergarments to fall apart, unable to hold the excess weight. Her thigh-to-hip armoring were needed to be cut-off to maintain circulation, reviling dimpled thighs and thick ankles. The corset was cut from the back to give way to a burgeoning stomach, bloated and distended as though she practiced feasting instead of training, with now Love handles that almost rest on the ballooned hips.

Arms once clad in dense muscle give way to softer forearms, losing its tight form for a softer consistency, though still similar in size. The sharp cut of her chin has softened, and her face forming closer to a u instead of the balanced v-u of before, framed with the start of a second chin. But most notable when facing her are her biggest detractors. Her breasts, the largest of Norhian royalty and the eye of envy to many, the weapon Camilla utilized to throw off her opponents that would underestimate the menacing princess, have jumped from the mid 44H range to the 50H, though saying the cup size stayed the same would be flattery at best and a lie at worst, pushing to the definition of chest melons to the over ripened conclusion, but now adorn with a softer back that give more way into a much more ill-fitting bra, now dangerously close to exposing her nipples somehow.

The idea of Camilla growing in such a scale flummoxes Corrin, but curiosity ultimately sidelines for worry. Felicia cannot make heads or tails of the current situation. The countries best healers, Elise and Sakura, are a long journey away. But if this didn’t call for the use of emergency magic, Corrin is unsure what will. Corrin squeezes her sisters hand, more for assurance for herself than the worry for her sibling.

At least, this was the case Corrin presented to the units’ primary magic user, Nyx.

“If magic did this to her, and we do not know the causes of what KIND of magic, what do you think the power of a long-range teleportation would do to her? We have no idea how this started and meddling into more magical means through her could have unforeseen consequences.”

Nyx replied bluntly and begins to walk away. Awkward but the usual M.O. for the ambiguous ally. Corrin catches her shoulder and spins the magic user around with great force.

“We cannot sit around and do-nothing Nyx, she is my family!”

Nyx drops her head; avoiding the piercing eyes of the dragon-blooded commander whose gaze comes too close for comfort for the aloof mage.

“My liege, I admire your commitment to Lady Camilla, but I fear if this is a kind of curse

But Curses are beset by another, powerful caster. That would mean-“

In unison, “the Faceless were summoned”

Corrin continues, “She was fighting Faceless, but to think they would engage in the curse now… Why wait this long?”

“To strike her when she was weak. The soldiers’ said Camilla was blindsided by a Stoneface.”

“Even for monsters such as these, it takes allot to surprise a trained solider in the league of Camilla.”

“Which is why it is strange for them to even attempt to blindside, instead of the weeks of head-on attacks. Therefore, I do think it was intentional. If they can take out the border guard…”

“… Then the border is exposed. No, this could reignite the war again! We must send for help!”

“What barbarian would do this? Who gains from sabotaging the peace treaty?”

The tent flap opens as a solider is being brought inside. Corrin turns to meet the new company, when her eyes catch to the soldier; bloating and expanding in size as she’s being carried in with a stretcher. The expanding solider seemed familiar, she she pipes up,

“Sorry commander, I-I-“

The stuttering speech is being interrupted by buttons holding the soldier’s shirt goes flying in all directions, one eerily close shoot past Corrins head. Corrin face drops in complexion as she notes something of the solider. Her head begins to spin as Nyx catches her, helping her over to a chair. Corrin begins to fan herself, feel a heatwave move through her suddenly and the ability to catch her breath confounds her.

“Nyx… That…”

*pant*

“Thats the solider that helped bring Camilla in. That means…”

*wheeze*

Nyx stares at her hands, as she notes black energy starts to ripple in her hands and a warmth envelops her body, “The curse spreads through touch!”