Chapter 12

A Pure Knight’s Natural Enemy [Konosuba] by Agrippa

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Companion systems, party management, XP and loot sharing, perma-death,… There are
many ways to have the mechanics of an RPG impress on a player that the secondary
characters he’s fighting by the side of, courting, trying to get himself rid of, or a combination
of all of the above, are, in fact, individual existences with a narrative weight beyond that of
their bust—by which I, of course, mean the often gorgeously drawn busts of the characters
that are used during dialogues and cutscenes and are, in absolutely no way whatsoever, a
constant reminder that the gamedevs have likely cleared more visual novels than they have
talked to actual women. It would be crass and wrong of me to reduce a companion’s appeal to
their actual bust.

Lolis have rights as well.

Even if I prefer shortstacks.

But setting aside the slight matter of fantasy races without any kind of mammalian ancestry
still proudly displaying their latest advancements in ‘I Can’t Believe It’s Not Lingerie’
technology, the above list tackles the issue of personhood from the mechanics’ angle when, in
truth, that will always be a secondary concern at best. It’s through the story’s development
that we get to know these characters, that we grow to care for them, that we get teary-eyed at
a single Lara moment, and that we develop a retroactively innate (yet entirely rational) hatred
of gambling kittens.

Yes, I’ve already talked, at length, about the companion sidequests, but do you know what’s
more effective than a single character being in the spotlight?

The entire party except you being in the spotlight.

Don’t stop me if you’ve heard this one before: the hero, for one reason or another, is
incapacitated. Maybe he tested one too many times the cooking system while letting the
tsundere character have any part in the results; maybe he met the antagonist in yet another
one of their ‘I still have two discs to go through, so there’s no way this is for real’ duels, or
maybe the party finally realized that, while the dating mechanics are not opposed to
polyamory, the characters themselves may very well violently be.
The conclusion is that, for one reason or another, the hero is no longer available to do hero
things.

And the party has to pick up the slack.

Usually, their whole quest will have to do with getting you back in working order, either with
a journey through the mind of a very delusional Soldier candidate, through complicated time
travel shenanigans, or through whatever it is that would happen in a third game that doesn’t
come to mind right now.

Maybe Grandia II? I don’t remember if that went past a single cutscene.

God, I miss the Internet.

Not enough to get a smartphone as a cheat item, though. What’s this, you say? I’m being sent
to a world with viable combat magic and, therefore, laws of physics that are most likely not
even remotely close to those of the world I come from? Sure, I will take access to Wikipedia
as a very reasonable route to victory.

Isekai protagonists can be so damn dumb. It’s only common sense to get the divine being
offering you ultimate power to experience firsthand the wonderful, delightful adventures that
await you due to their generous intervention.

Gender equality is an ideal to aspire to, yes, but metaphysical equality is also quite nice.

Anyway, the issue is that… Uh, what was I talking about?

“I can eat by myself,” in front of me, Megumin pretends to protest while blushing and doing
absolutely nothing at all to eat by herself.

Right.

Incapacitated party leaders.

See, that’s the thing, isn’t it? You, as the player, are perfectly aware of every single step you
took while your usual avatar wasn’t in working order. You know what steps the party took,
what further developments occurred in the plot, just precisely how many irreplaceable
consumable items were wasted, and what, if any, changes there were in the interpersonal
relationships that had a chance to shine while out of the hero’s overpoweringly bright
spotlight.

But the said hero? The main character?

Me?

“I just… I just wanted to try it?” Yunyun says before cutely biting her lower lip and looking
up at Megumin through dangling, black bangs as she keeps holding up a piece of toast with
jam so crimson that I wonder just how far the chuunis could go in their most esoterically
thematic culinary pursuits.

And I, the party leader, the one person who should be perfectly aware of how and why all of
this is happening, can only blink as the former loli and current shortstack blushes up to her
ear tips before leaning forward to take a small nibble of jam and toast that stains her lips and
the corner of her mouth before shooting a nervous smile Yunyun’s way, which the taller girl
seems to take as her cue to lean forward, over her still offered, remaining toast, to lick
Megumin’s mouth clean of crimson jam until one of my available archmages overheats to the
point of needing a recovery item.

This is all very confusing.

“Kazumaaaa!” Aqua, sitting to my left, whines as she violently waves a rather larger piece of
buttered toast in front of me.

That is not confusing, though. Merely alarming.

“I can eat by myself,” I grumble while a sane part of my mind (that is: most of it, despite
environmental hazards doing their best to change such a valuable state of affairs) wonders
precisely in which way Aqua could screw up this most straightforward otaku fantasy of
having a beautiful, skimpily dressed maid hand-feed the righteous, courageous, brave, not a
paying customer, and definitely not oblivious harem master, who most certainly isn’t
completely disoriented by the change in relationship status being displayed right in front of
his eyes.

My always helpful brain offers up some hypothetical scenarios regarding Aqua’s prowess in
maidly service.

I try not to blanch.

Let’s just say that already being green is somewhat helpful in that regard.

“Kazumaaaa…” Darkness interjects from my other side, my first official girlfriend among the
group gathered around the breakfast table (that so far consists of girlfriend Darkness, cumrag
Aqua, quickshot Megumin, Yunyun Yunyun, and uncategorized Wiz) waving her own piece
of buttered toast in silent offering.

My somewhat distracted brain displays a prodigious ability for multitasking and swiftly
calculates the most likely ways for Darkness’ own offering to also turn into something mind-
scarring, and, even if the odds aren’t significantly better than those posited by Aqua’s never-
to-be-underestimated threat level, most of the possibilities involve Darkness messing up in
such a way as to have her subsequently beg for my orcish, anatomically unlikely correction of
the blonde porn maid.

Note to self: make sure to reward Aqua for her maid harem idea in a deniable way at some
point.

“Kazuma…” Darkness insists with a devastating pout and blue eyes peering at me past
golden bangs that shine brightly enough to warrant their own sound effect.
Right.

What my brain has, due to no fault of its own, failed to account for in its risk calculus is that I
woke up not that long ago with my cock stuffed inside of Darkness.

Right before she left in a hurry.

Toward the toilet.

And, given that’s one of the very few tags I prefer remain unexplored (said the boy who read
the entirety of Death Panda out of the kind of sheer horrified fascination the likes of which
makes therapists salivate), I let Darkness go.

Then it was time for breakfast.

My first breakfast with Yunyun after going through the stupid gimmicky dungeon of the
Goddess of Thirst and Braindead Bimbos.

And so I headed to the breakfast table while wearing an improvised toga made out of
Darkness’ (and now mine) white sheets. Because as much as my barbarian orcish blood roars
for the righteousness of kilts, those are a piece of clothing that usually consist of far less
fabric than a bedsheet is made of, and I’m kinda reticent to keep destroying so much clothing
given our lacking finances.

Also, and this is in no way a secondary concern, because I feel like bringing the light of
civilization back to my proudly savage orcish ancestors. Yes, yes, imperialism is bad, but as a
former Japanese man, I can tell you that the horrors of adopting Western civilization
somewhat pale in comparison to the horrors of unchecked feudalism and the lack of public
sanitation.

