Edraele reappears just outside the citadel, the grand fortress standing at the center of the city. Its thick walls look a little out of place among the slender and delicate structures around it, but it still has a certain elegance to it, with its clean white stone exterior and the well decorated interiors. Two guards stand before the entrance, bracing their weapons against the blue mist that anticipated her arrival.

“Magister!” One of the two says, “W-What is happening out there?”
Edraele rolls her eyes and walks past them, she has a mission to accomplish. The sorceress stomps into the fortress, hearing the complaints of the two soldiers outside, too scared of her to even try to stop her. The neutral expression she always wear is now replaced by a mask of anger, her beautiful face twisted by pure rage. Never has she felt so humiliated, so ashamed, to think that a dirty troll would defeat her spells like that! And with just her fists and that disgusting giant body of hers, so thick with muscles and curves that only an orc would find her remotely attractive.

Stomping further into the fortress, she reaches the deeper parts of it. Whispering an ancient spell, she makes a whole wall disappear from sight, revealing a long and dark tunnel behind it. Without hesitating, she gets into it, reaching a cave beneath, illuminated by a blue light, coming from a giant glowing blue crystal, half-buried in the rock.
This is what Nabelle has been built around, why it has such a big magical academy and why so many of its citizens are so naturally attuned to magic: A primordial crystal, said to be the congealed blood of the Gods themselves, spilled in the wars of creation, when pantheons fought one another for control over the newborn material world.

She never cared much for that story, only on the fact that the crystal is an enormous source of arcane energy, pure magic made physical. Many mages have tried to wield it and they have been burned to a crisp, but she will not fail. She will prove her superiority. So she stops before it, the crystal writhing with power almost taunting her. She closes her eyes and places a hand on top of it, and let the energy flow into her.

“Ah!” A grunt of pure pain escapes her throat, as her knees fail and she drops to the ground. The power travels through her like molten lava flowing into her veins, burning her flesh to a crisp. Cracks start forming over her skin, glowing blue and threatening to disintegrate her very being, but the arch-magister resists, gritting her teeth and managing the overwhelming wave. Sparks of power whip the environment around her as she glows more and more herself, her body seemingly falling apart, her muscles twitching and shaking, her bones creaking.

And then it is finally over. The crystal looks spent, its glow now much duller. Edraele instead is the one illuminating the cavern, her body barely staying together, the cracks along her skin glowing so brightly that she almost got blinded herself. Containing so much power in her body is far from easy, and if she does not act fast it will burn her out, even with her immense skills.

So she does not hesitate, and blasts her way through the rock ceiling into the fortress and then the sky, leaving behind a trail of destruction. The entire city is below her. Her eyes focus on the gloating monster and without hesitation she conjures a gigantic ball of flames, burning hot above her. The fireball travels through the sky like a comet sent down by the Gods to punish the wicked. Her spell strikes through, hitting the creature’s stomach. The ball explodes outward, engulfing her entire body in flames.

Having spent so much energy for that spell, Edraele feels more in control of her body once more, still with an immense amount of power to spend and somehow keep from burning her up. A smile creeps on her lips, seeing the monster crashing down against the ground with a huge blast, smoke rising from every inch of her sickly purple skin. She could get used to this power, maybe after this she could experiment some more, train her body to retain this power, ascend beyond what mortals can achieve. She almost has to thank the troll for finally pushing her to go this far, and unlocking a whole new world of magic for her.

“I assume that is a no, then?” A booming voice suddenly says, freezing the magister’s blood in her veins.

--- --- --- --- --- --- ---

Yesha slowly gets back up, her body in pain from head to toe. Her stomach in particular hurts like hell, the sort of agony that she has not felt ever since she was barely the size of a house. Back then too it was a bunch of mages that made her kneel over in pain. She looks down to see her scorched skin, completely black on her stomach. Still, despite how badly it looks, it is not actually as sever as she thought, most of it is just ash and burnt dust and debris, her body is mostly fine! If a little crisped.

The pain is powerful, however, overpowering even, but strangely enough she finds herself smiling at it. After so many years of lording over her valley without any credible threat, being forced to her knees in pain is incredible, making her feel more alive than ever! She is so big now, and yet there are still tinies able to hurt her, meaning she still has plenty of room to grow.

