Nathan stood up, then slowly walked toward the river— the same river where, once, his dick was gently washed with love by a cheerful bunny woman. Where his lips were kissed sincerely, without asking. Where sexual desire was born from curiosity, not from fully formed awareness.
He slowly unwrapped the cloth Domina had given him— the one covering his dusty shaft. Then stepped forward, carefully, into the river. The thigh-deep water didn’t immediately wash his dusted blade.
He scooped water with his hands and began to wash himself.
"All of this... changed so fast."
The events from just a few hours ago replayed in his mind:
He had simply been preparing Kralven logs for the auto-poop-cleaning system, gently working alongside the shy serpent woman.
And now—he was alone.
After rinsing his private blade, dulled by absence, left unsharpened by the familiar touch of flesh that once made it twitch— he stood there in silence.
The once-bright sky slowly dimmed—
like a phone screen having its brightness turned down.
Eventually, he stepped out of the water,
picked up the cloth Domina had given him,
and gently dried his private blade
along with the cleft of his butt, now damp from the river.
He walked like a creature who had never truly failed, but also never truly known the taste of success. His legs guided him toward the Prunus Vitalis trees, lined neatly in rows, still vibrant and fresh.
Nearby, the Crystal Banafruit trees glowed faintly— their fruits emitting soft, pulsing light, like cheap night lamps sold on discount e-commerce sites.
Nathan stood frozen among the Prunus Vitalis trees.
In his hand, he held the cloth Domina had given him—
a cloth that now felt more like a symbol of loneliness than protection.
He glanced right—toward the Rabbit Fighters’ cave—
but his steps faltered.
’They... all remember now,’ he thought.
Validia’s once-curious gaze.
Domina’s once-apathetic but occasionally intrigued glances.
Velmora’s spontaneous coils without warning—
they would all now stare with clarity, not itchy curiosity.
And Nathan... felt betrayed by that change.
"I obeyed. I changed.
I stopped rubbing my dick around randomly.
I loved them. I was honest..."
He clenched the cloth tighter.
"...but everything got worse.
I DIDN’T EVEN GET HORNY!"
His scream was only met by wind.
His steps wandered—not toward anything.
Just slow circles beneath the faint light of the Crystal Banafruit—
like an old man late to buy breakfast on a slow Sunday morning.
A panel appeared in the air. Calm. Unhurried:
[Nathan. Do not be confused. You are still needed.]
[Mettalumcum must use your urine.]
Nathan’s mouth hung open.
"What?" His brow twitched.
He was irritated. His urine was apparently a core ingredient in a potion
with a pretty decent buff effect.
[Your semen too. It is the most potent fertilizer ever recorded by the system.]
"EXCUSE ME. AM I SOME KIND OF SEX TRACTOR?!"
Nathan flailed in protest.
His face flushed with disbelief.
But the system remained calm.
[No. I do not see you as a tool.]
[I see you... as a man.]
but his breath shook.
[In the foundations left by The One Who Made the Earth, there is a truth about masculine nature:
A man only needs to feel needed.
And when he does—he becomes strong.
Without being forced.]
He looked up at the artificial sky.
[And now, you are needed.
[This world is not about your confusion.]
[The Dimensional War is coming.]
[And only you know this truth,
among the billions walking Earth.]
Nathan gripped the cloth again.
But this time, not out of shame— but from a new vibration within.
"Then what about the Monster Girls? If Earth wins, will they live peacefully?Humans can’t even handle skin color differences..." He said.
Nathan exhaled slowly.
He didn’t know if the system had just comforted him—
or simply redirected him.
But somewhere deeper than logic,
he still carried a burn.
But on something quieter—
like a childhood memory that got corrupted.
Because even if he was needed...
he still felt unwanted.
Even if he could be strong...
he still missed being held.
David and Fiona – A Continued Conversation After a Skipped Day
It had been a full day since the awkward "compatible idiots" chat.
And weirdly, they were still talking.
