The air in the hut was still smelling of Agatha's enjoyment—milk, sweat, and the musky scent of her dripping vagina—when everything around had a loud and violent outbreak.

"ATTACK—! KILL ALL THOSE BITCHES!"

The yelling was unformed, from the guts, such were the war cries that anyone who ever fought for survival would know. The hitting of stone, the knocking of bodies against each other, the frequently heard women's screams - it was all mixing with the torrent assaulting the hut.

And Fuck.

I was just a few seconds away from taking off my leaf skirt, from actually getting into Agatha's tight, pregnant pussy, from taking the most basic and savage possession of her.

My fingers were almost touching the knot, my head already full of the gross thoughts of her lying under me, her belly round with baby, her breasts oozing milk as I thrust into her.

But now?

Now the world had other plans.

Agatha shot up so fast she nearly toppled over, milk trickling down her tits in these weird, nervous little streams. Total panic mode—her eyes wide, jaw practically unhinged. Instinct just kicked in; she slapped her hands over her belly, legs wobbling like a newborn calf as she scrambled upright.

"What the hell's happening?!" she gasped, voice all shaky, knuckles white around the spear. "We-we must hide ourselves—!"

I just stood there. Didn't budge. Not yet, anyway.

The more I looked at her, the more I liked her. She was a piece of work, you know? The perfect roundness, soft as a dream, but you could tell that there was a strong woman deep inside her, under the velvet one. Her thighs - shiny and smooth, still were wet from me.

Agatha's cunt was all lit up, all swollen and wanting, her belly taut with that crazy, stunning promise of new life. Blond hair stuck to her face, soaked with sweat, skin burning with the combination of embarrassment and need. Her nipples? Hard, oozing, begging for my mouth. It was almost too much.

Goddamn.

She was perfection.

And she was mine.

But someone out there had dared to disrupt my claiming of her.

I snatched open the World Map, my fingers flying over the holographic display. No familiar blue dots. No Kronos warriors. No rescue party.

Just Ravina's tribe.

And whoever the hell was attacking them.

Agatha groaned as she walked unsteadily to the side of the hut with her legs shaking,, and she grabbed the spear which was in the corner of the hut and held it with a strong grip. She attempted to protect herself with a worn-out fur, but it was of little use—her tits still burst over the top, her cunt still visible through the holes.

"P-please..." she whimpered, her throat dry with terror. "D-don't go out there... It's not safe!"

My grin slow, predatory, I turned to her.

"I know," I said, my voice light and joking. "But I am not hiding."

Her eyes widened.

"Y-you can't—!"

I moved closer to her, my hand gently touching her cheek, my thumb lightly stroking her bottom lip. "I'm not going away, Agatha." My eyes moved to her stomach, and then to the very wet place between her legs. "Nor am I going to allow someone to scare me."

She gulped, her throat moving, her fingers squeezing the spear tighter.

"B-but—!"

"Hide," I ordered, my voice sharp. "And if anyone but me steps in here…" My eyes flashed. "You stab them. No hesitation."

Agatha nodded, her knuckles white, her breath coming in short, sharp gasps.

"B-be careful…" she whispered, her voice cracking. "D-don't get killed—!"

I chuckled, low and dark, as I pulled up the World Map again. With a few taps, I marked her position—a red dot, pulsing with her name: Agatha.

"Don't worry," I whispered, my hand going down to fix my leaf skirt—my cock still sore, but my mind clear now, focused. "I'm just going to show these idiots how it's done."

After that, I turned around and walked into the disorder.

The second I left the shack, the universe detonated in murder.

Ravina's clan had been attacked.

Guys with spears clashed against Ravina's tribe—chaos everywhere. Blood soaked the ground, and man, the stench of iron mixed with sweat hit me right in the face. Just nasty.

Yelling all around—women hustling their kids out of the mess, fighters roaring with every swing, bodies dropping left and right. Total carnage.

Honestly? Couldn't ask for a better scene.

I cracked my knuckles, grinning like an idiot. This was gonna be fun.

Time to establish my prestige.

I immediately saw the five largest raiders in the area: five men who are big, brutish, and covered with scars and dirt. They were laughing and wildly wielding their weapons, cutting Ravina's warriors down as if they were dead wheat.

They were fools.

I moved to the front—no weapon, no armor, just my bare hands, and the confidence that I was more than human.

The first raider saw me and raised his club, shouting to the rest of them.

His gaze became sharp, his lip lifted in a sneer. "Oi! Fresh meat!" He moved his club up, spittle flying out of his mouth. "Gonna crack your skull, boy!"

My eyes didn't even twinkle.

One of my lips lifted in a smirk. "Try it."

I was ready to use Eternal Vitality, but at that moment, a terrifying scream cut through the air. "Ayyyyyaaaaa!"

It felt as if a beast had been violently ripped from Sabina's throat; it was a loud, inarticulate but vivid, one that sends a cold shiver down a man's spine.

She was there behind the raider without a trace of a shadow as if she was the ghost of his past vengeance. Her bare feet didn't make any noise even on the floor covered with blood, her body was like a loaded gun prepared for the strike.

Her spear—just six feet of shiny ash with an ancient black glass feature—went high in the ether lacerating the air with a loud but dayiro strike.

THWUNK.

The tip went straight through the raider's back turning him into a bloody shower, the spur exited his front with many pieces of blood, splinters of his ribs and a hiss of his collapsing lungs sprayed along with the blood.

He tries to form a gurgle, a bubble of blood bursting on his mouth and spraying down his chin as he croaks in agony, his hands desperately trying to remove the shaft that he can feel going deeper into his body.

Sabina didn't let him suffer.

With a snarl, she planted her foot against his spine and yanked—

SCHLLLLLLLLIIIIICK.

The sound was no less than disgust—wet and meaty, as if a cork was pulled from a bottle of decomposed wine. The spearhead was ripped off, and the raider's knees crumpled as it dragged out pieces of flesh and tendons. Nevertheless, Sabina still had not finished.

"Bastard!" she hissed, and pushed the spear further in—

KRUNCH.

—this time, she went through the soft flesh of his stomach. With a wet crunch, the tip tore through his spine, and the intestines were protruding around the wound like sausages in a popped casing. The raider screamed—a broken, bubbling thing—and clawed at the dirt, his fingers digging furrows in the bloodied earth.

Sabina rotated the spear.

The raider's innards emptied like a rope coiled on a spool, rolling out in shiny loops, and the mixture of shit and blood and something sweetly rotten hit me like a fist. His body jerked; he raised his back like a cat that is about to hiss and let out his last breath that was a hiss between the teeth.

"Pathetic," Sabina snarled, and once more pulled the spear free—

SPLORRRRCH.

At this moment, a large amount of his intestines fell out steaming and sloshing, and the noise was like that of a waterlogged sack dropping onto the floor. His dead body, collapsed face-first into the mud, and his last movement was a twitch of his fingers before the stillness overtook him.

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