“Shame, you would have made for a perfect little slave town” she says, taunting the city, while dusting herself off. Her skin hurts even more now that she touched it, but she can already feel it healing: In a few minutes only scars will remain, which is incidentally exactly what Yesha’s plans for the city too.
Her eyes look around for the source of the fireball, finally spotting a tiny glowing blue dot in the sky, about eye level for her, floating above the center of the city, at about twenty, maybe thirty, of her steps away from her.

The tiny blue dot soon enough finds itself in the shadow of another growing fireball, a sphere of pure flames swelling over it, and finally it releases it in her direction. Yesha squats down, and pushes her fingers into the very earth around the walls. Tons of rock and earth are pushed aside as the walls tremble and grumble, until a whole chunk separates from the rest. Yesha lifts up the fifty foot long piece of wall, using it as a shield, just in time for the fireball to hit it.

Roaring flames explode over the stone surface, turning into a smoking smoldering slab, while fire spill over it and scorches Yesha’s shoulders and legs. The damage is far more limited this time, enough that Yesha barely flinches, but her makeshift shield crumbles in her hands, unable to keep itself together. “I was hoping you’d build sturdier stuff” she says, with a smirk on her lips.

Without wasting anymore time, the giant half-troll bends down and sprints into the city. Her colossal body starts slowly, but quickly picks up the pace, devouring the terrain under her in great strides, her fifty foot long soles carving a bloody path into the city. The impact on the ground below her is nothing short of apocalyptic: Everything under her feet is obliterated, turned into fine dust, while everything around it is blasted away as if one of those very fireballs was thrown there. The streets are filled with panicking elves, trying to flee her. The tiny ants look so damn slow to her eyes, but they provide such a nice little nice feeling to her soles when they explode under them.

Yesha is aware of the catastrophe that is her advance in the city, a perverse glee warms her heart seeing the casual destruction her run causes. She does try to avoid damaging buildings and people as much as possible, though: Broken toys are boring to play with.

She looks down and spot a whole platoon of tiny elven pikemen, their minuscule weapons not even a finger long to her, yet still they stand in formation, to protect the inner city. The ball of her foot lands before them, a few splatter under her toes, wetting them ever so slightly, while the rest is blown away fifty feet back, smashing into buildings, people, or the inner circle of walls. Of the fifty of so soldiers, barely four are left alive after her passage.

The fireball finally comes for her, but at this point she is close enough to the mage that she can simply dodge out of the way, fainting a right turn and watching as the ball of fire flies harmlessly out of the city and into the ocean, where it fizzles out against the water surface, raising a giant steam cloud. The sorcerer clearly did not expect someone her size being able to move with swiftness, trolls are not known for being agile after all, but she is no ordinary troll.

So many tinies in her life have thought of her a simple enemy as soon as they saw the tusks, the long ears, and the purple skin, too stupid to plan ahead or deceive, too slow to react, too clumsy to wield weapons or tools. The half-troll stopped caring for what the tiny people thought of her as soon as she was big enough to squash one under her foot. Let them think she is dumb, it only makes it easier for her to fill her belly up.

The inner walls are the last obstacle between her and the flying mage. They are taller than the other walls, at a hundred feet tall they are barely as tall as her knees. She merely needs to raise her legs to go over them. On the other side, her feet land on an opulent looking district, crushing a huge mansion and turning it into dust, while a few more fancy houses nearby are blasted apart by the shockwave caused by her small hop over the walls.

The tiny blue dot seems to finally realize it is very much in danger, as it is merely a step away now from the mighty troll. It snuffs out the fireball it was about to cast and flees away. To Yesha’s surprise, it does not fly higher or away from the city, which would have been the smart thing to do, instead towards a big goofy looking building in the inner walls, its shape so simple and utilitarian that it looks out of place in the slender and luxurious crowd of buildings around there.

It disappears inside, just when a new volley of ballista fire reaches Yesha. Now that she stopped for a second, the defenders of the inner walls had the time to aim and fire their bolts at her. Unfortunately for them, these are not enchanted, so most simply bounce over her skin, and the fire that pierce it fall off of her moments later, pushed outside by her regenerating flesh. Yesha rolls her eyes, not even bothering doing anything about it. “You out of mages or something?” she idly asks, while taking three steps forward, looming over the cube shaped fortress.