Yes, after having spent quite some time in a fantasy world, I’m convinced that the main
reason to institute the Meiji restoration was not due to the economic elite’s desire to open up
to global markets, but to someone learning what a toilet was and being willing to lay their
lives on the line to make sure such a wonder would spread across all of Japan.

How enthusiastically we have not only adopted but also innovated upon the concept is further
proof of my brilliant, peerless reasoning that only somebody with a higher number in their
character card Int score could ever begin to dare refute.

Shut up, Megumin. You are a clear example of segregation between story and game
mechanics.

Also, you’re apparently out of breath, so talking may not be an option.

“Kazuma!” Darkness insists, pushing the now crumbling toast against one of my
magnificently orcish tusks, making me all too aware of her generous cleavage being pressed
against my bare arm to the point of engulfing it in softness that is just a tad greater than that
offered by a naked, purring Yunyun.

And bringing me to a tipping point.

On one of the pans of the scale lays the absolute certainty that this will not go according to
plan.

On the second rest my orcish needs, still unsatiated after spending the whole night inside of
Darkness without having come even once.

On a third (yes, I know how scales work, this is just a very special scale) waits my clear need
to not process Yunyun and Megumin being lovey-dovey in a way that they, to my
knowledge, have never been without my cock(s) between them.

And on yet a fourth one, there is the fact that Darkness only came up with the idea of our
current sleeping arrangements because I made it up on the spot while roleplaying an orc
sexually tormenting a masochistic knight through a fictional scenario that stretched my
imagination as far as it can go, given the wildly outrageous premise.

That distant, fourth pan malignantly posits that my current strained position, with my steel-
hard cock being trapped under my thighs as my balls all but beg for the swift release of death
—or any other kind of swift release—is, therefore, my fault.

That means this is clearly a defective scale, and I should do precisely the opposite of what it
tells me.

In this case, turn to my right, open my mouth, and allow Darkness to perform her worst,
possibly nightmare-inducing, attempt at playing the coy, pure, doting girlfriend.

Which she does.

By shyly smiling up at me with tremulous lips as she slowly brings the small piece of toast
into my open mouth, leaving it there with barely a parting, lingering touch on my lower lip,
pushing my jaw closed with two gentle yet inhumanly strong fingers, and following all that
with a chaste, pure, brief kiss on my lips before retreating with a now wider, brighter smile of
pure joy and triumph.

“Wha—Kazuma!” a voice from somewhere behind my right shoulder yelps.

Oh, that’s Darkness’ voice. How curious. Oi, Darkness, what are you doing behind me? Are
you trying to add Chris’ skillset as a rogue or Luna’s ass-swinging assassin ways to your
repertoire? It won’t work, Darkness, your heavy armor clanging around would warn off any
enemy you tried to backstab, and, even if it didn’t, you’d still miss any attempted attacks,
thus making the extra damage dice and, or multiplier (it depends on the edition) of the sneak
attack completely redundant.

Go fix your basic technique first before learning the fancy stuff. That is the true way an
adventurer approaches their character build and not by, you know, investing skill points in
whatever random bullshit the surrounding NPCs sometimes offer him to add to his crappy
Luck-based class.

… Ouch.
“Kazuma—”

“Yes, it’s me, Kazuma—”

“Kazuma, put me down!” Darkness finally finishes, still talking from behind my shoulder.

Which may have something to do with me standing up, the warm, toned belly lying across
said shoulder due to the bare midriff of her brief maid uniform, and the waving, wiggling,
rotund behind that peeks out of a not-too-short-at-all-thank-you-very-much black miniskirt.

That is, with me having picked Darkness up by sheer reflex.

Aqua is staring at Darkness with what seems to be a mix of awe and jealousy that I will do
my utmost not to think about while my hands are occupied with another woman because I’m
a perfect gentleman and doing otherwise would be rude, Megumin and Yunyun have
somehow managed to stop looking at one another to blink at me in surprise, and Wiz’s
cheeks have just turned purple, an eventuality that surely has nothing at all to do with my
erect orcish pride pushing up my toga right in front of her nose as a wet spot starts spreading
from my finally liberated erection raging against the stifling confines of civilization.

Stupid Westerners and their complicated ways of folding bedsheets.

And, yes, this should have been my very own breakfast scene after Yunyun did her very best
to mindbreak and kill me via dehydration.

The peaceful tableau waiting for the hero to go back to his party members in joyful
celebration at his narrow escape from the gates of Hades itself, the heartwarming cutscene in
which all of his companions express their appreciation and how much they care about his
safety, wellbeing, and thoughtful management of consumable items.

What it was not supposed to be was a maid duel between Aqua and Darkness, a scene in
which Wiz’s voice actress takes a break while the art director pretends she’s still there
somewhere, and the scene in which after repeated, passionate, reciprocal, sincere love
confessions, Yunyun all but ignores me because she’s too busy paying attention to the yuri
alternate route shortstack who recently decided that denying she ever told me she loved me
was not an obnoxiously cute tsundere trait, but foreshadowing as to where her true priorities
laid.

This was supposed to be the time for me to recover in peace. To reaffirm my companions’
bonds.

And I have only eaten a single bite of buttered toast!

I’m hungry, thirsty, vaguely frustrated, emotionally confused, and horny.

But I can easily solve at least one of these things.

And it’s not the fucking feelings.

“Wait! I haven’t eaten! I am hungry, Kazuuumaaaaa!” Darkness protests as I, without further
utterances, being the broody, silent, solemn character that I am, start marching toward our
bedroom.

“Shut up, meatslave,” I grumble.

“Hn!” she answers as the black lacy panties by the side of my head become two shades
darker and just a tad glossier.

“Kazuma, where are you—” Aqua asks from behind me, but lower than shoulder height.

“Where no man has gone before. Only orcs,” I say, already leaving behind the busy table.

“Does that mean—”

“Yes, I’m going to rail Darkness,” I cut off the goddess of braindead misconceptions by
pretending she would’ve anticipated the right answer.

“But… but I have a present for—”

“Later!”

“I—Kazuma!” Darkness protests while cutely hammering my lower back with petite fists (or,
at least, petite enough now that she’s no longer taller than I am). “Kazuma, I’m hungry!”

“And I’m going to make sure that you get fed as much of my cum as you can stomach,” I
calmly explain as if to a small child, but not at all like I’d ever talk to a small child, Mister
Officer, promise.

“Mi… Mister Kazuma? Is everything—“ the current source of a bit of my emotional turmoil
starts to ask.

“Yes! Everything’s fine! I’m just going to use my official girlfriend for sexual relief rather
than have a civilized conversation with all the other girls I’m also having superhumanly good
sex with! Except for Luna! Who’s not here! And so I can’t have any kind of complicated
feelings over her having sex and emotional intimacy in my absence unless she’s decided to
make Dust a very happy man, in which case I’ll only wish them the best, happiest life they
can lead together as they explore their same-sex romance—”

“Dust is a guy,” Aqua helpfully points out.

“That’s what makes their same-sex romance so special!” I say.

And run away.

I mean, retreat tactically, courageously, and decisively.

