Hearing this and seeing Charles’s body still flawless and unblemished, Danche fell silent. The power of magic was indeed unreasonable—even injuries that should have left massive burns could be completely healed, as long as one survived and there was enough magic for treatment.
He had experienced the same. The day he was struck by those scorching tentacles and knocked unconscious, Willo had poured all her strength into healing him, leaving no scars behind—he was now healthy enough to do hard physical work again.
But because he had been unconscious for so long that day, he hadn’t known about Charles’s heroic deed. And learning about it now gave him complicated feelings.
After a while, the half-orc finally said with some effort, "I must admit, you are a true warrior."
Charles smiled softly at this. Mountain People really were straightforward. As long as one wasn’t stubbornly an enemy, they were easy enough to get along with.
He shook his head and replied, "Not at all, Mr. Danche. It was your courageous actions that distracted the Chthonian and let me notice its weakness, allowing me to land the final blow."
"If you hadn’t acted so bravely, I could have never achieved what I did."
He was more than happy to defer credit —he’d already claimed the Purification Points anyway. As always, a few words of praise cost him nothing.
Sure enough, hearing this, the half-orc’s expression eased noticeably. Charles could sense his hostility and enmity had largely faded—now, he could treat him as a normal friend.
Good. This was a promising start.
Let’s hope the coming days pass as smoothly as now!
What followed was ordinary: after bathing, Charles and the others returned to camp to assign tents. Nidalee wanted to sleep in his tent. Sensing Anno’s murderous intent, Charles categorically refused and arranged for her to share with Willo—letting the two druids stay together.
Willo had no objection; given the circumstances, she didn’t mind. Nidalee, while snickering over Anno’s scowl, played the wronged party and squeezed into the same tent as Willo.
Charles slept alone in a small tent; Anno also took a small tent by herself. Hattie and Theresa squeezed together, while Danche and the two others went to the biggest tent. It was late, and the exhausted group quickly drifted off to sleep.
Charles soon slid into a deep dream. Within it, he saw a beautiful woman in a long robe, her face hidden behind a fall of black hair, floating quietly at his side. She spoke no words, but Charles could sense her emotion.
An emotion called "anticipation."
Instantly, even within the dream, Charles’s mind grew clear. He realized it was Agatha—she had entered his dream, awaiting something.
He shook his head, fatigue on his face. "Not tonight. I need rest."
He had cast too many spells during the day, his mind still weary. He truly needed to sleep to recover.
At least four hours, he thought.
Hearing her master say this, Agatha pouted, but offered no argument. She faded away into mist, and the dream returned to darkness.
Charles felt no pity, sinking back into real, deep sleep.
Meanwhile, outside, the ring on his left hand glimmered softly with a pink light. By now, everyone in the camp was asleep, so from that red glow, a phantom emerged—a figure cloaked in white, with a cascade of black hair falling straight down from her head.
A lonely ghost, denied her master’s attention, she drifted aimlessly through the camp. She passed one tent after another until she saw faint light.
Looking over, she found the monastery’s most formidable being: Big nun Theresa, peeking out of her tent.
Agatha bowed her head, expressing humility and respect, waiting for orders.
"You seem a bit bored, don’t you?" Theresa said softly.
"Then let me give you a task." Theresa pointed. "Do you see that tent? Inside sleeps a female satyr, remarkable in both face and figure."
"Dear Agatha, I need you to slip into her dream and weave her a beautiful springtime fantasy—an erotic dream in which she meets, falls in love, and joins with our mutual Master... just as you once did to Nidalee."
"Do you accept this assignment?"
Agatha nodded gently.
"Then go," Theresa whispered, "I’ll be waiting for your results."
The female ghost turned away and glided effortlessly through the tent to where Willo, the matriarch, slept deeply. After all she had experienced, she was fast asleep and sensed nothing of the ghost’s arrival.
Agatha was about to work her magic when she suddenly paused, looking toward Nidalee beside her.
She sensed the druid was not asleep. Hesitating a moment, she decided not to care and entered Willo’s dream.
Meanwhile, Nidalee opened her eyes. Remembering the ghost she’d just seen, she felt suspicious.
She knew it must be the ghost that resided in Charles’s ring, and understood she had the power to control dreams. But...
Why had she come here?
Was it sent by Master?
She’d looked at me... Was I her real target?
But because I’m awake, she couldn’t enter, so she went to Willo instead?
Could it be, Master is trying to teach me a lesson? Thᴇ link to the origɪn of this information rᴇsts ɪn 𝗻𝗼𝘃𝗲𝗹✶𝗳𝗶𝗿𝗲✶𝗻𝗲𝘁
Because I made trouble for him earlier?
A wave of excitement filled her. After weighing for some moments and making sure Willo was deeply asleep, she slipped out of the covers, crept from the tent, and sneaked over to Charles’s tent.
Fortunately, the whole camp was exhausted and no one noticed her.
Charles, midway through his sleep cycle and freshly restored, felt someone enter his tent. Groggily opening his eyes, he saw a beautiful figure kneeling at his side.
She had stripped completely naked, folding every garment—including her undergarments—neatly beside her. Now utterly bare, she knelt with her forehead pressed to the ground, exposing the flawless curve of her back and slender waist.