“Come out and play now, little thing! Or are we playing hide and seek now? Let me see if I can squeeze inside!” She says, her booming giggle filling the air around her. She kneels down, the structure still far shorter than her, then without hesitation she raises her fist and hits the building. Her hand simply goes through the thick layer of enchanted rock, as if made of paper, carving a huge hole into the structure. “Your walls are worth nothing, little elves. No wonder I could just waltz in here like I owned the place!” She continues to taunt the populace, reveling in the ease with which she dismantles her mighty fortifications.

Another fist hits the fortress, causing the whole left side to crumble to the ground. But the pounding continues, until she reveals a cavern underneath, glowing blue. “Oh?”

--- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- ---

This is all insane! How is this possible? Possibly the most powerful fire spell ever cast in centuries if not ever barely caused any damage! Is she even a troll or some kind of demon disguised as one? Sure, her size is far beyond any troll in the historical records, but she should still cry and flee at the mere sight of flames!

And how could she be smiling! Smiling! Even laughing, as she destroyed her Nabelle to get to her, dodging her spells as if she was throwing playing balls. For maybe the first time in her long life, the arch magister freezes in terror, and then flees, unable to withstand the gaze of that loathsome creature any longer. She needs more power, surely that will stop her! There is no creature she cannot defeat! Especially lowly trolls.

So she retreats to the fortress, to get to her crystal. Maybe she can leech off some more power! She has barely tapped the surface potential of the Gods’ blood. Who cares if her body will fall apart if she dives in again! She cannot simply let the brute win! So flying as fast as she can, she finds her way back into the cave. The relative silence in there is almost soothing, the loud booms caused by the giant’s movements a distant echo.

That is, until the monster starts demolishing the fortress above her with her bare hands. Incredulous, the magister can barely raise a barrier in time to save herself from the roof collapsing on her, only to find herself staring right into those orange eyes of hers. “You foul beast will not take a step further!” She shouts, touching the crystal again, and feeling the invigorating stream of energy overflowing into her. She was right! She barely scratched the surface of the power in the crystal.

“Prepare to feel the wrath of the G-No! No!” Edralele screams, as a purple hand reaches down for her, its thick fingers digging into the very rock to scoop up her together with her barrier and the crystal. “Such a feisty little thing. You almost make me want to keep you around for a bit longer, and properly break you, but your fire darts really made me hungry” the beast says, rubbing her abs. Gods above and below, her injuries are already healing! How can it be that fast! She used fire, pure arcane fire! The troll should be begging for her life, not taunting her!

The desperate magister lets out one last roar, releasing everything she has. Wild arcs of magic lightning and fire erupts from her body, but all that does is slightly delay the inevitable as the half troll keeps her arm extended and simply waits for her display to end. As the barrier around her flickers and breaks, the magister drops to her knees, realizing she just wasted what remained of her energies on a useless light show that barely tickled the monster.

The giant brings her closer, a huge smug grin on her hideous face, creepily similar to a human with the features of a troll. Her mouth opens, the huge cavern right in front of her eyes, a dark abyss that nothing can escape from. Desperate, the magister touches the crystal again, to siphon more energy and fly away, but as she does so, her body starts to break apart, her fingers and toes turning into fine dust. She has reached her limit, the godsblood stone is useless to her now. And it is about to join her in the creature’s stomach.

Her crumbling body is a blessing in disguise, in a way. The monster tilts her head and the magister tumble into her throat, together with the crystal and tons of rocks she casually dug up with them. The moment her head collides with her throat muscles, she loses consciousness, slowly turning into dust even before she got broken down by her stomach acids.

--- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- ---

Yesha lets out a little giggle after swallowing the annoying tiny mage, together with that fancy piece of rock she was clinging to. It reminded her of the sugar crystals the halflings used to make in her childhood, and gave to her as a little reward once in a while. The half troll wonders for a second what it was exactly, but as soon as the thing hits her stomach, it is quickly forgotten.