Not in a flirty or drama-fueled way—
From overhyped anime takes to conspiracy theories about schools secretly designed to kill human passion.
David often typed long messages.
Sometimes, he realized it after hitting send:
> "Uhh, was that too much? Sorry, I kinda over-share sometimes."
Every time he sent something like that, he’d put his hand to his forehead.
’Why the hell am I ...’ he’d think.
He felt like that guy who just keeps venting until he accidentally turns the girl off.
But Fiona read all of it.
Sometimes with a little smile on her face.
Sometimes while wondering, "Why hasn’t he made a move on my boobs yet?"
Usually, guys would find a way to sneak a glance—
using the old ’look without looking’ move, or dropping corny jokes that somehow led to:
"Can you send a pic of you with your arms crossed?"
But David was different.
He seemed more focused on Fiona’s face—
even once complimenting her eyebrows,
saying they looked like they belonged to a female RPG character way too strong to be an NPC.
Fiona found herself... confused.
David used to seem creepy, unpredictable, and scary—
especially after that monster-slaying mess.
But now he felt like a guy with secret folders in his brain—
and every day, he unlocked one. Slowly. Carefully.
And Fiona felt... safe.
Usually, talking to guys made her tense—
because they always stared at parts of her body
she never asked to be made big.
But now... she could be herself.
Wearing a beat-up hoodie, messy hair, sending voice notes while picking her nose.
Texting casually without anticipating a sudden, unwanted photo request.
He still often spiraled into his own thoughts:
"Damn. I talk way too much.
If she ghosts me now, I wouldn’t blame her."
But Fiona kept replying.
And every time she did,
David would smile to himself like an idiot.
Not because he was in love with Fiona—
or maybe he hadn’t realized it yet—
but because there was someone who made him want to share.
A feminine presence that softened the edges of his over-hardened masculine soul— and gave it a moment to breathe.
And far away from typing fingers and hoodie-covered hearts,
beneath a sky that wasn’t sky,
in a world where warmth had no keyboards or typing indicators—
someone sat in silence,
holding flowers that were never sent,
under a light that could never reach her inbox.
affection isn’t a message.
It’s the memory of a smile—
before that smile learned how to fade.
TOWER – VELMORA’S DEN
Velmora had returned to her den—
but it was no longer a shy snake’s hiding hole.
Now it resembled a personal cavern, rebuilt with circular stones and entwined air-purifying vines.
Inside, a dim red glow from a magmatite stone flickered—
like a broken nightlight that refused to die.
She sat cross-legged, surrounded by small flowers—
the ones she had once secretly gathered for Nathan.
Most of them had dried by now,
but they still carried the faint scent of earth and time.
Her fingers touched them one by one—
smelling them, remembering.
Back when she was still shy.
Back when all she could do was nod and watch Nathan from behind a bush.
Back when she felt... happy just seeing him smile at something stupid.
And Velmora knew why.
Tears began to fall. Slowly.
"Why... does it feel ?" she whispered—
to the stone, or perhaps to herself.
trying to see again the colors she once saw inside Nathan’s head.
Colors that danced, shimmered, radiated warmth.
Colors that appeared when Nathan laughed with the Monster Girls,
or when she brought him to her old cave in the farm area.
She understood what that color was.
More precisely: joy. Sincerity. Possibility.
That color was the beautiful potential someone could radiate
if they still believed in this world.
in her newly awakened awareness—
She struck her own chest.
"Why did I end up breaking... the very thing I wanted to protect?"
Back when she was the shy snake,
all she wanted was to touch Nathan.
afraid to touch or be touched.
Because now, every touch meant dignity, trust, and desire.
No longer innocent curiosity wrapped in childlike impulse.
Her hand gripped the smallest flower—
the one she picked because Nathan once said it looked like a pair of wings.
"I’m sorry, Nathan..." she whispered.
the sound of water dripping from a stalactite echoed like a ticking clock.
since earlier that day,
something in Nathan had died.
And the one who killed it wasn’t an enemy.
It was a Shy Snake who finally realized...
she had always been a queen.