Toward Darkness’ bedroom. Which is a very valuable position from a tactical standpoint, and
in which I plan to put Darkness in plenty of positions.
“Aaaaaahhhhhhh!” Darkness somewhat complains as I pick up speed and make her bounce
up and down on top of me at a slightly more sedate pace than she usually prefers.

So I, being the concerned, caring, attentive boyfriend that I am, spank her ass.

“Hn!” she says yet again, the abrupt outburst of overwhelming sensation turning into a
lingering, fading moan as I shake off the excessive wetness off my hand.

Note to self: study whether a hentai orc’s natural propensity for excessive fluid discharge is
somewhat contagious. It would only make sense for breedable adventurers to develop some
extra lubrication capabilities.

That, or this is just Darkness.

It would also make sense for this to just be Darkness.

“Kazuma! What is going on?!” a not sufficiently stimulated Darkness asks.

So I spank her yet again.

This time, she arches her whole back in that way she does when she’s just on the verge of a
body-shaking orgasm, and it’s not at all hard for me to imagine how she looks as she opens
her mouth in something silent and almost agonizing as her eyes try to focus on anything not
behind quivering lids.

And now I’m harder.

So, my still-toga-covered orcish spear signals forward, pointing the way toward the stairs and
the room that is my destination in a way that is not a metaphor at all, seeing as it’s perfectly
literal.

Yes, I’m following my cock.

I’m moving toward where my cock points, not away from anything.

Really.

So I make sure to keep Darkness happy about her current circumstances as I energetically
take the stairs, bouncing her on each step and lightly spanking alternate, generous, equally
bouncing cheeks to the tune of her jumping miniskirt.

By the time we make it to the second floor, there’s a line of drool dripping down my back and
a line of something else flowing down my chest.

“Ka… Kazuma… please…” my girlfriend begs.

And who am I to deny her anything while not engaging in orgasm denial or neglect play?

“Aaaaaahhhh!” she yells as I turn my head to bite on the succulent flesh pouring out from the
side of the elastic panties digging deep lines into obscenely soft meat as I shove a single, yet
sufficiently thick, orcish finger into a warm, wet, pulsing hole that is suddenly all that much
wetter right before Darkness slumps down, breathing harsh puffs of warm air over a back
slickened with her own saliva.

Aaaaannnd now I’m harder.

Damn it, I didn’t think that was possible.

So, well, I just have to take a few more steps to get to her room, and I can turn my current
problem into an asset through the application of my tactical genius and Darkness being
Darkness.

Aren’t you happy, dear? I’m including you in one of my plans, and for once, it’s not just as
bait for a monster to unleash all of its strength on the only party member who can take it.

Oh, wait, that’s precisely your part in the plan. Never mind, then.

So, here I am, at the end of my perilous journey, bringing a captive adventurer back to my
quarters, about to defile her as my proud orcish ancestors established long ago, their
traditions passed down for generations until they reached this unworthy vessel, and I—

“Fuck!” I yell while turning as fast as I can to catch a limp, falling Darkness who just pushed
herself off my shoulder.

I barely manage it, dropping to one knee with my arms extended below her, holding her up,
my heart thundering as I look into her tired eyes to see if she’s been hurt at all—

And she kisses me.

Arms still stronger than mine wrap around my neck, bringing me down until only golden hair
and piercing blue eyes fill my whole world, her soft lips meeting mine in something
demanding yet yielding, her own tongue languid when she slips it past my lower tusks to
caress mine as sweet sounds escape her between the slight separation she sometimes allows
between our mouths.

Then… Then, when only Darkness fills my head, when she’s all I can think of, when my
whole world revolves around a soft woman draped over my arms…

She pulls back.

Her left hand is behind my head, holding me in place even as her fingertips massage soft
circles into my bare scalp while her right hand trails down to cup my cheek, to keep me
trapped in a way that’s far less effective than her own eyes looking at me with doubt,
hesitation, and achingly obvious caring.

“Kazuma…” she trails off, gently surprised when this time I don’t interrupt her. “Talk to
me.”

So I bite my lower lip.

And sit down.

My back rests against the dark oak wainscoting that lines up the corridor along which the
doors to our bedrooms are set, and my crossed legs are half on a bunched cotton sheet and
half on the luxurious rug covering the wooden floor.

And Darkness is still in my arms, her own holding her up, hanging from my neck with a
weight I only notice because of how reassuring it is.

Also, her ass may, or not, be directly resting on top of my still erect cock.

Because the Luck stat is a lie.

“Sorry,” I finally say, nervously licking lips that should be dry if she hadn’t done her best to
soften them mere moments ago.

“Why?” she asks, doing that gender equality bullshit and demanding I explain things rather
than assume she’s a mind reader.

I open my mouth to answer. Close it. Open it back. Do that weird thing people do to wet their
lips, with them rubbing past one another as they alternatively enter and exit the mouth.

She goes from looking at me with tender caring and worry to leveling a flat stare at me.

Damn it.

“I just… I don’t even know. I like them being together. I encourage it. I am happy for them,”
I say.

“Yunyun and Megumin?” she asks with just a brief pause to guess that, no, I’m not talking
about Aqua and Wiz and never will.

… Hopefully.

“Yes, they. It’s just… what I saw the first time we three were together—”

“You despicable philanderer—”

“Yes, yes, that time. Anyway, I just… I understand Yunyun. I know what it’s like to feel
rejected and shunned. Unwanted. And the way she lit up when Megumin finally showed her
open affection? It was… healing, in a way. To just see somebody who’s been so hurt still be
so bright, so sincerely joyous? She’s… she’s so strong…”

I trail off and, guiltily, allow my eyes to drift up from Darkness’ own to the corridor’s wall in
front of me, half-shadowed by the low angle of the morning Sun coming in from the bright,
stained glass window to my left, throwing colorful shafts of light across the wall divided
between understated green paint and rich, dark wood.
“You love her,” Darkness whispers, the hand cupping my cheek moving in a slow, circular
caress.

I nod.

“And Megumin,” she adds.

Again, I nod.

“And Aqua, and me, and—”

“Don’t get carried away. As broad as my orcish chest is, I have not that much love to give.”

“Really,” she states rather than ask, her tone about as flat as Megumin used to be.

“I…” I close my eyes and take a deep, slow breath.

Then I look back down.

At Darkness, with her golden ponytail pooled in shimmering locks by my side, the white
maid tiara almost hidden in the fulgor of the Sun playing over her bangs.

She’s… She’s wearing a risqué yet cute ensemble, a black satin top with puffed sleeves that
only go just past her shoulders, the lower hem of the blouse tucked right under her breasts,
her generous cleavage displayed by a square, tight window of strained fabric that she could
easily bounce out of with her often energetic, exaggerated displays of emotion.

All of it is, of course, trimmed with white lace that barely contrasts with the shade of her own
aristocratically pale skin.

Aqua does great work.

She must never know.

“Kazuma, talk to me,” she repeats, earnest as only the masochistic crusader and a shy
archmage have ever been with me.