Yesha puts her foot on top of the crumbling fortress and looks around. She is triumphant, uncontested. These elves threw everything they had at her and came closer to doing real damage than most, but still far from enough. The half troll came out victorious from much worse fights, in which her body barely held together and the field of battle was drenched in as much of her blood as her prey. Still, this has been by far the most entertaining fight ever since she grew big enough to casually defeat dragons.

Which is very bad news for the surviving elves, because now the victor is eager to collect the spoils of war, and celebrate with a feast. Seeing the fleeing masses of elves and the destruction she already so casually caused stirs very familiar emotions and needs in the half troll, turning her grin into an ever more dreadful sight, while her body reacts in kind, getting more and more excited.

“Shame you had to fight to the end, now I will not hold back one bit” she says, even if this is exactly the outcome she was hoping for. Without wasting any more time, she starts walking towards the main gate of the inner circle of walls, where a huge crowd of nobles, soldiers, priests, academy students and professors, and the upper crust of elven society, is trying to fit through the tiny gate.

The plaza facing the gate, where the crowd is accumulated, is big and luxurious, like everything else in the city. Encircled by tall elegant buildings belonging to the academy, it is big enough for the troll to comfortably sit in cross legged. The sea of bodies, dressed with their frivolous fancy dresses, weaves and shudders with each of her steps, people trying to run over each other, trampling many in their mad dash for false hope.

And Yesha cannot help but soak it all in, feasting on that terror. She stops just outside of the plaza, crushing dozens of stragglers lingering on the edge of the thick of the crowd. Elves crush differently than goblins, their bodies crumbling more easily, giving her soles a softer but larger stimulation thanks to their slightly bigger size.

Yesha drops to her knees and smiles at the crowd. They are so slow, so few can fit through that tiny gate, she could crush them all before a tenth could escape, leaving the gate intact will keep them concentrated there instead of scattered through the inner city, which is just perfect for her. So she takes her time, looming over the crowd and feasting on their fear, letting huge drops of her saliva drop down onto them, like a ravenous wild monster.

“Where are you going? Aren’t you staying for my party?” She says, before lowering her head and extending her tongue, sweeping up dozens of tiny inch people into her mouth. Their bodies fill up the dark cavern, thrashing around wildly, being thrown around by her tongue so easily. Their lives in there are short, many drown in her saliva, many more hit their head against her teeth and die or lose consciousness. A few stronger ones survive, but only to suffer more as she swallows and they are sent into even thicker darkness, crushed by her throat muscles and sinking into her stomach acids.

Before long, they are joined by others. A hundred elves find their way into her stomach, then two. By the third hundred serving, the half troll starts chewing, her mouth filling up with the delicious taste of elf flesh: Sweet, delicate, tender; such a far cry from goblins, a refined meal, almost a dessert. She cannot stop eating even if she wanted, completely enraptured by the overwhelming feeling, and the crowd is barely thinning out in front of her.

So she feasts on the elite of the city. Wealth and power mean nothing in front of her, they are meaningless to a being that transcends both, her needs and desires simultaneously so much simpler and yet so much grander than their small narrow lives. They are simply food now, a moment of pleasure for the half troll before she moves on to the next feast.

Twenty minutes later, Yesha has crawled all the way to the gate, devouring most and crushing the rest with her advance. Her hands, lips, and knees are covered in elven blood, but her orange eyes glow with immense satisfaction. Her normally flat stomach is a little inflated due to the sheer amount of elves she has just ingested. “Fuck… that was incredible!” She says, slowly standing up, rubbing her hands over her body, feeling the bulge in her belly and the wetness in between her legs.

She looks around for a toy good enough to relieve her, spotting a huge ship slowly leaving the docks. Smiling, Yesha turns towards the port and simply walks forward. In her way, there is the main building of the academy, a huge elegant structure, with architecture so intricate that magic must help keeping it together. The half troll barely cares to glance down towards it, its beauty merely a nice added bonus to the fun of seeing it crumble against her legs.

The tallest tower almost reaches her crotch, and it is the first to explode into a rain of debris as her knee hits it. Her leg carves a huge gash into it, causing even more to crumble on top of her foot as she steps down. Her other leg does even more damage to the compromised structure, her foot flies through it, barely slowed down by the tons of bricks and the many magical reinforcements, sending debris flying high in the air and landing all over the city.

