Charles and the others naturally remained completely unaware of the events unfolding deep within the mountains. He was still consumed by the pressure of "marriage" that Anno had mentioned, feeling an oppressive weight on his shoulders that made it hard to breathe.
Though he had now emerged from Anno’s tent, the burden on his heart lingered. Heaving a long sigh, he turned and ducked into Hattie’s tent, intending to discuss their next steps. There he found Hattie sitting on a blanket, knees drawn to her chest, clearly upset, while Theresa had an arm around her shoulders, whispering gentle reassurances.
Charles sat down beside them, embracing Hattie’s ample figure. "What’s wrong? Feeling unhappy?"
Hattie shook her head, visibly dejected. Beside her, Theresa forced a smile. "It’s nothing... Master, you don’t look so good either? Is something troubling you?"
She swiftly deflected, not wanting Charles to worry over trivial matters.
"Yes," Charles sighed. "I just had a talk with Anno in her tent. The pressure feels overwhelming now."
Hattie looked up, eyes brightening as if seeing sunlight. "What did she tell you?"
Having observed human customs, she knew young lovers could be intensely passionate yet quickly develop conflicts, pressure each other, and ultimately separate...
For a moment, she pictured Anno walking away, leaving her as the uniquely special woman by Charles’s side...
"About marriage," Charles muttered gloomily. "Anno is already considering it, but honestly, I’m completely unprepared..."
Hattie’s heart trembled. "So you... agreed?"
Charles scratched his head. "Yeah... That’s why the pressure is crushing. Marriage involves not just two people, but two families... Huh? Hattie? Why are you crying?"
Hattie buried her face in his chest, weeping silently as tears quickly soaked Charles’s shirt. Theresa watched helplessly, murmuring comfort: "It’ll be alright. Even if Master truly marries, he won’t treat us differently..."
Finally, Charles understood why Hattie was grieving. As his first companion, she was most attuned to his mood shifts and had sensed him drawing ever closer to Anno...
Helpless, he wrapped both arms around her, pulling her tight against him. Rocking her like a child, he whispered: "Don’t worry. Even if I marry, I’ll always be the Monastery’s Master first..."
At the far end of the tent, Nidalee watched with undisguised glee.
Ever since discovering how much joy it brought her to provoke Anno, she’d leaned into it. Now, every time she witnessed Charles or the girls close to him rage, fret, or despair over their tangled affections, she couldn’t suppress her delight.
Catching Nidalee’s amusement, Charles glared fiercely. "You dare laugh? This is YOUR fault! Always tossing around words like ’fiancée’ and ’fiancé’ in front of Anno, putting ideas in her head!"
Nidalee stared blankly, then waved her hands defensively. "No, this has nothing to do with me! I’m just here for the entertainment—"
Instantly, Hattie and Theresa snapped their heads up, shooting venomous glares at the Nidalee.
Nidalee swallowed hard.
Oh no. My amusement just backfired.
Now, I’ve become the joke.
Her heart pounded wildly. She prostrated herself, raising her rump high. "I was wrong, Master! I accept my punishment! Woo..."
Charles cracked his knuckles, ready to unleash his frustration onto Nidalee. Hattie eyed her body with icy resolve, accepting Charles’ explanation that this troublesome druid—who constantly provoked Anno—deserved retribution.
Theresa tilted her head, a suspicion gnawing at her: Was this "punishment" truly agony... or Nidalee’s deepest craving?
Uncertain, she eagerly joined the "disciplinary" game nonetheless.
Under the trio’s assault, Nidalee’s clothes vanished. Hattie summoned a sea of slick tentacles, expertly binding her wrists, ankles, thighs, stomach, and neck. One tendril plunged into her mouth, coiling around her tongue.
Theresa gripped Nidalee’s swollen, diamond-hard nipples, rolling and pinching them until the druid whimpered.
Charles kneaded Nidalee’s pert breasts, gaze raking her naked form. His eyes locked onto her neatly-trimmed pussy—already drenched and glistening. Hattie’s tentacles slithered over the engorged labia, teasing her clit while viscous arousal soaked the furs beneath them. Every gasp, every twitch betrayed Nidalee’s desperate hunger.