“I… I don’t know. Everyone used to be repulsed by me. I’ve been hit, insulted, badmouthed.
Female adventurers look at me in disgust before crossing to the other side of the street—”

“I think that’s mostly because of the panty stealing—”

“—and I am suddenly in the middle of this. Of… I’ve fucked almost every attractive woman
I’ve met since I came to this world, received heartfelt confessions from some of them, Vanir
is now an attractive girl trying to get into my pants, I am living with all of you, and I… I
don’t know how to process it, Darkness. I…”

She shifts on top of me, lifting her body up to sit rather than lie, her side now resting against
me, her palm still on my cheek even as her own cheek mesmerizes me with its softness as she
presses it into my chest until her soft hair tickles me right under my clavicle.
She’s still on top of my cock.

Because of course she is.

So I wrap my arms around her waist, thin in proportions if not in actual girth. Because
Darkness has always been an intimidatingly tall, fit, powerful woman that I now dwarf to the
point I can rest my chin on top of her head as I tighten my embrace.

As I envelop her fully.

As I hold onto her.

“I love you,” she mutters.

“Thank you,” I whisper.

And she punches my chest.

I have to look down to see the wonderfully frustrated pout she directs at me, her protruding
lower lip as tempting as it ever was when I called her something unflattering but not in the
way she wanted.

When I teased her about why a pack of monsters looking for the hardest, toughest substance
around would stampede right at her and I clearly told her that it was not because of her armor.

When I plainly stated why I was entirely unsurprised by her deciding to stand in the way of
an indestructible fortress and that her courage was not among the parameters I took into
account for my masterful deductions.

When I…

Didn’t tell her I loved her.

Damn it, I’m pulling a Megumin, aren’t I?

“Darkness… I love you,” I tell her, my right arm unwrapping from around her to hold her by
her chin, keeping her head tilted back so I can stare straight into blue, mesmerizing eyes
that…

Is she crying?

“Sorry! Sorry! I don’t love you! In fact, I despise you like the meat slave that you are, only
worthy of being used as a loose cockwarmer—”

For some mysterious reason, she punches my jaw.

This time, Mysterious Reason is not my cock.

I think.
“You jerk,” she says, bumping her forehead against my chest.

“I apologized!” I defend my innocence, trusting in the ancestral teachings not of my orcish

lineage but of my father’s manly cowering in the face of feminine wrath.

“That’s what I’m angry about! I was crying happy tears, and you had to ruin it!”

“Wha—happy tears?! What kind of shoujo manga cliché are you trying to pull? Did you
mistake the library shelf when looking for the more messed up josei stuff? Did you get
confused by the magical girls in BDSM gear?”

“The what?”

“You uncultured swine—”

“It’s not being uncultured if it’s from another world! And don’t call me swine—”

“You’re right, a breeding sow like you—”

“Hn!”

“See? That’s what you like! What you enjoy! Why are you even angry that I—”

“Because this is the first time you’ve told me you love me!”

Her fist hits my chest yet again.

Weakly.

And then her arm slowly falls, dragging her open hand down my body as I…

As I get lost in blue eyes that are not like the sky, or the sea, or sapphire.

Blue eyes that are Darkness.

That are more beautiful than all those things.

“Kazuma?” she asks, weakly, her voice tremulous, as I hold her chin once more.

“I love you,” I say, forcing the words past a rough throat that wants me to be silent.

That doesn’t want to push past this.

That fears… many things.

But Darkness smiles, and her eyes shine with wet droplets once more gathered in their
corners.

Crying stupidly cliched happy tears.

And so I kiss her.

We move slowly, deliberately, as she shifts on top of me until her legs surround me and my
cock rises past the meeting of her thighs, and then, still cradling my cheek, she uses her other
hand to pull her own borrowed bedsheet aside to free me, to have my shaft be near enough to
her panties that I feel the wet heat radiating from them.

I hook a single finger under the side elastic, brushing past curly, golden, wet locks as I glide
down until I briefly caress her clitoris with the back of my finger, and she lets out a single
whimper into my mouth that I readily swallow.

Then I pull the panties aside and trace the slit between her lower lips as my tongue pushes
past the upper ones.

We are still going slow. Her hips sway back and forth against the side of my finger, minute
movements that only show me how wet she is. How ready.

How wanting.

And so I take away the single finger to a mournful, plaintive moan that gets cut off when I
grab her from under her brief skirt, my fingers digging into the soft, yielding meat of her right
cheek before slowly pulling her toward me.

The tip of my cock presses against wet lips.

And she pulls away.

Her eyes are lidded with a desire I’ve come to know, but there’s no hint of rushed desperation
this time around.

No, she’s deliberate.

“I love you,” she says.

And then she shimmies forward and up, her hips rising with every side-to-side motion until
she’s dancing to unheard music on top of the tip of my shaft, so close that I groan.

“Darkness…” I start, not knowing what I will say after her name as my thoughts get lost in
the feeling of round muscle shifting under my grip and a single drop of moisture landing on
my cockhead.

“I love you,” she insists, “and I… I like that you love other women. I like that you are…”
blue, Darkness eyes swim over mine until the deliberately sultry expression melts into a shy,
slight smile. “I love that you are like this. That you can… that so many others see what I see,
or something else I still have missed. That you can understand their feelings and return
them.”

She leans forward to lay a single peck on my brow.

I stare.
She giggles.

“I love you, Kazuma. And I am so happy that you love me as well, that you… that you can…
that you can see me and still hold me close. That you…”

She drifts off.

Because, apparently, I’m not the only one who can get their speeches ruined by the intense,
attentive gaze of a lover being hungry for what words may come next.

And I can’t. I can’t speak and tell her what she deserves to hear. I can’t look at Darkness, this
Darkness, and pull one of my stupid stunts. I can’t mouth off while we exchange rapid-fire
insults. I can’t berate her in all the ways she doesn’t enjoy. I can’t be anything other than the
Kazuma she wants to see, and that I don’t think really exists.

I can’t tell her all the words I should.

So I show her.

Slowly, I pull her down, toward me, toward the tip of my cock.

Her wet lips press down on it.

And I stop.

I don’t violently thrust up. I don’t force her down my shaft with a single stroke of prolonged
moans.

I stop.

Torturing myself.

“You are beautiful. And brave. And noble in the ways you want to be. You are the most
courageous woman I’ve ever met. You deserve everything you ever wished for,” I tell her,
the touch of her hand still on my cheek feeling like a lazy flame burning through my
thoughts.

And, impossibly, it seems like…

Like I said what needed to be said.

Because she’s flushed, smiling in that silly way that has her open her trembling lips before
she has to force them closed, only to start all over again.

Because she’s leaning toward me.

Because…

“I did. I did finally get everything I ever prayed for,” she murmurs, her words searing gusts of
wet warmth over my lips.
Then Darkness slowly kisses me, forcing me to feel every twist and turn of her head, of soft
lips pressed against mine, already drowning my thoughts in a thick haze before she even
involves her tongue.

And, equally slowly, deliberately, Darkness pushes down.

It’s… I’ve never savored the moment quite like this. The steady way in which her lips part as
her opening finds me, and then how she stretches around me with barely any pressure, her
mouth kissing mine into delirious softness, making the lips below feel even more delicate by
comparison.

