A green light circled around Validia, then illuminated nearly the entire forest area.
"What...?" Nathan shielded his eyes,
blinded by the radiance pouring from Validia’s body.
Then, the light vanished.
Nathan was still looking upward, trying to catch a glimpse of her face.
"Where..." He lowered his gaze slightly.
"Is she?" His eyes widened.
Validia now stood at a normal human size—
dressed in a beautiful green outfit. Her clothes clung to her like regret on a lonely lover—tight, soft, betraying every curve as if made to be torn. Her breasts swayed with divine arrogance, resisting gravity like twin high priests of seduction. And beneath the fabric, the outline below hinted a holiness mankind was never meant to see.
Though her body had shrunk, the glory of The Almighty Pussy and the Mighty Colossal Tits remained untouched.
Their size and presence were still leagues above anything man-made, surpassing even the finest work of plastic surgeons.
And now, with her more compact form, those sensitive areas somehow looked even more tempting.
The glow from Validia was slowly fading—
but the atmosphere only got weirder.
Not because the air changed, or the floor shook—
but because of... them.
Domina was staring at him.
But not with the curious, gentle eyes she had back when she first jerked his meat pistol with innocent glee.
Livia had her arms crossed.
Usually, by now, she’d be giggling and stroking her chin like an art critic admiring a twitching meat sculpture.
Even she now looked like a biology teacher who had just discovered a new species—
except this one disgusted her.
Dust still clung to it.
The Almighty PP remained in visual trauma—untouched, unkempt.
"...Did I die and end up in a dimension where they’re all tired of me?"
He took a hesitant step forward, trying to test the waters.
"Err... anyone... wanna help clean this up?"
He pointed at his cock—half joking, half desperate.
Validia still had her eyes closed—either in prayer... or denial.
Nathan began to feel cold—
but from the lack of enthusiasm.
No hands reaching out.
No drool dripping spontaneously.
The air used to carry a scent—faint sweat, heated breath, that subtle aroma of monster lust. Now it was sterile. The kind of emptiness that makes even a half-erect dick feel like a museum piece. Even his balls twitched—confused, neglected, like retired performers waiting for applause that never came.
The Tower’s atmosphere now felt like a classroom right after the lecturer says,
Lightning struck a monster’s leg.
Dark blood sprayed everywhere,
but David didn’t stop.
His dagger vibrated like a snake’s tongue—fast, deadly.
A four-legged monster tried to flee—
But David was already behind it, driving his blade into its nape before it could even growl.
The dagger pulsed with lightning, but not just rage—it was personal. Like he wanted to cut something soft, something warm, just to feel it yield. Blood sprayed like sweat from old memories he couldn’t name. Each kill was almost sensual—his hands tight, his breath heavy, his thoughts darker than his blade.
The words escaped from his own throat.
His breath was heavy.
The monsters on this floor were small.
Even Hunter interns could wipe out five in one training session.
But David was slaughtering them without pause—
like an exiled god from Olympus,
banned for being too efficient.
"I... only followed Ulrich’s orders..."
A kick to a monster’s spine shattered it with a crack—
like a popsicle stick snapped by a disappointed lover.
His foot crushed the skull. It gave way with a sound too soft for war—more like the squish of wet thighs against each other in a lonely night fantasy. He hated it. He hated how even this—this massacre—had a rhythm. Like pain was flirting with him in all the wrong ways.
"Why... do they get to be happy?"
Lightning struck again.
The ceiling cracked briefly,
Ulrich had taken David from the orphanage as a child.
Gave him food, a bed, even his first sword.
But not once—not once—had he said he was proud.
David clenched his fists.
Tiny sparks flickered at his fingertips.
"I live to repay his kindness..."
But the words felt flavorless now.
He was too grown-up to say,
"I see him as my father."
Too stubborn to admit,
And too broken to confess
that all he ever really wanted
it would’ve been easier
if all of this had happened when David was still a teenager.
At the surface of the Tower, near the entrance.
"Sorry! Oh, I’m so sorry—I didn’t mean to!"
Her clothes had been lightly dusted by the bag that had fallen.
She gave a small nod.
Fiona let out a sigh of relief, then looked at Sophia’s face.
"Eh... are you a new Hunter?"
Sophia turned briefly, then nodded.
"If you are, feel free to drop by the LadyFio Shop sometime.
If your clothes get torn or dirty while climbing,
we’ve got some... well, decent aesthetic anti-rip collections.
Sometimes there’s a discount too."
Sophia remained calm.
Fiona froze for a moment.
Then smiled slightly, whispering to herself:
"That woman needs ExtraKetchup..."
She didn’t even know why that username popped into her head—
Back inside the Tower.
The air suddenly shifted.
Velmora turned to Lilith—
unlike her usual self.
Her hair floated gently,
as if invisible water was flowing around her.
The trident in her hand glowed.
Nathan instinctively stepped back.
Validia stayed silent.
Domina moved half a step, ready to throw her hoodie if needed.
"What did you steal from my mind?" Velmora shouted.
Her voice wasn’t ordinary anger—
It carried the weight of buried trauma.
"What’s stopping me from reaching one hundred percent awareness?!"
Her voice cracked through the air like a whip made of orgasm denial. The trident pulsed—its tip dripping static like the aftershock of interrupted pleasure. Her tail twitched as if trying to remember how it once danced around him. Something stolen. Something forbidden. Something hot. Her anger was dripping in heat.
The Tower fell silent.
And Nathan could only stand there—
still naked, still confused, still unable to accept the cruel reality that his private blade was now nothing more than a dusty, unimpressive chunk of meat no one found cute anymore.
And just like that, the Slopper Era... ended. Not with a moan, but with silence. And dust.