Twisted Ogre

The continent of Kraven, Kingdom of Ignum.

Hidden beneath the stretching capital of Ignum— Aurea— an iron dungeon marked by the greatest enslaving mage of the kingdom had ever produced remained sturdy. Unaffected by the pleas of despair and cries of men and women charged with a capital offense to be bred by their personal monster troops, the most efficient way to utilize the manpower, the court suggested, filled with like-minded nobles. The lighting sparse to avoid gazing at the terrible condition but the lack of ventilation, ironically, filled the iron dungeon with an unforgettable stench marked with excrement, sex, birth, and death. To some bards, a poetic place and to some, a nightmare.

*Bzzt*

"Gah!" With the voice muffled due to the covering mask, the spartan guard gazed at the flickering bulb producing cool white light with a frustrated grunt. "The veins ain't etched properly. Note the section and request for an Adept to clear th' lighting!" The man with bulging arms but light purple skin, obviously, due to bad lighting, smacked the back of his spear against the wettish carved floor. The screams of the men and women as ogres, elves, orcs, beastkin, bred them didn't affect the guards. This was just another day for them. "Oi," the third in the line leaned forward, the mask failing to suppress the mischievous gaze of the man, "The ogre kids should have gained their share of intelligence, right? It's four days 'ready! Four days for four years, that's what the Commander ordered."

"Yeah, kid. Knock yourself out," The other two guards sighed as the young spartan cackled and opened the door that they were guarding alongside the breeding cells. "Man, these orcs got some weird shags. Never want ta die to a screw-like sword..." The first one idly commented as the spartan pedophile woman got her fair share of dicking by the 170-kilo orc with a pig's face. "Serves 'er right for impaling a kid while sucking the lad off." Instantly, the second guard shivered and let out a cold 'brrrr'.

"Stop already!" He winced, "Just let her serve her time and give some orc pups. Seven years of service before death. It's only been three."

---

Meanwhile, the third guard entered the room. Instead of a room, the spartan youth had to walk for a few moments through the rocky hallway before he stopped in front of the opening of the cave filled with day-long ogre pups. Their skin grey, tusks already growing out and their fat bellies heaving up and down. A few of the little bastards hairy but most of the bald. Three of them even gained the spartan heritage, their skin slightly pink in color. In other words, targets needed to be slain before fully forming intelligence. That's what the spartan law directed. Not to harm any being with developed intelligence belonging to the registered species but to consider even an unborn child a fodder as long as it didn't miraculously gain intelligence.

"The 'stains' can't live, eh!" The guard smiled with a sigh, "You guys got it lucky, no need to get treated like shit by those up and high." He walked forward, his body fashioned in leather armor and a red skirt that reached into his armor as a sleeveless shirt. His limbs defined with muscles as the sandal-wearing guard carefully made his way towards the three pink ogres and ended their lives with a thrust into their barely existent necks. Sniffing the air now slowly scented with blood, the guard smiled in satisfaction, "The critters should be waking up any minute now, eh!"

As he predicted, the pool of blood in three different locations irritated a bunch of poopers as they slowly moved and started to wake each other up in their glorious morning cries which didn't irritate the guard in the slightest. After all, these cries were heaven when compared to the sounds of beastmen and other non-spartans having sex with convicted criminals with a ferociousness that a spartan could only provide in extremely rare nights. Not to mention the physical difference.

---

Accompanied by a pink-skinned spartan, their master, the line of 23 grey-skinned ogre younglings, apparently, 3 months older, followed the casual-looking man with curious expressions. They were surrounded by a thicket, as usual. This was their home, after all. Alongside a few boroughs of rabbits that served to fill the group's stomach, the batch of young ogres lived quite peacefully. Their master, a spartan man with light pink skin, a thin body, and a bushy head of black hair, cooked for them every day and helped them bathe, too.

Suddenly, the man came to a stop and turned back, facing the kids with a kind smile and pointed at the large opening of the forest. "Stand there, critters," the man instructed, making the kids slowly walk towards the empty area. They had learned early that any question would earn them an hour of discipline in front of the whole group. So, the kids that looked like almost 4-year-old Spartans completed the task without any question. Aside from a single ogre whose stationary body brought a wide smile to the caretaker's face.

"No. 69, this is the last time we are meeting, hopefully." Picking the 20-kilo heavy ogre kid with his arm, the Spartan warrior flung the kid towards the empty area without any care for possible injuries. With a satisfied expression, the man whistled as all the ogres felt a little strange. The nearby shrubs rustled and finally revealed a watch of green-furred hounds softly snarling with streams of saliva leaking down their guttural mouths.

"Now, survive!" The caretaker called Master grinned.

---

"Aaagh!" 69 instantly slipped in between the group of ogres. That's what the little rabbit tried every time the master brought all of them to hunt for rabbits. He would just ask the kids to make a round and observe and that he did. "What to do?" 69 shouted, causing the group of kids to panic, "Those dogs are angry! 45, you are the worst!" 69 shouted instantly, kicking off a young kid with round belly into the front lines as the boy stumbled forward and fell on his chin, instantly bruising it as he shouted. "Master, 69 is bullying—"

*Kacha*

In front of the quite a number of laid back kids, a green-furred hound opened its large mouth capable of fitting six rabbits and tore off 45's head, its jaws easily crunching into the head as all the kids came to a stunning silence. "45!" A sweet-cheeked ogre girl cried loudly, making the hounds finally snap towards the crows from different directions but the moment 69 panicked, his master's calm voice echoed.

"Congratulations, you ten survived. Quite lucky, eh?"

69 opened his eyes and found the hounds vanishing into the green wind and finally, he looked around, seeing a number of ogres. 1... 2... 3... 4... 5... 6... he didn't know how to count after six.

Snapping his fingers, a green glow whispered out of Master's body as it flew into the ten kids before they felt a rush to their heads and fell unconscious.

"Aww... Kraven's demise... 69 survived..."

The spartan muttered to himself and whispered a soft chant before a gentle, green-colored wind carried the kids alongside him.