Her barely covered breasts brush over my chest.

Her right cheek is still warm and soft on my hand.

Her legs are over mine, pale, meaty thighs exposed except for a single, black garter she
uselessly wears on her left leg.

And her scent fills me.

Her taste is as sweet as it ever is, that mild saliva that mingles with mine as our mouths open
and our tongues entangle, but that’s just something to add even more intensity to the slight
scent of metal oil that never quite abandons the often-armor-clad woman even if that is only a
slight accent over… over something that always smells sun-warmed. Like cut grass, but
gentler, without the sharp overtone.

Like…

Like a place where only light can dwell.

Like summer, and home, and sheets warmed after a restful night’s sleep.

Like lemon peel. Like…

Like Darkness.

She’s lower now, almost half my tip inside of her, and she doesn’t clench, or twitch, or
mutter.

She just kisses me, holds me, and loves me.

It’s… It’s stupid of me. Greedy. To feel this much, to have already shared this much with her
and the others. To get this much love and still want more. Still feel disoriented when it’s
directed away from me, even if only to share it in the way I hoped and wanted to see.

“Darkness…” I murmur, our lips barely parted so that I can still caress her just by talking, “I
am sorry. I shouldn’t… It’s stupid that I—”

She shushes me, her hand finally leaving my cheek just to press a single finger against my
lip.
And she still smiles.

“It’s what I wanted to tell you,” she says. “That it’s not stupid. That it’s not wrong to feel.
That… That what is wrong is what you do or not do. But we are all new to this, and we need
to learn. Figure it out.

“And I will.

“I will do it, Kazuma.

“I will learn and discover what I need. I will see just how much I enjoy sharing you, or being
away from you while you are with another, or taking you away from them for a moment just
for the two of us.

“And… And I’ll tell you when I like things.

“But also when I’ll hate them.

“So, please, please, Kazuma, when you do, when you like or dislike something, when you
don’t know if we are understanding one another…

“Talk to me.”

Her eyes blaze blue, the gathered tears sparkling in a way that makes the dazzling sunbeams
colored by stained glass mundane by comparison.

Dull.

Irrelevant.

My throat is dry.

My heart is racing.

My eyes itch.

And I nod.

Her smile immediately brightens, making her eyes crinkle until a single tear drips down her
left cheek.

I lick it.

My tongue is long, and I draw it slowly up her face as she shudders with only half my tip
inside of her while I taste yet another thing that only Darkness can offer me.

I could let her keep going, showing me just how she planned to deliberately seduce me with
slow, tender lovemaking.

But my hands grasp her flesh tightly, and I stand.

The white sheet falls to the floor as her legs wrap around my waist, her feet hooking over the
small of my back in a way that Megumin desperately tried to without managing, and her
hands are once more behind my nape, holding me with far less intensity than her eyes.

I kiss up the wet trail my tongue just left over her face, the traces of salt only there as a
memory of the first happy tear I’ve drank.

And I slowly turn toward the door to our now shared bedroom until I gently push her back
against it, deliberately keeping as much of me inside of her as there was while we both sat on
the floor.

The wood is dark and reddish, and the black of her maid uniform almost fades into the glossy
varnish, the effect only broken by the shimmering rays of light brushing past the raised relief
of patterned wood.

Her pale skin and the white lace, her golden hair… They stand out.

They always stand out.

“Do it,” she whispers. “Show me what you feel for me.”

I smile at her and try very, very hard not to say: ‘Utter frustration.’

And then I push just a bit more of me inside of her.

Her lips are parted as she takes deep breaths, and her arms tensing around my neck only
manage to have her bust pressed tighter past the square cleavage window Aqua crafted for
her.

A little more, and she moans.

But she just told me to tell her. To tell her when I like or dislike something.

So I also moan.

It comes out as a grunt, a rumbling of my chest as my eyes squeeze shut when she finally
goes past the crown of my head, when the tight ring of muscle squeezes right behind my
glans just before sliding down until it reaches the swelling around the middle of my length.

Slowly, biting my lower lip, with my head tilted forward, I manage to open my eyes just a bit.
Just a narrow slit that lets me see the beautiful woman I’m inside of.

She shivers.

And I try not to lose it.

To ram her against solid wood until we shatter it, until I stand surrounded by the pieces of an
oak door while Darkness bounces up and down along the path my cock will set for her to
follow.
It’s… hard.

Yes, the cock as well, but that kinda goes without saying.

“It’s… I… I just spent the whole night with it inside of me, and it still…”

She stops, her eyes begging me to understand, to know what it means for her that I’m now
halfway inside of her, and it still feels more intense than being stretched around me for hours
of troubled sleep.

I…

I don’t.

Don’t understand, don’t know.

Because she’s a woman and I am a man. Because she’s human and I am an orc. Because
she’s Darkness, a crusader who devoted her life to helping others, and I am Kazuma Satou, a
former NEET who devoted his life to blaming others for his own life.

So, I don’t know. I can’t know.

Except I do.

Because I feel the shared heat between our bodies, the warmth wafting up the deep pink
blooming over Darkness’ breasts and the darker green over my own chest, the ragged
breathing, the eyes widely open and staring at one another.

So, I don’t know what it feels like for Darkness to be speared open by my cock.

But I do know what making love feels like.

I push her a bit forward, the door rattling without opening, just shaking the minute amount
that the imperfect fit against the frame allows it to, and then she finally goes past the middle
of my cock.

So I retreat.

She whines in sheer frustration, her adorable pout accusing me of terrible things until I decide
to go back in and give her everything I just took away.

And more.

Her open mouth turns into a silent ‘O’ that only relaxes when I pull back out, but I don’t give
her time to recover. Each time I go back in it’s just a bit deeper, just enough to surprise her
and get thrilled by her surprise.

I love it.

Her.
I love making her react to what I do to her, seeing it on her always too-honest face, feeling it
on her always wildly expressive body.

It’s no wonder that Vanir possessed her out of all of us.

All right, I’m going to quarantine this thought until I’m alone, behind closed doors, and,
hopefully, in possession of some kind of anti-telepathy countermeasure that doesn’t involve
my tag-related trauma.

For now?

I’ll just kiss my girlfriend.

She returns it enthusiastically, pulling herself up against me, the slow, deliberate tension of
the moment broken through mere eagerness and yearning.

I don’t regret it.

Not when I push myself fully inside her, and her whole body goes taut around me, her
muscles locked in tension as a low whine is offered for me to swallow.

And definitely not when our lovemaking turns more… active.

I pull back to thrust inside, and she immediately drops down to chase me, her ass delightfully
pushing against me with a clapping noise that I am ready to bet sends a shiver of pleasant
shame up Darkness’ spine.

But a shiver is not enough.

“Ah! Kazuma, yes!” she says, the door still rattling behind her as I press fully inside of her,
each of my hands on one of her lower cheeks, keeping her as still as her strong legs around
me let me when she keeps doing her best to move up and down, to chase me when I’m out of
her, to squeeze me closer so I don’t leave.

“You’re amazing,” I growl as I grind against her hard enough to make her climb up the door.

She, rather than answer me, grabs my head and buries me face-first in her cleavage.