In but a single step, the glorious Nabelle academy of arcane arts is reduced to a pile of rubble. A lone tower manages to survive her passage, only to slowly tilt to the left, falling over the rest of the pile, like an old rotted tree falling over.
The same fate awaits a few mansions in the way, their luxury only providing the half troll with new and intriguing textures and sensations to feel under her mighty feet. She can even feel a few more bodies popping under her weight, a few foolish elves hiding in their panic rooms, thinking they can escape her.

The lower city is definitely less impressive: Smaller buildings, simpler construction, but they are much denser and still full of fleeing elves. The fun of making might monuments crumble is quickly substituted by the pleasure of feeling bodies breaking under her weight. She will never stop being surprised by how slow the little things are, they barely move from her perspective, advancing maybe a finger’s length for each of her colossal steps.

She finally reaches the port. Her foot steps into the water, sinking in until the water reaches halfway up her shins. The ship has not moved much since she spotted it, barely reaching the mouth of the walled port. It is a fancy looking ship, with many delicate decorations and a curvy elegant design, and a bit shorter than her forearm.

A ballista is on top of the upper deck, its men desperately shooting at her, but the bolts barely manage to even pierce her skin. Surely they do not expect to win where thirty of them before could barely make her flinch. Yesha simply ignores them, much more interested in something else.
Putting her feet on both sides of the ship, she simply bends over and scoops it up, gallons of water raining down under it as she effortlessly does so, while a few sailors are sent flying downward, splashing into the cold water or crashing against the docks.

With a giggle, Yesha lets herself fall, her ass landing onto the docks themselves. The power of her fall is nothing short of apocalyptic, obliterating several huge warehouses and drydocks, crushing the ship being worked there and turning them into mulch. The shockwave makes every building around her explode outward, breaking windows, stripping wooden planks away, and even making the closer ones completely break apart and crash against their neighbors. The elves caught in the explosion turn into red splotches or fly high in the sky to land hundreds of feet away somewhere in the city.

Yesha looks down at her prize, breaking the ship’s masts and throwing them away. Laying down, and crushing a few more buildings under her, she brings the ship down to her sex and starts slowly pushing it into her. “Oh fuck, that is just what I needed!” She says, her body shuddering while the wooden ship groans and creaks, her inner muscles putting it under immense pressure.

Foot after foot, the vessel is swallowed by her sex. Planks snap and break, as the ship crumples up, unable to resist the immense forces against it, turning passengers and crew into body soup, but maintaining just enough integrity to do its duty. Yesha grunts in disappointment, feeling her toy barely able to survive a single thrust, but the sensation Is still wonderful, and so everything is quickly forgotten in the waves of pleasure flooding her mind.

Groping her tits with her free hand with enough strength to crumble rocks, she starts fucking herself. Moans powerful enough to deafen a dragon shake the city, her body shivering with each thrust, as the ship breaks down more and more, until she is simply smashing a ball of wet wood against her pussy lips, but it is enough to make her body shake up and her mind go wild.

“Fuck, fuck” she whispers repeatedly, as the warmth of her body grows, drops of sweat running down her muscles, her breathing becoming shallower and her heart beating loudly against her chest. She keeps going and going, letting all the wonderful feelings bloat into her until she cannot take more. Her orgasm takes her breath away from “Ahh!” A shout escapes her lungs, making what remains of the city tremble, while her body shakes and quivers, pleasure taking over.

Yesha finally slows down, until she lets the remains of the ship drop down in between her towering thighs. Her eyes close and she slip into a quiet sleep, digesting her huge meal and healing the scars of the day.

Nabelle suffers one final humiliation before the giant finally lets it go: The power of the arch-magister, further augmented by the crystal, is more than enough for her to grow. The survivors witness the giant growing even bigger under their very eyes, adding dozens of feet to her already towering height. Her expanding body breaks the minds of many, just crushed by the reality of their situation. Many do not even try to escape, so defeated that they simply remain where they are, catatonic and spent, while the rest escapes ever faster, in a frenzy of panic and terror.
In a few days the fall of Nabelle will be on everyone’s lips, and the tale of the monstrous troll responsible for it will reach every corner of the continent. The only one that will never hear them is, ironically, the very protagonist of said stories.