Hattie’s tentacles speared deep into Nidalee’s cunt, mimicking fingers as they stroked her g-spot. Charles gripped the druid’s muscular asscheeks, spreading them wide. Oil slicked her tight backdoor as he pressed his thick cock against it.
He thrust forward, impaling her virgin asshole. Nidalee’s scream died against the tentacle gagging her. Her body bucked—not in pain, but savage ecstasy. Charles grinned. She’s loving this.
He hammered into her, each thrust burying his length deeper. Nidalee’s hips pistoned back, craving the stretch. Theresa twisted her nipples until tears streaked her face, while Hattie’s tentacles pumped faster, hitting her cervix. Nidalee’s eyes rolled back as her pussy spasmed, spraying fluids across Charles’ thighs.
"Filthy beast," Charles growled. "You’ll scream for me." He hauled her hips higher, slamming into her prostate until she convulsed again, shrieking into her gag.
Switching positions, Charles shoved her face-first into the furs. Hattie’s tentacles pinned her wrists while Theresa knelt between Nidalee’s legs, lapping at her swollen clit. Charles mounted her from behind, driving back into her ass. The druid’s howls muffled against fur as he pounded her like a flesh-drum.
"Beg for my cum," Charles ordered, slapping her ass crimson.
He pistoned harder, balls slapping her clit. Nidalee’s body locked—a third orgasm tearing through her. Charles roared, filling her bowels with thick ropes of cum.
Yet the torment didn’t stop. Theresa shoved her into a throatfuck, gagging her on cock while Charles claimed her dripping pussy. Hattie’s tentacles wound around her torso, fondling her tits as both men drilled Nidalee raw.
Two hours later, Nidalee lay sprawled—limp, bruised, and coated in spit, sweat, and semen. The trio dressed languidly as she panted, thighs still quivering.
The punishment dealt to Nidalee lasted for nearly two hours, and it was only after that Anno finally woke up. Though still utterly exhausted, she forced herself to push through, and returned to the city together with Charles and the others, however unfortunate the company.
At last, when they arrived at the tram stops in the Rubble District, it was time to part ways, if only for a while. Yet, after all they’d been through, Anno was braver than before—bolder by far. She gave Charles a daring farewell kiss in front of everyone, then climbed onto the carriage and sped off toward Blackstaff Tower.
She had gained quite a lot from this journey and needed to deliver a full and detailed report to the higher-ups at Blackstaff Tower in person.
As for Charles, with no major faction behind him, he could not possibly go up against a powerful Abyssal Lord alone. Left with no other choice, he could only return for now to the monastery, waiting patiently.
In the meantime, he would focus on keeping his own little domain secure.
He had never heard of Montport by name, but the title alone made it clear—the adversary was a Demon Lord, and one who knew how to wield Chaos Energy as well. By any standard, the challenge rating would be sky-high.
But even more terrifying than his own Strength, it was the demon army he led: it was all but certain the ranks would be filled with horrors like mariliths, goristros, and even balors—mighty demons, swarming in endless, overwhelming numbers.
That was far beyond anything he could handle alone. So, until the legends and powers of Liberl Port decided to act, he would do best to stay coiled up in his old nest, waiting for the outcome.
With this in mind, he made his way back to his old sanctuary—the familiar South Harbor District.
Looking back, his journey to the Rubble District had stretched on for over two weeks without pause. Even in the South Harbor District, known for its mild climate, the edge of winter could now be felt. Passersby along the streets wore thick sweaters or leather jackets; even the Amazons no longer strutted with their usual flamboyant disregard.
Otherwise, little had changed—most things were just as before. Charles and his companions strode through the only clean streets he knew so well, and every Amazon, district office official, or patrolling guard greeted him warmly as they went by. Charles returned every greeting with a smile—in truth, it was all perfectly ordinary.
That remained the case—until he pushed open the gates of the monastery and at last returned to his own territory. Then, in the monastery’s garden, he noticed something strange: a small, fresh mound of earth had appeared. Get full chapters from NoveI[F]ire.net
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