Sadly, before I get the chance to properly motorboat her, the struggling square cleavage
finally gives up, and Darkness proudly offered breasts leap toward freedom or, at the very
least, my mouth.

Okay, my mouth and freedom may not be precisely synonymous concepts, but if there’s one
thing I’ve learned about Darkness so far is that she likes her occasional confinement.

Apparently, so do her nipples.

Because as soon as I suck both stiff tips in and start tracing something very similar to the
infinity symbol around them with my tongue, Darkness’ hold on the back of my head grows
strong enough that I have a brief burst of panic about finally dying in one of the few ways I
one time listed as acceptable feats to write down on my grave.

So, with only mere survival in mind and absolutely nothing else, I proceed to fuck Darkness
far harder than I have until now.

Her gasps become a syncopated litany as her whole body hammers against the door behind
her, her fluttering miniskirt flying up with each of my thrusts, her breasts trying to break free
from my lips with their customarily unrestrained bouncing, her legs all but begging me not to
leave each time I pull back only to immediately return to a far more heartwarming welcome
than the one I got at the breakfast table.

No, I am not bitter. Just disappointed.

Except, at this very moment, I’m about to cum inside of Darkness after spending the whole
night inside of her, so I admit to not being that disappointed.

“Love you,” she whispers in the brief instant in which she manages to keep eye contact with
me.

Fine, I’m not disappointed at all. I am the opposite of disappointed. I’m actually satisfied,
elated, and even fulfilled. Happy now, hypothetically judgmental Inner Kazuma?

“I am going to—” she says.

And, yes, Inner Kazuma is now happy.

I let go of her breasts, the now glistening, respectively fifth and sixth Wonders of Axel, free
to bounce wildly in the brief moment it takes me to press forward with my whole body,
feeling as much of Darkness as I can against me, our sweaty skin gliding past one another,
her barely-there uniform now reduced to a band under her chest and another over her pussy.

I try to kiss her, but I can’t. Not while pressing myself against her like this, leaving no space
at all between us.

But, under my eyes, with hers completely open, Darkness stares at me as she kisses a single
spot near the middle of my chest with amorous fervor, her lips sending a shock of sensation
so intense past my breastbone that I have to clench my fingers into her yielding ass.

Then she licks me.

And I lose it.

I throw my head back as I roar in both defeat and triumph, boiling heat shooting past my
shaft and into the also screaming woman, her higher-pitched voice joining mine in something
that is both bestial and musical.
I keep shooting more and more white-hot, and hopefully white, fluid that bursts out of the
tight seal of Darkness’ sex around my own as I lose count of every single spasm of mind-
numbing pleasure and just…

Just fall forward.

I open my eyes when my forehead rests on her, Darkness-blue eyes waiting for me as we both
pant and gasp, both of us ready for more, yet…

Yet not.

Because… this wasn’t, in the end, about busting a nut after a night of torture.

It was about Darkness.

About me and her.

About my girlfriend.

“I… Thank you,” I say with a voice small enough that, for a moment, I wonder if I’ve finally
gone back to being Kazuma Satou, the thin, out-of-shape boy that was barely starting to get
some muscle definition before being offered a potion by Wiz that was both too good to be
true and, for a Wiz item, much better than I dreamed.

“What for?” she asks, her voice still ragged after our earlier howling competition that would
get me labeled as a furry in a less charitable world.

She’s also asking me to explain myself rather than assume she’s a mind reader, so, yet again,
that whole gender equality nuisance is being turned against me.

“For telling me. About you. What you feel. I… I am not good at these things, but, Darkness,
if you’ll be patient with me, I…” I drift away, not entirely sure of what I’m going to promise,
but still unwilling not to offer her something after what she just gave me.

“You don’t have to say anything. Just… Just keep being with me?”

My forehead is still resting on hers.

Her legs are still wrapped around my waist.

And, between the two of us, we’re drawing a circle from our connected hips to our touching
heads, with Darkness only resting her neck and shoulders on the door behind her as her blue
eyes keep me frozen in place after a single request.

I don’t have to say anything.

Just stay with her.

So I wet my lips, close my eyes to gather my courage, and look back down into the blue irises
of a gold-framed woman who shouldn’t look this beautiful and radiant after getting fucked in,
yet again, the carry position.

I feel I should innovate more. Or, at least, I should do so when I’m not being afflicted by
literal magic to become a tentacle monster the likes of which would likely be banned from the
Japanese railway network.

At the very least, during school rush hours.

“I am not good at these things,” I finally tell her, “but if you’ll have me… I will be.”

She blinks at me in astonishment.

And then, yet again, that bright smile of hers comes out, and she jumps up, pulling her whole
weight up by her arms behind my neck to crash a fervent kiss on my lips.

This, predictably, makes me lose my balance.

And, just to rub it in that the Luck stat is a lie, I stumble forward, Darkness’ kiss punctuated
by a panicked yelp when we once again crash against the door.

Except, this time around, the door’s bolt snaps, the door swings open, and I fall on the hard
floor of Darkness’ bedroom with only a now screaming crusader to cushion my fall with
plush thighs and bouncing breasts.

All in all, quite a comfortable fall. Ten out of ten. Would make my girlfriend orgasm via
surprise mating press again.

Except for one tiny, single detail.

That is: Chris standing in the middle of a pile of my underwear, her cheeks a rather alarming
maroon shade as the quasi-loli thief stares straight at me until a fluttering, drifting boxer lands
on her face.

“This is not what it looks like!” three rather alarmed adventurers simultaneously proclaim.

And so, to Megumin’s eternal regret, the Int stat also proves to be a lie.

=============================

=============================

So, I finally finished August’s chapter. I’m sorry about the delay, some of you know the
reasons for it, and those who don’t shouldn’t bother about it. Anyway! The next chapter is
already up on Patreon, and yes, it’s the much anticipated Chris update. You know, Chris. A
character who has had a lot of lines in the fic so far. Chris and just Chris.
Definitely only Chris.

A girl with short hair and slight of chest. You know. Chris. Somebody without any kind of
secrets whatsoever.

Right.

Chris. That’s who I’m talking about. Just in case there was any remaining ambiguity.

Okay, awful, terrible spoilers aside, I am now going to include yet another segment of a
published work, because doing so in this story is about the only time I get any sales at all.
You have brought this all upon yourselves.

====================================

====================================

Tales from a Lewd Fantasy World – Tale 2 – The Hero from Another World 1

If you expect me to begin this by being run down by a runaway truck, you’ll be sorely
disappointed.

Because we all know how that shit goes, don’t we? A loser with a face so generic anyone can
self-insert in it dies through some set of convoluted circumstances, and some kind of deity (or
Being X, if we’re feeling particularly spiteful) decides to give them a second chance at life.
Except it is in a world so radically different from the original one, it’s a wonder how some
skills even manage to carry over.

The fact that said skills tend to be the very same that power-fantasy lovers would have
realistically developed through a lifetime of playing games and reading enough Wikipedia
articles to gather some ammo for their pointless flame wars is not sheer contrivance designed
to help with their self-inserting on the pointlessly bland protagonist, no, it’s just the way
things go. Everybody would be a badass if transported to a fantasy world, rather than generic
peasant number 23 who dies at the start of the first arc to show the real hero there are
consequences for their actions.