Feeling him stir, the druid whimpered pleadingly: "Master, please penalize your disobedient kitten, woo..."
Her throat emitted a sound like a female leopard’s supplicating whimper, though it carried more provocation than surrender. Charles felt heat surge in his abdomen, memories flooding back—how she’d deliberately sandwiched him between herself and Anno earlier, flaunting their intimacy...
Rage and desire ignited within him. He hissed coldly, "So it was intentional, Nidalee."
He commanded in a low whisper, wary of waking others. Nidalee remained prostrate, murmuring, "I know what I must do, Master~"
With that, she crawled forward on all fours, lifted his quilt, and revealed his semi-aroused massive cock. Only then did she raise her head, part her small mouth, and extend her tongue to lightly trace the tip with its wet point—
Charles sucked in a sharp breath. The slumbering beast beneath her ministrations surged to full erection, jutting angrily toward the tent ceiling. He hadn’t anticipated Nidalee’s skill—how a single flick of her tongue could electrify him so intensely.
Charles’s hand descended sharply on her ass. Crack! The crisp slap made her rounded hips sway—a blend of submission and hungry invitation. Then, she opened her small mouth wider, straining to engulf his entire throbbing length—
Charles exhaled raggedly. Yet the memory of Anno’s icy glare stoked the fire in his chest. This druid needs true discipline to restore my authority as Master!
With that resolve, he retrieved a new toy from his Bag of Holding—one he’d commissioned discreetly: a large, oval metal butt plug, from which trailed a long, leopard-like tail. He’d planned to save it for gentler explorations, but tonight demanded escalation.
Charles gripped Nidalee’s hips, twisting her to face away. Even without light-enhancing goggles, he saw her glistening slit—already soaked without foreplay. This woman is aroused by her own defiance.
Undeterred, he spread her cheeks, exposing the tight pink pucker between them. As a druid sustained by nature’s energy alone, Nidalee’s metabolism had purified her body; her asshole was as delicate and sensitive as a girl’s. Charles slicked the plug’s tip with oil, pressed it against her rosebud, and—
"Ngh...!" Nidalee’s mouth froze around his cock as the cold intrusion shocked her. Another sharp spank cracked against her flesh. "Suck!" he ordered.
She obeyed, hollowing her cheeks as he rotated the plug, applying steady pressure until it breached her sphincter, stretching her relentlessly until the faux tail nestled flush against her curves.
"Woo... woo..." Nidalee whimpered around his girth, torn between agony and euphoria. When she released his cock, tears beaded beneath her lashes. "Master..."
Spank! His palm branded her ass red. "You brought this on yourself."
Her hips undulated helplessly. Charles then produced more tools: a blindfold, leather cuffs, and a ball-gag. Nidalee submitted, fixing the gag between her teeth so her tongue lolled obscenely, drool slicking her chin. The blindfold plunged her into darkness. Finally, he wrenched her arms behind her back and locked the cuffs. With no support, she collapsed forward, face pressed to the bed, ass lifted in shameless offering.
"Woo..." she mewled like a broken animal.
Ignoring her pleas, Charles retrieved a low-temperature candle. Sssk— The flame hissed to life, casting lewd shadows across her bound form. He tilted it, letting molten wax drip onto her right buttock—
Nidalee convulsed. The searing pain morphed into pleasure as her clenched muscles ground the plug deeper inside her. Tears soaked the blindfold; her pussy pulsed, slickness gushing down her thighs. Charles smirked, kneading her breasts as he dripped wax on her left cheek. Her back arched, hips churning—was she fleeing the heat or chasing it?
When a third drop splashed her nipple, her body snapped taut. A flood of cum drenched her thighs, painting lewd trails. She’d climaxed untouched.
"Pathetic," Charles chuckled, spanking her again. His own cock throbbed, veins bulging. No more delays. He mounted her, driving his thick cock into her drenched slit—
Nidalee’s gagged scream vibrated around the ball as he impaled her. Overstimulated, she came instantly, vaginal walls milking him. He pistoned relentlessly—a pile driver hammering her cervix. Her slutty hole clenched, squirting anew with each thrust. When his swollen balls slapped her clit, he buried himself to the hilt, unleashing torrents of cum deep into her womb.
She collapsed, spasming through aftershocks as he withdrew. Charles uncuffed her, removed the plug and gag. Nidalee lay spent, bruises blooming on her hips, her asshole gaping slightly, her pussy dripping semen. He scooped her into his arms, murmuring, "Never defy me again, kitten."
Meanwhile, in another tent...
Willo drowned in a feverish dream:
Alone in a city crowd, her massive breasts aching, she stumbled into a monastery. Before the robed Priest Charles, she bared herself. He suckled her nipples, drawing gasps as her milk flowed. Then his mouth devoured hers, journeyed down her body, and feasted on her hairless pussy—unused for a decade. When his veined cock speared her, she shattered. After three screaming climaxes, he flipped her, oiled her asshole...
"No—!" Willo jolted awake, sweat-slicked. A spring dream? Demonic pollution had frayed her control, and the sight of that handsome young man...
She sighed. Since her husband’s death, nature’s path had cooled her lust—until the demons came.
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