So, screw you. This isn’t going to start with me dying through some Rube Goldberesque
event that wouldn’t be amiss in the Final Destination series, nor with an unearthly beautiful
goddess telling me my mission in this new life. And I’m obviously not going to go through
life as a baby again, because having a fully developed intellect while you’re unable to control
your sphincters and need a woman who, at least biologically, is your real mother to put her tit
in your mouth regularly sounds like the stuff that makes therapists start signing book deals
after your first session.

No, this is going to start with me getting drunk in a tavern with the red-skinned, raven-haired,
big-titted demoness.

Much better, don’t you think?

“I just don’t get it,” I say, not yet slurring my words, but not for lack of trying. Enhanced
metabolism is a bitch, not to mention a considerable financial drain. The bartender is looking
at me in awe, though.

“What? You actually don’t understand something? Where’s that college education you’re so
proud of now?” Zhandra mocks me.

“I don’t know. It depends on whether the bank can claim it after I die without paying my
student’s loan.”

“Ah, right… Are you worried about your parents—” And now she’s showing concern. All
right, that’s the camel-breaking last straw.

Hopefully not mind-broken camel. I have my limits.

“Look, can you just explain to me how are you a demoness again? Because this isn’t, at all,
what Sunday school would have had me believe.”

“You… Had a school that only opened on the day of the Sun?” She blinks in confusion. I
groan at the fucking lost in translationness of it all.

“Something the church did for kids. My most benevolent interpretation is that it was a way to
allow the stressed-out parents another chance to actually try to have another kid.”

“Ah, so you had churches dedicated to—”

“No. No, fuck, that would’ve been far more interesting than what—I’m getting sidetracked.
Again.”

“Not my fault you never get to the point,” she says with a playful smirk. She’s also leaning
forward, her arms pressed so that her red cleavage bulges out of the low cut, crème vest she
usually wears beneath her leather armor that’s not fetish gear at all, no sir. So, basically? Her
mouth says one thing, her body says another—that is, that it very much is her fault that I get
sidetracked this often. My willpower only stretches so far, and the temptation is pretty
apparent.

Like usual. Because fucking (literally) lust demons have to act the part, don’t they?

I grumble as I rub my temples out of habit, seeing as I no longer get headaches that aren’t
induced by mana strain (And how fucking chuuni is that?).

“I won’t even dignify that with an answer other than to say I won’t dignify that with an
answer. Now, seriously, why the fuck is a demon accompanying the chosen hero to vanquish
the Demon Lord? Because that sounds like treason waiting to happen, yet nobody ever bats
an eye at it.”

“How racist of you,” she says with a bored, droning tone. And raises her hand to ask for
another mug of mead.
By the way, mead? Fucking delicious. I prefer the drier ones rather than the sweeter ones, but
if beer was like this, I would have gone out to drink far more often in my past life. It would
certainly have made college more appealing.

The tavern wench (I won’t call her waitress as long as she keeps ogling my frie—companion
like she wants to dress her in a saliva suit) swiftly brings her the refill, and Zhandra takes a
long, drawn-out gulp out of it, her eyes closed in pleasure, and a happy, barely decent hum on
her lips.

“I don’t even know enough about your race to be racist about it—”

“Ah, but isn’t bigotry usually the product of ignorance?”

“Shut up. And if you don’t want me to think about ‘harmful stereotypes’ or whatever,
shouldn’t you stop trying to make absolutely everything into something sexual?”

At this, she stops her hand, the rim of her mug barely grazing the bottom of her dark, red lip,
glistening with the wetness of the drink and—for fuck’s sake. This cannot be an accident.

“I’m not trying to do anything.”

“Sure could’ve fooled me.”

“Indeed, it seems like I have.”

“Uh?”

And she sighs and lowers the mug to the table.

“Look, Adrian—”

“Not my actual name,” I answer automatically.

“I know, but you also know we have to call you something other than the chosen one or
whatever ridiculous title you got after the summoning.”

“Still don’t know why I had to lose my name—”

“Magic has a cost, which neatly brings me along to my own circumstances.”

“Really? Because that sounds awfully convenient.”

“I don’t want to hear that from the guy who never had to train a day of his life to have the
kind of power you have. Now, are you going to let me answer your own question or not?”

“Meh…” I start to eloquently tell her what I think about her pedagogical skills.

And she flicks my forehead.

Heh. A classic.
“All right, you bigoted, insufferably rude, ignorant human—”

“And who’s being a racist right now—” Ah. A kick to the shin from beneath the table. Also a
classic.

“First, I’m not an actual demon; the technical term would be demon-descended—”

“You mean like a tiefling?”

“I don’t know what that is, but if you interrupt me again, I’ll feast on your soul.”

“Can you actually do that?”

“You’ll find out if you let me finish.”

“That’s what she said.”

“Oh for—! Fine, be that way!”

And now she’s sulking.

Which is still a sight to behold, seeing as she’s basically what a pornstar body would be like
if it was actually… Not natural, because I’m pretty sure natural skin isn’t that elastic, and the
way she sways when she decides to add a little extra to her steps is much, much bouncier than
she has any right to be, and—damn it.

All right, she’s a strange combination of sultry and cute whenever she pouts that, while
hitting all the right buttons, still manages to leave me feeling more guilty than enticed, so…

“Sorry… I actually want to learn more about you. I’ll shut up.”

And now her pointy ears are twitching as she tries to hide a smile. Also, I’m pretty sure that’s
a slight blush, though I admit the color palette has me a bit confused on that point.

“Right… Well, listen attentively to Miss Zhandra’s lesson, and you too can leave this tavern
without being a racist piece of shit.”

“Oi. Don’t push it.”

“You’re right, sorry. I should add that the results aren’t guaranteed.”

Fine, I’m laughing. It was funny. Shut up.

“Right, with the disclaimer out of the way,” she says, acting inordinately pleased at her small
victory, “The first thing you should know is that gods are bastards.”

“That checks out.”

“No, I mean literally.”

“… And now you’ve lost me.”

Also, you shouldn’t smile like that at my admission of ignorance, Zhandra. It’s not like you’d
do much better at Trivial night back home.

“Right, back to even more basics: there are gods with a capital ‘g,’ the Never Born, and those
are basically unreachable. They are more like things that are just there than actual people.
Witches say they can commune with them, but everybody knows they are a bit… loopy, so
it’s not like their opinion holds much weight.”

“Wait, wait, wait, so witches commune with gods, while demons don’t know what’s their
actual deal?”

“Uh, yes? Why?”

“No, just thinking that some ladies back home are owed an actual apology.”

“… You had witches back home.”

“No. We had people who claimed to be witches. Also, we had people other people claimed to
be witches. The last group got kind of a rough deal.”

“In the world without magic. With churches that taught you about demons.”

“No, look, it was mostly superstition. Even people who believed in that thought most of it
was just, I don’t know, metaphorical or—”

“You do realize magic exists, don’t you?”

“Well, sure, here.”

“And that your soul came here. Your already existent soul.”

“Right, but if magic back there existed, people would know about it. Nobody believed in—I
mean, most people didn’t think it was real. At most, I don’t know, astrology… which all
major newspapers had… and that almost every girl I dated had a book about… and fucking
Claire left me after she checked our astral charts compatibility…”

Fuck.

“So. You had magic.”

“I’m ready to accept the possibility of some cultural bleed-over. I refuse to believe I lived in a
world with actual magic hidden from muggles,” I say, my voice as level as the current
amount of alcohol in my blood allows it to be.
Which must come across as more obstinate than anything else, because my companion is
rubbing her temples.

It’s also unfair what the slight, subtle, languid, circular motions do to some parts of her
anatomy pressed between her elbows.

And that tavern wench better not be expecting a tip, because she’s getting her money’s worth
with every eyeful.

“Why is it so hard to get a conversation going with you that doesn’t end up in one of your
ridiculous derails?”

“Oh, so you have trains in here?”

“Of course we do; why else would I use that expression—see?! That’s what I mean! I ask a
rhetorical question about—”

“And I gave you a rhetorical answer,” I say, my smile so beatific it could be used for a
portrait of the Virgin Mary. You know, if I shaved beforehand.

“That’s not what that word means!”

“Oh? Well, then I guess Miss Zhandra’s lessons must leave something to be desired.”

“I’ll show you fucking desire, you piece of—”

And… Well, it may be the alcohol.

It may be that she’s, other than Elena, the closest thing to a friend I’ve had since I got here.

It may be that I‘ve always had a thing for belligerent girls who can keep up with my snark.

Or it may be for a thousand other reasons (none of them being that I’m lonely, horny, and
trapped in hentailand), but our eyes meet, and we both remain silent for a moment. Just for a
moment, seeing her violet irises on black sclera barely wavering from mine, her throat
seductively moving as she swallows during the prolonged silence, her ears twitching in a way
that just makes me wonder how much control she has over them.

I end the moment by smirking at her, the right corner of my mouth rising in an insolent,
almost insulting gesture that I know drives most people mad with the urge to strangle me.

“Show me, then,” I say.

And she smirks back.

Also, the tavern wench suddenly looks a bit sad.

***
I open the door to my room by the very unorthodox method of pushing it with my back as
Zhandra’s finger keeps pressing on my chest, her eyes never leaving my own as I almost
tumble to the floor.

The back of her heel catches the edge of the door as she walks by, and she shuts it with a
graceful movement of her leg that translates to an undulating ripple across her bare thighs. At
least, the part that’s shown between the top of her knee-high boots and her very short shorts.

Her eyes are glowing. They are barely enough for me to make up the contours of everything
in the small room, and that’s only because of how much my own eyes have changed since I
leaped worlds.

“So… About your lesson…”

“Are we actually doing this?” I ask, not at all nervous or apprehensive. No. I’m just…
concerned about team cohesion. Yes, that’s it: a sane, responsible worry to have when the
fate of the world rests on your shoulders.

Zhandra walks closer, her arm bending until only her finger separates our chests. No, I’m not
staring. Shut up.

“So. Gods are bastards,” she murmurs, so low I wouldn’t catch it if she was even a bit farther
away.

“Are we really doing this—” And I moan.

Because she just cut me off by leaning forward, her chest finally—I mean actually pressing
against mine, and her pointy fang nibbling on my earlobe so lightly it almost tickles.

“But that’s the small ‘g’ gods,” her voice burns as it slinks past my wet ear, “the ones that
have names, that answer prayers. They are bastards, because they aren’t actual gods, just
shattered fragments of a mask. We have Selene and Artemis, but none of them are Moon.
They are children of a single parent. Bastards. The Bastard Gods. Understand?”

I nod, my Adam’s apple bobbing far more energetically than my own head.

“Good.” She pushes me until the back of my knees hits the edge of the bed, and she forces
me to take a seat while she bends down, her mouth still by the side of my ear. “Good, Adrian,
you are a very good student…” Oi, don’t push it! “Now, much like there was Moon, there
was Sun, and Light, and Darkness… and Sin. The bastards of Sin were the first Demon
Kings.”

“This is all very interesting, but—” Her finger goes from my chest to my lips, closing them.
Silencing me.

And she straddles me.

“The Bastard Gods could interact with the world in a way the Never Born didn’t. They had
actual personalities, names, ways for people to talk to them. Lovers.”
Ah. Of course.

“That’s where demigods come from. And angels. And demons.”

She smiles when she says it, but… Not like she usually does.

And when did I start learning her smiles?

“And those demons… Well, they all descended from one of the bastards of Sin. Envy. Greed.
Wrath…”

I lean back just a little, just enough that her finger doesn’t chase my lips even as her chest
keeps pressing on mine.

Yes, I’m weak. Like all the great tragic heroes. Which I am. Obviously.

“I refuse to believe you have the same seven deadly sins we do. Also, I find it highly
suspicious that the goddesses you named come straight from Greek mythology.”

“You do remember you are no longer speaking English, don’t you?”

“I’m American; I rarely spoke English before.”

“… I don’t really know what that means,” she says with a sigh. A sigh that I feel very
physically.

A sigh that I react to. You know, below.

And she smirks.

“Back to our lesson—”

“You can’t just lead me around by my dick and expect me to—”

She kisses me.

Her lips taste… There’s a warmth in them that is beyond body heat, something that I feel
inside me rather than on my skin. A hint of spice, something like cinnamon if cinnamon had a
fling with black pepper…

I moan against her, and she reciprocates before leaning away, her finger once again intruding,
impeding me from chasing her.

“It’s not just your dick I’m counting on,” she says with a smirk that…

That isn’t a smirk. Not with the way her lips softened right at the end before she caught
herself.
“Anyway… There are many sins beyond the main seven, and, from time to time, a new
Demon King will be born after some culture or another discovers a new way to taint their
soul, but… Lust. I am descended from the demons of lust.”

Her hips settle down on my lap. She doesn’t even need to sway or grind them for me to ache
for the heat that radiates between her legs.

Her finger twitches as she shivers, and I take it into my mouth.

Zhandra’s eyes widen, the purple light coming from her slitted irises momentarily
brightening, and I twirl my tongue around the tip of her finger before raising an inquisitive
eyebrow.

“It’s… It’s not as straightforward as being an elf, a dwarf, or a human. Demon descendants
can have blood from any of the main races, but… Our flesh has something of the Bastard
Gods in it. We are… attuned to our concept, and our actions, our character, our self, reflects
it.” Her throat bobbles up and down after the words, and she keeps looking at me with a hint
of fear. The kind one has when facing something new.

I move my hands to her waist, my fingers splayed to catch as much of the soft, wonderful,
smooth touch as I can, and then I grip her, pulling her against me.

She moans, and both the sound and the image make sparks go off inside my head.

“And…” she hesitates, going momentarily still, “And of all the demons and demon
descended… Lust demons are…”

Her eyes are nailed to my own, her pupils so dilated they are almost round.

I let go of her finger.

“You’ve never done this before, have you?” I ask, as gently as I can.

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